FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

***Warning: Contains Graphic instances of vore and gore***

Prologue

The Rookie's Pick

Gods among men.

Nah... that was the wrong phrase.

Gods among puny, insignificant ants was much more accurate.

But even among the titans of muscle and might, something to occupy the time of muscle gods was necessary. And what better occupation for the towering lords of the land than law enforcement.

Although Stan Melgar was the largest among giants of rippling muscle, the German Shepherd still found purpose and value in policing the helpless bugs at his feet. As for the rest of the time... well... the diversions of muscle gods were limitless and their appetites epic. Entire cities either stood or fell at their whim.

Among others in the police force were the tiger, Steve, the wolf, John, and the rookie among the group, Theodore - a boar who had yet to achieve the same chiseled definition of his comrades. All four put most city structures to shame, standing over four hundred feet tall. And with all that muscular mass, they contained the brute force and energy of several tons of explosives. To them, a metropolis was merely a buffet and playground.

And breaktime was upon them.

"I'm starving," grumbled Theodore. Drool already dribbled from the boar's chocolate colored snout all the way to his coppery beard, which he swiftly wiped away with a forearm. Traffic on the highway between his feet started to look much like a conveyer belt of crunchy morsels.

John chuckled. "When _aren't_you starving, rookie?" The black wolf gave the small layer of chub on the boar's belly a short rub. Theodore's abs had yet to attain the same level of taut perfection as the others. "Eat too much more, Teddy, and you'll be just as cuddly as the sound of your name."

Theodore pushed aside the wolf's teasing paw. "I told you to stop calling me Teddy. That's no name for a muscle god," huffed the hog. "Call me Ted."

"Still need to work a bit on that muscle part," Stan teased further. His fluffy canine tail wagged as his arms lifted high and pushed forward, flexing them as well as his pecs. The fabric of his uniform stretched to its limit, crying out as some of the dark thread tore from his bulging biceps and pectorals.

Theodore was by no means weak. His strength may not have matched theirs yet, but his muscles were just as large. The problem was his unholy appetite. Being a titan among millions of readily available snacks didn't serve him well in that department, giving rise the layer of fat that hid the rippling muscles he could have.

"We just have to push him a little harder," Steve added, nudging the boar with his elbow. The tiger was often found with an ear-to-ear smile, showing off his beautiful, pearl-white fangs and teeth. His bright orange fur stood in great contrast to his black police officer's uniform, but the uniform wasn't nearly as dark as his jet black stripes. "But to celebrate your first week on the force, how about we have a bit of fun? What do you say, Stan?"

Their morning shift was over so Stan agreed. He figured it was a good opportunity to take Theodore and the other three out on the town. In quite a literal sense, too. "Good idea," said the German Shepherd. "And how about we let Ted decide on the city for our lunch outing? Got to say, I've been getting a bit hungry myself. Need some more protein for these guns." With his arms flexed again, he gave each of his biceps a kiss.

John eyed up Stan, reveling in the V-shaped hunk of dog meat before him. "I guess we can do that," the wolf chuckled, licking his dark lips. "We'll follow you Ted. Lead on."

"What's the catch?" Theodore remained skeptical. His first week on the force involved plenty of teasing, so he wasn't about to think this was going to be any different.

"No catch," said Stan. "We just want to introduce you to the way we operate when we're off duty. It'll be a good chance for you to relax with the guys. I promise you'll have a wonderful time." He gave the boar a quick wink. "And you'll get your fill of food as long as you pick a big city."

Theodore's bulky belly rumbled loud enough to cause a small tremor down below. The unexpected quake caused a few accidents on the highway. Each of them whistled innocently and walked away. Their shift was over after all.

"My pick, huh?" Theodore thought out loud, greedily patting his grumbling gut. "I think I already have the perfect city in mind. Follow me."

Theodore

"Here it is!" announced the boar. His hefty arms spanned outward at the metropolis before them. "Benton City! Population: one hundred million. A veritable buffet for any pig, both literal and figurative."

John snickered. "Food really is the top of your priorities, isn't it, Teddy?" The wolf gave the boar another pat on the gut.

Ted puffed an irritated breath from the flared nostrils between his tusks. "Anyway..." he grumbled, "...the weaklings here have a cute, little military base." Smirks curled on each of their faces in light of that information. "Which means there should be some extra fun to be had."

