FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Joe leaned against the kitchen counter, granite top cool against the inside of his fingers as they curled around its edge. A fixture of many small bulbs above him cast the room in soft light, and the dark hardwood swirled beneath with natural grain.

He breathed in the sweetness and zesty spice of barbecue sauce, mingled with earthy roasted tubers and the undeniable richness of meat.

"Mmm," Burger sniffed the air as well. The bull sat on a stool that wasn't nearly wide enough for the expanse of his ass. He didn't seem to mind the overspill, but then he was probably used to being uncomfortable, if he really lived like cattle. "Isn't that just the nicest smell?" Burger's dark brown nose filled again. "Mr. Tenor even made the sauce from scratch."

Joe still couldn't stop himself from glancing at Burger's horn stubs, but he could at least hold his end of a conversation. "He's a good host, making dinner all by himself. Well, sorry, did you help him?"

"I just kept him company." Burger still wouldn't look at Joe's face, big eyes always turned down. Suddenly, his ears flicked, "Sorry," he leaned forward, grunting as he fought against his own thick fat to stand. In one labored breath, Burger quietly said, "I forgot to offer you a drink."

"It's fine." Joe stared at Burger's overfed gut. It was easier not to look at Burger's stubs when there were a few hundred pounds of beef fat wobbling in front of him.

Burger tugged his undersized shirt down, covering a sliver more of his exposed tub of a belly. His deep brown fur ruffled with his breaths, showing off an enticing fluffiness above his heavy moobs, peeking out from the stretched shirt collar. "No, really," he breathed heavily as he spoke, "we have ice water, some white wine, tea, anything." His voice rumbled softly from his chest, deep enough to resonate in the air but too yielding to disturb it.

"Whatever you want to drink works for me," Joe said.

"Oh." Burger stroked the crest of his belly soothingly. "Well, I don't know... Master usually just gives me milk."

He had the breasts for it. Joe sighed. How long had it been since Burger had chosen his own drink? Hell, he even seemed unused to standing on two legs, shifting his weight back and forth as if testing his feet. "Listen, Burger, it's like Ned said. You're wearing a shirt, you're not a puppy or cattle right now."

Burger was quiet for a moment, but a slight, embarrassed smile grew on his snout. "You're right. Sorry..." he struggled through a bit of hesitation, "...Joe. It really is nice to take a little break from the usual way of things." He tugged at his shirt again. It really didn't do much to hide the broad shape of fat rolls smothering his flanks. "I'm just a little out of practice."

Maybe Joe was being a little unfair. If Burger lived his cattle role day in day out, it would be hard to suddenly talk to a stranger. He tried to ignore the thought that Rosco struggled with the same thing. "Don't sweat it." Joe tugged at his tank top, having reminded himself how hot a kitchen could get with the oven on for such a long time. His chest, thick with muscle, ran a rivulet of sweat down its breadth, sticking the cloth to his short brown fur. Though frankly, he was thankful for the excuse to change the subject. "Man, it's hot, isn't it?"

Burger nodded. "Feel free to take your shirt off, if you like." He still used his submissive tone, but Joe doubted that Burger could stop even if he tried. The bull lumbered over to Ned's big, silver fridge, each step sending a little shake through the floor.

Joe got his first good look at Burger's backside. The bull's shorts were too small to fit over his haunches, and rode down badly despite his frequent tugging at them. If not for his tail, they'd likely fall off before he could catch them. Joe's eyes set on that tail. It was almost funny, looking stupidly thin against the landscape of fat-stuffed back around it.

Even with his tail's best efforts, the shorts revealed a good fourth of Burger's ass. Two cheeks spread like rolling hills of meat, catching a deep shadow between them, and feeding into the flesh of his tree-trunk thighs. Burger's hips were wide enough to make most cows mad with envy, and his ass delivered on their tantalizing promise.

Joe realized that his dick had grown fully hard, as a warm wet drip of precum touched his underwear. He couldn't possibly be bothered, though, not with his loins so loudly demanding that he mount this bull.

Burger's underwear couldn't make up for his shorts' failure. A pair of stark white briefs clung to his ass. They had to be custom made, and yet still their elastic band strained, and let slip the blubbery crests of his cheeks.

"Does that sound good, Joe?"

"Wh - uh, what?" Joe blinked hard.

