FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

By MaantaaBeast

Joe stood beside the examination table, stroking Rosco's paw. "I'm sure it just needs a cold compress or something."

Rosco almost answered, but winced, and rubbed his jaw with a frustrated huff. He looked out of place in a hospital room, his long, thick legs splaying awkwardly over the side of the plastic-y table, fluffy gray coat contrasting the shiny eggshell white of it all. Rosco sniffed uncomfortably at the sterile air.

Joe leaned over, shading Rosco from the fluorescent lights with his rack of antlers. He petted the wolf's snout. "Poor puppy."

Rosco growled quietly, but couldn't stop his tail from wagging, or his ears from perking up. He looked away from Joe in embarrassment.

A mean little idea made Joe smile. "Looks like nobody taught you not to growl." He rested a hand on Rosco's thigh, were it escaped his shorts. All that wolf meat spread out like melty butter on the table. "Gotta discipline bad boys." Joe slipped a thumb under the soft fur of his inner thigh and squeezed, pinching the fat.

Rosco let out a surprised yip, looking up at Joe with betrayal in his big, bronze eyes.

Joe's heart twinged, but he kept his teasing smile as he leaned down and kissed the top of Rosco's head. His hand drifted up the wolf's leg until his knuckles pressed against Rosco's heavy belly. Beneath it, he found something hard in his shorts. But the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside stopped him in his tracks.

With a panicked flash on his face, Rosco nudged Joe's hand away and tried to readjust his equipment in his underwear.

"Down boy," Joe whispered.

Rosco bared his teeth. He was flustered, trying to bring his thighs together.

Although Rosco's shorts were too flexible and soft to hide his erection, the belly fat pouring between his legs did an excellent job. "You're fine, big wuff. Benefits of all those second helpings." Joe patted his arm and winked.

---

The doctor, a badger woman in a short white coat, slipped through the door.

She had Rosco open his snout, turn his head, and move his jaw in strange ways, most of which made his breath catch and toes curl tight. After a few minutes of examination and routine questions, she nodded and began to write something down on a clipboard.

"How is he, doc? Will he make it?" Joe asked, caressing Rosco's face.

Despite her initial professional attitude, Dr. Roller had to stifle a laugh. "Yes, I think he'll pull through." She turned to Rosco. "There's no significant damage, but it's quite a sprain. How did it happen?"

Rosco tried to speak, but Joe lifted his snout to keep it closed.

"Oh, um..." Joe was thankful to his shirt for covering the bite marks across his shoulder. He loved their pred-prey games, but always assumed he was the one risking an injury. "He tried to take a really big bite of meat."

Dr. Roller made a suspicious noise. "Must have been one thick steak. Well,

Rosco, you probably pulled the muscle by opening too wide too quickly."

Rosco nodded, rubbing his jaw again to soothe the examination pains. "What's the treatment?" He asked quietly, with a little hitch in his voice.

"First off, stop talking," she ordered. "You need to keep your jaw from moving for a while, around two weeks."

Rosco's eyes widened.

"That doesn't sound easy," Joe said. Rosco probably used his mouth more often than not, wolfing down dinner, howling, licking Joe - in various places - or, occasionally, softly snoring.

"It's hard for most people, wolves moreso." Dr. Roller nodded sympathetically. "You have to remember to keep it closed all the time. An accidental yawn or such could exacerbate the injury." She offered Rosco a smile. "But we have something to help. I'll be back in a moment."

Rosco looked at Joe, his face full of worry.

Joe scratched him on the neck, digging his fingers under the downy fur to tug at Rosco's loose hide. The wolf had been slow to let Joe touch all his vulnerable parts when they first met, but now his eyes closed in comfort with Joe's fingers handling his body.

Joe didn't stop when Dr. Roller returned, holding some kind of fabric... sling? It was hard to tell folded in her hand. But as she unfurled it, the shape became obvious.

"A muzzle?" Rosco blurted, then snapped his jaw shut and whined.