The inhabitants of the metropolises that dotted the world were seen as nothing more than bugs to muscle gods. At no more than five feet tall, micros - when measured up to Ted and the rest - were equivalent to a little over an inch as compared to a six foot man. None could even peek over a muscle god's toes.

Most bugs accepted the fact that any day could be their last. That was their world now. Their existence, however fleeting, was solely for the enjoyment of the titans that ruled over them, but that did nothing to stifle their desire to survive. Fighting back, however, was futile. Whatever military forces they could conjure up were simply more toys with which their gigantic overlords could play.

"Sounds fun," John replied. His dark, fluffy tail wagged vigorously behind him. "Been a while since I got to play with some toy soldiers." The wolf loved putting bugs in their place, breaking them to the point total submission before squashing them like the insignificant insects they were. He delighted, much like the rest of them, in the ones that struggled to survive, making them realize their fates were sealed. None would ever escape the bloodthirsty appetites of a muscle god.

"Should be a decent workout," added Steve. The grin along his whiskered muzzle was devilish. Already the tiger was unbuttoning the shirt of his uniform, tossing it as well as the white tank top underneath to the ground. Together the shirts covered several farms on the outskirts of the city. Even with a heavy coat of meticulously groomed fur, deep canyons ran all over the tiger's beefy body, defining each and every muscle from head to toe. The space between his massive pecs alone was a gorgeous gorge of striated muscle and white fur.

The other three gawked at Steve for a few second. Denial of the tiger's hunky sex appeal was impossible. Ted felt a tinge of jealousy. He'd kill to get a set of impeccably contoured, eight-pack abs like Steve.

After drooling over the feline Adonis, they each followed his lead, removing their shirts and leaving them behind. The sun was approaching its midday peak and the black uniforms had already made them sweaty and ripe. Basking in the hot sunlight and masculine musk wafting from each hunk was delightful. Ted now understood just how fun - and arousing - it would be to spend time with the guys.

With their shirts off, Ted noticed Stan and John were just as ripped as the tiger. He'd known that, but the sight always put awe in him. The boar was just a huge. His shoulders were just as broad as a gigantic tabletop and his limbs just as thick, but he wanted so much to see and feel the same rippling features in his own body, cursing his undying appetite. Again, his stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm in his gut.

"Before I have some fun, I'm going to get my fill of protein," Ted noted. He snorted and smacked his chops eagerly, already tasting a mass of squirming morsels on his tongue. "It'll be my pre-workout meal."

"S'pose that's not too bad of an idea," replied John. The wolf flexed several of his back and core muscles as he stretched, reaching skyward. "Gotta have something to fuel all this power. And a population of one hundred million should offer a decent meal. Better get them now before most of them end up as nothing more than a gory mess." He winked at the boar. "They tend to go quick when we start having fun."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Ted, starting toward downtown. Several skyscrapers marked the city's center, full of thousands of less-than-bite-sized snacks. Many handfuls were required to sate the boar's nearly bottomless hunger.

The city's suburbs fell in the destructive wake of the fearsome foursome. With feet as large as a city block, rows of buildings and homes crumbled flat like a house of cards. And their current occupants: they were reduced to bloody mush under the godly weight of the titans.

Howls of terror, pain, and panic followed shortly. Once the first few outlying communities were reduced to paw prints of finely ground ruins, the bugs in Benton City knew their day had arrived.

Every few strides toward downtown, Ted as well as the others scooped up handfuls of people that instinctually - but stupidly - ran away in groups. Those who squirmed free from the muscle gods' grips fell several hundred feet. They met the ground with a squishy fate - splat. And those who were fortunate - or more likely unfortunate - to survive the fall found only darkness as the shadow of a foot engulfed them. Pinned between the ground and the weight of a colossus, every inch of their bodies was torn asunder, their dark red mess of gore being the only evidence of their pathetic existence.

For those caught in the grasp of the four muscled titans, a more gruesome fate awaited. Like a fistful of popcorn, they were casually tossed into eager, salivating maws. But each of the four consumed them differently.

After rolling them around in his mouth, delighting in their flavor, Stan kept his lips spread and chomped down. The bugs caught between his teeth splattered in mist of blood as limbs were severed. Red flowed down his teeth and lips with entrails spilling out of mashed up torsos. A few more seconds of deadly mastication later, the German Shepherd gulped them down whether whole and alive or not.

