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Dobietraining

By Danath

* * *

Renoir grunted as he struggled through his final few reps. The heavy iron bar scraped his paw pads as he desperately pushed his arms up until his elbows locked and he was able to rack the bench press weight bar. The fox collapsed onto the bench, chest heaving, completely exhausted from the effort.

"Great job! That's a new personal best for you," a familiar, deep voice said from behind his head. The spotter was his trainer, a hunky, tall, broad-shouldered Doberman. The big black and brown canine was everything Renoir wanted for himself: muscular, powerful, confident. The canine's glossy black fur glistened in the places it was visible through his tight sleeveless tank top, including a few patches of dark brown around his muzzle and chest.

"Thanks... Bruno," the fox gasped. Renoir could feel his muscle fibers burning after the intense guided session. The Doberman worked him hard during their weekly sessions. He wondered whether Bruno could tell he'd skipped a day last week.

"You're making good progress towards your goals, you know. It's only been a couple of months and you're really starting to show results."

Renoir sighed and looked down at his narrow chest and skimpy arms. "You think so?"

"Yeah, sure, buddy. Look, you gotta be patient. You think I got all this overnight? No way, dude! You gotta earn it."

The big Doberman gestured at his beefy pecs and hard belly as he spoke, and unintentionally ended up by pointing right at the big canine's crotch. Renoir looked away, cheeks warmer than usual beneath his furry white cheeks as he realized where he was looking.

"Alright, hit the showers, big guy," the Doberman said with a grin. "I'll see you next week, same time."

"Alright, thanks, Bruno."

"You got it, Renoir. I'll wipe down the equipment for you, don't worry about it."

The fox nodded as he sat up and leaned himself upright on somewhat shaky legs. He winced a little as he tottered towards the locker room to shower and dry off. He was sitting in front of his locker, still in his towel, when he let out a sigh, then shook his head as if mentally preparing himself for something. As he drew his blue jeans up his legs, the reason for his trepidation grew clear: the fox's backside was more than ample. While not really noticeable in the baggy gym shorts, the blue jeans sculpted his plump rear end into a satisfying, plump, ever so squeezable rump, amplified by the narrow base of his long tail, which floofed out to its full foxy bushiness a bit further along.

For over three months he worked out like mad under Bruno's helpful directions in an attempt to get a six pack and maybe some beef on his bones. Anything to stop being referred to as the office wimp when they thought they couldn't hear him. Renoir hadn't needed a belt the past two weeks thanks to a backside that was now the growing envy of several people at the office, and the wimp comments were being steadily replaced with something more vulgar.

Renoir didn't want to pout. But he just didn't think it was fair at all. And he knew Bruno worked hard to get that kind of body, of course, and he was willing to put in the work too, but it appeared as though he just wasn't disposed towards the sort of V-shaped muscular physique he so desired.

With another sigh, the fox tugged his blue jeans up the rest of the way and fastened the tail clasp. He'd taken to wearing large, baggy shirts of late to hide his ample posterior, and he'd even cut back significantly on squats during his exercise routine when Bruno wasn't watching, but his rump just wouldn't quit. Last week, even Bruno commented on it when Renoir was bent over in a stretch.

The fox's ears twitched with embarrassment at the memory. "You're a natural leg guy, dude," the Doberman had said, crushing Renoir's personal hopes with so many words.

Fully dressed and in a slightly bad mood, Renoir headed out of the gym to walk home. Living in the big city had its perks, and being within walking distance of both his home, job, and gym was one of them. But there was something new in the neighborhood that piqued the fox's interest tonight.

Across the street from the gym, nestled amongst a few trees, was a three story building, the bottom of which was newly occupied by a cigar bar. "Mabel's Bounty Cigar Bar," according to the neon pink sign buzzing above the door. Renoir had some experience with cigars and knew enough to know better than to go against a cigartender's recommendations. It had been awhile, but as the fox stood outside the gym, bag still slung over his shoulder, temptation struck hard. A hit of nicotine to get him through the walk home sounded like a reasonable plan, a balm for his aching body, though Bruno would no doubt disapprove.

Renoir grinned. What Bruno didn't know...

He crossed the street and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The inside of the cigar bar looked like it had been there for years, though Renoir was sure it must have been new. He couldn't remember seeing it before... right?

