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Rosco stood in front of the mirror, slowly shifting his weight from foot to foot. He rubbed a hand up and down his middle, ruffling the fur. Numbers on a scale were one thing, but seeing his lower belly fat pouring out far enough to cover his crotch was another. He tried turning his body, inspecting his sides, his chest, his legs, but each angle just gave him new evidence - fat-stuffed rolls of fur, big decadent breasts, and his thighs? Joe was right, he'd gotten a lot bigger since they moved in together. Standing in just his underwear, there was no hiding how much of a big, overfed wolf he'd become.

The thought sent its usual warm tingles across his skin, and as he jiggled his belly heft with both paws he couldn't help but smile at the wonderful, heavy feeling. But he and Joe were going to meet that hippo again tonight, and apparently there'd be a bull there, too. What would they think about all this wolf blubber? He certainly wouldn't have many clothes to hide behind, not once he and the bull were playing pups.

"Hey, Joe?" He called out to the living room. "Am I supposed to show up in, like... actual clothes first?"

"Yeah I think so," The moose's hearty voice filled the bedroom. "We'll figure it out when we get there I guess."

Rosco nodded silently and rubbed his jaw. At least he could finally talk and chew again. It would have sucked to skip dinner at a new friend's house. He tapped his foot. Was_friend_ quite the right word? Horndog dom? "No," Rosco murmured to himself as he thought back to the way that hippo had treated him, rubbing his belly, talking like he couldn't understand him, even asking Joe what Rosco's name was. His dick stirred in the warm confines of its sheath. "I'm the horndog."

Heavy footsteps fell up to the bedroom door, and Joe slipped inside, dressed in a pair of old jeans and a brown tank top that almost seemed to blend into his fur. He held his hands behind his back, and grunted at the sight of Rosco. "What a beast. I got something for you."

"Yeah?" Rosco turned to him, stretching his long, thick arms to show off all the flesh from his tits to his paunch. "What is it?"

Joe stepped up close, standing just a sliver taller than the wolf. "Your puppy uniform." He brought both hands around. In one, he held a cloth muzzle colored a faint, warm pink. In the other, a large pair of boxer briefs hung from his fingers. All across the fabric was a repeating pattern of cartoon beef steaks.

Rosco marveled at the muzzle. He'd only been free of his medically-appointed one for a few days, and here he was, a proud wolf, about to give up his sharp teeth again. "I can take it off for dinner, right?"

Joe nuzzled his chin against Rosco's snout. "If you're a good boy, I'll unlock it."

"Unlock?" Rosco cocked a brow.

Joe showed him where the muzzle's cloth flaps connected. At each point, a series of little metal rings were embedded with a small lock ready to be clicked into place. The moose patted his own hip, where a keyring hung. "You didn't think I'd get you another velcro one, did you?"

Rosco's heart panicked at the idea of being _locked_in a muzzle. Looking at it, his first instinct was to refuse. But he met Joe's eyes for a second, flecked with all the familiar comfort. "And..." He glanced away, to Joe's other hand. "Are you sure that's the best pair of underwear? The other guy's a bull, right?"

"Oh like you don't love biting down on me," Joe squeezed Rosco's cheek, making a little indent in the pudge. "You're a wolf through and through, big guy."

"It's different with you." Rosco crossed his arms, but the boxers were kinda cute. "You know I don't really mean it."

Joe patted his side. "Don't worry about it, Rosco. I asked Ned, he says his bull-puppy's gonna love it."

"Well," Rosco rubbed his fingers on the fabric, finding it soft and stretchy, "if you're sure." He pulled his hips a little closer to Joe, until his belly pressed up against him. They were both rounded in the middle, Rosco with his pillowy fat, Joe slightly with hard-earned muscle. Rosco trailed a claw along his flank. "Think you can help me put them on?"

"We're almost late, wolf." Joe began to bend at the knees. "With all that time you spent pampering your fur."

