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It's Too Tight Chapter One

by Magus Kiruleus

The massive brown werewolf whined under his breath as he looked at himself helplessly in the mirror, shifting from one side to another to get a different angle of his well-developed body. The giant musculature flexed whenever he moved, starkly visible even through the thick fur that covered his body. Lower down, the cloth held uncomfortably tight to his genitals, pressure constantly embracing his heavy sack and mounding around his manhood.

"Honey?" the werewolf called to the other room, his Australian accent marred by being just a little bit needy. "Are ya sure this is mai size?"

The female voice sang from just behind a door, "Of course it is, dear. And it's supposed to stretch the more use it gets."

He muffled another plaintive dog noise, and dug his thumbs into the waist of the purple speedo. His fingers sought to tug them out wider, and for a moment, his manhood could breathe - but in the back, the fabric pulled tighter, hugging around the powerful glutes and putting them even more on display when he turned around to look.

"It's ... it's too taight, honey," he complained gently, somewhere a few levels more masculine than a whine.

The door opened itself halfway, and the owner of his wife's voice peeked halfway in. Her hands were above her head, in the middle of rolling her dark hair into a bun. Her apple breasts had risen up in the motion, held in check by the cloth of a too-small bikini, the crimson fabric covering only a part of what they were supposed to. The lower half of her outfit had the same problem, and seemed to just barely cover what was necessary, and left the rest of her gorgeous, feminine flesh for his eyes to drink in.

Grinning back at the sight of her own husband, a behemoth of masculinity and primal structure, all layered under a feral lupine covering, she raked her own eyes up and down his midsection. Warm brown eyes went from the bulging eight-pack in front, down the massive, shaggy legs, and centered longer than they had to on the organs straining so hard to break out of the purple prison.

"It seems to fit fine to me," she teased, but the words were barely out before the sight of his beloved caused his erection to go to full mast. The seal broken just enough by his fingers, the large tool had nowhere to go but up, ramrod flesh held tight to his abdomen by the insidious purple fabric.

Both of them looked down at it, up at each other, back down at it, then up at each other. The young woman covered her mouth with the back of her left hand, stifling a small giggle even as she kept looking at her husband's midsection. The werewolf's face felt like the inside of an oven, and he turned it away, embarrassed, not knowing whether to move his hands or his body in any way.

"Maria..." he complained her name softly.

After another moment longer of letting her eyes scour her husband's flesh, she gently clarified, "Well, I do see what you mean. You can't very well go out in public like that."

With a heavy, relieved sigh, the werewolf bent over at the lower back and his fingers began to push the purple cloth down over his thighs, just as difficultly as the first time.

Yet before he could get it down even a few inches, Maria was already calling him on it.

"Hey, hey, hey," she said more and more insistently until he froze in place, partially bent over and still tall enough to look down at her. That mischievous grin of hers hadn't abated in the least as she drew in closer, body moving with deliberate, sensuous grace. Her hands stroked down the length of his giant forearms, and grabbed his hands by the wrist. Her fingers found it impossible to fully encircle the strong limbs, but it wasn't like he was resisting in the least as she gently guided him into pulling the purple speedo back up.

"Just because you can't wear it out there," she teased at him, a few inches shy of kissing, "Doesn't mean you can't wear it in here."

The werewolf's face panned, ears falling down and whining so softly as if to whisper. He said again, "But honeylove ... It's just too taight..."

With the speedo affixed to his waist once more, she let her right hand slide down the back of his lowered neck as the fingers of her other hand carefully rubbed over the tightly held orbs and the base of his shaft. She felt the shiver go up his spine as she drew one fingernail up the underside of his exposed manhood, stopping only when she reached the head. Her fingers coiled around the tool instead, and pumped down along its length until purple cloth got in the way, making the werewolf rumble something pleasant in his chest.

"Come on, Ferr," she practically enchanted his name quiet, feather-like and endearing. His left arm defensively crossed over his chest and scratched at the outside of his right arm - not that they got in the way of her hands any. She kept slowly pumping his manhood and stroking her fingers through what passed for 'hair' on his head, then down across his jaw and lower to his chest.

"If it makes any difference..." she whispered at his ear on tiptoes, causing the lupine triangle to twitch. "You look really, really hot in them..."

The wolf let his heads feed on that for a moment. The one lower down gave a throb in her hands, and made its simple demands known to them both. The one higher up wheedled on the issue as he contrasted uncomfortable firmness with looking sexy for his wife - and Ferr M. Valence really liked looking sexy for his wife.