Orb-shaped lights hanging from the ceiling casting a dim glow across a dozen or so tables of various shapes and sizes, accompanied by a motley collection of mismatched chairs. A bar ran across the right side of the room on the right, while doors to the restrooms were on the left. All in all, it wasn't much to look at, save for the huge humidor spanning the length of the wall behind the bar. Made of dark wood and glass, there were various hoses and pipes to control air flow and humidity. Hundreds of types of cigars were on offer, with the bottom few shelves well-stocked with surplus boxes. It was clearly worth far more alone than everything else in the place combined.

"Welcome to Mabel's Bounty, what can I get you, etcetera."

The voice was bored and monotone and originated from a chipmunk hunched over the bar reading a magazine. His striped fur was perfectly maintained, with a patch of pale cream running from his throat down to his bare chest. Rather than a shirt, a black bow tie hung around his neck. His bare chest was slim and firm - toned, but not muscular.

"Uh... what do you recommend?" the fox asked, stepping towards the other male at the bar. The whole place was empty save for the two of them.

"Hmmm... let me see..."

The chipmunk finally moved, but in a way that signaled his absolute dissatisfaction at being required to actually perform the functions for which he was employed. The feisty male's beady eyes focused first on Renoir's face, then dropped lower, lingering for some time on the fox's hips.

"Well, now isn't that interesting," the chipmunk muttered.

"Sorry? What's interesting?"

"Oh, nothing. Have a seat. It's your first time here at Mabel's Bounty, right?" the chipmunk asked, suddenly possessed of a far friendlier demeanor. "Tell you what - I got a new box here, real good stuff. Usually we don't get the good tobacco like that here, at least not until it's been out on a shelf for months. The Bounty is more about end-of-runs and bulk stuff that didn't sell in season, you know?"

Before Renoir realized it, he was chatting it up with the chipmunk, who provided not just a smooth, tangy cigar that tingled the fox's tongues and left a pleasant, if sharp, aftertaste, but a complimentary drink as well.

"No charge, no charge!" the chipmunk insisted when Renoir went to pay. "Just the cigar. Drink is on the house as a first time welcome gift. Don't expect any more freebies."

"Uh... right, well... thank you," Renoir said as he leaned over to sign the receipt and mark up the tip.

He'd just finished leaving what he thought was a fairly generous amount for the chipmunk when, as he was bent over the bar, he glimpsed the cigartender's backside. The chipmunk's thighs were massive, supporting a tush that put the fox's own to shame. Huge and round, the twin globes bobbed in a pair of ludicrous yoga pants with the word "JUICY" splashed across the seat. The fabric was pulled so tight around the otherwise slender and dainty male's bottom that his fur poked right through the thin material. The chipmunk's lower back was curved as he leaned against the bar on his elbows so that his fat, plump rump formed a wide, broad shelf before gradually narrowing into his equally plump, oversized thighs.

The last stroke of Renoir's signature was a bit more ragged than usual as he thanked the chipmunk again.

"The name's Anso, by the way," the chipmunk said as Renoir turned to leave. "Hope you stop by again real soon."

"Y-yeah, I will," Renoir said, still thinking about how plump and round the chipmunk's rump looked in the form fitting yoga pants. "I definitely will."

Renoir didn't skip any squats that week. In fact, he impressed Bruno with how many he was able to pound out during their session, and the canine's compliment followed him all of the way to Mabel's Bounty after.

The next week, after his workout session with Bruno, the fox popped into Mabel's Bounty for a drink and a smoke with the chipmunk. He had to satisfy his curiosity about the chipmunk's backside. How had it gotten so... so... so big?

"So, you got a girlfriend?" Anso asked all of the sudden, interrupting Renoir's happy glow.

The chipmunk was leaning over the bar as Renoir puffed away quite happily on a pleasantly oaky, rich cigar blend. Though his eyes watered, the fox managed not to burst into a fit of coughing.

"No, no girlfriend," he gasped at length.

"I knew it! Had you pegged the moment you walked in," Anso said with a note of satisfaction.

Renoir blinked his eyes to clear the tears and squinted at Anso through the smoke. "Had me pegged?"

"Oh, don't play coy, gay boy," the chipmunk said. His chin dropped into both paws as he leaned on the bar and looked suggestively at the fox. "You know what I mean."

Renoir swallowed hard and suppressed another coughing fit.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I am, but-"

"Don't worry, stud, I know I'm not your type. Right again?"

"Yeah, but how-"

The chipmunk rolled his eyes and stood up straight.

