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Bang!

The small rabbit didn't know what had hit it. The poor creature's brains littered the desert sand the minute its head had been pierced by a sniper round.

30 feet downwind, the shooter shouldered his rifle as he stood up, tall, dark and brown with a broken face. The grizzly straightened his dirty leather pants then picked up his ammo bag before he stepped down the steep incline.

It was a marvel he could get down with little trouble, but he'd lived out here for a long enough time to get used to it.

The great bear stomped forward in heavy combat boots.

The rabbit was already drawing flies by the time he got there. He picked up the small animal. With one finger he scooped a piece of brain matter then licked it off. That mineral-y flavor hit him fast and he growled pleasurably, "Just a morsel... But you'll do."

...

That night, the grizzly bear had made it back to his campsite. It was a quaint little area, just enough for a grumpy old bastard like him.

He had caught more game, enough to sustain him for the next few days.

He was cooking his rabbit right now, while the others were being kept in a large cooler.

The bear stood in front of a blazing fire, calmly stirring the rabbit meat in the vegetable broth he had bought while visiting one of the strongholds.

Behind him was his tent; inside was his sleeping bag, some of his personal belongings, a few memories of home and a calendar. The date on the calendar read 3 thousand... the rest of the date had been worn off by decay.

When his rabbit stew was finished, the bear poured some into an intricately decorated clay bowl. He ate out of the bowl like a feral animal, no need to be a polite beast out in the middle of nowhere. The meat was cooked, the broth warmed his gullet as it slid down his throat. The liquid lightly stung his upper jaw, what was left of it, but it didn't bother him anymore.

When the bowl was empty he grumbled happily, "Tastes just like Pop's old recipe." He licked the broth from the metal plate which covered his whole upper jaw.

He poured more stew for himself then ate heartily.

In short time, his stew was eaten completely.

The grizzly snuffed out his campfire, packed away his cookware and reserves before he went into his tent. Inside, he took the time to write out today's events in a journal he kept. When that was done, the bear stripped himself of his clothing, leaving only his hunting knife and his rifle close at paw should anyone be foolish enough to try to rob him.

He pulled down the tent flap, blew out his lantern, then tucked himself in for sleep.

...

"Shermy..."

The bear awoke suddenly and he was in a different place entirely. He was home, and there straddled atop him, as beautiful as he remembered her, was his wife.

The sultry sow ground her wet vulva against his painfully throbbing cock.

Sherman watched his wife, barely moving a muscle himself while she slid back and forth over his malehood.

"Shermy..."

Her voluptuous breasts jiggled over his face the more she continued to grind his maleness.

When she slid down over him, he wrapped his strong arms around her and bucked up hard against his wife. He grumbled pleasantly as he plunged her depths.

Sherman's plump bear balls jostled and bounced as he felt his climax drawing near already.

In the real world, he was still alone, but his paw was around his cock, simulating the pressure of a female's folds.

In his dream, he sucked on his darling wife's plump nipples.

In the real world, he was sucking naked air.

Sherman, still deep in sleep, rolled out of his bed and onto all fours. Anyone watching would be getting a fine view of the naked bear's balls bouncing while he mated furiously with his paw while he felt up his own pectorals.

In his dream, Sherman was just as furiously breeding with his wife, hard enough to make her plump butt ripple each time his hips collided with her cheeks. He licked and kissed his wife while they mated with a muzzle that was still intact, still full of healthy teeth, didn't have a stiff metal plate keeping his face together. And he still had a loving wife with whom he would have had a beautiful set of cubs.

In the real world, the grizzled, damaged old bear roared with heavy lust as he erupted all over his bedroll, emptying a week's worth of pent up bear semen onto his pillows.

Sherman panted as his dream world began to vanish, as his wife vanished from underneath him. He passed out on his roll, in a pool of his own sperm as he fell into a deep sleep

...

The following morning, he woke up in his own dried cum.