Burger was standing with the fridge door open, trying to glance back over his shoulder. His folded chins made it a hard task.

"Mr. Tenor made iced tea, I thought that would be nice for the heat." Burger had a tentative smile on as if he was exploring the way he said that.

Joe took a breath and looked down. His jeans couldn't quite hide the shape of his erection. Damn his big moose dick. "Yeah, good idea. Gotta cool down."

Burger poured two tall glasses of dark amber tea, complete with clinking ice cubes from the pitcher. Joe brushed the bull's hand as he took the glass, finding his fingers so thick and pudgy that he wondered if there were even bones in them.

A few sips helped Joe's sweat to subside, though it did little for the other kind of heat in him.

For Burger, though, it seemed a bit harder to get cool. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, a fine sheen of perspiration showing on his chest. The bull huffed and reached up to scratch around a horn nub.

Joe almost couldn't stop himself from asking about them, but he caught his tongue in time. "I know how much trouble heat can be for guys with a lot of extra padding. Especially the fluffy ones. Sometimes Rosco lays out on the kitchen floor, looking like he melted."

Burger ran a finger nervously along the rim of his glass. "He really is fluffy." His fat cheeks shifted with a shy smile. "Sweaty like me too. I could smell it on him."

Joe had that lupine scent ingrained in his nostrils. Just the thought of it reignited the heat between his legs. "He's my musky wuff. Stinks up the whole house in the summer."

Still trying in vain to fan himself cool, Burger murmured, "There's nothing like the scent of a carnivore."

For a second, Joe glanced down to see if Burger was getting hard, but the bull's belly flab completely covered his loins. He just had so damn much of that heavy tallow. That heavy, luscious tallow. Joe caught sight of Burger's shirt, stained through with sweat where it clung to his side rolls. An idea sparked in Joe's mind. "Here, if you're gonna get all horny," he walked to the freezer and pulled out a tray of ice cubes, "Take off your shirt."

He expected some hesitation or uncertainty, but by the time he turned around, Burger was tugging obediently at the collar, his face already covered by the fabric as he struggled to lift his arms high enough. The bull had to peel the cloth off his body, releasing himself like the casing of an overstuffed sausage. Finally, Burger set the shirt on the counter, yellow fabric marked extensively under the pits.

Despite himself, Joe stopped in his tracks. Fat poured from Burger's body, weighing every inch of his torso down as his hide struggled to find enough space to put it all, turning his flanks into a stack of folds like oversized pancakes and his moobs into thick, meaty things that seemed to beg for a milking machine. And all of it was smothered in that fluffy dark hide. The fur shifted as Burger filled his belly with breaths, quickened at the exertion of simply undressing.

Burger kept his hands resting in front of him habitually, subservient and awkward. Joe had to wonder how much range of motion he had, considering the layer after layer of thick blubber wrapping around his arms. Every motion made them look like they were full of pudding.

The bull's ear flicked. He kept his eyes cast at his feet. Or, rather, the great expanse of gut that had long since hidden them from his view. "I hope you like it, Sir," Burger murmured.

"You don't have to..." Joe stepped forward, trailing off. There was so much of Burger that the bull couldn't have hidden any of it from him. "Shit," Joe reached out and curled his fingers around one of the side rolls, losing them completely between the hot flesh. "You're fucking huge."

Burger held his arms away, giving Joe easy access to any part he wanted.

Joe's eyes focused on the bull's tits, which were both capped with soft, puffy nipples, each one nearly the width of an apple. "They're even bigger than Rosco's." He loved the way those big things made his wolf's moobs look, all eager and inviting. Joe reached up and cupped one of Burger's nipples.

The bull flinched, but only for a brief moment before deftly catching himself. Joe noticed the ice cube tray he'd just put down. "Shit, cold?" He let go of Burger's chest.

"It's okay," Burger promised, the physical discomfort clashing with his passive, un-judging smile. "If you like ice play you can get my nipples as cold as you want. It'll be fun, they're really sensitive."

Was Burger really just going to let a guy he met half an hour ago hurt him with ice? Joe's brows furrowed. "No, they're not for... I got them out to cool you down." He cracked the tray and pulled a few cubes into his palms. "Just something I do for Rosco when the heat gets to him too much."

"Really?" Burger asked, hiding his surprise under a bashful smile. He slowly shuffled forward, bringing his sides close.

