Commissioner Smirnoff checked the file on the desk before him and then gave an inquisitioning glance to the suspect in front of him. Actually, he knew him quite well: Weekly, the journalist from Whats News. A close friend of John Blacksad, a private detective Smirnoff liked to work together with. And this small mustelid was supposed to have beaten up four members of the Black Claws gang - severly beaten up - and then... grabed their Chevrolet and threw it to the side. It was nonsense. utter nonsense. Yes, the little guy looked bulkier then before, the leather jacket creaking over huge bulges which looked unusual on such a small guy. But...

Questioned, Weekly had to rmeove his jacket first. Smirnoff's jaw was somewhere on the floor. It was unreal. Obscene. Something unconceivable. Then, shy and embarassed, unused of such attention, Weekly slowly raised his arm and flexed. Smirnoff could hear the skin creak, even though the blood was hammering in his ears. "Actually, Sir... I AM that strong", said Weekly with an apologising, goofy smile.

Done by  Kumbartha

Story by  inugami80 please fave on his site: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/44484373/

Commissioner Smirnov, a middle-aged german shepard, walked into the police station with a huff and the usual scowl he commonly wore on his face, decked out in his full suit, occasionally adjusting his glasses because they kept slowly sliding down his muzzle. He didn’t really speak to the officer who called him, just took the folder from the guy as he made his way to the interrogation room, he didn’t believe what the guy was saying during their call, refused to believe it actually, one person doing that much damage is pretty impossible, let alone the person who was named as the culprit.

“Thank you, officer, I’ll take it from here. You’re free to go.” The officer gave him a quick nod before walking away, Smirnov turned to the door… took a deep breath, then walked in. He didn’t look at the person sitting on the table at first, but once he did, he visibly jumped before quickly composing himself. “Holy shit…”

“Uh… hehe, hey Commissioner!” The short weasel by the name of Weekly, a journalist for What’s News, waving bashfully and nervously at the canine. The Commissioner knew the weasel through a mutual friend of theirs, John Blacksad, a private detective that Smirnov had the pleasure of working with from time to time, the guy can be quite a handful and his methods tend to be brash and reckless, he still believes it is some kind of miracle that he didn’t get killed yet, but he is still a damn fine detective and he knows that the cat has the safety of their fair city in mind and heart with each case he takes.

Smirnov cleared his throat and adjusted his suit before walking up to the table, his eyes began wandering over to the weasel in question. “Alright, I read through your report, but I still can’t believe what I read…” He opened the folder and gave a summary of the content. “Assault on four individuals, members of the Black Claws gang-”

“It was self-defense!” The weasel weakly squeaked out.

“That’s understandable…” Then continued reading through the folder. “Then comes the part that baffled me, and this is quote-unquote witness testimony: ‘Grabbed their car and flipped it on its back, barehandedly’” Weekly kind sank in his seat, a small blush crossing over his face. Smirnov let his eyes roam over the weasel’s body.

Weekly has… filled out, since the last time he saw him, muscles bulging out in such obscene and abnormal manner, his jacket now looked like it would tear right off if he even breathed wrong. “I can see that you have… bulked up, but no one is strong enough to do what you did.” He said as he gently slapped the folder back on the table. “I just don’t buy it.”

Weekly’s blush darkened a bit more before he silently and slowly took off his jacket, with some effort, to Smirnov it almost looked like someone removing a layer of skin from how tight the fabric clung to the weasel’s body, but once he was out of that jacket, the canine’s breath caught in his throat as his nose was assaulted by this thick, dominated musk. “Um… actually sir…” Weekly’s body was now, almost, on full display, save for the tank top he wore which also hugged his body tightly, his perked nipples visibly poking out from under the thing fabric, the collar and pit areas faintly drenched in sweat, he lifted one arm and gave it a flex, the bicep growing to an impossible size, Smirnov letting out a shaky gasp as the look of shock appeared on his face, his eyes hearing the faint but clear creaking and stretching of the weasel’s skin as he did so. “I am that strong now.” The weasel admitted bashfully, but a hint of pride and smugness could still be heard in his voice.

Smirnov could not believe what he was seeing, the weasel’s bicep was as big as his own fucking head! That can’t be real! His body was moving on its own, hand slowly inching forward, his breathing hard and labored, but with each one he was taking a deep whiff of that masculine scent that seemed to take over the entire room, not noticing how the windows on the door were slowly fogging up, sweat slightly dripping down his face.

“Something… catch your eye, Commissioner?” He was awakened from his trance by the smug and cocky voice of Weekly, the weasel now leaning over the table with that wide smirk and knowing look in his eyes. “Something I can… help you with, perhaps?”