"I know it's not the nicest accessory," Dr. Roller said, "but it's by far the best option for you." She held it out to Joe and pointed at each part. "This strap goes around the back of his head, this one over the top, this one around the snout. They're velcro, so you can tighten or loosen it as needed."

"Alright." Joe nodded. "He does have some chub under his snout." And in his cheeks, and his neck.

"Isn't-" Rosco struggled to talk again.

"Yeah, I think you're gonna need this," Joe said.

Rosco's brows furrowed as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He looked for something, tapped away for a moment, and a mechanical voice droned out, " Isn't there something else?"

Dr. Roller shook her head. "If you ended up pulling the muscle again, it could make for a much harder recovery." She tapped her foot thoughtfully. "I suppose, if you don't like the look of this one, you could pick up a metal muzzle? Though it wouldn't be as comfortable."

"Nah, he's not much of a guard dog." Joe petted Rosco's chubby cheek.

Rosco sighed, and looked down at his feet.

"But," Joe began, "how's he supposed to eat without moving his mouth?"

That earned a frantic head-turn from the despondent wolf.

"Here," Dr. Roller handed Joe a piece of paper. "He can open his snout a very small amount, but he'll have to be on a diet of liquids and very soft foods, no real chewing. Those are all good options for wolves. Just be sure he still gets all his nutrients, the body heals best when it's well-fed."

Joe nodded. "Well I'm up to the challenge. Won't let my wolf go hungry." He tapped a finger on Rosco's belly.

"Good, give us a call if you have any trouble." Dr. Roller turned to go. "Try putting on the muzzle. I'll have a nurse come by to check it, then you're free to go."

---

Once they were alone, Joe held the muzzle, inspecting it. The deep blue color didn't quite fit Rosco's tastes, but it looked like it would at least fit his snout. He snorted at the 'extra extra large' on the side. "Good thing they make these for the really big doggies, huh?"

Rosco just sulked, leaning away from the muzzle when Joe started to bring it close.

"Come on, Rosco." Joe sighed. "I know you don't want it, but I think you don't want a fucked-up jaw more."

He tapped on his phone. " It looks uncomfortable. And what are people gonna say?"

Joe stepped up close and tweaked his ear. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, wuff. And if you really want, you can stay in the car when we stop for groceries."

Rosco softened at Joe's touch, but he kept up his protest for a bit longer. " How am I supposed to eat anything with my teeth trapped? I'm gonna starve."

Joe almost laughed. Food was just another daily habit for Joe, but Rosco loved eating. Joe rubbed Rosco's back and drifted a hand down to the waistband of his shorts. "I'll make it a personal challenge to pack three more pounds on this rump before the muzzle comes off." He gave Rosco's butt a pat.

Though his fingers still tensed on the sides of the examination table, Rosco slowly nodded, hiding a faint smile.

"Good. Now look right at me, it'll be easier."

Joe pulled the muzzle forward, focusing on the back of his head first. He made sure that not a strand of Rosco's fur was caught before closing the velcro. He jostled the muzzle a bit to test it.

All the while, Rosco looked up at him, face trapped between the moose's muscular arms.

"There we go," Joe murmured. "Now the front." He nudged Rosco's chin upward and began to wrap the fabric around his snout. While his big wolf let him touch his neck, Rosco's eyes widened as the fat in his cheeks and under his snout was lightly squeezed. He managed to keep still, but when Joe had actually wrapped the muzzle around his snout, he involuntarily tried to open it.

Rosco tried to pull back, frantic to escape the confines before Joe had fully finished it.

"Hey," Joe said, calmly. "I have to make sure it's tight enough." He fumbled against Rosco's panicked movements, trying to bring the velcro together while a tentative growl escaped the wolf. "Rosco!" Joe's voice, suddenly firm, made Rosco freeze for the moment it took to bring end to end.

The moment it was done, Rosco's jaws tried to move, straining against the fabric. All he accomplished was making a small opening at the front of his snout. His big teeth languished in their new prison, and he let out a frightened, pitiful whine.

Joe looked down at him. "What was that? You were like a wild animal."

Rosco's hands were shaking, but he composed himself enough to type. " I don't know. I'm scared."