Joe took a few ice cubes in his palm and moved his hand between Burger's flank folds again, the ice immediately melting to mingle with his bovine sweat.

Burger let out a soft moan.

"You like the cool?" Joe asked.

The bull nodded, his eyes shut.

"It works best on fluffy boys. Your fur's thick enough to keep them from freezing you too much." Joe ranged his hands up Burger's sides, slipping the rapidly-melting cubes into every roll and fold he could find, before bringing them, in his cupped hands, underneath Burger's moobs. They were so heavy, draped over Joe's hands, and the furnace-warm space beneath them began to drip sweat down his fingers.

Burger mooed, low and gentle, while his head leaned forward and all the tension in his body seemed to melt along with the ice.

Joe felt like a farmer, tending to his prized cow. Such a good head of livestock. The thought came unbidden into his mind, and he stared at Burger. With his eyes shut, mooing in contentment, with only a pair of shorts that his belly nearly covered anyway, he really did look like just some big cattle.

His hands wanted to stay on Burger, to pat him like a good beast. But Joe kept looking at the cattle tag, and Burger's horn nubs. The moose's heart beat too quickly, and the conflict burned in his mind until he stood, stock still, nostrils filling with Burger's meaty sweat. Finally, he slipped his hands away.

Burger peeked an eye open, then the other, and his shy smile returned. He stared at Joe's chest, and a rumbling chuckle vibrated out through his fat-caked throat.

Joe swallowed, trying to wet his mouth. "What is it?"

Burger's ears flicked. "Rosco really is cute, and there's something kind of funny about meeting you two." He still wouldn't meet Joe's eye, but as he rubbed his belly, he ventured further in an uncertain voice, "Because I'm like him, all fat rolls and a big belly." He seemed to explore the expanse of his paunch. "Well, guess he's a little softer, but definitely not tough and muscley."

"Well yeah," Joe peered into Burger's flanks again. He supposed it made sense for a bovine's fat to be a little more solid than a lupine's. "You both have big tits though."

Burger glanced down past his own snout, at the two plentiful mounds of bull meat, with a content glint in his eye. "But, it's funny because I used to look like you."

The breath escaped Joe's throat.

"Well, um, never quite as trim, I've always been a hungry boy. But I used to be all strapping muscles, snorting and puffing out my chest at the other bulls." His smile turned bittersweet. "I liked to wear tank tops too," he glanced between Joe's legs, "and I couldn't hide my boners either."

"What-" Joe cleared his throat, while he tried to find any hint of a tough, strong bull in this mountain of flab. "How?"

Burger's answer poured eagerly, though with a hint of fresh excitement. "Well, at first I just got into the feeding thing, making smaller guys bring me food so I could keep growing my muscles bigger than they could ever be." Burger glanced around, as if worried someone might see, and he tried to make a show of flexing his arms. Nothing at all seemed to change about the wobbling flour sacks; he only succeeded in drawing more attention to his bountiful fat as they wobbled. He let out an embarrassed snort before continuing. "But I got a bit of a belly, and one night I went out to a club after someone flaked on me, and I ran into Master." A happy, reverent tone came to his voice. "He said I was just the kind of bull he'd been looking for."

How long did it take for 'a bit of a belly' to turn into that jiggling tub? Joe reached out without thinking and wrapped his hand around the crest of Burger's paunch, just to be sure of how thick his padding was. "Your master? How on Earth did he make you this big?"

Burger nodded. "I was an arrogant bull at first, but he put me in my place pretty quick. For a little while he would just stuff me when I came to his house, but then he made meal lists that I had to eat every day. I fought him when he started to limit how often I could go to the gym, but then he'd get all stern and hold me by the horns." Talking about all this, Burger was like a boy with a crush, his little tail sweeping happily from side to side. "Eventually, I wasn't allowed to go at all. It all happened faster than I thought it could, my muscles just turned into..." he lifted his arms again and stroked his own moobs, pressing in to show how yielding they were... "this. When I couldn't even feel my muscles under it all anymore, I got rebellious and tried to do some sit-ups."

"Couldn't do one?" Joe asked, still working through disbelief.

Burger leaned against the counter, huffing to emphasize how much effort it took to move his heavy body. "I couldn't even get up off the floor. There was just too much of me." He squeezed his own sides proudly. "Only put on more since."

