Crunch was a wolf. A huge wolf, a titan, an alpha of alphas.
He wasn't merely tall, he towered, a mass of hardened muscle and sinew, his fur short and muddy brown in colour. Collosal in stature, easily topping ten and a bit feet tall and half as wide as that, his form was dictated entirely by his bulging musculature. His chest was massive, his shoulders and back both broad and powerful, all of his body layered with dozens of prominent muscle groups. His thick legs and arms were like tree trunks, ending in great bulky paws all equipped with lethal looking midnight black claws. His monstrously thick sheath hung heavy between his legs, two huge balls, each as large as a watermelon, were held tight to his body behind his enormous sheathed cock - easily the largest package you had seen on a canine. From the end of his broad strong back a short stubby tail emerged, sweeping slowly from one side to the other.
His great head seemed to sprout directly from his huge shoulders, his heavily built back shifting up and seemingly merging the rear of his head. His face was flat for a wolf, his snout broad but shallow, as though the brute had run into a wall. His brow was pronounced, casting eyes with irises so dark a brown they were black into deep shadow. His ears were large and upturned, coming to points above his monstrous head. A thick cigar was clamped in his great shaggy jaws, dwarfed there by his gigantic teeth, trailing thick noxious black smoke up into the air.
"I reserved a locker," the gigantic male growled, his voice an ultra-low bass, the rough, grating sound like two stones being ground together. His large dark eyes flicked down to the small fox, daring the little vulpine to challenge his dominance by meeting his unwavering gaze. "Ya' got tha' key for that?"
"Y-yeah," replied the fox in a tiny voice as he searched through a drawer under his desk, producing a key rapidly. He tossed it up quickly to the herculean wolf. "Your l-locker is number 117." He paused, and swallowed, unwilling to voice his next comment. "The, ah, Cumworks are... n-non-smoking," said the fox doorman shakily. "... Mr. Crunch."
"Just Crunch," he rumbled, as he dropped the still smoking, chewed cigar on the little fox's desk. "An' ya' can keep tha' cigar, squirt."
The hulking lupine titan turned, making his way down into the Cumworks, his huge thundering steps preceeding him, scattering smaller furs before him. He rounded the corner into under-arena, and a broad toothy grin spread across his huge face as he took in the various other male competitors, sizing some of them up, staring others into submission with his fearsome gaze. The smell of the place was thick with heavy, masculine male musk's, the scent of dozens of different male's cum slamming into his big nostrils, filling his broad nose.
"I'm goin' ta' enjoy it here," he rumbled to himself, his enormous balls twitching in arousal.
He pounded over to his locker, forcing a smaller, well muscled stag to veer out of his way with a snarl, getting the metal store open quickly, and finding his blue thong. Grinning at it, and its hole in the front, he slipped it over one massive foot-paw and then the other, struggling to get the spandex material to stretch up over his great, muscled legs. He managed to get it up over his bulging calves, but it jammed just above his wide knees, refusing to budge. Crunch gave it a tug, getting annoyed, starting to yank the blue over-stretched material back and forth as he wrestled to pull it up over his gargantuan upper legs. He gave an exasberated growl as it refused to pull up any further, grumbled darkly under his breath, beginning the arduous task of getting the damned thing on.
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