"Oh, it's a very special talent," he said while waving a paw dismissively. "Anyways, you ain't exactly the type I go for either. In fact, we may just have that in common too. Who's that hot Doberman you work out with every week?"

This time Renoir was mid-sip. He spluttered a mist of alcohol across the bar top as Anso gestured to where he'd just been standing, as if to say "See? I told you so!" to an invisible audience. He wiped down the bar top with a towel as Renoir recovered for the second time. The fox was clearly unused to such indelicate conversation topics.

"Out with it! What's up with the big dog, huh?" Anso asked again.

"He's my trainer, that's all."

"He's training you?" the chipmunk asked, and then he smirked at a private, inside joke.

"Yeah. So I can learn how to work out better. He's a really nice guy, you'd like him I think. If you want I-"

"Nope, nooooope, none of that," Anso said. "Put a big, thick hunk of prime beef like that in front of me and I'm gonna have dinner, if you know what I mean. I get the feeling you want the big pup all to yourself."

Renoir started to stammer out a reply, but Anso grinned and waved a paw.

"Okay, okay, you figure it out and then you let me know. How's the cigar, by the way?"

Though the topic of conversation changed, Renoir kept thinking about what the chipmunk said... about how he wanted the Doberman. Not just how, but the way he wanted him. Renoir felt suddenly unsure about several things he'd taken for granted.

Despite that, the good cigar and friendly banter left him feeling fine when he left the Bounty that night after promising Anso he'd be back again next week.

A few weeks later...

"There you are, you saucy slut!" Anso said, looking up from his magazine at the bar excitedly. "So? How'd it go? Did the big dog bite?"

Renoir smirked. "Come off it. You know I'm not going to ask him. Yet."

Anso rolled his eyes, a now familiar gesture to the slender fox. "Why take things so slow?"

"I just want to make sure I... I duno, that I feel like it's the right time first."

Anso shrugged. "Well, at least you know you've got his attention with that ass of yours."

Renoir grinned and cast a glance back over his shoulder. He was working out as hard as ever, but showed hardly any signs of growth in his upper body. His bottom half, however, was a different story. His thighs were nearly half again as big as a month ago, and they supported a hard, taut, firm rump that the fox still crammed into the same tight pair of jeans as he had back then, causing something of a muffin top situation with his two thick cheeks. Thanks to the squeeze, there was no sag in that bag, and the fox was getting more confident about wearing a top that actually showed off the thickness. Like tonight, instead of an oversized t-shirt, the fox wore a slightly better fitting shirt that hugged his stomach and only slightly flared over the top of his rump, mostly hiding the exposed cheek cleavage from view. At least, when he wasn't spreading them over the broad stool seat and leaning into the counter. His jeans pulled halfway down to his thighs, exposing a plushness of fox rump under his wiggling tail.

"Yeah, the stud was almost drooling over me when I was doing my squats," Renoir said. "You know, I used to hate squats, but now they're my favorite. Weird, huh?"

"With an ass like that, you'd have to be crazy not to think you love squats."

"Ah, you bitch! Your ass is still twice as big as mine."

"You know it!"

Another few weeks later...

"Oh, come on, you still haven't thrown that stud to the floor and ridden him for all he's worth? What's wrong with you?" the chipmunk asked. His black bow tie was somewhat askew tonight, and he appeared a bit flushed and heated as Renoir took his seat at the usual spot at the bar. "You better show that Doberman what your ass can do or you're gonna miss the chance."

"Yeah, right," the fox replied between casual puffs of the cigar of the night. It was spicier than normal, almost fiery, and was really igniting the vulpine's taste buds. "That puppy is practically begging for it. I could have him any time I want."

"Oh? So why don't you fuck his brains out, huh? Are you just worried your ass isn't enough yet? I mean, I could have him moaning my name within five minutes of meeting him. Maybe it's harder for you small-waisted sluts."

"Oh, please! You may have more, but it's what you do with it that counts."

There was a muffled noise from the back room. Anso rolled his eyes and held up a paw.

"Hold that thought and finish your drink. I'll get you another once I take care of something."

Renoir leaned onto the bar and grinned deviously as his wide tail flicked playfully behind him. "Oh? What's the something's name?"

"Nobody you know, so don't worry about it," Anso said, grinning. "Enjoy the drink."