John and Steve were messier than Stan. The wolf and tiger chewed their prey down to the finest bits possible, savoring in the iron taste of blood and calcium of ground up bone. They each let the blood ooze from between their teeth, streaming down to stain their chins.

Ted was the cleanest despite being a hog. He hated having blood and chunks of gore getting into his short, bronze-colored beard. With mouth closed, the boar slowly chewed on the weaklings. He reveled in the feeling of their fruitless squirming on his tongue as well as the rumbling of their fearful screams. Sufficiently mashed, the boar swallowed the mass of protein in a single gulp, releasing a satisfied burp once they landed in his impatient stomach.

"Pig," John teased, chuckling.

Ted took no offense. "Who's the pig here?" he asked with a single laugh, wiping a smidgen of blood on his lips. "The rest of you can't even chew with your mouths closed."

"Can't enjoy yourself unless you get a little messy!" John joked. The wolf purposefully let bloody drool dribble from the corner of his muzzle. A few severed limbs went with it. "Got to put the fear in the bugs, Teddy. Which means you should look as fearsome as possible."

Ted laughed. He scooped up another group, allowing them a few moments to squeal in horror. "They sure sound scared enough to me," he argued. This time he let the twelve or so micros slide from his palm, down his fat tongue, and right to his throat. Squirming near the boar's uvula, tickling it, his throat opened and they all fell in, sliding in a swift, wavelike motion to his stomach.

"Then you have a bit to learn," the black wolf added. "Playtime is meant to be messy."

"Well," Stan interrupted them, "I'm off to get the fun started. I see a skyscraper perfect for some bench presses. Need to get theses pecs a good workout." The rounded mounds on his beefy chest bounced playfully.

"Looks like they have a football stadium over there," Steve noted. His usual grin was especially wide at the prospect but just as devious.

They left John and Ted alone as they made their separate ways. Ted went to make another comment before John cut him off with a languid wave.

The wolf took off toward the center of the city in the same direction as Stan. "Go get your fill, pig," he said. "Then you can join us for some fun."

The dog, wolf, and tiger made three paths of destruction as the leveled the earth with their feet. The sheer force of their weight made the ground shake with the power of a high magnitude earthquake. Despite being teased, Ted loved the feeling their power. Before him - his friends - were three of the sexiest and strongest beasts he could ever wish to spend time with.

Several buildings and skyscrapers, only a number of long strides in front of him, looked like no more than stacks of blocks ready to be pummeled. The sight of it made him giddy. He felt like a child ready to go on a rampage just for the joy and thrill of it. All these puny weaklings, these micros, these bugs: they would now know who the new muscle god on the block was.

Stan

Glass shattered; concrete crumbled; and steel snapped. Nothing could withstand the force behind Stan's blows. And the gargantuan German Shepherd laughed as he did so. If there was anything to inflate his already - but reasonably so - inflated ego, it was the rush of demolishing a skyscraper. That was one of the many reasons he was a god.

His massive forearm, veins throbbing with adrenaline and testosterone, cleaved the air. With a thunderous crash, it met with the side of a skyscraper as tall as he was. It exploded out from the other side nearly as soon as it had hit, leaving a muscle god arm-sized hole in the structure. The top of it fell upon the bottom and teetered to and fro before tumbling down into Stan's arms. For muscle gods, skyscrapers were one of the few things to use for any kind of weight training.

Hundreds of micros fell from the structure as Stan did a few bicep curls, treating it as a barbell. Some of them dropped right into the crook of his arm, and before they even realized where they'd landed, their life was snuffed out. Stan flexed, bringing bicep and forearm together, ending the few micros between them with a soft crush. Heads popped and the rest of the meat bags were flattened into utter mush of mingling blood, flesh, and guts.

Stan grinned and winked at himself in the reflection of the windowed façade of the skyscraper. The sounds and smells around him were invigorating. The crunch of micros on his arms; the endless screaming of terrified bugs; and the smell of his sweaty musk conquering the air - all of it aroused Stan, his meaty manhood filling whatever space remained in his black jockstrap and pants.

Streets below him began to fill with a flood of frantic furs. Micros of all different species poured out of the buildings on the block. They covered the asphalt shadowed by Stan's massive frame like a carpet of multicolored, writhing flesh ready for squashing.

