THE GREASE TRAP
Episode I: "Dream On"
By, Sedit J. Wintersteele
... ... ... BREEP!!! BREEP!!! BREEP!!! BREEP!!!
The harsh sound of the alarm blaring into the wolf's ear's, anouncing it was that time of morning. The one wherein he should be rousing himself for work, should be plotting the AM caffiene fix, ought to be expecting that first morning loaf to welcome the day...
But no. Those days are behind him. Why he even set's the alarm still, no one is quite sure, not even the stout canine himself could answer that question. All he know's it's been six weeks since he's been fired, and 4 weeks since he could last do a real grocery run let alone a decent fast food binge. Why, the scruffy, 360lb wolf was parctically wasting away! Just only over a very long period of time, perhaps.
His portly belly grumbling, in need of a meal, he finds himself unable to return to sleep. Just as well. All those pleasant dreams we're tormenting him so. Dreams of mountains of pastries, and piles of meat, and rivers of milkshakes, and some random young, chubby, bespectactled fox wearing nothing but his glasses and a 'next to nothing' thong who'd mysteriously appear and dissappear, stuffing many a delicious treat into the wolf's maw....oh, heaven! Simply heaven!
Too bad waking reality was complete hell. "Ugh, why do I even bother waking up anymore...?" mumbled the groggy wolf, stiffly sitting up, and well aware of the morning-wood in his shorts, vying for attention with his empty, cavernous belly. Both seeking fulfillment of needs he just could not satisfy as of late.
And so he stumbled forth towards his desktop, where a stale muffin and room temperature coffee awaited him. Yummy. The wolf forgoing these 'treats' despite his rampant hunger, begins casually browsing the net. Checking his e-mail...fuck you, Croc'slist flakes, and no I'm not wiring money to my long lost, exiled cousin in Zebonesia...and quickly surfing some fappable material, he realized it couldn't hurt to check the 'Help Wanted' ad's.
"Let's see...manure tosser, nope...Quadrapalegiac Swim team captain, I think I'm overqualified...Planting Tulips, hmm...may inquire further on that one later...ah, whatsis'?"
His sleep deprived weary eyes settled on an ad looking for a "Grease trap, and kitchen cleaning specialist". Only requirements are being able to handle a power washer, work late hours, and be reliable. "Hey! I'm two of those things! Maybe I'll give this a shot..." he stated aloud to no one inparticular, while tapping in the contact number into his cell phone.
About ten minutes later he found himself landed with an interview, based off his brief experience in power washing in the past. Confident he can nail this, and also excited there's no drug screening he sat down with his favorite bong, Pungeus Erectus, and decided to light up the last of his weed in a pre-employment celebration...surely a valid reason to celebrate, indeed!
In his green haze he relaxed, quickly his worries melting away, as if dissolving into the smoke. His mind was possessed by visions. Visions of greasy bags of burgers, and hot boxes of pizza, and dozens of bottles of rich brew laid before him on his living room table, a feast for him, and him alone. At last, income on the horizon, and food shortly thereafter! His morning erection returning with a vengeance at the thought of consuming all these treats.
Right there, his paw reaching into his shorts he pulled out his thick member, and slowly started stroking it, right there on his couch, bong off to the side, and the Food Network muted on TV. Continued thoughts of pizza piling into his mouth, slice after slice after slice, pie after pie after pie...he imagined his belly bulging out a couple more inches, and precum started to leak from the tip of his prick.
He stroked even harder at the thought of placing his maw into the greasy burger joint bags, as though they were feed bags, and indeed, in his paws they very much we're! His fist pumping harder, his cock throbbing as he envisioned his waist line expanding even more!
The thought of floating on his back in a milkshake pond, floating under a water fall...shake-fall?...and opening his mouth, letting the rich creamy chocolate fluid fill him like a balloon! Throbbing, and leaking, he was getting so close.
Now picturing sitting on a towel, munching on a pile of brownies, he was relaxing, and thickening. Suddenly the chubby, nearly nude fox of the past evenings dream appeared before him. Oh, and he brought a friend! A very plump skunk with lovely green eyes, and a promising bulge in his swimsuit.
Both these handsome furs moved towards him seductively, dropping their swim suits, letting their impressive boners swing free in the sun! And instantly, in such a way as can only happen in dreams, the fox had the wolfs prick deep into his maw, slurping down the shaft slowly, than back up, his tongue doing the most erotic dance upon his glans!
Alas, he had but only seconds to savor that feeling alone, as his view was eclipsed by that of a pudgy skunk butt sitting over his face, the saucy pole-cat raising his oh-so-floofy tail, his own paws spreading his cheeks as he squatted, leaving absolutely no question to his desire.
And he stroked harder still, precum leaking like a faucet! Grunting with pleasure as his minds eye pictured himself diving his face into the skunks tubby rump, savoring his delicious musk as he moved his tongue across that delicious pink punker, feeling every little ridge, and adoring that texture.
His cock throbbed, his balls tight and ready to release, he stroked furiously now, as his dream-action heated up. His tonuge now all but fucking the pudgy skunks tail-hole while he writhed and moaned, and all the while, the cute lil' dork-fox was now sitting on his shaft, letting his wolfhood sink inch by inch into that tight foxhole, his pudgy body jiggling so seductively with every thrust he took on that throbbing meat-stick!
And that was it! With a mighty hip thrust and a loud grunt, the fat wolf blew his load! His sticky spunk leaving a 'comet trail' along the couch's upholstery, and leaving cummy 'spider webs' between his spread fingers. He licked himself clean, pulled up his drawers, and sat back, sweating, heavy of breath, and enjoying his post-orgasmic calm. He leaned to the left, feeling a bit groggy, and his eyes caught sight of the time on the digital readout on his DVD player. One fifteen PM it read. "Heeey....hat number seems to hold some signifigance. But what, I ask?" the stoned wolf muttered with a grin. Oh...
"OH SHIT-BALLS!!!!" he exclamated with a burst as he realized he was supposed to be starting his interview NOW! Wondering how long he spent in his marijauna induced sexual revelry, that time got so far away from him. He clumsily threw on a pair of decent pants, and basic black button down shirt. Sobriety quickly crashing down upon him as he almost violently brushed his teeth, tucked up his steel septum piercing, and gathered his long brown head fur into a neat ponytail, in a most likely futile attempt to look slightly less scruffy.
"Fucking hell, I hope I didn't fuck this up already! Ummm...car trouble, yes, I'll blame car trouble! But no, that sounds like excuse. I know...diarrhea! Nobody EVER argues diarrhea! Yes!!!! Lesgo!!!" Sedit muttered to himself rapidly, while hastily darting out the door towards his truck. His paws nervously fumbling his keys, his brow already damp with the perspiration of a desperate fur. "Breathe", he thought to himself, "Just breathe, relax, and lets get this over with."
And with peel out, and some burning rubber, the tubby wolf known as Sedit rode onwards towards his destiny. His big, fat destiny...
To be continued....!