Day at the Zoo


The midday sun beats down on the Savannah Plains section of the city zoo, casting harsh shadows against the pavement where Marcus struts between exhibits. It was hot out, and the zebra's striped pelt was damp with a light foam of sweat, but it isn't the heat that is bothering him today. Every few steps, his paw dips to his groin to adjust what appears to be a perpetually uncomfortable bulge, his tight khaki shorts straining against what they contain like fabric under siege. The bulk of his bulge is made up by the large, rounded swells of the zebra's testicle, and the sheer amount of scrotal mass pulls the fabric snugly taut over the outline of the zebra's flaccid penis. The outline of it was unmistakable, a swollen ridge that presses along the left leg of his shorts with such definition that even the vein was noticeable. Marcus knows it is noticeable, because he keeps catching people staring at it.


"What's down here?" Asks Lavin, his tall, sleek kudu buddy, as he points down a sloping pavement path that curved down into a shadier area. There are four ungulates in Marcus' entourage, and they all crane their necks, staring curiously. "I don't remember going down there when I was a kid."


"That's cuz we weren't allowed," Omar retorted. Shorter than the others, but significantly more muscular, the oryx seems ready to slam his head into someone, or something. "That's the predator section."


"Yeah, I've been there before," Gilly says, as he pressed his glasses up along his snout. The gazelle cants his head to the side, speculatively. "It's cool. Scary, but cool. I've heard... rumors."


"Rumors about what?" Marcus asks, as he unconsciously presses his palm against his bulge, kneading against the aching bulk of his testicles. His three friends glance at each other, with expressions that fluctuate between embarrassment and irritation. Gilly mouths the words that Marcus says next, because it's the twentieth or so time he's said it today. 


"Ugh. Guys, I swear these shorts are getting tighter," the zebra complains, hooking a thumb beneath his waistband to pull the fabric away from his skin before letting it snap back. "It's like they're shrinking or something."


Gilly's eyes roll skyward. "Maybe if you stopped buying pants three sizes too small, you wouldn't have this problem."


"It's not the size of the pants," Marcus insists, turning to face them with an expression of genuine grievance. "It's the size of my package. You guys just don't understand the daily struggle I have to go through."


His friends exchange glances weighted with the collective burden of having heard this exact speech multiple times since breakfast. Omar checks his watch, a silent calculation of how many more hours of this they are going to endure.


"Look," Marcus continues, oblivious to their silent communication and clearing enjoying his lamentations, "when you're carrying around equipment like mine, nothing fits right." He cups his substantial bulge again, as if introducing a celebrity guest, and sighed forlornly. "The world just isn't built for males with extraordinary gifts."


The gazelle's left eye twitches as Marcus tugs at his shorts again, this time with a theatrical grimace that suggests his discomfort is akin to medieval torture.


He isn't lying though. What lies beneath the zebra's straining fabric is, admittedly, spectacular. The striped stud's equipment is legendary online, with pictures of his thick, obsidian shaft saved to thousands of porn folders the world over, veined like fine marble and crowned with a flared head that would make a marble sculptor weep with envy. Aroused, his meat stretches to nearly two feet of prime equine masculinity, a testament to genetic fortune that few could rival. His testicles hang like twin exotic fruits, each the size of a heavy, juicy, dense grapefruit, with a weightiness that swings provocatively between his legs when he walks. Even the scent they produce, rich and musky, is known to turn heads and flare nostrils from surprising distances.


It's not the impressive dimensions of his equipment that irritates his friends so much, but rather his incessant need to reference it, to ensure that no one in his vicinity can forget for even a moment that he possesses such magnificent specimens.


"You know what the worst part is?" the zebra continues, seemingly addressing a question no one has asked. "Finding someone who can handle it properly. Most potential partners?" He paused, baiting the air with tension that nobody was feeling, "Yeah, they take one look and just give up." He sighs dramatically, casting his gaze to the distance like a tragic hero contemplating the weight of his burden. "It's been months since I've had a proper blowjob. Most can't even get past the tip without tapping out."


Omar, who has mostly bitten his tongue until now, pinches the bridge of his nose. "Marcus, we're at a public zoo. There are children present."


"So?" The zebra's brows lift in genuine confusion. "They'll learn about these things eventually. Might as well understand that some of us are built, you know, differently." His paw travels once more to his groin, adjusting with such theatrical discomfort that a family of fox tourists nearby quicken their pace to avoid his blatant display.


"Can we please just enjoy the exhibits?" Lavin pleads, gesturing toward a nearby enclosure where several giraffes elegantly extend their necks to browse from elevated feeding stations. "We came here to check out the cool animals, not talk about your big fucking dick."


"Fine, fine," Marcus concedes, though his attention is already elsewhere, his eyes tracking a group of female zebras passing by. They're heading down to the predator section, and the surge of heat that he feels flushing through his body in response means he's going to, as well. He straightens his posture, tugs his shirt tighter against his muscular chest, and (predictably) reaches down for one more adjustment, ensuring his bulge is prominently displayed as they approach.


The females pass without a glance in his direction, their conversation continuing uninterrupted.


"Did you see that?" The zebra turns to his friends, excited and eager. "They were totally checking my junk out."