There were a few more muffled noises after Anso closed the door to the back room, but he emerged a bit later in his usual "JUICY" yoga pants and lack of a top. His belly appeared just a bit smoother and fuller than before, and he wiped his muzzle on both sides with his arm on the way back to his station behind the bar.

"Sorry about that," Anso said, refilling the fox's drink. "Sometimes you gotta give 'em a little extra... encouragement."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

The chipmunk leaned in close, conspiratorially, and grinned.

"That big stud I got roped up in the back thinks I'm a one and done kind of girl," he said. "He's gonna find out the hard way I expect my males to put out a bit more effort before I cut him loose."

Renoir's eyes widened. "What's he up to?"

"Three. Pathetic, right? All that muscle, no endurance. I tell you, the life of a powerbottom is tough."

"Powerbottom?"

Anso grinned and looked at Renoir. "Oh, please, you don't know what... oh, for fuck's sakes, this job is hard some days," the chipmunk said, throwing up his paws for dramatic effect. "Listen, it's real simple. You wanna be in control?"

Renoir hesitated, then nodded.

"You wanna be on top?"

The fox nodded again.

"But you don't wanna dick him, you wanna get dicked, riiiiight?"

Another nod.

"Boom, powerbottom."

Renoir left the bar that night feeling as though a flip had been switched in his head. Not to mention the lingering aftertaste of the extra spicy and potent cigar. He even bought a box to take home without really thinking about it.

A few more weeks later...

Bruno grinned and nodded his head as he helped Renoir rack the bench press weight. The fox was slender and smooth as ever up top, maybe even more than usual, but he was lifting the same weight as he had months ago with much more ease.

"Great progress, Renoir! Your improvement is really going well."

What really drew Bruno's eyes and interest was what was going on with the fox's backside. Especially ever since the fox switched to wearing yoga pants last month. The fabric, complete with the word "THICC" in bold letters across the seat, flashed in front of the Doberman's vision again as Renoir stretched and twisted the kinks out of his shoulders.

"Thanks, stud," the fox said, his voice like a purr as it floated through the gym air. "How about you let me thank you for all the help?"

"What do you have in mind?" Bruno asked. It wasn't uncommon for clients to treat him to dinner or something as a thank you.

"I'm thinking of you in my bed and the best night of your life."

Bruno's eyes widened. Propositions were also not entirely uncommon, but coming from Renoir...

The fox resembled very little the vulpine customer from the first appointment at the gym. The nervousness, the shyness, all replaced with brusque confidence oozing from every follicle of his meticulously trimmed and detailed pelt. The yoga pants squeezed around the fox's fantastic glutes as the Doberman felt a growing sensation from his own shorts.

"Uh... yeah!" he said, perhaps a bit too loudly. "I mean, sure. When do you-"

"I'll text you the address and time later tonight. Don't be late, stud."

Renoir's tail flicked across the Doberman's broad muzzle as he turned to go, ensuring the big male's eyes were glued to the spectacle of such a juicy, thick rear end walking away. The Doberman tried to surreptitiously rearrange his parts before moving on to help his next client, but the canine's thoughts were solely of the fox...

After changing, Renoir sauntered over to the Bounty to let Anso know the date was set.

"It's tonight? Finally!"

Anso grinned and wiggled his hips. Renoir grinned back, toothy and sharp.

"I figure it's time to get serious with him. No more teasing. He pops a boner practically the moment he sees me."

Anso made a face. "Ew, sympathy. Gross. Use 'em and lose 'em, I say."

Renoir laughed and took a sip of liquor. A new type of cigar burned between his fingers. Rich, smoky, and spicy, it was like the strongest version yet of what was easily his favorite cigar flavors. Each slow pull on the end of the roll sent a cascade of shivers down his spine. Or was that simply his excitement over his scheduled meetup with the Dobie later on? Regardless, Renoir didn't much care. He was getting a drink, he was getting a smoke, and he was going to get laid. What more could he want?

He kept chatting with Anso, occasionally reaching back to tug the wide waistband of his jockstrap back up past the frayed edges of the blue jean shorts. The old pair of pants was the same he'd worn the first time in the bar, only now they were much reduced in length, barely reaching the crease between the fox's thighs and hips. His small bulge was fully displayed, though the real show happened behind, where the blue jeans utterly failed to accommodate his juicy cheeks, letting them spread and squeeze across the barstool and down the sides.