"Oh alright." Rosco sighed. "Give them here-"

The wind was driven out of his chest as Joe planted his shoulder into Rosco's middle, wrapped an arm behind his knees, and with a grating grunt of effort, hefted all five-hundred some pounds of wolf into the air.

Rosco wheezed, stomach struggling to keep up with the change, chest and arms dangling down behind Joe.

The moose patted Rosco's vulnerable ass, the underwear already slipping down. "Look at the size of this one," Joe huffed as he trudged across the bedroom. "They'll call me the greatest wolf catcher on the continent." He rubbed one of Rosco's cheeks roughly, dragging his loose skin back and forth over the meat. "And this pelt! With fur like this, and so damn much of it, I'll be able to buy a mansion!"

Maybe it was the blood rushing to his head, but warm, fuzzy excitement flowed through Rosco. With his body squished up against Joe's stalwart shoulder, he could only beg. His deep, soft voice twinged with a desperate whine. "Please, Mr. Hunter! Don't take my pelt!"

"Am I just supposed to let a big, gluttonous beast like this go?" Joe wore a sinister grin as he leaned his head towards Rosco's rump. "Especially when I'm craving some wolf fat." He bit down on the left cheek with his blunt teeth.

Rosco yelped, and redoubled his whining. "I'll do anything you want, Mr. Hunter! I promise I can be good for more than fur and meat!"

Joe pretended to think for a moment, while Rosco took short little breaths, unable to inflate his middle like this. But the moose looked back over his shoulder, and Rosco put on his best big, sad puppy eyes.

He was rewarded with the world flipping around him, an exhilarating lurch in his gut, and finally the incredible weight of his sloshing body landing in the thick mattress of their bed. The frame underneath groaned painfully, and as Rosco finally caught a full breath, belly rising greedily, Joe lurched up after him.

Joe's knees pinned Rosco's sides as he straddled him. For a long moment, he loomed above Rosco, blotting out the light with his great rack of antlers. They shared warm breaths, taking in the scent of each other, bodies expanding and relaxing in unison.

Then Joe leaned down and locked snouts, threatening to steal Rosco's air again in a deep kiss. When he finally pulled back, Rosco was almost dazed, arms spread out on the mattress.

Joe, however, seemed to have an idea, betrayed by a lift of his brows. "Well, I certainly can't let you go back to turning all the poor, lost woodsmen into belly fat," He squeezed his knees around Rosco's middle, making him wheeze again. "Someone's got to tame you, beast." He brought the muzzle forward.

"You can't tame me! I'm a wolf," Rosco panted.

"Oh, once we get these nasty things put away," He tugged at Rosco's lip, showing the dangerous, lupine teeth in his snout. The fangs shone like alabaster, "all that predator bluster will evaporate, won't it?"

Rosco's ears fell back in exaggerated fear. "No, not my teeth."

"Let's see what this big beast is without his jaws." Joe trailed a finger along Rosco's neck, then between his blubbery tits. "Probably just a fat," He reached down to run a palm over the wolf's growing bulge, dick pressing his boxers sorely tight, "needy puppy."

He spent another moment there, lording his domination over this terrible carnivore, then sat back with a sigh. "I think we'll have to push this little fantasy forward a bit. Much as I'd love to muzzle you right now, Ned wants everyone to meet as guys first before we get to pup stuff."

Rosco lifted himself on his elbows, head still swimming with all the things that antlered wolf hunter could do to him. "Well, will you at least put the new underwear on me?"

Joe laughed. "Just a sec, big boy." He reached over to the nightstand, pulling out a few tissues. As he slipped off the old pair, Rosco's dick sprung into the air, fully-emerged in deep, fleshy pink. "Let's get you cleaned up." Joe dabbed at Rosco's dick, even squeezing it once to get a few more drops of clear fluid flowing down his length. That much made Rosco squirm, but worse was when Joe hooked a finger in his sheath and pulled it wide. An ember of pleasure at being stretched caught fire as Joe ran the tissues inside, soaking all the precum that had made a glistening pool. Even soft tissues made branching little bolts race out through Rosco's hips, rubbing as they did against his tender inner skin.