With a lick of his lips and a devilish smirk, the titanic German Shepherd held fast to the skyscraper in his grasp and lowered himself into a squat. His tail, alone, hit the street hard splattering those caught under its weight, staining the underside of it with crimson bug lube. Wagging gleefully, his tail's bushy fur swept up several micros. The rest were trapped. They had nowhere else to go but the opposite direction, which was a terrible move. For them.

Noticing the tidal wave of squish-worthy bugs reverse, Stan waited for the bulk of them to come under the shadow of his ass. A wicked laugh later, he growled, "Got'cha!" He kicked out his legs and let his thick, toned glutes come crashing to the street. His rump destroyed half a block on his left and right. Any caught under his bulk died in less than a second. The pressure was unbearable for their puny bodies, making them explode horizontally in a chaotic gush of gore.

Blood oozed out from under Stan's rear and legs. His black pants soaked up some of it. The rest ran down the street like a hellish, crimson river of carnage, eventually flowing into the gutters of the city's drainage system.

Onlookers from both the street and the broken buildings stared in terrible awe. Most were frozen. Some continue their hysterical screaming. Few were on their knees either praying and pleading for mercy or paying reverence to their god of muscle and might.

"You should all be honored. You should welcome the opportunity to be a stain on your god's magnificent body," Stan said to them as well as himself. The smell of death hit him, giving him a glow of authority and dominance, which he saw in the glimmer of his golden brown eyes reflected back by the skyscraper in his paws. "It doesn't matter if you run or struggle. Bugs have only one fate."

Stan clenched his glutes. The pool of blood beneath him squished, sending out a red mist that painted the fronts and faces of the nearby furs. Howls of horror rang out from the masses as reality sunk in at last. But their shrill terror only aroused the behemoth of a canine further.

"You might as well accept it," Stan continued casually as he leaned backward, his spine rolling down along the street. More vehicles, buildings, and bugs were squashed in the process, flattened swiftly as if plowed over by an enormous, furry steamroller. When Stan was at last on his back, another red river ran along the muscled curves of his shoulders and sides.

He held the skyscraper against huge chest. "I'll let you all out," he told the remaining survivors in the building. "Just crawl on out to my pecs. Hurry up now!"

Grateful but terrified, bugs came out by the dozens until Stan had a few hundred of them on his chest. Very few of them ran, and the ones who did found a long drop from the side of Stan's chest. That didn't deter a handful of them, who thought it'd be smart to use the giant's fur as means to climb down to the street. One by one, Stan ended. He slowly crushed them between his arms and chest, adding very gradual pressure until he heard bones snap and heads pop.

One lucky bug found refuge in Stan's armpit. But with the giant German Shepherd's arm locked to his side, the tiny wolf found his supposed haven was more like deadly prison of potent, sweat-laden musk. The bug choked on the heavy air in an instant, passing out from the sheer power before he could even gag.

"Not everyone can handle the divine scent of a sweaty muscle god," Stan joked, releasing his arms and letting the puny wolf drop to his death. His gaze returned to the crowd gathered on his chest. Most of them trembled in agonizing terror, massaging his massive pecs. "Count for me, bugs!" he ordered.

Stan took a tighter grip on the skyscraper and pushed it skyward. At the peak of his rep, his pectorals bulged and pushed together. A large group of the furs on his chest tumbled into the closing canyon between his pecs and swiftly found the walls of rock hard muscle removing all of the remaining space. Screams of anguish rang out from between his flexing muscles as bone started to break and skulls cracked. And with the makeshift barbell pushed to the max, Stan flexed hard, crushing whatever was left of the furs between his pecs, sending out a torrential spray of explosive blood.

The remaining furs on Stan's chest cried out in dread as the red rain came pouring down.

"I don't hear you counting," growled Stan.

In shock, the crowd timidly replied, "O-one."

"Two!"

"Three!"

The crowd grew less coy with each new rep even though more and more of them fell into the fatal pit of gore between Stan's pecs. They feared for their lives and a faint hope remained that Stan would let them go if they pleased him.

That wasn't the case.

"Ten!" they cheered with Stan's last rep.

"Oh yeah!" Stan grunted in pumped-up delight. He carelessly tossed the skyscraper aside, demolishing a few other buildings with it. Looking to his chest, he found it painted red with mashed up limbs and entrails piled up between his pecs. No more than twenty survivors shook in fear atop his chest.