For a moment, Joe cocked a brow at him. But like anyone, Rosco was an animal, and unlike mooses, wolves relied on their teeth for more than eating. Joe calmed his own breath down and gently nudged Rosco to the side, so he could sit next to him. "I took your natural protection away. Hard for a wolf to take care of himself without his big old fangs."

Turning his way, Rosco looked into Joe's eyes, and leaned his soft chest against his hardy boyfriend.

Joe could feel Rosco's frightened heartbeat starting to settle. He wrapped both arms around him, stroking his flank while he guided Rosco to nestle his head on his shoulder. "You don't need to worry about that. The big moose is gonna take care of you."

Rosco leaned into Joe's embrace, his own tubby arms slipping around the moose's sides.

After a long moment, Rosco typed behind Joe's back, " Thanks for putting it on. I'm sorry I growled."

"Hey, it's okay wuffers." Joe patted his back rhythmically. He took a deep breath of Rosco's scent, fresh and musky from the base of his neck, and made himself pull away from all that warm softness. "Just let me do one last check for tightness. I'll get you a special treat for tonight."

---

Joe melted a chunk of tallow into the bone broth. Ground beef fried on the next burner, and a pot full of farina simmered away on the back. He hoped the beef would turn out small enough to work in the soup, though he'd probably have to overcook it to hell to get there.

Rosco sat patiently at the kitchen table, staring with longing at the beef. It was perfect for him right now, still rare and juicy. But that was for wolves who weren't wearing muzzles. He scratched at it.

After a secretive check of the oven, Joe sauntered over to him. "How's it feeling?"

" It's okay," Rosco typed. " I'm sure I can take it off in the shower, right?"

"Well," Joe began, "the nurse told me it was waterproof." When he saw Rosco's crestfallen face, he rubbed the back of his head. "But if you like, I can join you, just to make sure you're getting clean everywhere."

That earned a little smile, but Rosco had more to type. " Speaking of water, I hope you're not too disappointed about the beach party."

"What about it?" Joe asked, returning to the stove. He and Rosco had been planning to attend a queer event at one of the smaller beaches outside town. Some innocent fun early in the day, some less innocent in the evening.

" I can't go with this on." Rosco paused. " You can still go if you want, though. I don't want to make you miss it."

"Well I'm not going without you, but I'm also not gonna let you just hide away for two weeks." Joe watched the fat render from the beef.

" It's embarrassing. I'm not gonna go be around a bunch of people in it."

Joe sighed. Rosco could get so anxious about strangers. Truth be told, he loved the wolf's quiet nervousness, it was cute. But he worried about Rosco missing out all the time. "You have a few days, at least think about it." Joe smiled at him. "I doubt anyone would make fun of you. And if they do, I can tell them about my poor injured puppy, and make them feel like shit."

Despite himself, a weak laugh escaped Rosco's tight snout. " Maybe." He was quiet again for a while, kicking his big paws back and forth under the table while he watched Joe cook. " What's in the oven?"

"Your treat! It's almost done, if you get some plates I'll get your feast ready."

---

Laying out the food with grandiose movements, Joe presented his improvised meal. The Farina looked thick in its bowl, cut through with deep canals of butter. The soup itself was thin, but shining beef fat smothered the top, and little bits of meat gathered together at the bottom. Those alone would have been enough for a wolf, even one of Rosco's size, but Joe produced a large baking sheet from the oven. Four long, thick bones sat upon it, cut in half and roasted to a deep brown. Inside them, something shiny and luscious waited with a coating of spices and salt.

Rosco could barely contain himself in his seat as Joe laid the platter down. At first, he tried to murmur through the muzzle with excitement, but returned to his phone. " You got me marrow bones?"

Joe almost couldn't bear to look at Rosco's big, shiny eyes. His heart sped up at that adorable face, and he reached over the table, almost involuntarily. He grabbed Rosco's cheeks and gave him a rough, loving rub, making all the soft, fatty parts of his face smush and shift under his hide. "Thought you'd like them, chubby."