Rosco's legs trembled, and he moaned quietly.

"Gluttonous and horny." Joe kissed Rosco's thigh, brushing his nose against the wolf's hefty balls. "Patience, pup."

He drew the new pair of boxer briefs up Rosco's legs, nudging him to the side so he could drag the fabric over each wide hip.

Rosco lavished in the firmness of Joe's grip, the way the moose forced his soft flesh to do as he wanted. But even when Rosco stood and pulled at the waistband himself for a last adjustment, it felt a bit forced. The underwear tugged at the base of his cheeks, pressed into his thigh fat, and even with his tail slipped through the little hole in the back, the waistband kept curving down, showing off the top edge of his ass. Not to mention, they did a very poor job of hiding the shape of his balls and sheath, or the pad of fat above them.

He brushed one of the little steaks, stretched out a bit against his leg. "They're kinda tight."

"Someone's been snacking," Joe tapped his nose. "Hard to blame you, after all that time in the muzzle. But don't worry," He patted Rosco's rump. "I doubt either of them will mind the view. I know I won't." With a regretful beckoning, Joe continued, "Now, get dressed for real. Even if we're just gonna strip it off after a few minutes anyway."

***

All through the car ride, Joe could see Rosco's nervous energy. While he felt for the wolf, there was nothing he could do. One had to meet strangers for them to stop being strangers.

They parked in front of a large house, situated in a quiet, wooded area just outside of the city proper. While the yard, full of ferns and moss, was dark, the house's cozy windows let out a warm light.

Joe gave Rosco the bottle of red wine they'd brought after Ned insisted that he would handle dinner for his guests.

"Do you think puppies get to drink any?" Rosco asked, his voice wavering a bit.

Joe stroked the back of his head as he knocked on the door. "Maybe, unless Ned has something better." He lingered his arm around Rosco's shoulders, pulling the wolf close.

With a soft creak, the door opened to reveal Ned, standing with a welcoming smile. The hippo wore dark slacks whose belt struggled to encompass his incredible girth. His stomach hung down, contained by a well-fitted dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms, covered in thick skin and light, bristly hair.

His small eyes narrowed in excitement as he boomed out, "Joe, Rosco! Come on in," He stepped to the side, urging them forward.

The warm reception helped to ease Joe's worry about their outfits. "Thanks, Ned. Sorry, I didn't realize you were getting dressed up."

Rosco looked at him worriedly.

"Don't you fret about that. You both look just fine." Ned appraised them with a glance. "I just find a good outfit helps to put me in the mood for playing with obedient boys." He turned to Rosco and offered a hand. "Speak of, nice to meet you standing up, Rosco."

With uncertain movements, Rosco took his hand and shook, his other hand toying with the wine bottle. "Nice to meet you, too."

"What a sweet voice. Come on." Ned led them both into the living room, where a couch and pair of chairs faced an impressive television setup. All the furniture was large, fitting for a hippo - and thankfully his guests. "Burger's in the kitchen."

"I thought we were having barbecue?" Joe said.

Ned chuckled, as heavy footsteps preceded a bull emerging from the kitchen door. "You do have a confusing name, you know."

The bull was wiping his hands on a cloth, seeming to comfort himself with the motion. He had a similar expression to Rosco, open and uncertain, but far less nervous. His dark-russet fur was spattered with umber spots, seeming to fit his name with a look almost like well-browned meat.

Joe couldn't help but get a good look at all the meat he had, thick slabs of fat weighing down his impressively-hefty frame. Burger's moobs crested around his sides, more than filling out an undersized shirt and competing for space with his flour-sack arms, while the swaying heft of his belly poured shamelessly into view. He tugged at his exercise shorts, which struggled - and failed - to cover his behemoth haunches.

A cute little tail swung back and forth behind him. "My master thinks it fits me."