“Huh- wha- N-no! No.” Smirnov quickly pulled back, sitting straight up, looking everywhere except at the weasel, adjusting his necktie as breathing was becoming an issue for a bit.

“Nah, you do see something… or someone.” Weekly insisted, this time raising both hands behind his head, watching as Smirnov’s body twitched, getting assaulted once more by the weasel’s thick and heavy musk. “You... you’re liking this. Watching a superior male strutting their stuff?” He turned his head and gave one bicep a slow and long lick, then turned to the other side and made out with his other one like a lover would, all the time his eyes on the slightly quivering canine.

Smirnov wanted to be angry, a mere journalist talking to him, a police commissioner, like that, but he couldn’t speak… he was actually… afraid? Of course, he was! In front of him a muscle god, flaunting his body like a freaking peacock! He visibly gulped down some nerves, sweat now dripping down his face and snout in buckets, panting like a feral in heat as this hunger, this… desire started building up in him, he couldn’t hold it for long.

“That’s right, you want to touch me? To taste me? Worship me?” Long gone was the bashful and nervous weasel that was brought in earlier, replaced with this smug bastard that knew what he was and was not ashamed of showing. “How about you come over here and let me show you, first hand, what a real man is like?”

Smirnov was silent the hole time, just the regular and frequent panting with the occasional spit swallowing as his throat ran dry, standing up and making his way over, Weekly witnessing the hard tent forming in the canine’s pants. Smirnov stood beside the muscle-bound weasel, now seeing that the weasel’s pants were in the same predicament as his jacket earlier, one hand rubbing and groping at his muscular arm while the other did the same to a pec, fingers tracing the veins that mapped out his body.

“Close the shutters.” Came the sudden command from the weasel. “Don’t want anyone disturbing us.” Smirnov did as commanded, quickly walking over to the windows peering into the outside halls, taking a quick peek to make sure no one was around before closing all the shutters, including the ones for the adjacent room, giving them complete privacy. “Good boy.”

When Smirnov came back, he went down to his knees, still a tiny bit taller than the weasel like that, but now he felt so small, tiny in fact, in comparison to this Weekly. “This is so wrong…” He managed to huff out, but his body was not listening to him as his hands resumed their work from earlier… this time pushing his snout into Weekly’ bushy pit, taking deep breaths of that delicious, manly scent of his.

“Yet you’re still doing it, craving it…” Weekly assured in a definite tone, lowering his free hand to undo his pants, the moment he opened them, his cock spring out, slapping his chest quite audibly, splattering it with a bit of pre and with it came another wave of his hot musk, filling the room even more, covered in it’s own map of veins from base to just below the head. “Now this is a bone I bet you’ll love.”

That was a clear dig at him being a canine, but for some reason, the german shepard’s tail was wagging a mile a minute, his hunger reaching greater heights as he laid eyes on that monster that was hiding in Weekly’s pants. Either the weasel was this well-endowed from the beginning or his muscles weren’t the only thing that bulked out, the canine’s eyes roaming over what seemed like thirteen or fourteen inches long if not more, but he didn’t care, he just wanted this bone.

Weekly grabbed the back of Smirnov’s head, tilting his head back before locking their maws together, giving him the messiest, sloppiest, and probably the loudest kiss he ever got, filled with a lot of slurping and lip sucking and smacking, then pulled back and spat a few wads right into the canine’s mouth. “Go on, it’s yours.” Smirnov’s expression perked up like a puppy in a toy store when the weasel said that, quickly going for it and showering the entire thick, veiny length with wet licks and kiss, rubbing it against his cheek a few times… then finally took it into his mouth, the moment its taste touched his tongue, his body visibly twitched with need as he let out a loud, shameless moan, slowly taking it deeper and deeper into his mouth. “Oooohhhh fuuuuck.” Weekly let out his own moan of his own, one hand resting on the canine’s head, but let him do his thing for now.

“Mmm… mngh… mhm…” Smirnov was just moaning and groaning as he sucked and slurped on that musky manhood, then decided to take the plunge and go deeper… “Glhk! Ghak!” But met some resistance, courtesy of his throat and gag reflex, quickly pulling back and coughing a couple of times, but kept the head of that cock in his mouth.

“Who the fuck said you could stop, mutt!?” Weekly growled at the commissioner, grabbing a fistful of his head fur. “Get the fuck back down there!” Then slammed him right back down, this time, forcing every inch he had into that tight throat, bursting through whatever resistance that Smirnov met with earlier as he pressed the canine’s face firmly against his crotch, the canine’s throat bulging out from the sheer size of it. The german shepard’s body convulsed and twitch as he coughed, gagged, and retched around that hard cock, while the weasel began humping up into his mouth and throat with short, rapid strokes. “Fuck yeah, you wanted this bone? Then fucking swallow it!” Weekly was now growling and roaring pretty loudly, not giving a shit about anyone hearing them anymore.