Omar's patience, already stretched thin as gossamer, finally snaps. "For fuck's sake, Marcus! Not everyone is obsessed with what's in your pants. Some of us just want to see the goddamn animals without having to hear about your dick every five minutes!"


The outburst draws startled looks from nearby visitors, with one of the female zebras looking back at them curiously. Marcus gave her a big smile and an even bigger wink. "Whatever dude, was just saying that-"


"We know what you were saying," Gilly cuts in, his voice tight with restraint. "You've been saying it all day. All week. All year, if we're being honest."


For the first time, Marcus seems to notice the actual resentment in his friends' voices. A flicker of hurt crosses the zebra's features... quickly replaced by defensive indignation. "Well, excuse me for trying to have a conversation. It's not my fault I am blessed while others aren't."


Gilly's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint appearing as his gaze drifts past the zebra, down towards a nearby exhibit. "You know what? You're right, Marcus. We're just jealous." His tone shifts, a subtle transformation from irritation to something smoother, almost conspiratorial. "You're clearly blessed. In fact, you're so blessed that I think you should take advantage of one of the zoo's more... exclusive attractions."


"Exclusive attractions?" The zebra's ears perk up, his wounded pride instantly forgotten. "What are you talking about?"


The gazelle's hand gestures casually toward a large enclosure down the slope, hidden mosty around a bend. "I mean the Bengal tiger exhibit. Specifically, the tiger part of the exhibit."


The zebra follows his friend's gaze, confusion evident in his expression. "What about it?"


"Not it," the gazelle corrects with exaggerated patience. "Him. He's something of a local legend among the well-endowed community." He leans closer, lowering his voice. "I mean, I'm not part of that community myself, of course, but I have friends."
"We know all about your friends," Lavin snickers, and Gilly gives him a dirty look. "Aaaaanyways, it turns out that tiger has a... particular appreciation for exceptional males. Especially those who find it difficult to get proper attention elsewhere."


The oryx and kudu exchange a quick glance, a moment of silent communication passing between them. Then, almost imperceptibly, they nod in understanding of the game afoot.


"He's right," Lavin chimes in, his delivery so smooth it's almost believable. "I've heard about this. My cousin's roommate tried it last month. He said it was the best experience of his life."


The zebra's eyes widen, darting between his friends and the distant cage. "Wait, are you saying what I think you're saying? That the tiger...?" He leaves the question hanging, too stunned to complete it.


"Gives phenomenal head?" Lavin finishes, his usually reserved demeanor giving way to the collective mischief. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Apparently, he's developed quite a reputation. Something about his tongue.. and throat muscles being perfectly adapted for accommodating, well... 'big hunks of meat'. Lavin gestures down to Marcus' groin, indicating specifically what he meant by that.


The zebra's jaw drops slightly, his paw unconsciously moving to rub against his bulge once more, this time with a different kind of discomfort. His shorts were suddenly feeling even tighter. His dick probed an extra inch down along his inseam as it stirred with interest. "But... how? Wouldn't the zoo staff notice?"


"They turn a blind eye," Gilly explains with manufactured certainty, pushing his glasses up along his nose. "Some of them even participate, from what I've heard. It's an open secret among the management."


"Yeah," Omar adds, warming to the tale. "My sister's girlfriend works here, and she says that some of the animals are from private donors, and are, like... domesticated and shit. The zoo considers stuff like that, uh, 'encrichment exercises'. They figure it keeps the tiger happy and engaged, which is good for his overall well-being. It's a win-win situation."


Marcus has already started walking down the slope, his friends following behind him as he stares in curiosity and nervousness at the cage. As he gets closer, the great beast inside slides into view, sunning himself on a wide, flat rock in a patch of unlight. The predator is truly magnificent, a large and muscular beast with striped orange fur that catches the sunlight as it shifts position, rolling onto his back to yawn its powerful jaws widely, thick sharp fangs bared casually to the open air. All Marcus saw, though, was the dark pink, yawning maw that those teeth were protecting. It looked wet. Snug. Capable.


"So you just... go up to the cage and..." The zebra gestures vaguely, his imagination clearly filling in the blanks as he visibly processed the scenario.


"Pretty much," Lavin confirms, his expression impressively solemn for the absurdity of the lie. "If you walk around to the other side, you can kind of hide in the shadow of that maple tree. I mean, you have to be discreet, of course. Wait until there's a lull in visitor traffic, approach the bars, and... present yourself. He knows what to do from there."


The zebra's breathing has quickened slightly, his eyes never leaving the tiger as he contemplates this unexpected opportunity. "And he's... good?"


"The best," Gilly assures him, barely containing a smirk. "Especially for someone of your... substantial gifts. I hear that he particularly enjoys a challenge."


The zebra's chest swells with pride at the implication, his earlier irritation completely forgotten in the face of this potential validation. "I mean, I am pretty exceptional," he agrees, nodding to himself. "And it has been months since anyone could handle me properly..."


His three friends watch with a mixture of disbelief and darkly amused anticipation as the zebra's expression shifts from skepticism to consideration to determination. It's almost too easy, the way he embraces the absurd suggestions without question, his vanity overriding any common sense that might cause him to balk.