His voice, low even for a bovine, was soft and yielding, even more than Rosco's had ever gotten. And it drew Joe's attention to his face, catching the breath in the moose's throat.

Burger's broad nose, shiny like chocolate, was pierced through with a ring of heavy gray metal. His large bovine ears sat placidly on the sides of his head, one of them bearing an obvious yellow cattle tag. But it was the horns that dumbfounded Joe. Or rather, the lack thereof. Where there should have been a pair of broad, pointy spires growing between his ears, there were only two blunt, hard rounds, barely raised at all above the skin. It was obvious that Burger wasn't just a polled breed; they'd been removed.

Joe knew he shouldn't have stared, but he couldn't help it.

"Hi," Rosco said, taking a nervous step towards Burger. "I'm Rosco."

Burger's smile wasn't the biggest, but it touched his face deeply. He had big, brown eyes that caught the light as they met the wolf's. "Hi, Rosco." He paused. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've introduced myself to someone. I'm Burger. But I guess you already knew that."

Ned took the opportunity to break in. "That wine looks lovely." He took the bottle from Rosco and shot Joe a look to pull his eyes away from Burger's stubs. "Is everything looking good in the kitchen?"

"Yes, it smells wonderful." Whenever Burger looked at Ned, he glanced down beneath his eyes. "I always enjoy your food, Mr. Tenor."

The hippo patted his shoulder and said quietly, "You can call me Ned while you've got a shirt on."

Burger seemed a little younger than Ned, but not enough to call him 'Mr.' And it was odd seeing someone Burger's size looking down in deference like that. In fact, his whole body language was passive, belly unguarded and shoulders soft, a rare sight among bulls.

"I know, but old habits." Burger laughed faintly. He turned back to Rosco. "I'm used to meeting people in my usual outfit, it's hard to get into a different headspace." With a few steps that made his blubber shake, Burger walked up close. "But Mr. Tenor didn't want to throw you in the deep end right off the bat. I'm sure even just puppy play is odd for a big wolf like you."

Rosco scratched at his own chest nervously. "Well, it kind of makes sense for me to play a puppy, right? It's not too weird, Joe and I have a few fantasies we toy around with. But," He gnawed on his lip for a second, "it is a bit of a step to use muzzles and stuff."

"It's wonderful though, isn't it? Wearing your outfit, embracing your role entirely." Burger waited until he got a small nod from Rosco, then continued. "Do you have a puppy name?"

Rosco's eyes widened slightly. "Was I supposed to?"

"Nah," Ned said as he stepped up beside Burger. "I mean, you're already a canine, no reason you can't use your name as it is." He rested his arms on the bull's shoulders and jostled him. "Burger here went the opposite direction. Liked his cattle name so much it's all he uses now." To prove his point, Ned showed them both Burger's cattle tag. One side had a string of numbers ending with a prominent '701', and a barcode beneath it, while the other had 'Burger' printed on it, clear as day. Ned tweaked Burger's ear with a smirk. "Efficient tag, tells you his name and what he's getting fattened up for."

Rosco's stricken expression earned a laugh from Ned and a whiny answer from Burger. "I thought we were trying not to scare them off."

Even as he protested, the bull had an unmistakable flustered smile on his face.

"Don't you listen to this old hippo," Ned patted Rosco's arm. "Burger's master keeps him as cattle, but tonight I'm _puppy-_sitting. No roasting for this loin." He slapped Burger's back.

Burger let out a surprised moo.

Despite Rosco's mixed reactions, Joe could see the excitement on the wolf's face as he talked with Burger.

"Now," Ned continued, "I think there's someone you haven't introduced yourself to, yet." He turned Burger to Joe.

"Oh no, sorry again. I got carried away." Burger didn't meet Joe's eyes either. He lowered his head a bit. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah," Joe, having managed to subdue his initial shock, nodded at him. "Joe."

"So, Rosco," Ned said, avoiding a looming awkward quiet, "I bet you're glad to be free of that muzzle for a while."