Now with his eyes partially closed by the pressing of his cheeks, Rosco nodded.

Though Joe had his own dinner, a large bowl of salad greens and whole grains, he was thinking more about Rosco's. "Now how about I help my big guy eat up?"

---

It took a while to get into the rhythm of it. A good bit of farina and butter painted the tip of Rosco's snout before he figured out how to open just enough to suck it through his teeth. Once he did, though, Joe didn't waste a moment. He brought spoonful after spoonful to Rosco's snout, eagerly watching the subtle shift of his throat as he swallowed.

Slowly, Rosco's frustrations started to cool under the pleasure of food and Joe's soft encouragements. And by the time both soup and wheat were gone, he could slump back in his chair and sigh over a well-filled belly.

"Don't forget your treat." Joe stepped around the table, smiling at a sudden idea. "Hey, get up for a second."

Rosco obeyed, confused until Joe sat down in his place.

The moose patted his thighs. While Joe was wearing jeans, Rosco only had a pair of black underwear, always more comfortable without clothes constricting his thick body. He watched Rosco try to say something, then simply turn to sit down in his flustered, imposed silence. His big lupine ass dragged Joe's gaze with it, the shape of his cheeks showing above his waistband as he settled.

Joe relished the sense of all that weight pressing down on his legs, thick fur and blubbery thighs alike easy to discern even through jeans. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Rosco, patting his belly. "I wonder how much bigger you've gotten since we moved in together?" He could feel the firmness of a stuffed stomach if he pressed hard, but it was well-buried beneath soft padding.

" You know I can't stop when you're feeding me." Rosco leaned his head back to rub snouts, though the muzzle wasn't quite as nice as his usual gray fuzz.

"Can't? Or don't want to?" Joe teased.

Rosco huffed and narrowed his eyes.

"Well, I think your body was just waiting for someone like me to come along." He cupped one of Rosco's moobs, letting its heft fill his palm. "Finest wolf titties I've ever seen."

Rosco tapped away again, though he had to fix a few typos with his excited fingers. " This isn't the annual wolf-moobs competition."

"Didn't know I needed a special event to love on my boyfriend's breasts? Besides, you're not really in a place to get all high and mighty." Joe nudged Rosco to look at him and flexed, his dense pectoral showing off beside its muscular arm. Given his short fur, Joe had a well-defined look.

Rosco stared shamelessly, only pulling his eyes away when a soft murmur failed to get past his snout. " I wish I could bite you."

"Let's not forget how we got into this mess in the first place." Joe laughed. "But, I'll tell you what, if you're a good sport about the muzzle I'll let you bite however many jaw-friendly parts of me you want." He hooked a finger under Rosco's snout, lifting it to look him in the eyes. "How's that sound, wolf?"

Rosco nodded against Joe's hand.

"Good. Now, you've got some marrow to chow down on."

This time, Joe rested a hand on Rosco's throat. The heat of his body poured into Joe's fingers, and he could feel the motion of the wolf's tongue as he lavished the first bit of marrow with attention. Then, with a deep, soft sound, his throat shifted, consigning that first mouthful to his stomach. Something about feeling the fat carnivore swallow made Joe's dick start to strain against his jeans. Thankfully, they were stiff enough to keep Rosco from noticing and - without question - teasing him mercilessly.

Once Rosco was truly finished with dinner, Joe held him, rubbing his belly tenderly. The fur was so soft there on his vulnerable parts that Joe had to restrain himself from tugging too hard on his hide. "You liked it?" He asked, gesturing to the table.

" It was better than I thought food would be, without chewing." Rosco nodded. " But aren't you hungry?"

"Oh don't worry, it's salad, it's already cold." Joe gave Rosco a little squeeze, making him wheeze softly. "I don't want to let my wuff go yet."

Rosco relaxed into him, seeming almost to melt. He warmed up all of Joe's front, the rolls of fat on Rosco's sides mingling with Joe's firm flank muscles. After a minute, Rosco typed slowly, careful not to disturb his own comfortable spot on the moose. " Hey Joe?"