"Oh, look at the time," the fox said, miming a watch on his wrist. "It's about time for me to go change a dog's world."

"Go get him! No mercy!" Anso said. "Do me proud and make him beg, alright?"

Renoir bared his teeth in a tight, mean little grin. Smoke trickled through his teeth as he grinned at Anso and nodded, then sashayed out the exit.

Anso sighed and smiled softly to himself. Always nice to see a powerbottom blossom. And what was more, there was still a lot of potential to the horny little fox...

The chipmunk's ears perked up when he heard a muffled grunt from the back room. Turning away from the empty bar, he walked to the door.

"Well, it's not my fault I have to use three cockrings to keep your stupid dick hard enough!" he said to whoever was back there making the noise. "Learn to fuck for more than thirty minutes at a time and we'll try again!"

The chipmunk closed the door with a bang, then leaned against it, flattening his rump along the wood. The chipmunk smirked as he lit a fresh cigar. That Doberman, he thought, was in for a great night.

Back at Renoir's apartment, the red-furred fox was dressed in a new outfit. He'd ordered it online, so he wasn't totally sure the fit was correct, but he liked what he saw in the mirror in the bathroom, at least. And when, a short while after dressing, he opened the door for Bruno, he could tell the big, muscular Doberman liked the new look just as much.

Renoir's hips were framed by a shocking pink g-string. The straps dug in around his thighs, connecting in the front to the smouth pouch holding his plump sheath, while in the back, the strings dug into his meaty rump cheeks before joining together under his tail and diving down between, reconnecting on the other side under his fat little balls. For a top, the fox wore a pink t-shirt cropped in half. It fluttered over his narrow shoulders and chest, amplifying the difference between his svelte and lean top and his thick and chunky bottom.

"Come on in, stud. Wanna drink?" Renoir asked. The fox leaned in, chest to upper belly with the taller canine, and pushed the door closed behind him. "Or do you wanna get straight to fucking?"

The Doberman's eyes widened first at hearing the straightforward suggestion, then a second time when vulpine fingers reached in between his thighs and gave his package a firm, indelicate squeeze.

"Ohh, those feel nice and big," Renoir said, breathing warmly across the big canine's chest. "I'll make sure they're empty before you leave, stud."

The Doberman couldn't resist. The fox was so close, so wanton, just oozing the kind of determined lust that made him know: this is happening. A big, black-furred paw wrapped around a significant quantity of fox butt and attempted to squeeze, but barely made a dimple in the iron-like glutes.

Bruno gasped. Renoir grinned.

"That's right, stud, it's all muscle," the fox said. His paw squeezed between the canine's legs again. "And it feels almost as hard as you are right now."

Bruno didn't reply - he could only follow dumbly as the fox led him down the hallway of the apartment, through the kitchen, and into the back, all with a firm grasp on the Dobie's thick bulge. Bruno shuddered at the vice-like grip around his meat and obediently padded along behind the fox into the bedroom.

"Strip," Renoir said, a devious grin on his muzzle. "Let's see those muscles, big boy."

The Doberman nodded, and felt a strange heat on his cheeks. Was he... embarrassed? Coy? Shy, all of the sudden? Him, the big, muscular, friendly Doberman? Nonsense. He pulled off his shirt and flexed his pecs up and down while smirking back at the fox.

"Mmmhh... very nice... lots of meat on those bones," Renoir said, turning slightly to the side and lifting a paw. "But maybe not as much as on mine, huh?"

The fox spanked his own rump, causing a wave of jiggliness as he relaxed.

Bruno's cock lifted his loose boxer shorts up. The leg slid back on the right, revealing his dark red shaft at full mast already. It was big, thicker than Renoir's wrist, and the fox let out a teasing groan as he tickled his fingers down the sensitive flesh, reaching inside the boxer shorts to get a proper feel. Bruno stiffened in every way and grit his teeth as claws teased at the base, tickling his sheath. The teasing didn't stop and Bruno's fingers clenched into fists at his sides until a tiny, unwilling whimper escaped his clamped lips.

"Ahhhh... that's what I like to hear," Renoir grunted. His paw pulled away, and the other swept up to smack the muscular Doberman on the rump. "Lose the shorts and get on the bed, hot stuff. Time to take you for a ride."

Bruno's ears folded back as his aching cock twitched, already leaking inside his boxer shorts. He dutifully tugged them down and left them with his other clothes, then climbed onto the bed and lay on his back.