Smirnov couldn’t breathe! But he wanted to please this muscle beast more! But he can’t do that when passed out, or worse, dead! So he gave Weekly’s chest and thigh some hard smacks, hoping that he’d get the message… lucky for him, he seemed to have as his head was finally released, quickly pulling off that cock as he was overcome with a wave of coughing and retching, it was almost a miracle he didn’t throw up. Then suddenly, he felt himself being lifted off the ground by the back of his suit then slammed on the table front first. “Let’s see if this side is more cooperative.” He heard the weasel mumbling behind him, then… *SHRRRRIP* *RIP* the back of his suit pants were ripped wide open, followed by his under wear, leaving his ass exposed for the weasel to play with as he saw fit.

“Oh… no wait… it won’t fit!” Smirnov’s pleas fell on deaf ears as he felt a small, wet tongue lapping at his hole, jabbing and slithering in deep and wiggling about as Weekly practically made out with his pucker, drenching both the inside and out with generous layers of spit.

“Too bad. Not your call, mutt.” Weekly let out a snort as he stood up in his seat, aimed and pressed the head at Smirnov’s entrance, the commissioner whining in fear… then let out a small howl of pain as the weasel just speared himself in, balls deep in one, swift move, his hole quivering in a weak attempt to clench and expel the invader, but that wasn’t gonna happen. “FUCK! You’re a tight bitch, aren’t you?” Weekly mocked the commissioner as he began moving, pounding the canine’s ass and insides with slow but powerful strokes, his hips slamming and smacking into the poor canine’s ass cheeks pretty audibly, electing a yelp, moan, and/or small cry from the canine with each one.

“Ah! Fuck! T-too BIG!” Smirnov weakly complained, but his painfully hard cock still tenting the front of his pants, with the growing wet spot at the tip, was telling another story.

“Just shut the fuck up and enjoy it.” Weekly gave his ass a hard *SMACK* making the canine jump from the sudden shock, his ass cheek stinging a bit, even when he was spanked through his clothes. “You’re clearly enjoying it. I can feel this hungry hole of yours quivering around me.”

Their rutting went on for quite some time, the wet spots of sweat on Weakly’s tank top growing in size and darker in hue as more spots began appearing, sweat visibly dripping down his body, some of it splattering on the commissioner’s suit even. While Smirnov just laid there, his expression of pain earlier turning to one of total bliss as that cock began hitting the right buttons inside of him, the wet spot in his pants also grew in size and damper, to the point that his pre began oozing through both his underwear and pants. “Yeeesss… feels so go AH! Ah, ah, oh, ahhhh!!!” His body twitched from the sudden jolt of pleasure as Weekly picked up the pace all of a sudden, now rapid thrusting into the canine with abandon.

“FUUUUCCKK!! Here it comes, bitch! Here. It. CUMS!” Then he SLAMMED himself back in, grinding and rolling his hips firmly into the commissioner’s ass and insides, sending him over the edge as Smirnov let out a tiny, weak howl, his load bursting through his pants and hitting the underside of the table with a couple of shots, the rest just flew under it. Meanwhile, Weekly’s load was far superior, both of them could almost hear the loud and deep SPURTs, GLURPs, and SPRTs, of the weasel’s load pumping out of his cock and deep into the german shepard. Smirnov rested one hand on his belly, huffing and panting as he could feel each and every throb, then began feeling his belly expanding and filling out from the sheer volume of the weasel’s load, yet another thing that probably grew along with his body.

A few minutes later, Weekly walked out of the interrogation room with a wide, smug look on his face, jacket slung over his shoulder. “Good talk, Commissioner. Glad we could reach an understanding~” Then walked away and out of the station, whistling a cheerful tone to himself.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Smirnov was sitting at one of the cheers, body slumped back, panting heavily, his belly bloated out to almost resembling a bowling ball in size, large quantities of the weasel’s seed leaking out of him, all over the chair, and dripping messily on the ground. The canine came in with a purpose, all trim and proper from head to toe, now he was a complete mess, his clothes disheveled, and torn in the case of his pants, covered in sweat, as he was bred like a bitch in heat just a few minutes ago.

And yet, he couldn’t help the wide, lazy, delirious smile that spread on his face, eyes almost glazed over as he was absolutely drunk with sex.