"Yeah?"

" Do you really think nobody would make fun of me like this?"

Joe kissed him on the muzzle. "It's just some cloth and velcro. Besides, you don't exactly look like the meanest doggy, do you? It's no different from a leg cast."

Rosco paused, then glanced back at Joe. " It would be nice to go to the beach."

---

A few days later, they arrived at a secluded bit of shoreline.

The party played out on warm gray-gold sand, people of all sorts wandering beneath a bright sun and calm waves. Joe and Rosco ran into a good few people they already knew, who were thankfully understanding when Joe explained Rosco's muzzle. It did get annoying, though. And despite Rosco's nervousness, they met many new people, some of whom gave strange, knowing looks to them both.

With all the sand and water, Rosco had to leave his phone in the car. More than once, Joe caught him trying to sneakily remove his muzzle. It was cute, but the big wolf was trying his patience.

Joe contented himself by poking and pinching Rosco's lower belly whenever he reached for the velcro. All that fat might have been nice and soft to lounge around in, but it made him helpless against the moose, and his attempts at escape slowed as the day wore on. However, with all the little punishments, Joe was riling himself up, and Rosco's blue trunks just did such a good job of teasing the shape of his ass. It was all Joe could do to keep from getting hard in his swim briefs.

That, at least, wasn't a worry once evening came around. Once the day crowd had dispersed, a smaller, more tantalizing party started, with people showing off their bodies on the sand and sharing drinks by a little bar amidst some beach grass.

Joe and Rosco spent a few minutes just enjoying the sights. A hefty bull spread himself on a towel, the outline of his 'beef' obvious against his speedo. In the waves, a slender robin showed off his feathers. A chunky alligator did a poor job of pretending he wasn't showing off his rump as he lay on the sand.

Amidst the sights, Rosco tapped Joe's arm and pointed subtly to a quiet part of the beach. There, a hippo entrusted his considerable bulk to a straining beach chair. A pair of orange swim briefs tried desperately to cover his massive, gray-brown ass, and his thick hide folded around the impressive ridges of fat ranging from his belly around his sides.

The hippo scratched absently at his heavy moobs, showing off his broad, rough fingers and a waterproof watch that had to be custom-made for his thick wrist. He seemed to be taking in all the men on the beach with careful thought, not yet finding what he was looking for. He didn't acknowledge the wolf and moose staring at him.

"Fuck, that's a lot of man," Joe said.

Rosco mumbled, trying to answer, and his brows knotted in frustration.

"Bet I can guess." Joe grinned. "You wanna see what he's got under that paunch."

Though he rolled his eyes, Rosco's ears lowered in a bashful tell. He tried to speak again, probably to weakly defend himself, but was still rebuked by the muzzle. After a muffled groan and a moment of thought, he tapped his paw on the sand to get Joe's attention again. He pointed at his own snout, then at the waves.

Joe took a second, then nodded. "It has been hot out. I'll go get some water, you relax. I'm sure those tender paws are sore from walking around all day."

---

Joe got a few suggestive looks on his way to the bar, but nothing he wasn't used to, and he offered only a teasing flex and saunter as he passed the scantily-clad menagerie. Maybe Rosco would like a little extra company for one of his sorrowful, be-muzzled nights?

"I'll get to you in a second, popular guy. What's your poison?" The lioness behind the bar asked as she discarded half a lime. Thankfully, the only other patrons at the time were a pair of lesbians, so Joe could focus on his mission.

"Just a bottle of water, thanks. My boyfriend's all thirsty."

While the bartender finished the women's drinks, Joe took a second to lean against the bar and relax. But no sooner had he let out a breath than a shadow loomed over him. The hippo's stomach nudged into Joe, simply for lack of space at the bar for someone that big. "Same over here." His voice was deep and lightly scratched.

Joe tried not to make it obvious how much he wanted to stare, but as a moose, he was not used to being loomed over.

The hippo scratched his flabby extra chin. "Real nice view out here, isn't it?" His eyes seemed small, framed by wrinkles and a large brow in his fleshy face. But they were expressive, and clearly inspected Joe's body.