Sherman smelled his current situation and grumbled disapprovingly, "Fucked your wife's ghost again did ya, Shermy?" He said to himself.

He answered himself, "Yup!"

He fetched his hunting knife, a rag, then a bar of soap. He climbed out of his tent to look for a spot where he could clean himself of his mess only to have a gun shoved in his face.

"Stick 'em up!"

It was a coyote. The brown canine had a crazed look in his eyes when he stuck the pump-action shotgun in the large predator's face.

Sherman threw his big burly bear arms up, exposing his semi-stiff bear cock to the coyote.

The canine blinked when he saw the bear's willy, then shook his head, "Gimme all yer weapons, all yer bounty, all yer money..."

Sherman interrupted the coyote and grabbed the fidgeting canine's gun.

The coyote panicked, "Hey!" The gun went off.

Sherman put his head out of the way in time, receiving only a disorienting blow to his hearing. He yanked the gun out of the coyote's paws, "Y'all shoulda known better than to disturb a wakin' bear, son!"

He bashed the coyote in the muzzle, breaking his nose and making him yelp in pain. He then broke the shotgun over his right knee then tossed its remains to the sides.

The coyote whimpered with a bleeding nose and tears streaming down his miserable face, "P-please! I didn't mean to. I saw your camp... I though you would be an easy mark."

Sherman picked up the coyote by the red ascot he wore under a tattered camouflage jacket, "You forget the law of the desert then... Don't come knockin' if you ain't packin'..."

The canine struggled against the bear's strong grip, "Let me go... I've learned my lesson, I won't bother you, just please don't kill me."

Sherman chuckled, "Kill you? Nah... But I ain't lettin' ya go neither, you need to be taught yer place in this world." He put the coyote down but didn't release him. Instead, he put the flea-bitten canine on his knees at eye level with his bear cock. "Ya got me when I was about ta go bathe myself after a... Heh, messy night by myself, now I've got me a handy dog tongue to do the cleanin' for me, so get to it before I break that pretty lil face o' yers." The bear spoke with such a casual, friendly disposition it made his threats sound like common every day talk coming from him.

The coyote gulped when he looked at the bear's stiff, musky shaft. It was big, hairy, uncut with a truly succulent looking mushroom cap at the tip. The brown canine had sucked his fair share to get out of situations before, he could tell this bear would give a mighty load. With only a second look up at the bear standing over him, the shameless canine leaned in then started licking the bear's cock, tasting the dried cum that decorated the bear's foreskin.

Sherman grinned, "That's a good lil bitch..." He petted the coyote.

The canine continued to lick, despite the pain in his nose, he kept licking so this bear would let him go. He brought his muzzle down to Sherman's hairy sac then sucked the sweat straight from the source.

Sherman growled lowly, "Damn... Not even the grimiest whore in Gold City could suck a ball that good..."

The coyote accepted the praise and he kept working his mouth all over the bear's genitals.

The bear kept to his word though; as soon as the coyote had truly licked up all the bear's dried semen, he gently pushed him off, "Alright, that's enough o' that!"

The coyote stumbled and fell on his bottom. He looked up as the bear was already walking away. "Wait!"

Sherman didn't wait, "Can't wait! This old bear needs his bath now."

And the coyote sat there in disappointment and wonder as he watched that bear's muscular butt rock as he walked off into the distance.

...

Half a mile off from his campsite, Sherman had found a watering hole. He'd used it previously to clean his cookware and clothes.

The naked bear submerged himself into the refreshing cold water and let it soak into his dense fur.

He used the rag and soap to wash himself of the cum in his fur.

He had himself a little audience.

That coyote had followed him. Against all better instinct, the young fool had followed him. He must really want that bear dick that bad. He peeked over a dusty mound as that great, muscular grizzly bear cleaned himself. He felt himself become aroused as he watched that naked bear bathe.