The Doberman's eyes widened as Renoir climbed on top of him after. The thick-hipped male squeezed against him with surprising pressure and warmth, spreading his plump rump across the Dobie's hips and belly. As Renoir slowly rocked his hips back and forth, the canine whimpered again at the tight, warm sensation rubbing across his arousal.

Renoir's fingers guided his thick meat, sliding it between those fat cheeks, which tensed and squeezed around him, supple and firm and fuzzy. Bruno clenched his teeth and moaned again, louder, as Renoir's hips rode up and down, working his shaft from base to tip between the clenching rump. As he did, Renoir leaned over and pushed his narrow chest and belly forward, into Bruno's broad muzzle, filling the canine's lips and nostrils with his deep, intoxicating vulpine scent. Renoir's nipples rubbed across the canine's tongue and he moaned with greed as the dog's muzzle opened wider, licking and suckling eagerly like a good boy ought to.

"Ohhh, yes, Bruno, you naughty puppy," the small fox grunted. "Get that big dick hard for me..."

Following an order had never been easier. Bruno was already at 100 percent, plus knot. The fox's hips tipped at a certain angle, and the Dobie's fingers lifted, automatically clenching around the fox's massive rump as the small male shoved down.

"Rrrrrrhhhaaaahhhhh!"

"Mmmmmhhhhhh..."

Their moans intertwined as the fox's hips spread around the canine's thickness, smoothly dragging the full, throbbing shaft deeper and deeper until Bruno's muzzle opened and his tongue pushed out. His fingers dug into the clenching hips as his knot, already being milked by the thick cheeks, ground against the fox's tight hole.

Renoir smirked as he dug both paws into Bruno's broad, muscular chest. His hips relaxed just a little and he shoved back, grinding down into the knot until, with a low gasp, he felt it pop inside. And then, with a skillful little flourish, he dragged himself back off, popping it right back out.

Bruno's keening grew as the fox repeated the move again and again, knotfucking himself stupid on the big dog's arousal. The fox's chest and belly jiggled as he bounced himself off the canine's thighs, each time grinding himself right over and around the fat knot until he felt the big dog bottom out, only to drag himself back off until Bruno's drooling muzzle was twitching and jerking as much as his cock did.

"Mmmmhhhh... ohhhh, yeah, you canines and your knots are the fuckin' beeeeest," Renoir groaned, his high-pitched voice jostled and disturbed with each pop and flex of his wide hips. "Yeah, puppy, fuck my ass! Get it in there, slut!"

Bruno's ears folded back and his eyes widened as he felt Renoir's fingers wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him forward into a near sitting position in between the fox's legs. The g-string, shoved aside in the back for the Doberman's thickness, remained in place in front, though it was pushed down and far from its original location by the small fox's plump, fat cock. It wasn't nearly the size of the Doberman's, but it was just big enough to make the canine gag when Renoir's paws tugged his muzzle around the tip after quickly dragging it free.

"Mmmhhhh... oooh, you got a nice muzzle, pup," Renoir groaned. "Fuck, that feels good..."

The Doberman's eyes closed as thick pre-cum poured from the corners of his muzzle. Every time his mouth wasn't full, the thick-hipped vulpine was slamming his tight ring down around his knot, and every time his muzzle was filled, the fox was dragging himself off. Bruno panted and whined, his messy muzzle filling with pre as his eyes clamped shut, unable to open under the small fox's tight, writhing onslaught. Not to mention the language, which made Bruno's insides tense like nothing ever had before.

The thrusting and humping suddenly stopped. Renoir's claws dug into the space behind Bruno's ears, forcing his muzzle further forward, all the way to the base of the fox's smaller cock and knot, until the Doberman could taste Renoir's sheath. The fox's hips clenched, impossibly tight, impossibly hot, impossibly pleasurable.

The Doberman's cock never stood a chance. Gagging and whining and moaning around Renoir's thick musky onslaught, Bruno came. Hard. The kind of mind-emptying, higher-power orgasm that could change someone's entire personality. The muscular canine's pecs twitched and flexed, his belly hardened, and his thighs trembled as the small fox's backside milked his knot, sending hot bolts of sheer pleasure into the helpless canine's jerking, thrusting, erratic body, all while cascading splurts of thick, musky vulpine seed flooded over his lips and bulged his cheeks.