"Hard to look away," Joe said dumbly, turning to offer a look between his legs while he ogled the hippo's fat-stretched nipples.

The hippo laughed. "Makes your briefs get tight, eh?" He nudged a few knuckles against Joe's shoulder.

Not to be outdone, Joe put on a horny smile. "Think I'm gonna have to give them a good wash tomorrow."

A shiny little interest came to the hippo's eye. But before either of them could say anything more, the bartender set Joe's water bottle down.

"Ah-" Joe glanced past the hippo, finding Rosco's broad back down the beach, where he sat on a rock.

The hippo patted his shoulder. "You go on, get that water to your boy. I'll catch up."

---

Joe walked quietly up to Rosco, sneaking around to see the front of him. The wolf had his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open to snap at the salty breeze, and the unwrapped muzzle in his hand.

"Rosco," Joe said sharply.

Rosco's eyes flicked open and he smiled sheepishly as if he didn't know what he was doing. "Oh, hey," He said with a wince.

Joe reached for the muzzle.

"At least-" Rosco began, but moaned in pain partway through. "Water..."

"You really are just a dumb puppy, aren't you?" Joe chided loudly. "Gonna hurt yourself. Hold still."

"Wait-" Rosco tried to argue, but Joe had already pulled the back flap of the muzzle behind his head.

"You have to wear it, Rosco. I know it's not comfortable, but if you're going to be so disobedient then I guess I'll just have to keep a closer eye on you." He huffed, and gave a strong pinch to Rosco's belly.

Rosco let out a muffled yelp that turned into a sad, but accepting whine.

"Aww, is he being a bad boy?"

Joe had completely forgotten about the hippo for a moment. But there he stood, big mitt dwarfing his water bottle, looking down at Rosco with a friendly smile.

"Uh..." Joe tried to catch his scrambling thoughts. "His muzzle-"

"I know," the hippo cut Joe off, then stepped up beside him, close to Rosco. "Now come on big boy, you gotta do what your daddy tells you. You're definitely too cute to be disobeying him. Good puppies wear their muzzles."

Joe was at a loss for words for a moment, but he caught sight of Rosco's eyes, wide enough to catch the warm sunset light, and he knew the look of the wolf's lust, even if it was twinged with confusion. Joe had to admit, the hippo's attitude was sparking something in him too. "He's usually such a good puppy," he said, moving from awkward to savvy with a frustrated gesture at Rosco. "He just doesn't like it."

"Well of course not, but doggies don't know what's good for them, that's why we gotta take care of 'em." The hippo looked at Joe and offered a hand. "Name's Ned."

"Joe." He shook, and glanced down at Rosco. The wolf had an uncertain look on his face, but a curious one, and he hadn't gotten up off the rock.

"What do you call this chubby boy?" Ned beckoned.

"Rosco," Joe answered proudly.

"Damn, I mean it you know, he's mighty cute." With a slow turn, Ned looked Rosco up and down. "What a coat on him."

"His fur's the softest thing." Joe nodded.

"Can I pet him?" Ned asked.

Joe caught Rosco's eye and gave him a mischievous grin. "Yeah, he loves pets."

Ned leaned down and started on the top of his head, rubbing a broad hand back and forth. He tweaked an ear, then started to lower, patting his cheek. Rosco instinctively nudged away when Ned tried to touch his neck, so the hippo skipped it. But Ned wasn't even close to done. He got down on a knee and started to rub Rosco's belly.

Despite himself, Rosco's eyes partially closed and his tail started wagging.

"There we go, this old hippo knows just what puppies like." Ned kept rubbing, even pressing hard enough to push Rosco down. His fingers buried into Rosco's belly fat, which jiggled eagerly the harder he rubbed. "Dang, he's a biggun'. Real chowhound, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Joe sat down to join him, patting Rosco's chest. "He loves his food." He quickly stroked one of Rosco's moobs, making it lift and fall. "Guess I overfeed him a bit."