Meanwhile, another intruder crept up slowly from the opposite end of the watering hole. This one was a fennec with one ear fully intact, the other was torn and looked infected. The desert fox was here specifically for that bear's head. He readied a high-powered rifle, ready to kill his mark. He peered through the scope, turning a dial thusly so it cleared up, so he could see the sunlight reflecting off of that bear's metal plate.

As careful as he was, he didn't hear the footsteps until the coyote was right on him. The coyote who had followed the bear had seen the fox creeping up and so he'd crawled around the watering hole, staying low so the sniper wouldn't see him. He had no gun thanks to that bear breaking his shotgun, but he still had his hunting knife. He crept behind the professional sniper, but at the last second his boots crushed some gravel.

The fennec heard the coyote's clumsy mistake. He flipped his rifle around and fired.

The round decimated the coyote's right ear and threw him on his ass.

The fennec turned around to see if his quarry hadn't escaped. He looked through that scope and found himself staring right into a wall of abs. The hunter pissed his trousers as he looked up into the discerning eyes of an angry grizzly bear, "Who the fuck 're you?"

He yanked the fox clean out of his vantage point then held the would-be killer by his throat, clean off the ground. Sherman growled, "Who sent ya?"

The fox clammed up, knowing he'd die just for talking.

The bear read his mind; he wasn't psychic or anything, but he always knew what was on a fella's mind. He sighed, "Fine." Then he slammed the fox's whole body on the ground breaking bones and puncturing organs.

The fennec coughed up blood and screamed in pain.

The bear didn't let up. He stomped down hard on the fennec's hands, crushing them.

The coyote watched with his right ear dangling off of his head.

When the bear was done torturing the poor fox, he picked up the fennec's rifle. He checked it. It wasn't loaded. He picked a stray round from the fox's hiding place then loaded the shell into the rifle, then locked it.

The fennec was still crying in pain when he opened his eyes to see his own gun pointed in his face.

Sherman cocked it, "Last chance."

The fennec only coughed up more blood then closed his eyes as he seemed to accept his fate.

The bear sighed. Then he pulled the trigger. Thunder cracked loud over the vast desert and that fox's brains blew out over the desert floor.

After the fox was dead, Sherman searched his body. He found a wallet. He took the fox's money, he wouldn't need it anymore. He took his dog tags too, these worked as currency in some places. He looked in the dead fox's left pocket then pulled out a small grayed out picture. It was an old army photo of himself, back when his face was still altogether. He turned the photo. Written on the back were three letters, OSO. Sherman groaned, only one fella he knew ever called him Oso. He picked up his fresh kill, then he noticed the coyote looking at him with one ear shredded.

The bear nodded, "Wanna earn your keep?"

The coyote didn't say anything, he just nodded.

Sherman hauled the fox over his right shoulder, "Pick up this fella's ammo and paraphernalia, then meet me back at camp. I've got a med kit there so I can tend to your ear." He said nothing more then walked off, carrying that dead fox. No point in wasting the meat, he thought to himself.

...

That afternoon, the coyote had been made to sit upon the bear's naked lap so Sherman could tend to his injuries. Both the one he got from the fox, and the one Shermy had given before that. After bandaging the coyote's ear and nose, Sherman went about butchering that dead fox.

The coyote paled at the thought of eating a fellow furre, but Sherman was quick to remind him that meat was meat, no matter where it came from.

The fox's choicest parts were all roasted, while the rest was placed in storage. He could sell it off and say he'd killed a really big deer.

Sherman ate a big bite out of the fox's roasted leg.

The coyote groaned before he gave in and ate some of the fox's flesh. He almost wanted to throw it all back up, but a stern look from the bear made him think twice about that.

When they were done, the bear, still naked from this morning felt ready to feed another appetite of his, one slightly more important in his dirty old mind.

Without a word, he got up as the campfire died down, then crawled into his tent where he then rolled himself flat onto his back clearly exposing his sack to the coyote who was no doubt looking.

The coyote asked, "Goin' to bed already?"