"You know what? I'm going to do it," the zebra announces, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a heroic quest. "It's about time someone appreciated what I'm packing."


"That's the spirit," the oryx encourages, patting him on the back and trying to keep the bewildered amusement from showing on his muzzle. "We'll keep watch for you, and, uh, let you know if any staff are coming."


"You guys are the best," the zebra declares with genuine gratitude, completely missing the exchange of gleeful, vindictive glances behind his back. "Wish me luck!"


"Oh, we certainly do," the gazelle replies, his voice sweet with false sincerity. "We'll be right over here, by the red pandas. Just far enough to give you privacy but close enough to warn you if needed."


The zebra nods, his attention already fixed on the tiger enclosure and the magnificent predator within. With a final, habitual adjustment of his impressive bulge, he strides toward the exhibit, his gait betraying both excitement and nervousness.


His friends retreat to a strategic viewing position, their faces composed into masks of innocence that barely conceal their anticipation of the spectacle about to unfold. The gazelle's phone is already in his paw, camera app opened and ready. He shifted, looking for a position where he could get a clear view of the bars of the cage without it being obvious that he's filming.


"This is going to be epic," he whispers as he sets the camera rolling, his earlier frustration transformed into vindictive glee. "Think he'll actually go through with it?"


"Are you kidding?" Lavin replies, watching as the zebra approaches the tiger's enclosure with the determined stride of someone about to receive his due. "His ego can't let him back out now."


The tiger, as if sensing the approach of something interesting, rises from its lounging position and stretches, powerful shoulders muscles rippling beneath its striped coat. It pads closer to the bars where Marcus is now standing, amber eyes fixing on the zebra with what appears to be casual interest but contains the unmistakable focus of a predator assessing potential prey.


The zebra glances back once at his friends, who offer encouraging thumbs-up, then turns to face his destiny, eager to finally feel his huge zebra meat receive the appreciation it deserves. His fingers tremble slightly as he steps off of the asphalt and onto the grass under the tree, somewhat obscured from view, with the tiger standing a few feet in front of him. Marcus' eyes dart nervously between the lounging predator and the sparse afternoon crowd. A family of house cats with small children amble away toward the elephant pavilion, and a pair of elderly turtles move at a glacial pace toward the reptile house, leaving this section of the zoo momentarily deserted. 


Perfect timing.


His heart hammers against his ribs as he sidles up to the metal bars, close enough to catch the musky, wild scent of the massive feline whose amber eyes now fix on him with unsettling intensity. It if lunged, its paw could easily swipe through the metal bars and hurt him, but obviously if that was a possibility, the tiger would have glass protecting the zebra, right? This was clearly a 'domesticated' tiger. 


"Hey there, big guy," the zebra whispers, his voice cracking slightly with nervous anticipation. He glances over his shoulder to where his friends stand at a distance, giving him encouraging thumbs-up. The gazelle appears to be filming with his phone, no doubt to document this legendary encounter for posterity. Marcus feels a flush of respect for his friends - of course! If only the most endowed males get to be serviced by the tiger, then of course he'd need to document it! The zebra flashes his friends a cocky grin before turning back to the approaching tiger.


The great cat pads forward with deliberate steps, its paws silent against the artificial terrain of its enclosure. There's something in its measured pace that might have registered as danger to a more perceptive mind, but to the zebra, blinded by ego and arousal, the tiger's intent gaze reads as interest, its approach as eagerness to provide the service his friends described.


"I heard you've got a special talent," the zebra continues, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Well, not anyone who doesn't already know." 
He chuckles at his own joke, a nervous sound that dies in his throat as the tiger reaches the bars, its massive head now just inches away from his bulge, which is straining, jutting through the bars as best it could while still constrained by his tight shorts. The tiger's nostrils flare, drawing in the zebra's scent. Its tongue, rough and pink, darts out to lick its chops in a gesture that could be interpreted as anticipatory hunger or... perhaps... sexual interest?

With trembling hooves, the zebra reaches for his waistband. The sound of his zipper descending seems unnaturally loud in the quiet afternoon air, a metallic announcement of what's to come. He hesitates for just a moment, a final flicker of self-preservation suggesting that perhaps this isn't the wisest course of action. But then he remembers his friends' assurances and testimony, and the way his balls are churning with a throbbing need, and perhaps most importantly of all - his own desperate need for validation of his magnificent endowment.


"You're in for a treat," he murmurs to the tiger, confidence returning as he peels his shorts down and away from his prize possessions.


What emerges from the confines of his clothing is nothing short of spectacular. There was just so much of it. He gripped the tacky, smooth bulk of the middle of his shaft, lifting and tugging to unfurl it from its damp socket along his inseam and out into the open air. Fully exposed, a good nine inches hang from his grip, with an impressively meaty heft as it swings between his striped thighs. Its color is a deep, lustrous black that contrasts beautifully with his black-and-white patterned fur, the surface veined and glossy, with a velvety smoothness demanded caressing. It is silky but firm, promising a perfect balance of hardness and give. The flared head, a proud crown to this magnificent scepter, gleams with a subtle sheen that catches the light, appearing almost polished in its perfection. A drip of precum was already forming at the tip as the zebra's excitement begins to churn inside him. 