Joe looked at his own thick biceps, flexing subtly just to see them move. He liked his fat wuff, but couldn't imagine giving up that much of himself to another man. Burger's weight gain was something more familiar, so Joe gazed into the bull's cavernous belly button before looking back up with a lusty glint in the eye. "Guess you don't need to worry about hiding your boners anymore, right? Rosco's the same, especially when he's sitting down." Joe's dick twitched at the thought of uncovering the wolf's short, thick cock from all the thigh and belly pudge that ensconced it. "Feels like I've got warm, fluffy pillows around my head when I suck him off."

Burger gazed dreamily at the floor. "I bet he loves that, having all his stuffing squished while he gets pleasured." He reached beneath his belly and tried to scratch at something. "But I don't have to worry about my dick getting hard anyway, belly or no."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked. "Can you not even reach anymore?" The words blurted out before he could think better of them, but Burger's ear flicked in an excited fluster.

"I haven't tried in a while," Burger admitted softly, then held his arms out to the sides again. He could only keep them raised a bit, their heavy fat proving a challenge. "Do you want to feel?"

Joe's dick was already getting sore, pressing so hard against his jeans, but he couldn't resist. He stepped forward and gripped the hanging thickness of Burger's belly, lifting it until a great cascade of bull fat poured down from his hand. Despite Joe's muscles, it took some effort to heft all of that weight up and away from Burger's crotch. The more he felt of Burger, the more obvious it became that he wasn't just a little bigger than Rosco, he was gargantuan.

Burger huffed in pleasure, and Joe couldn't help but glance up. The bull's torso, flanks, and chest were astonishingly puffy with all the blubber pressed upwards; even the fat of Burger's neck squeezed up against his big cheeks. His glance was twinged with confusion. "What is it?"

Joe hadn't realized he'd been smiling. "Oh, I just think someone's let this dough rise way too long." He looked away from Burger's embarrassed face and focused on his goal. Those black shorts clung to the bull's hips, their stretchy fabric pushed to its limit, showing off the shape of Burger's titanic thighs, and a puffy bulge between them. Joe knew some of that had to be fat, but could a _bovine_really bury all of their dick?

He tucked his fingers into the waistband, tugging shorts and briefs away at once, and finding another mire of sweat and heat. He pressed his hand down into the bull's underwear. With a few squeezes, Joe teased Burger's fat pad, which sent his tail swinging eagerly. Then, after crawling his fingers downward for longer than he expected, Joe found something hard. But, it was too hard, and not nearly the right shape. He murmured something in confusion and felt around, until he could make out the nature of it. A broad disk, attached to a ring. The whole apparatus was swimming in slick fluid, and beneath it, Joe's fingers came upon the familiar feeling of a pair of balls. Fat as he might be, Burger's bull nature proved itself with those orange-sized spheres, warm as they sat in the the far-too-small confines of their briefs. The metal ring encircled the neck of Burger's sack, making it impossible to move the disk out of place.

Where was his dick?

"I've been wearing it for a long time." Burger spoke through heavy breaths, whether because of all the weight pressed against his chest or Joe's handsy interrogation. "Gotten pretty used to the feeling of a cage on."

"A chastity cage?" Joe couldn't just keep imagining. He pulled Burger's shorts down despite the cruel way his underwear dug into the jiggly fat of his rump. Joe revealed the dark-furred fat that encroached on Burger's loins, but most importantly the metal disk buried within it. There was no mistaking the placement. "But that's not what they look like..." Wasn't it supposed to have the shape of a dick?

"I didn't believe Master at first, when he said he was gonna bury it." Burger glanced away. "But it turns out if you don't get hard for a long time, it really does shrink. Plus, three years is a long time to fatten up a head of cattle," he added with obvious arousal.

Joe looked up at him, but even with his hand on Burger's... well, his balls at least, he couldn't get the bull to meet his eyes. "Why for so long?" He could understand spending a little while in a cage, to let the need build up. It was even an enticing thought for his own horny beast. But to deny a man for years?

Burger answered with an obedient tone, "Master thought I was too proud of my dick. I'd sit around his house naked, showing it off when he brought other guys around. Not to mention the mess I'd make when I took care of myself." He sounded guilty, like he agreed with his 'Master'. "He thought I'd be better behaved if I were more of a steer."

It seemed he was right. Joe took one more look at Burger's cage, watching another thick glob of precum dribble out from its small holes, and let the shorts snap back into place.