Sherman scratched his balls, "Yeah... But I ain't sleepy yet." He grinned as he peered at his young companion, "You come ta bed anytime ya feel like, I'll be waitin'."

The coyote's throat suddenly felt dry. Such a shameless, blatant offer, it made the coyote wet inside his camo pants. It didn't take him very long to debate his restless mind.

The coyote undressed himself then crawled into the bedroll with the old bear.

Sherman gave a hearty chuckle as he hugged the scraggly scavenger against his naked body

...

The next hour, several hours even, were filled almost exclusively with this big, brawny grizzly bear having his way with his new traveling buddy.

At first, it was simple romantic stuff, Sherman was always a romantic. He kissed the coyote as best as he could with a metal plate over his muzzle.

Their long tongues danced beautifully in each others' mouths.

Their privates pressed close together while the pair made out.

It was then Sherman discovered the coyote's little secret. He was actually a she.

Sherman had been a little surprised to feel a puffy vulva slide over his cock, but nonetheless pleased to have a warm pussy to plunge.

The coyote had been embarrassed to have his secret found out. He wasn't a female, he was one of those CBs... He hated the whole word, it was always used on him by the cruel kids he grew up with. He was a male everywhere else except where it mattered.

Sherman heard that explanation and was still nice enough to keep things going. Meat was meat, and pussy was pussy.

Sherman turned the coyote over onto all fours then he mounted the intersexed male from behind. He pushed his cock into the coyote's warm snapping pussy.

The coyote moaned fitfully to have his feminine place filled by a thick bear cock. He'd clearly had his vulva plunged by other lonely males in the past, but except for some big herbivores, none had the size or durability to really please him.

Sherman went the distance. He pumped, humped and fucked the wispy brown canine like the seasoned veteran he was. His musclegut molded itself perfectly into his submissive lover's backside as he fucked him. The bear's meaty paws explored his little buddy's naked body while they mated. He found the coyote's nipples, his two must obvious, plus the line of vestigial teats trailing down his belly in two-by-two. He counted ten and teased each sensitive point with his sharp claws.

The coyote moaned from the bear's expert teasing and he climaxed hard, squirting his feminine cum all over his lover's swinging ballsack.

Sherman plunged harder as he felt the coyote's cunt clinch tighter to the point of almost cutting off his blood flow. The bear lost control and with a mighty roar, he flooded his coyote lover's infertile womb with his healthy cub-batter.

The pair each fell to their left sides as the warm afterglow washed over the both of them.

Sherman growled into the coyote's ear hole, "That... That was fuckin' hot! Far better than I'd even expected." He laid gentle kisses on his lover's face while the coyote almost started to purr.

The coyote didn't say anything, but his tail wagged like a happy dog who knew he'd pleased his master.

Sherman stroked that soft tail, "To think, earlier this mornin' I was bustin' ya in the face. Now all I wanna do is jus'" he smooched his submissive partner, "kiss ya an' make it all better."

The coyote leaned his head back then he and his beautiful new alpha male locked muzzles.

The pair kissed for several good strong minutes. They breathed through their noses, just to make the kiss last longer.

The bear was hard and ready again in good time. He plunged back into his new playmate's warmth then they continued to breed well into the night.

...

Morning found the campfire's smoldering ashes blowing in the desert wind.

The pair were asleep. The coyote still nestled perfectly on the bear's cock. His back against the bear's chest as the bear lay flat on his back.

The bear's balls were stained with fem cum and strings of his own cum.

The coyote's snatch also leaked of their mingled juices. They'd fucked all night and now they were getting there much needed rest.

...

When the pair awoke, it was already midday.

"Let's start packin' an' move out." Sherman said before he and his new friend tore down their campsite and put everything away.

Sherman found one of his old army pistols. He blew on it then spun its revolving wheel to check that everything was still in working condition. He then passed it to his new friend, "You should have this, Kyle."

The coyote looked up after hearing his name.