Marcus glances around, and then tugs at his grip, pulling more of himself out into the open. His breath catches in his chest, as doing so pulls his flesh forward, to dangle between the bars of the cage. He feels a puff of warm breath from the tiger who sits directly in front of him, watching as the zebra produces more and more meat for its approval. Even flaccid, the zebra's endowment stretches nearly eighteen inches, its girth substantial enough that a standard hand does not fully encircle it. As it hangs there in the afternoon air, it seems almost impossibly beautiful, as if it inspires not just lust but a kind of reverence. One might imagine artists begging to sculpt it, lovers dreaming of worshipping it, strangers stealing glances with a mixture of envy and desire.


That wasn't all, of course. Below this impressive shaft hang the zebra's testicles, twin orbs of fertility and masculine power. Each one is rounded, with the size and bulk of one of the zebra's own fists, the scrotum a glossy and smooth brown color, slightly lighter in shade than his shaft. The skin of his scrotum was pulled taut over their fullness, but it couldn't keep them from sagging down between his legs, their own mass straining the cords that connected them to his body. 
Together, the zebra's genitals form a display of masculine beauty so striking that it's almost inconceivable he would risk them anywhere near the jaws of a predator. They're the kind of equipment that should be handled with reverence, touched with worshipful hands, pleasured by those who understand the privilege of such an encounter. Instead, they're being offered casually to the rough ministrations of a wild animal, based solely on a rumor of its alleged skills.


"What do you think?" the zebra asks the tiger, a note of pride evident in his voice. "Bet you haven't seen meat like this before, huh?"


The tiger's response is to lick its chops again, its eyes now locked on the exposed flesh with an intensity that sends a thrill of excitement through the zebra's body. The predator's focus is absolute, its powerful body tensed as if ready to pounce, though the bars between them prevent such an action. Of course, the zebra's dick was on the tiger's side of the bars. Marcus could feel the pangs of ancestral instinct to flee, but... subverting those instincts was getting him hard as fuck. With growing boldness, he steps closer to the cage, his hooves fumbling slightly as he presses his hips against the bars. The vertical bars are five inches apart, just wide enough for his equipment to pass through, a design flaw that would horrify the zoo's safety engineers if they could witness this moment. The vertical bars are reinforced with horizontal bars every couple of feet, and one of those reinforcement bars happened to be exactly at waist height. Marcus' huge nuts were dangling safely between his thighs, but if he slung them over the bar, that would give the tiger access to everything. The zebra's dick was already half hard, and it twitched in excitement, stiffening further at the thought.


"Here goes nothing," the zebra mutters to himself, glancing once more toward his friends, who have edged closer, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and anticipation. The gazelle's phone remains raised, recording every moment of what they clearly expect to be a humiliating rejection or frightened retreat. Marcus was no quitter, though, and apparently his friends had no idea just how pent up the zebra actually was.


Instead of running, the zebra lifts up under his fat balls, and guides them up onto the horizontal restraining bar. The fit is tight, almost too tight really, requiring him to angle his hips and push with gentle persistence until his balls press through the narrow bars and hang freely on the tiger's side of the enclosure, joining his dick to jut into the tiger's cage while his body remains safely on the visitor's side.


"Hello there," he calls softly to the tiger, whose eyes have not left the offering now dangling before it. "I heard you know what to do with something like this."


The tiger rises to its full height, its massive head now level with the zebra's groin. Up close, the predator is even more impressive than it appeared from a distance. Its muscular shoulders bunch beneath its striped fur, paws large enough to crush a smaller animal's skull flexing against the dirt of its enclosure with casual ease. Its whiskers twitch as it scents the air, taking in the rich musk emanating from the zebra's exposed genitals.


With deliberate slowness, the tiger extends its neck forward, its rough tongue emerging to make first contact with the zebra's hanging shaft. The sensation is immediate and intense, because the feline's tongue is textured like sandpaper, covered in tiny barbs evolved for stripping meat from bone. Against the sensitive skin of the zebra's penis, these barbs create a friction that is exquisitely stimulating, and nearly - but not quite - painful, as the barbs slide against the smooth, glossy skin of his erection.


"Oh fuck!" the zebra gasps, his paws tightening on the bars as the unexpected intensity of the sensation courses through him. His first instinct is to pull back, to protect his precious equipment from the rough treatment. But the initial shock quickly transforms into a unique pleasure as the tiger continues its attention, licking along the length of his shaft with methodical thoroughness.


The zebra's penis responds predictably to the stimulation, blood rushing to fill the specialized chambers of his equine anatomy. Within moments, his shaft is jutting stiffly ahead of him, curving slightly downwards, the flared head becoming more pronounced as it engorges. What was already impressive in its flaccid state becomes truly spectacular as it grows to its full potential, at nearly two feet of prime equine masculinity, thick as his forearm and throbbing with vitality.


"That's it," the zebra encourages, his initial nervousness giving way to mounting pleasure. "You know what you're doing, don't you?"


