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Brief Encounter
Jenny looked at the tiger through the bars, and daydreamed.
Mike was off buying ice-cream for the two of them; he'd grumbled good-naturedly
about the prices here at the zoo, but off he'd gone anyway. He'd be
back soon. In the meantime….
In the meantime, she admired the tiger. He was a great block of a beast,
almost rectangular from the side, his muscles standing out under the
fur, legs like columns. He sat back just behind the bars, and watched
her in return.
She had always liked tigers. Lions were nice, too, with their manes.
Like her boyfriend, she had a…thing…for animals. Before they'd
met, she had most often avoided men, and would lie in bed instead with
a book on wildlife open. Most often that issue of National Geographic
with the glossy pictures of mating tigers. She'd pretend she was the
female….
And she would come to the zoo, watch the tigers, or the lions, and fantasize
that they'd mate while she watched. Once a pair of jaguars had almost
done so. The male kept trying to mount the female, but she wasn't interested.
Jenny had been. If she could just once, find someone with a pet lion,
or tiger, or cougar…she sighed. Mike had the same sort of dreams,
and they talked, and had sex, and pretended. It wasn't the same.
She watched the tiger, still watching her, and let herself daydream.
She was the only one in front of the cage right now, so she crossed
her arms and rested her chin on her hand as she looked at him. Her other
hand could rub the side of her breast through the sweater, as she fantasized.
She was inside the cage, now. She'd slipped through the bars, meant
to keep a tiger inside (never mind that the bars were actually a screen
mesh with 2" holes). The tiger lifted his head, seeing her so close,
and before she could say anything, whipped a paw behind her ankles,
and she was on her back. She lifted her knees as his muzzle went down,
tried to press them together. But he forced his massive head between
her thighs, and with a snap of his fangs, ripped her dress into shreds,
her panties dangling in strips from his jaws.
She shrieked (and a passer-by in the real world gave her an odd look,
though it was just a squeak there) and tried to cover herself, but the
tiger stepped forward, his cheeks furry under her palms, pushing her
arms upward. The barrel of his chest forced between her thighs, coarse
fur sliding over her mound, and she groaned. In a moment, her knees
hooked over his haunches, the tiger's thighs pushing her legs up and
apart.
His eyes were yellow, pale, unreadable, her hands stretching the fur
of his cheeks as she thrust against him with all her strength. He hardly
moved, his head half as large as her chest, and his belly wrinkled up
over the rags of her dress…and he entered her.
She gasped, pushing at his chin, but he snarled, and she felt the short
sheath pull back, as a barbed penis slid into her. His body stayed still
over her own, but the sheath itself bobbed up and down rapidly, thrusting
the cock in and out. It was strangely flexible, like a snake, and each
time he pulled it back there was a rasp like sandpaper. In a moment
she was screaming, half in pleasure, half in pain, as the tiger had
her.
It didn't last long. She knew it wouldn't, as she stood swaying, alone
in front of the tiger pen. Less than a minute. But as the great beast
snarled, as her sex clenched around the barbed shaft, she felt a gush
of heat down inside her. Not too much, just one quick jet, as his muzzle
came down, biting into her sweater as he would the nape of a tigress.
She gasped, felt the hot fluid dripping down inside her. The tiger lifted
his head, rasping out a growl, satisfied…and with a quick motion,
yawned a jaw-cracking gape, and forced his jaws down over her head.
Jenny flinched! Her head fit perfectly into the tiger's mouth, his tongue
sandpaper-rough against her chin, his fangs hooked behind her skull.
This wasn't part of her fantasy. She pushed up against his neck, thick
as a barrel…but he was no more movable now, than when he had mounted
her. She felt the barbed cock pull out of her, as his lips pushed down
past her ears. Tongue pushed up against her underjaw, and with a gulp
her head was in his throat, the slippery gullet muscular and tight over
her face, pulling her deeper.
She swayed where she stood, daydreaming. But this wasn't her dream,
any more.
His jaws were around her shoulders now, the tiger's rapid, hungry swallows
pulling her in inch after inch. The throat gripped at her, as he held
her between his forepaws, pushed his muzzle down over her breasts. He
should not be able to do this! Tigers didn't swallow people whole.
But his lips popped over her sweater-covered breasts, her shoulders
sliding down into his throat. The neckfur was stretched over her, her
hands found; her fingers dug at the shape that worked its way quickly
down into his torso. In a moment, her upper arms were pinned, and she
lay in the tight sheath of his throat, gulped deeper by the moment.
Shoulders, breasts, belly, and now her hips were sucked into the ravenous
maw, her butt filling his jaws tight for a moment before he gulped that
down, too.
Gulp, and she began to slide, her thighs scraping past his fangs, pulled
down into his throat. The gullet rippled, clutching at her hips and
shoulders, pushing her down. Her knees bumped past his teeth, and something
tight wrapped around her forehead, then slid past her cheeks, Her head
popped into his stomach, filled with an incredible stink…and then
she was filling it, the strong throat-muscles pushing her down, her
shoulders caught in the wet skin of his belly.
With a snap his muzzle closed around her feet, and she kicked once before
he gulped them down, too. All of her was in his throat, and with a smooth
slide she squeezed down through his barrel chest, more and more of her
coming to rest in his guts. And then it was over, the stomach stretched
taut around her.
She struggled in his belly, gasped, opened her eyes to the real world.
The daydream was over.
Her eyes opened: she was in tight, wet, fetid darkness. She could move
only a tiny bit, her fingers sliding through stinging slime. "But…this
wasn't my fantasy…."
The rakshasa smiled, as he felt the wriggling inside him, heard the
little voice. "No. But it's mine." To the outward eye, he
was a tiger. The huge bulge in his belly would not be seen, any more
than his real shape would be. And soon enough, the bulge would be gone,
digested, like his other meals. Playing a zoo tiger had its rewards.
Mike returned to the tiger cage, an ice cream in each hand. "Jenny?"
She was no-where to be seen. He peered at the tiger, who lazily looked
back; she didn't usually wander when there was a big cat to look at.
With a shrug, he continued on. No doubt she was at the lion pen….
The End.
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