Sherman chuckled, "I looked through some o' yer belongin's. Nothin's all yers once ya got a campin' buddy, friend."

Kyle smiled, "Thank you, not just for last night but..." He took the gun like he were accepting an engagement ring from his lover. He admired its iron nozzle, the little screws holding it together, the same way his friend's plate held his face together. He found the words, "Kids... Used to tease me endlessly because of... Of how I was born. They'd call my Kylie the Kunty... They're all dead now. My whole village..." He sniffed as he dug up bad memories. "It was raiders, bandits... They decimated my home, killed everyone I knew. My mom... I found half of her." Tears fell from his eyes and onto his new gun.

Sherman petted his little buddy.

Kyle kept going, "I've been alone for so long... Selling my pussy and my mouth just to make a quick buck. Then I found you."

Sherman listened.

"You were at that stronghold not far from here... I saw you buying spices off of that merchant. I figured you had a lot on you so I followed ya out here. I'd never tried robbing anyone before. We both know how that venture went over."

Sherman petted the coyote, "We gotta go now. If we're to make it to civilization anytime soon, we gotta get movin' now."

Kyle nodded, "Okay."

The bear began to walk off, "My name's Sherman, by the way."

...

Pretty soon, the pair were all packed and ready to go.

Kyle followed his friend closely behind, "So, how do we get to civilization?"

Sherman grinned a mischievous grin, "We travel in style, Kyle!" He led the coyote behind a rocky ridge where there was a large object hidden under a large sand-blown tarp.

Kyle stopped, "What the fu..."

Sherman chuckled before he pulled the tarp off to unveil his own private mode of transport.

Kyle's voice cracked as he screamed out, "Is that a fucking tank?!"

And it was. It was a big tank covered in faded camouflage paint with the letters OSO spray painted on its side in blood red.

Sherman laughed, "She's a beauty ain't she? I bought her off a dealer a while back. She's been my only company for the past 20 years. I feed her the fuel she needs, she keeps me safe and gets me anywhere I wanna go. She's just like a wife, I can even get inside her like one." He winked as he climbed on top of his M1 Abrams, then popped open the lid. He dumped his supplies inside then proceeded to lower himself into his "lady" while Kyle watched.

Kyle was both uncomfortable and intrigued. The coyote was a bit claustrophobic so the thought of riding around in a compact metal box was already scary for him, but still. Sherman would be there and he wanted to ride with Sherman.

Sherman stuck his head out, shirtless again, "Get in so we can get goin'!"

Kyle swallowed his pride then he climbed aboard then dropped himself in the dark hole.

Sherman caught him, "Whoa! You don't wanna do that, little buddy! Good way to break your back."

Kyle blushed as he was then set down on a remarkably warm shag rug which covered the floor of the whole tank.

Sherman set about turning on little Christmas lights he'd set up around the tank's interior to make the thing feel more homely. It's been his home for a quarter of his life after all. He turned on the little fan which served as his old lady's air conditioning. He turned on the ignition to get his woman purring for him.

Kyle watched where he sat as he saw how reverently the bear treated his tank. He had to laugh, everyone's gotta have something to love and worship he guessed. He tugged off his own shirt so he'd be half-naked with his new friend/lover. He patted the bear's back, "So, does your old lady have a name?"

Sherman smiled, "That she does, Darla..." He sat down in the driver's seat, "We ain't got seat belts, but I'd suggest you buckle down anyway, desert roads can get bumpy and we've got a long way to go, Kyle."

Kyle smiled then lovingly kissed the bear on his cheek, "Thank you for introducing me to your lady, I can tell she's real special to you."

Sherman gave an affectionate nuzzle to the coyote, "An' thank you for not laughin'. I know I tend ta go overboard with Darla, an' it's made quite a few people uncomfortable, but she's my woman and a man is always good to his woman." He then began to drive his prized tank.

Darla began to move and soon the 67.6 ton lady was making her way down that dusty desert trail.