"NNNnnnnggghghhhh, yeaaaaaaahhhhh," Renoir groaned. "That's it, slut, fill my ass up with that load... oooooh, fuck, yes! So much seed... you bad boy..."

A river of fox jizz rolled down Bruno's bent chest, gathering and dripping from the tense swells of his large pectorals, while some rolled all the way down his hard belly. Renoir's claws dragged his muzzle down, burying his dick deep in Bruno's muzzle one last time before dragging his hips back. While sitting down heavily, he shoved the Doberman's shoulders away, pushing the gasping male flat on the bed while bouncing himself off the big canine's wide hips. Bruno's yelp echoed through the room, accompanied by the slaps of the fox's thick rump cheeks smacking across Bruno's thighs.

"Mmmhh... fuck yeah," Renoir said again. His paw reached down and jerked his shaft, squeezing a few more blasts of cum onto the muscular chest between his legs. His muscular ass clenched, getting a few more whines and moans from Bruno. "That was a good start, pup."

"S-start?" Bruno gasped. "I can't... move my... legs... hhnnngggghh..."

Renoir's cackle filled the room, followed by the click of a lighter. The bright red cherry on the end of the cigar burned merrily as the small fox ground his hips down, squirming and twisting and squeezing until Bruno's whole backside arched upwards, lifting him completely from the bed. The fox exhaled the heavily scented tobacco smoke just at the peak of the arch, before he was lowered back down as the canine collapsed.

"Sure you can move your legs, see? Now start pumping, slut! You've got a hundred reps left to go! And get those paws where they belong!"

Bruno moaned, then grunted as the vulpine muzzle suddenly was on top of his own mouth. The dark and tangy tobacco flavors mixed with the sharp flavor of the vulpine himself as Bruno's cock jerked, fully erect and still completely buried in Renoir's heavenly ass. The Doberman's eyes rolled up into his head as he started to buck, humping hard and fast, making his knot jerk out and pop in rougher, harder, faster, as he sucked on Renoir's tongue and clutched at the little dom's backside.

"There you go, cutie... that's it... oooh, fuck, right... right there!" Renoir moaned, rubbing his skinny chest and belly against the Dobie's pecs.

His hips dragged off the fat knot with an audible pop and an accompanying gasping whine from Bruno before his eager hips slapped back down. Bruno's fingers dimpled Renoir's backside as the Doberman came again, unable to stop as the fox's belly rounded outwards. Renoir's fingers scraped down the glossy back and brown fur on Bruno's chest as he squirmed side to side, exhaling large puffs of smoke towards the ceiling once in a while.

Bruno panted, going limp on the covers as Renoir clenched and flexed around the half-hard canine shaft, refusing to release it. Before long, Bruno's teeth glinted and he let out a growling moan before both paws returned to clasp the fox's oversized posterior. Renoir grinned as he felt the big male shuddering and shivering at the rapid pace. His tongue flopped out of his muzzle, a beatific look on his face, as his glassy eyes only somewhat focused on the sultry, dominant, fat-bottomed vulpine straddling his hips.

"Not bad, Bruno, but I think we're gonna have to do a lot of training so you can keep up with the leg guy!"

* * *

Back at the Mabel's Bounty, Anso grinned and lit a cigar. He was in a good mood considering he knew his favorite pet project was in the middle of breaking in a new plaything. Bruno was tough, though, so Anso was reasonably sure the Dobie could take it. Anyways, even more interesting things were afoot.

Anso put on a disaffected air, clenched the burning cigar between his teeth, and focused his attention on the newspaper spread open on the bar in front of him. The door to the bar opened and a small, thin shouldered feline with a splotchy, two-tone ginger and white pelt walked in carrying a gym bag slung across one shoulder.

"Welcome to Mabel's Bounty, how may I help you, etcetera," he said without looking up.

"Uhhh... what do you recommend?"

The corners of Anso's short muzzle twitched and his tail flicked once as he lifted his head, then cast an appraising glance at the short feline.

"I know just the thing," he said, pulling a glass out from beneath the counter. "You just came from the gym?"

The feline grinned nervously as he slid onto the stool. "Yeah, but don't tell my trainer, he wouldn't like it."

Anso smirked as he turned around and opened the humidor, selecting a relatively mild "starter" cigar to test the cat's taste.

"Gotta hand it to Mabel," the chipmunk muttered with a grin as he snipped the tip of the stogie. "She knows how to pick a location... this is almost too easy."

The end