The tiger's tongue moves with increasing confidence over the growing erection, its rough surface creating sensations the zebra has never experienced before. Each lick sends shivers up his spine, each rasp of those tiny barbs against his sensitive flesh drawing small moans from his throat. The tiger is grooming his dick, licking and tasting every inch of the barrel of his shaft. Marcus can't imagine what it's going to feel like to feel that tongue against his glans, which was even more sensitive than the shaft, and not nearly as smooth. He watches as the tiger licks the left side, then the right side of his shaft, scouring every inch of his cock. He's so focused on the attention being paid to his shaft that he barely notices when the tiger's interest shifts downward to his hanging testicles.


The predator nuzzles against the heavy scrotum, pressing one cheek firmly against the zebra's heavy balls and firmly grinding them against the metal bars behind them. Marcus groans at the pressure as the feline affectionately marks the zebra's heavy balls with its own scent. Marcus pulled back instinctively, but all that did was pull his scrotum taut against the bar that it was flopped over - an unsubtle reminder that the zebra's masculinity was in the tiger's capable jaws now. The tiger's whiskers tickle the taut skin as its tongue extends to sample this new offering. The first rough, raspy lick is even more intense against the thin skin of his scrotum, and it draws a startled gasp from the zebra. The tiger seems fascinated by the taste, its tongue working with increased enthusiasm as it bathes each orb with thorough attention.Perhaps the tiger is drooling, but somehow the feline's tongue feels wetter, slimier now than it did against his shaft, as the rough tongue lathers spit over the zebra's fat, meaty, dangling balls.


"Careful there," the zebra murmurs, though his tone contains more pleasure than concern. "Those are precious cargo."


The tiger seems to take the zebra's warning as an invitation rather than a caution, its focus sharpening on the ripe fruits suspended before it. With a sort of careful deliberation, the tiger opens  its mouth wider, its powerful jaws parting to reveal rows of gleaming teeth. They are much larger than Marcus expected, and the sight of them should trigger immediate alarm, but instead is interpreted by the zebra as preparation for more intimate attention. 


The tiger's eyes watch Marcus, carefully, excitedly, as it moves to lightly teeth against one ball. Marcus isn't sure if the feline is 'testing' to see if he chickens out, or if this is an intentional act of foreplay. The tiger is taking exceptional care not to pierce the delicate skin with its razor-sharp canines, and the sensation of those solid, sharp-tipped fangs scraping and pressing softly, slowly against the meat of his nut is unbelievable. Marcus groans, gripping the bars even tighter. 


"God... that's..." he stammers, words failing him as his body is overwhelmed by the experience. His shaft throbs in time with his racing heartbeat, achingly hard and leaking pre in steady drips onto the dirt floor of the enclosure. 


The tiger takes this as encouragement and opens its maw wider, its tongue slapping up under and behind Marcus' nut, and licking it forward, its roughness catching the zebra's nut just enough to ensure that the tiger can pull it entirely between its jaws. The warmth and wetness of the big predator's maw suddenly surrounding his testicle sends a jolt of pleasure through the zebra's body that makes his knees weak. Until now, even the most enthusiastic partners have never been able to accommodate one of his testicles entirely in their mouth, so the sensation is unlike anything he's experienced before. The tiger's tongue laps, continuing to work against the sensitive skin, its rough texture creating a massage-like stimulation that has the zebra's eyes rolling back in his head. Its tongue laps at the sensitive flesh, tasting, savoring. The zebra shudders from the unique sensation, feeling his ball sack stretch as it's slowly pulled further into the tiger's mouth.


The zebra can't contain his moan, the sound echoing around the deserted area of the zoo. "Oh god... yes..." It feels like he's being worshipped by this magnificent predator, his most precious parts adored in a way no other has managed before.


The tiger doesn't stop there though. It draws back slightly, the zebra's scrotum stretched tautly between Marcus' groin and the tiger's maw, before pushing back forward and moving to take in his second testicle as well. The tiger's jaws part, and its head dips, twisting and lurching to scoop up under the zebra's ball, letting its own weight sag it down into the tiger's waiting maw. Marcus feels that hot, snug heat wrap around both of his balls now, the two fist-fulls of meat safely held inside the tiger's maw. 


"Holy...fuck," he grunts, the pleasure bordering on pain as his sensitive balls are manipulated by the tiger's expert maw. With both orbs nestled comfortably in its maw, the tiger begins a gentle rolling motion with its tongue. Each movement tugs at his scrotum, stretching it away from his body in a way that feels strangely incredible. It's like nothing else he's ever experienced - an erotic tension that builds with each pull as the tiger laps and gulps, drawing the bulk of his nuts away from his body with inexorable patience. With one final nudge from its tongue, the tiger manages to take in the entire sac, leaving only the zebra's still-hard shaft dangling outside. His massive balls, his pride and joy, are now fully engulfed by the creature, and the zebra can’t help but whimper at the sight of it.


Marcus was doing everything he could not to jack himself off. He was getting close to cumming, and he hadn't even gotten head yet, it was just from the physical warmth and manipulation against his groin. He whipped his head to his friends, who are watching with stunned awe and appreciation on their faces. Gilly was grinning like a madman, and Marcus pulled his paws off of the bars in order to fist pump into the air, his big dick jutting painfully forward, drooling precum all over the big tiger's shoulders.