With thumb and forefinger, Stan picked out the mass of meat between his pecs and sent it down the hatch. "I'll need a little more protein than that," he declared. Using each of his paws, he snatched up the remaining bugs on his chest. "Thanks for counting. Now for your reward," he winked and popped them into his mouth, chewing until they were nothing more than a juicy mass of meat to swallow. "Not every bug gets to become a part of this godly body."

"You were amazing, stud!" called a faint voice to his left.

Stan rolled to his side, interested in the chirping sound of praise. Before him was a several-story mall, half of which had crumbled beneath his left deltoid and trap. With his head rested on his shoulder, rolling up his bicep in a wonderful, half moon of muscular display, Stan glimpsed his admirer. The little guy was a tiger, just as stud-like as Steve... for a bug at least.

"Well, aren't you a cute specimen," noted Stan. The German Shepherd had a soft spot for beefy studs, even the micro ones on occasion. Not fully aware of it, his fingers were deep in his pants, fondling the garage-sized balls in his tight, sweaty jockstrap. "You're a little more than bite-sized. Tell me. Have you ever been eaten before?"

After making a fist with his free, musky-smelling paw, Stan slammed it into a nearby building that had happened to remain intact. He'd noticed a group of micros huddled in a group together. He thought they'd make a good snack as he rested for the moment.

With no more than a thumb, Stan flicked the first tiny fur onto his tongue, rolling him on to his back teeth. They came down with a crunch, breaking the bug in half and severing every limb. Blood drizzled from the corner of his muzzle as he continued to chew the morsel.

"Well?" Stan asked while eating, popping another fur into his mouth. Wet sounds echoed between the broken buildings as his mouth smacked with the mushy gore of the two micros. Then another.

The tiny tiger only blushed. "Can't say I have," he gushed. "But for a sexy stud like you, I'd do anything."

"Anything, huh?" Stan smirked before chomping down on two bugs this time. He found the blushing tiger even cuter than first look. "Tell you what," he continued. "I could use a new pet since I have a few that need replacing."

"Really!?" exclaimed the tiger. A keen gleam of wonder sparkled in his leafy green eyes.

After gulping down the last of the micros in his paw, Stan grinned. "But I can't just let any old bug be my pet. It's one of the highest honors a weakling could ever hope to attain."

"Whatever I need to do, sir. I'll do it!"

"You'll have to survive two different tests," Stan explained. With thumb and forefinger, he plucked the tiger from the sixth floor of the busted mall. "First one is simple." He rolled back over and sat up, undoing the buckle of his belt, which came out in a single swift yank. Next off were his boots, socks, and then his pants. "It was time to get those off anyway," he chuckled. "Now," added Stan, pulling forward the elastic band of his sweat-soaked jockstrap. "All you have to do is survive while nestled between my big balls. Any pet who cannot only withstand but also worship my godly musk won't survive a day with me."

Stan shoved his paw along with the tiger down into his wet, hot jockstrap. Layers of the German Shepherd's warm sweat coated the tiger in an instant. And with a single finger, he forced the little guy right between his gigantic furry balls, where his musk was thickest. Pulling back his paw, the jockstrap went back in place, holding the tiger snugly against Stan's sweaty scrotum.

"That's your task," said Stan as he cupped his balls, feeling the tiger squirming between his palm and his hefty sack.

"Anything... for you..." mumbled the tiger, basking in little amounts of hot musky air, muffled by the meaty male genitalia constraining him, "...my god."

And with a tiny stud writhing in pleasure against his nutsack, Stan's thick cock emerged from his sheath at last.

Steve

A football game was in session at the stadium.

Perfect, thought the tiger. What a treat this will be!

News may have travelled fast. But it hadn't travelled fast enough for the tens of thousands at the stadium. The prospect of any kind of escape, although nil to begin with, became impossible as Steve laid waste to the parking lot. Every vehicle was reduced to flat scrap metal. And tailgaters found quick ends under the tiger's enormous feet, becoming gory stains on his dark pads.

Steve was already in nothing more than his navy blue jockstrap. He'd stripped down on his way over, revealing his godly, super heavyweight, bodybuilder form to the world. Not a single soul in the world matched the definition of the tiger's muscles. Stan and the other muscle gods came very close, but Steve was chiseled perfection.

So as he towered over the stadium, garnering the attention of the masses, the people stared in captivated, jaw-dropping awe. Paws on his hips, afternoon sunlight shone on Steve's broad, rippling shoulder muscles, casting his shadow upon the people while surrounding him in a golden aura that truly cast an image of divinity.