A surprised moo left Burger's throat.

"Sorry-" Joe began. But if the bull was happy to let him freeze his nipples, then surely stinging his fat pad with a waistband wasn't a big deal. "But I meant why you would wear it for years. He's not actually forcing you to, is he?" He couldn't hide the concern in his voice, and stared at the bull until he answered.

"No... Joe," Burger smiled deeply, "I like being his steer." He trailed a toe along the floor. "Maybe... a lot of the time maybe... I want to take the cage off and play with myself like I used to. Of course I miss my dick," A genuine sliver of sadness showed on his face, but it only seemed to heighten the reverent look that ensnared his big, brown eyes. "But, I want him to decide for me more than I want to cum." A faint laugh filled his voice. "My name's Burger. I'm his big, heavy cattle. If my farmer wants me to be a steer, then I'm a steer."

Joe reached forward and pinched Burger's ear, holding the cattle tag between his fingers. Burger relaxed into his touch, habitually lowering his head and letting out a deep breath. Discomfort tugged at Joe's stomach, warring against the embers in his loins. This was all a few steps further than Joe had imagined anyone taking. Something felt... wrong about it. But, he was a guest in Ned's house, and didn't he want to play? maybe the only way out was through.

"Can I touch your horns?" Joe asked.

Burger nodded, like it was a normal request, but murmured, "I don't really have horns anymore." The words fell with a weight that even Burger didn't seem to expect. Joe could practically hear the bull's heart beat harder.

He moved his hand slowly, taking the time to run his fingers up along the ridge of Burger's face. That deep, fried-meat fur offered him a bit of comfort to soothe his tense shoulders, and Burger leaned into his touch happily. But that comfort was short-lived; there wasn't much space between ear and horn, and soon Joe ran his fingers along the right nub. It was hard, and the texture very slightly bumpy, as if it had once been rough.

"Fuck," he whispered. The nubs barely rose at all from the forehead beneath them, but they were wide. Burger's horns must have been impressive, a testament to his bovine masculinity. It was one thing to have a broken horn, or to just not be born with them, but to give them up?

"Not everyone thinks about them much." Burger nudged his head forward, just enough to rest the front of his broad snout on Joe's shoulder. "Rosco was much more interested in my chest."

"Yeah, he uh..." Joe flexed his meaty pecs without thinking. "He likes a guy with big tits." One of their shared interests.

Burger nestled in while Joe continued to feel his numbs. "Well, speaking of racks, I figured you'd notice a little more when I heard you were a moose." He flicked an eye up at the cresting antlers above him, blocking out the overhead light. "Your antlers are really nice."

The thought of getting his antlers sawn off was enough to make his middle tighten in a cringe. "Antlers grow back," he grunted

For a long few moments, Joe just explored the nubs, trying to acclimate himself to what they meant. But as he brushed his thumb in rings around them, moving from the pale white outsides towards the darker middle, he couldn't stop imagining what they'd looked like. At least Burger's dick was still there, even buried. Didn't he miss these? He finally brushed the dark center of the nub, and Burger flinched.

The bull kept his head on Joe's shoulder but shifted his feet uncomfortably. "S-sorry," he stammered, as if it was his fault. "It's okay, you can keep going."

"They still hurt?" Joe asked, his stomach twisting on itself.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just phantom pain." Burger shrugged his big, gentle shoulders. "It did hurt when Master took them."

The image flashed in Joe's mind, and his jaw clenched so hard that he nearly drew blood from his tongue. He pulled his fingers off the nub and just stroked the side of Burger's head, hand shaking slightly.

The bull eyed him with worry and confusion at the sudden, gentle petting. "Sorry, I'm still not used to talking to people. I didn't mean to..." He trailed off.

Joe had to look like such an asshole, spending all this time staring at Burger's nubs, touching them, then treating him like some kind of freak. "No, don't apologize." He kept petting Burger, though it only made the conflict in his gut worse. This bull was tender and pudgy, covered in thick warm fur, and surrendered to his touch easily. He didn't have Rosco's pointy ears, his fluffy gray tail, or his sharp, pretty teeth, but both of these big, huffing beasts were soft and docile.

His eyes kept drifting to those nubs. "Was this just so you could be his cattle?"

"Yeah," Burger answered with quiet certainty. "Almost a year ago, he wanted me to really be his steer."