He's so caught up in his own bravado that he doesn't notice when the tiger's teeth gently close around the base of his scrotum. There's a moment of increased pressure against the neck of his scrotum, a sensation that rides the knife-edge between pleasure and pain, and then a soft nip - barely a pinch, really - and then nothing. A flap of empty skin drops from between the tiger's jaws, all that remains of Marcus' scrotum flopping over the edge of the metal bar. The zebra doesn't notice the large, weighted bulge that shifts from the tiger's cheeks, to its throat, as somethings large and rounded was gulped down in two easy, practiced gulps. 


The tiger licks its chops, its amber eyes rising to meet the zebra's with what appears to be anticipation for the main course. The tiger's head fur tickles against the underside of the zebra's shaft as the tiger grinds its head up against his underbelly, and that rough tongue strokes along his shaft once more, causing Marcus to shudder in delight at the return of the more direct, intense stimulation. The rush of endorphins and adrenaline from the intense stimulation masks any pain that might have alerted him to the truth of what that little pinch was. A small trickle of blood from where the entirety of the zebra's scrotum was cleanly separated goes unnoticed, mistaken for saliva or pre-ejaculatory fluid in the zebra's addled state as it oozes down his inner thigh.


"Holy shit," he heard, faintly from his friends. They were shocked, amazed that he was going through with this. They didn't think he would be ballsy enough to get head from a tiger. They were jealous.


"No wonder everyone talks about you. That was incredible," the zebra pants, his pupils dilated with arousal. "But now I need you to take care of this." He gestures to his massive erection, which stands proudly before him, pre-ejaculatory fluid oozing continuously from its tip.


With eager anticipation, he positions his shaft directly in front of the tiger's face, the flared head level with the predator's mouth. The tiger opens its jaws once more, revealing the same teeth that have already claimed his testicles, and the dark pink cavern of its throat beyond.


"Oh yeah, that's it," the zebra encourages, his voice thick with lust. "Open wide for me."


With a grunt of anticipation, the zebra pulls backwards, not noticing the lack of weight that would anchor him in place. The flap of scrotal skin dangles between his legs, slapping back against the bar as Marcus thrusts forward, sliding his massive equine penis back between the bars and stuffing the big muffin-top glans into the waiting mouth of the predator. The warmth that engulfs his sensitive head sends a shudder of pleasure through his entire body. The tiger accommodates his impressive girth with surprising ease, not flinching, not running, merely sitting with its mouth open and allowing the zebra to push more of his length into its mouth and down its throat.


"Fuck, that's amazing," the zebra moans, his hooves gripping the bars tightly as he works more of his shaft into the tiger's maw. "You guys were right!" he calls over his shoulder to his friends, who have moved closer, their expressions a mixture of horror and disbelief at what they're witnessing. "This tiger really knows what it's doing!"


The gazelle's phone continues to record, capturing every moment of the zebra's misguided ecstasy and the tiger's patient, predatory compliance. Marcus was losing himself in the pleasure, no longer trying to mask the sounds of his enjoyment as he thrust and whooped in delight at the sensation of having his entire length being fellated at once. Not half-assed licks, not suckling on the very tip while being awkwardly jerked off; Marcus was being sucked off! By a TIGER!


Around that specific moment, Zoo Safety Officer Denton rounds the corner from the other side, on his way to the elephant exhibit to check in on that cute new raccoon veterinarian. His paws are wrapped around a lukewarm coffee that's barely taken the edge off his hangover from the night before. Denton has worked for the zoo for twenty-three years, and he's seen it all - or so he thought as his eyes land on the spectacle before him. A zebra, surprisingly muscled and completely nude, striped backside facing the walkway, pants bunched around his ankles, hips gyrating rhythmically against the protective bars of the tiger exhibit. The guard's coffee slips from his grasp, hitting the pavement with a splash that goes unnoticed beneath the zebra's escalating moans of pleasure.


"What in the actual hell?" Denton said, his lupine eyes widening as his brain struggles to process the scene. The zebra's haunches flex with each thrust, his tail raised and swishing in evident ecstasy. Beyond the bars, Denton could see the orange and black fur of the tiger, and could see that the Bengal appeared to be... participating, its massive head bobbing in rhythm with the zebra's movements.


The guard's momentary paralysis breaks when he spots a small group of onlookers partially hidden behind a nearby information kiosk. One of them is recording the obscene interaction on his phone, face alive with a mixture of horror and malicious glee. One of them, an oryx, gives a thumbs-up to the zebra, encouraging the depraved exhibition.


"Hey! HEY!" Denton barks, finding his voice as he breaks into a run toward the exhibit. "Stop right there!"


The zebra remains oblivious to the approaching security, lost in a fog of pleasure so intense it's rendered him deaf to everything but the wet, rhythmic sounds of the tiger's throat working around his massive erection. His paws grip the horizontal bar at waist height, knuckles white with the force of his grasp as his hips continue their urgent thrusting. Something was off, there was something he should be feeling, but he couldn't quite place it and didn't have the interest in figuring it out. He was too busy watching the tiger gulping and swallowing around TWO FEET of equine dick.