So he slowly stood tall and proud again, his barrel chest pressing out as he took a deep breath in, two slabs of meat getting even bigger as he replayed her words. His ego preened like an eagle instead of a wolf, and then his arms went behind his back, right hand gripping his left so as not to interfere with her own.

"It's, uh ... ya really think it's gonna, uh, stretch ... with use?" he asked, finding it very hard to look directly at her while she continued to please his shaft.

"That's right," Maria replied, the words the kind of soft caress of a sentence that made it sound like she was replying to something romantic instead. The fingers of her free hand took the opportunity then to scratch gently through his chest fur, broad and exposed as it was. The werewolf breathed deep again, and let the debate between his heads continue another moment.

"Ai guess Ai could..." his shaft throbbed again in her hand, his arms separating so his right hand could reach up and scratch at the back of his head. Her eyes darted to the great bicep bulging with the motion while she let him finish, "Could weah it a bit longah..."

In not-exactly-silent glee, his wife's hand pumped rapidly up and down his shaft as if to reward him, wringing out another pleased groan from his chest. In turn, seeking something to hold on to, his right hand gripped tighter to the back of his neck, and his left hand clenched into a fist at his lower back.

But as quick as it started, she stopped. Ferr looked down at her again with expectant confusion, his arms relaxing at his sides. Her own hands chose one broad pectoral each, and scratched up and down against the fur-lined flagstones.

"Can't have you popping too soon," she explained to a small huff of disappointment on her husband's part.

"Besides ... you need to get some use out of that first," she continued with a light tap to his large, heavy sack, outlined perfectly by the purple garment. He gave a small twitch of surprise more than anything, and as shoulders hunched forward, his hands moved instinctively to cover them protectively. His long manhood still stood upright and visible against his rigid abs. Her eyes, roving over his strong build once more, led her to suggest, "I'm thinking ... you should flex."

And just like that, there was a spark behind the werewolf's smile.

"Flex?" he repeated, straightening his back and letting his fists rest on his hips, cutting a werewolf's attempt at the heroic figure. "Ya want me ta flex?"

The woman, grinning broadly, nodded her head several times, left hand reaching out to stroke down the front of his stomach, and then his shaft too, her feet still carrying her further away. "You know how much I love it when you flex..."

"Yeah," he replied with a face that was one part embarrassed, one part flattered, memories of days past daring him to do it again. "Ai know pretty well..."

By the time he was lifting both arms up, she was just sitting down into the padded easy chair - the better to watch him, as he put his incredibly well-developed body on display for her. Biceps bulged like melons underneath the fur, corded forearms straining, clenching washboard abs into even greater hardness. His own eyes looked to her for satisfaction, watching as her fingers began to explore and pleasure her own body.

Eager to be of service, eager to show off and have his self-confidence stroked in turn, the hulking wolf of a man moved through one pose after another like a professional bodybuilder. Each form stressed a different muscle group, or clenched them from a different angle, letting her feast completely on every inch of his body from the comfort of her seat. Some of her fingers had slipped into the front of her bikini, and Maria toyed at her own delight-filled hot spots.

Her quiet moans only further goaded him into greater athletic efforts, and instead of just flexing, he started exercising in front of her. He did push-ups in all four directions, so she could see his body working from every angle - on two arms, on one arm, with just two limbs and his torso facing her. He kept his knees apart and his hands behind his head as he followed up with ab crunches, looking to her for approval every time he rose up - altering it by twisting more to one side, then another side, then keeping his spine out straight. Her moans stretched out, louder and longer, until with an ecstatic cry, her body shuddered with orgasm.

The wolf's face turned up in a broader smile, and he approached her slowly on his hands and knees, looking almost feral for a moment - except his eyes. His eyes were much too human and happy to have belonged to an animal, yet like an animal, Ferr licked gently up her belly, and let his furry head nuzzle in between her breasts. His left hand slid along the arm of the chair, and rested there to hold some of his body weight up. His right hand slowly pumped at his own member again, as he kept watch over her features.

Her face was an expression of euphoria.

He loved that face, loved her, and so he kept pumping away on his manhood as he watched her swimming in ecstasy and gasping in long, deep breaths. One of her hands stroked along his resting left arm, nails trailing just deep enough through the fur for his skin to feel them. Her eyes opened, and coyness spied upon him. Her left leg hooked around his right arm, and pulled it gently away from his shaft.

Untouched, his tool still throbbed where the speedo held it against his abs. Ferr looked confused at her again, and sat slightly up on his knees.

"Told you," Maria muttered blissfully, halfway out of her daze as she started to shift upright in her seat, toying her foot against his shaft instead.

"Can't have you popping too soon..."