But Steve was no god of mercy. Nor was he a god of wrath. The tiger was simply a god of self-indulgence and unfettered pleasure, seeking no more than to quench his thirst for unbridled displays of dominance, destruction, and power.

And each of them in the shadow of his divine presence was a toy to that end.

"This is no way to welcome a god!" Steve decreed. But he did not frown. Instead the tiger's dazzling smile curled farther upward along his muzzle. "Cheer for me mortals!"

His request was not met with cheers. No. The people cried in terror.

Again, Steve beamed. "Oh, the sweet sound of fruitless fear. How it soothes my soul." The titanic tiger slammed to the ground with his ass, his legs splayed with the stadium between them. He kept his legs curled around the sides, blocking every exit.

Portions of the stadium closest to his crotch crumbled under the weight of his wrapped up meat. Collapsing concrete, snapping support beams, breaking bleachers, and squishing bugs tickled the currently constrained ballsack in his jockstrap. And when Steve glimpsed the blood oozing from the rubble beneath his junk, arousal hit him hard, growing his cock those first several feet out of his sheath.

Panic erupted in the stadium. People pushed and shoved in feeble attempts to escape. None of them knew just how trapped they were, with the tiger's rippling leg muscles caving in each entrance and exit.

"You disappoint me," said Steve, shaking his head. And yet his smile remained. Just this time his toothy grin sparkled with a hint of sadism. "I suggest you all stay for the show..." he chuckled maniacally, "...participation is mandatory."

Some of the chaotic crowd stopped. Reality sunk in for a few. Nearly every micro in the land knew deep down that succumbing to the appetites of the muscle gods was inevitable. The best they could do was hope for a quick death when they arrived.

Steve laughed, noticing the obedient few. "At least some of you know your place well." He plucked one of them from the crowd, careful to leave him intact for the moment. "And how would you like to die, bug?"

Dangling with his head between the tiger's giant fingers, the horse anthro shook terribly. Every word stuck in his long throat, choking on the insurmountable fear.

"Hurry up!" demanded Steve.

The horse remained speechless.

"I'll choose for you then," the tiger beamed. He rolled the horse back up between thumb and forefinger with nothing but his head poking out from the padded flesh.

Feet and legs broke first. The horse ended his silence, crying out in tremendous anguish. But the ensuing pressure continued upward along his body as the tiger's finger pinched tighter. His hips were shattered next. The bottom half of the horse's body was reduced to flattened mush as he watched his own blood gushing out from the sides of his torturer's enormous fingers.

"P-please! Stop!" the horse sobbed, becoming lightheaded and numb to the pain.

"Nah..." Steve responded casually.

Belly and chest were next. The force was so intense. The horse's guts only followed the path of least resistance: upward and out his mouth. He watched as his own intestines, chunks of liver, lungs, and heart, mixed in a torrent of his blood spilled forth as a gory vomit. It went black after that.

"So soft and mushy," noted the tiger, finishing the rest of the horse by rubbing his fingers together and licking them clean afterward. "And tasty! I think I'll have a few more."

Claws unsheathed, Steve skewered four more bugs in their torsos. He brought them up to eye level and watched as they bled. Dark red liquid drizzled down his white claws all the way to the tips of his furry fingers. And then one by one, he slurped them up, chewing them with his mouth open for the entire stadium to watch in horror, amplified by the fact they had him zoomed in and featured on the giant television.

Steve noticed himself on the screen. "Damn, I'm sexy," he said, licking his fingers clean again, but his muzzle was still stained in blood. He flexed arms and chest for the camera and gave everyone a quick wink with that wickedly charming smile of his, even if his teeth were coated in gore. "Time for a demonstration of my strength, my dear audience."

Most of the football players had remained on the field. Out of everyone in the stadium, they were the bulkiest and likely the most durable. With a swipe of his right paw, he snatched up eleven of them.

"You weaklings think this bunch is strong?" he asked, inspecting the group of players in his grip. "You call those biceps? Well, let me show you what a real bicep can do to bugs like you."

Steve bunched up and placed all eleven of them in the crook of his arm. The tiger held them there as he began to flex. When forearm met bulging bicep, he let go, allowing his muscles to keep them in place.