Inside the tiger's mouth, the zebra's magnificent shaft pulses with approaching climax. The flared head pushes deeper into the predator's throat with each thrust, stretching the muscular passage in ways it was not used to accommodating. The flare was thickening, broadening into a wide mushroom a full eight inches across, and each stroke firmly ground along the edge of that sensitive flare, goading Marcus further towards ecstasy. The tiger's rough tongue works against the underside of the root of his shaft, creating a friction that sends waves of pleasure coursing through the zebra's body. The intense, primal, overwhelming sensation is unlike anything he's experienced before.


"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm getting close," the zebra pants, his eyes squeezed shut as pressure builds at the base of his spine. He doesn't notice the absence of the familiar tightening in his scrotum that usually precedes orgasm. He has no idea that his testicles had already been separated from his body and were currently being digested by the tiger. The approaching climax feels different, centered entirely in his shaft rather than rising from his now-missing testicles, but in his aroused state, this distinction is lost on him.


"Almost there," he moans, his voice cracking with strain. "Don't stop, don't stop—"


The tiger's amber eyes stare up at him with predatory patience, waiting for the perfect moment. Its powerful jaws remain relaxed, accommodating the thick equine penis without resistance, giving no indication of the violence about to unfold save for the subtle pushing forward, the tiger engulfing more and more, until its nose pressed through the bars and in against the zebra's belly.


Officer Denton's boots pound against the asphalt as he closes the distance to the exhibit, his radio already in hand. "Code Red at Bengal enclosure," he barks into the device, not taking his eyes off the disturbing tableau. "Visitor interaction with predator. Medical team needed immediately!"


The radio squawks an acknowledgement as Denton reaches the zebra, his free paw extending to grab the exhibitionist's shoulder. "Sir! Get away from the enclosure now!"


The zebra's eyes fly open at the contact, his head whipping around to see the uniformed guard. For a split second, time seems to freeze, as the zebra's expression transforms from ecstasy to shock, the guard's face twisted in horrified determination, and beyond the bars, the tiger's eyes narrowing with sudden decision.


"Wait, I can explain-" the zebra begins, his imminent orgasm momentarily stalled by the shock and embarrassment of being interrupted - but it's already too late.


In that moment of distraction, as the zebra's attention shifts from pleasure to the intrusion, the tiger makes its move. With lightning speed born of evolutionary perfection, its powerful jaws snap shut. Teeth designed for severing flesh and crushing bone clamp down on the zebra's penis with devastating precision. The pressure is immediate and catastrophic, as a vise-like grip of shear blades slice through skin, sever blood vessels, and crushes the spongy erectile tissue in a single, decisive bite.


There's a sickening sound, like a watermelon being cleaved by a blade, as the zebra's prized possession is severed cleanly at the base. For a heartbeat, the zebra doesn't register what has happened. His brain, still flooded with endorphins and arousal, can't process the sudden shift from pleasure to mutilation.


The guard's grip on his shoulder tightens as he yanks the zebra backward, pulling him away from the enclosure with frantic urgency. "Jesus Christ!" Denton shouts, his voice cracking with horror as he finally comprehends the full extent of what he's witnessing.


The zebra stumbles backward, and there is a moment, just a moment, where he feels himself tethered to the tiger - remaining strands of flesh and sinew connecting him to his prized maleness. His feet scrabble for purchase on the soft grass, and with a tearing sound, the guard's momentum pulls him away from the bars. He stumbles away, barely keeping his balance, and once he has staggered back onto the asphalt - back into the sunlight, he looks down at himself. He expects to see his magnificent erection still jutting proudly from his groin, and he would EAGERLY have gripped it to stroke himself the last four or five strokes he needed to get himself off.


Instead, he's greeted by an unfathomable sight: nothing.


Where his impressive equipment once hung, there is now only a ragged, bleeding stump, pumping crimson liquid down his striped thighs in pulsing waves.


"My... my..." The zebra can't form the words, his brain refusing to accept the evidence before his eyes. His hands reach down instinctively, patting the empty space where his genitals should be, finding only torn flesh and flowing blood. "Where is it? WHERE IS IT?"




The answer comes in the form of a smug, satisfied belching sound from the tiger's enclosure. The predator sits back on its haunches, jaws working methodically as it swallows the zebra's severed penis with obvious relish. The massive shaft, still erect in its death, slides down the tiger's throat, creating a visible bulge that travels the length of its neck before disappearing into its belly, joining the testicles consumed earlier.


The tiger licks its chops, blood and other fluids matting the fur around its mouth, its eyes never leaving the zebra's face. There's something almost like satisfaction in its gaze, a predatory contentment that seems to say: I have taken the very essence of you, and now it is mine.


In this moment of absolute horror, the zebra's body betrays him in the cruelest way possible. Despite the severing of his penis, despite the shock and pain now beginning to register, his system completes the sexual response that was already in progress. A powerful orgasm rips through him, emanating from somewhere deep within his pelvis and traveling through his severed urethra.


A pitiful jet of semen spurts from the ragged stump, an obscene parody of the powerful climax he should have experienced. It stings as it drools over the naked wound, the zebra's muscular body shudders with involuntary pleasure even as his mind reels with trauma, watching in shock as his body spurts his seed onto the asphalt in front of the tiger exhibit. He couldn't process this cognitive dissonance, trembling and ejaculating from a penis that no longer exists.