_"Over?"_Ned shook his head. He kept rubbing, but grabbed Rosco's side with the other hand, capturing a full roll of blubber with an appraising jostle. "Nah, some boys are just supposed to be full of puppy fat. And one as soft as yours?" He put enough force into his arms to Rosco onto his back, pudgy limbs spread out, blissful panting rushing from his muzzled snout. "This boy's gotta be heavy."

Joe kept playing with Rosco's warm tits, sloshing them around easily. The wolf's eyes were shut, face rapt in bliss at these big men treating him like nothing more than a tubby dog. "Wow," he murmured.

"Oh, look at the big pup." Ned let go of Rosco's side and started to jiggle more of his body, from his thick thighs to the side of his rump. "Fat, dumb, and happy. I knew he was a good doggy deep down, just needed his daddy to remind him who's in charge." He smiled at Joe.

"He's my sweet boy," Joe said lovingly. He could stare at Rosco's stupid smile for hours. With all of his heft spreading out on the sand like warm butter, soft muscles rendered useless by a simple belly rub, it seemed like he really was just a puppy.

"Excitable too." Ned chuckled. He lifted the bottom of Rosco's belly and brazenly rubbed the bulge that had grown in his trunks. A thin line of fluid trailed after his finger.

Rosco whined, thighs shifting needily.

Ned denied him, just dropping his belly back down with a few ripples under the fur. He continued to rub Rosco, dragging his hide back and forth, and leaned over so he could whisper to Joe, "If you want him to learn obedience, you've got one easy tool, and it even comes in a convenient sheath." He glanced down between Joe's legs. "Assuming you can restrain yourself, Mr. Muscles."

With a blush spreading under his fur, Joe realized that he'd soaked through his swim briefs at the tip of his erection, even dribbling a bit of precum onto the sand. "Right - yeah," he stammered, quickly collecting himself. He cleared his throat and spoke over the hot panting beneath him, "Not now Rosco."

Rosco's big eyes opened, sorry and pleading.

"Don't forget a reward for good behavior," Ned added.

Joe nodded, glad to have something more to offer. "If you're a good boy for the rest of the night, I'll take care of that in the morning."

Rosco let out a pitiful whimper, threatening to break Joe's resolve.

But Ned braced his shoulder, fixing him with a look of dominant certainty.

Joe found the strength to hold firm. "In the morning, Rosco."

For a moment, Rosco looked to Ned and whimpered, as if hoping for him to tell Joe that, surely, he'd been good enough to deserve to cum now. But the hippo was utterly unmoved by the needy pup. Defeated, Rosco laid his head back into the sand.

"There now, see? He'll learn," Ned assured Joe. Slowly, he drew back from Rosco and stood, stretching his back with a satisfied grunt. "Damn. He makes this old hippo excited, too."

Joe sighed. "Well, I guess I told him he'd have to wait until tomorrow for anything," He looked down at Rosco, who was struggling to recover from his blissful puppy state, testing his limbs again and trying to get up off his back, admittedly not that easy with so much wolf pudge weighing him down. "But uh, maybe some other night, if you want-"

"I'd love to play with him more." Ned reached into the band of his swim briefs, producing a small pen that had been hidden against his fat waist. "I've got lots of toys, too, if his daddy wants to bring him over." He wrote a number down on Joe's palm. "Maybe even another puppy, if that excites ya'." Ned tapped a knuckle against Joe's meaty bulge.

The thought of Rosco and another guy playing around like doggies sent a wave of heat coursing through Joe's head. "Fuck, I'd - he'd love that."

"Then you just reach out as soon as you're ready. Now," Ned turned back to Rosco, who had managed to sit back up with his palms on the sand, making all his belly fat bunch up into delectable rolls. The hippo squatted down and grabbed one between his unrelenting fingers like he was picking it out at a bakery, "nice to meet you, Rosco. Such a cute boy." He squeezed that furry dough, clearly promising that he could press much harder. "You better be good for your daddy, ya' hear?"

For the first time, the muzzle seemed to fit Rosco, as he looked obediently between Joe and Ned, and nodded.