Rosco smiled, rubbing his own jaw thoughtfully. "Definitely. I missed all my favorite foods."

"Had a lot of meat in there recently huh?" The hippo asked, winking at him.

Rosco's fur stood up with a fluster. "A bit, maybe."

"Well, if you've got a good mouth, best to keep it filled." Ned lifted Rosco's snout, getting a look at his pink gums and the base of his teeth. "Bet your boyfriend here missed it almost as much as you did."

With a sly glance Joe's way, Rosco grinned. "Maybe even more."

Joe crossed his arms, but he couldn't exactly defend himself. The night after Rosco's jaw could open again, he'd given the wolf a five-course meal of moose sausage. Despite Joe's embarrassment, he couldn't be frustrated watching Rosco's anxiety soften as Ned and Burger talked to him like casual friends. "Not every guy's so good at getting stuffed." Joe rubbed the side of Rosco's head, making the wolf shut an eye.

Ned put his hands on his hips. "Speaking of this fine wolf's snout, Joe, you happen to bring that muzzle?"

"Better," He pulled the new one from his back pocket, showing it off.

"Ooh, that's nice." Ned lifted its flaps and nodded at the locks. "Such soft fabric. You're an awfully nice man, Joe."

"I've got a soft wolfy," Joe said.

Rosco bared his teeth in defiance.

"Nice try there, Rosco." Ned looked down at him. "Those teeth aren't so threatening when your boyfriend's gonna beat them with a few feet of cotton."

Though he pouted, Rosco was a good sport about it. "You could at least pretend to be scared."

"Hey it's alright," Burger murmured kindly. "My master was never intimidated by me, even when I was a wild bull."

When he was wild? Joe tried to imagine what that meant, how Burger looked before... whatever had happened to him. With that thought running through his mind, a little uncomfortable tightness formed in his back as he glanced at his big, wild wolf.

He reassured himself, it was just a muzzle.

Ned caught Joe's eye again. "Don't worry, I'll help you be a good daddy to your pup. First off, do you have a good-fitting pair of knee pads?"

"Knee pads?" Joe asked. Rosco shared his confused look.

Ned tapped his foot on the floor. "The beach is one thing, these are hardwood. A guy can hurt his knees on all fours." He nodded to Rosco. "Especially someone your size."

"I didn't think about that," Joe admitted. "Maybe he could stay standing?" He couldn't stomach the idea of hurting Rosco for a little play.

"Don't be silly," Ned shook his head. "I've got a ton of them in the gear room." He beckoned Rosco and Burger to step forward until they were right up against each other. Despite their mutual bashfulness, they obeyed.

So close together, it was impossible to ignore the similarities. Their heavy bellies flattened against one another. While Burger's blubber seemed more solid, packed onto his frame, and Rosco's softer and more supple, they were both tall, very well-fed men. Burger was fatter, sure, so laden with tallow that his movements were slow and ponderous by necessity, but those fat wolf tits Joe loved so much reminded him that Rosco wasn't too far behind.

Ned knelt between them and inspected their knees. "Hmm. Burger's are a little thicker," He snorted, "bulls. But," With casual motion, Ned stuck his hands up the legs of both of their shorts, feeling the heft of their legs above the knee. "Yeah, I can definitely fit you for some."

While Rosco's breath hitched at the touch, Burger was placid as a farm animal.

"Tell you what," Ned stood, "Rosco, why don't you and I go to the gear room and set you up? You don't mind taking off those shorts a little early for me, do you?"

Rosco shook his head, dawning a curious smile.

"Good. Then, Joe, you like to cook, right? Go ahead and join Burger in the kitchen to finish up dinner." He didn't slow down at Joe's uncertain nod. "Gives you a chance to get to know the other puppy, before we play."

Ned began to lead the way down a wide hall. Rosco turned to offer Joe a stuck-out tongue and air kiss before following, leaving him with this strange, massive bull.