"Oh my god," he whimpers, watching his seed spill uselessly from the wound, the final betrayal of his mutilated body. "Oh my god, oh my god..."


Officer Denton holds the zebra upright as his knees threaten to buckle, the guard's free paw taking an emergency compression bandage from his belt pouch and pressing it against the bleeding stump. He turned the zebra away from the general public, unintentionally facing him towards his friends, who were still recording. "A medical team is on the way," he says, his voice strained with professional calm that barely masks his own horror. "Stay with me, sir. Try to stay conscious."


The zebra's friends, who had been watching from a distance, now approach with varying expressions of shock, disgust, and (most devastating of all) amusement. Gilly's phone remains raised, still recording every moment of the zebra's humiliation for posterity.


"Holy shit," Omar said, his eyes wide as they take in the blood-soaked scene. "It actually ate his junk."


"All of it?" Laven asks, unable to tear his gaze away from the smiling, satisfied feline that was now licking its forepaws and grooming itself clean of the residues of the zebra's impulsive decision.


"Every last inch,"Gilly confirms, zooming in with his phone camera for a better view of the damage. His tone carries a note of vindictive satisfaction that cuts through the zebra's shock like a secondary wound. "Balls and all."


The zebra's head snaps up, his pain-glazed eyes focusing on his friend's words. "Balls?" he repeats, the word slurred as shock begins to set in. "What do you mean, balls?"


The gazelle exchanges a glance with the others, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You didn't notice? The tiger ate those first, dude. They've been gone for a while now. Holy shit, you mean you were too busy moaning like a porn star to realize you'd been castrated?"


The zebra's cheeks flushed red, as his hands groped at his groin again, below the compression bandage. Where the twin grapefruits should hang, though, he finds only empty space and torn flesh. The realization hits him with the force of a physical blow—not only has he lost his penis, but his testicles as well. He has been completely nullified, his masculine pride literally consumed before an audience of his so-called friends. He looked down, at the puddle of seed - his last seed - now baking on the hot asphalt.


"But... but it felt good," he protests weakly, his mind struggling to reconcile the pleasure he experienced with the mutilation that accompanied it. "It was just supposed to be a blowjob. You said..."


"We said the tiger likes to service well-endowed males," the oryx corrects, unable to suppress a snort of laughter that immediately makes him cover his mouth in shame. "We never specified what kind of service."


"Look at him getting off on being nullified!" the gazelle jeers, his earlier frustration with the zebra's constant boasting transformed into cruel mockery. "Did you enjoy it, Marcus? Was it worth it to finally find someone who could handle your magnificent equipment?"


The zebra's face contorts with a complex mixture of emotions; pain, shock, humiliation, and the dawning horror of understanding that this was no accident. His friends had hoped this might happen. They had set him up, directed him toward this predator knowing his vanity would override his common sense.


"You... you knew," he whispers, his voice breaking as betrayal compounds his physical trauma. "You did this to me."


The accusation hangs in the air, cutting through the commotion as additional security personnel arrive on the scene, followed closely by the zoo's emergency medical team. The gazelle's smug expression falters slightly, the reality of their prank's consequences perhaps finally registering. The oryx and kudu exchange uncomfortable glances, their earlier amusement curdling into something closer to guilt.


"Sir, I need you to lie down," a medical technician instructs, her voice firm but gentle as she takes over from Officer Denton. "We need to control this bleeding immediately."


The zebra allows himself to be lowered to the ground, his body finally succumbing to shock as the adrenaline begins to wear off. Pain crashes through him in waves, radiating from the mutilated remnants of his groin. The world begins to narrow, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision.


"My... my..." he tries again, struggling to articulate the magnitude of his loss.


"Don't try to speak," the technician advises, her hooves working efficiently to apply pressure and medications to the wound. "Save your strength."


In the background, Officer Denton speaks rapidly into his radio, coordinating with zoo management and external emergency services. "...complete genital removal... predator consumption... yes, we have the witnesses..."


The zebra's friends are corralled by another security officer, their phones confiscated as evidence. The gazelle protests briefly, then falls silent as the gravity of the situation finally sinks in. Their prank has crossed the line from humiliation to criminal endangerment, their encouragement of the zebra's exhibitionism now documented evidence that could result in serious charges.


Through the haze of shock and pain, the zebra watches as a crowd begins to gather at the perimeter established by security. Visitors crane their necks to glimpse the drama, some openly recording despite the officers' attempts to maintain privacy. Not only has he lost the physical attribute he valued above all else, but his mutilation has become a public spectacle, soon to be shared across social media and news outlets. His humiliation is complete.


In the tiger's enclosure, the predator has returned to its rock, settling down with the satisfaction of a hunter after a successful kill. It licks its paws clean of the zebra's blood with methodical thoroughness, occasionally glancing toward the commotion outside its domain with indifferent eyes. Its belly now contains what was once the core of the zebra's identity - two huge balls and one massive, beautiful penis, reduced to mere meat for a predator's meal. The tiger would not be punished for the zebra's impulsive act.


After all, this had happened before.