"It's permanent," Joe said.

"I know." Burger's fatty chest filled with a breath, offering only warm, vulnerable flesh to Joe.

"So you just let him do it?" Joe let a hand wander Burger's shoulder, its softness a contrast to his own, clad in tough muscle.

Burger nodded.

"What if you regret it? I mean, giving up your horns for some other guy..."

"I don't think I will," Burger's eyes deepened with dreaminess, though he still spoke carefully, "When Master looks at me, I'm his. All of me, just his fat steer. He pets my shoulders while I eat my feed, and strokes my snout when he puts me in my pen for the night. He puts his hand on my throat so he can feel me mooing for him. And when he shows me off to his friends, how heavy and perfect a head of livestock I am, he's proud."

Joe's mind burned with the idea of Burger going from a big, dominant bull to... this. But worst of all, Joe's dick was striving to pop the button from his jeans. Was the cold tension in his gut horror, or arousal? He found himself just staring at Burger again, and the bull seemed almost more comfortable with that. He had to be used to other guys looking at him like an animal.

"Aren't you proud of Rosco?" Burger asked.

Joe's shoulders tightened. "What do you mean?" He muttered.

Burger's head tilted a bit, his voice anxious. "When he's a pup, don't you feel proud that you have such a big, cute doggy?"

Though he tried not to admit it, Joe thought back to the evening on the beach, when Ned had first treated Rosco like a puppy. Chatting with him like a dog owner, it had made Joe's head flush with a warm feeling. But, was that pride? "It's just a game," Joe insisted.

"It can be more than that," Burger said, one hand rubbing his own tail, which was curved submissively around his thigh. "Especially for the guy being the puppy..." He paused and buried his snout further into Joe's shoulder, making his fat chins press up against the moose. "I'm sorry if I made you mad."

Joe sighed and demanded his brain to get ahold of itself. "No, you didn't." It might have been a lie, but Burger didn't deserve to feel guilty for the discomfort making its way through Joe's torso. Joe looked at Burger again.

He might have been some other man's steer, but for tonight, he was just a fat bull who wanted to play with Rosco. So, Joe took a deep breath and managed to loosen his stance. "I'm just figuring this stuff out, don't worry about me." He reached out and gave Burger's chest a soft pat, feeling the meat jiggle under his palm. That part, at least, he had very un-complicated feelings about.

He took a sharp breath. "Hey, I've been distracting you for long enough, maybe we should check on the food?"

Burger perked back up with a quiet, embarrassed moo. He pulled his head away from Joe and struggled for a second to stand up straight. "Thanks, um, I almost forgot." He turned around, having to sway his arms to the side as he shifted the weight of his fat body, and bent down in front of the oven. Letting out a huff of effort, Burger bent far enough to pull the handle, causing his shorts to fall down further, taking his underwear with them. The white briefs highlighted the meaty heft of Burger's ass, dark fur even showing through the fabric as the light hit it. "Sorry, my clothes really are too small," Burger murmured.

Joe tried to muster something flirtatious, even if just to reassure the poor bull, but stopped at the sight of something on Burger's right ass-cheek. It was a mark, a hairless ring of rough skin with a stylized 'A' inscribed within. He stared, and realized that the roughness was a scar, like those from a burn. "A brand?" He asked quietly, not able to weather another question of just how far Burger's 'Master' had gone.

"Oh, yeah," Burger swayed his butt slightly. "Sometimes I forget about that, it's hard for me to see back there." He grew quieter and asked, with that nervousness returning. "Do you want to touch it? You don't have to, though, I just... if you... feel like it."

This bull was so nice, and gentle, he didn't want to disappoint him. And, though he hesitated to admit it, Joe's heart raced at the thought of actually branding another big man. He stifled the growing tightness in his throat and wrapped a hand over Burger's ass, fingers playing along the shape of the brand. He squeezed, feeling the difference in Burger's soft, tender skin to the scars burned into it.

Burger let out a compliant moo, even as the heat of the oven warmed his already-sweating neck rolls. How could someone bear to take a red-hot iron to this docile beast?

Joe pulled away before that thought could grow in his mind again. He cleared his throat. "Smells like dinner's probably done."

Seeming to only just remember what he was doing, Burger checked inside and nodded. "I hope the meat eaters are hungry." He smiled.