Bones broke and helmets popped off as heads exploded from the pressure. Steve clenched his jaws but maintained his bright, beaming smile. Slowly, he flexed more and more, bringing his forearm closer to a beautifully crescent and veiny bicep.

Eventually the breaking point came with an explosive conclusion. The football players, who were still alive, watched as their teammates started to die in a sequential cacophony of dying screams and nightmarish squelching of eruptive gore. They tasted of each other's spraying blood until they met the same squishy fate.

"Hah!" puffed the amused tiger, kissing his flexed bicep, aroused by his own strength. His cock pushed harder against his stretching jockstrap, begging for freedom.

Thousands of frantic furs in the stadium had mostly gathered on the side opposite the colossal tiger. With nowhere to go, their only options were to watch in unsettling fright or cower.

"You should have it figured out by now," Steve explained. At last, he drew the elastic band of his blue jockstrap, inching it up and over his throbbing slab of jumbo jet-sized meat until it spilled out with a roaring, earthshaking plop. The head of his drooling cock, still relatively flaccid but growing by the second, rested on the end zone of the football field. "No one escapes a muscle god."

The tiger cleared his throat, sounding like the clap of booming thunder. "All those on the field, line up single file in front of your god's manly shaft," he called out, imitating an announcer. "Failure to do so will result in... gruesome termination."

Most followed instruction. Somewhere in their trembling bodies, they held a hope that their fate would be less tortuous if they obeyed the god before them. And for those who didn't obey, Steve stayed true to his promise. Each insubordinate bug on the field was popped like a cherry tomato between his fingers, much like the horse from before.

For the two dozen or so in line before the salivating tiger shaft, Steve had but one order: "Strip."

The entire stadium watched as the coaches and players they'd once held in such regard stripped down to their birthday suits. Bare flesh and fur exposed to the warm midday sun and trembling. Some even shamed themselves further with piss drizzling down their shaking legs.

"This is your honor, bugs," said the tiger. "Before you is the last gateway you'll ever traverse." More pre cum dribbled from the slit of his fat, swelling cock - a fleshy doorway coated with all the lube they need for their journey. A large pool of the tiger's spunk infused the air with the raw, heavy scent of his sex, mingling well with his manly musk.

"Consider yourselves lucky," Steve added. "Only the most fortunate few get to become the wet, hot, and sticky seed of a god." His paw fell down to his swollen shaft, fondling his furry balls with eager fingers. Additional pre spilled out from his cock, drooling in anticipation for its first victim.

"Step forward and submit to your fate, bugs," instructed the tiger. "I think you'll find your new but temporary home warm and inviting."

The line remained frozen for a few seconds. The first fur in line was the quarterback from the home team - a lion. With his feline paws cupped over his crotch, he took the first brave step forward, his mouth agape at the sight.

Closest to him, draped over the field goal post, was the tiger's cockhead, which was as tall and thick as a house and as long as four train cars. And upward from there, stretching toward the heavens was the god whose prostate would become his semen-filled grave.

The colossal tiger before him, the epitome of every bodybuilder's dream, wore only a bright, attractive smile. This is a bug's fate, thought the lion. So much was alluring: the rustic, smoky, and masculine scent filling the air; the image of feline bodily perfection; the wet, warm, and yawning flesh mere feet from him. Total submission was no longer a choice. In fact, it never was to begin with. And as the lion pushed his arms inside the tiger's piss slit, he understood that at long last.

Steve's cock swallowed up the first player easily. Instantly, he groaned in lustful delight as he felt the lion slip inside and start his slippery, gooey journey down the fleshy tube to his prostate. And as the line continued to accept their demise, piling into his drooling dick like lemmings over a cliff, Steve moaned louder. The ground quaked to his sexual pleasure, and when the last was in, he took a strong hold of his cock, stroking it once, crushing those remaining in his shaft and sliding them all the way down to their hot, sticky resting place.

The survivors in Steve's prostate found the cum-filled chamber wasn't as warm and inviting as the tiger promised. Intense heat assaulted their fur and flesh. The ones unfortunate enough to hold their breath survived long enough to witness skin peel from their limbs and dissolve into the thick white goop. Those who gasped for air drew in the tiger scorching seed, choking them, burning them from the inside out until they, too, were nothing more than feline spunk.

With one paw, Steve lifted his now fully erect cock. With his other, he fondled his swollen balls, knowing just how quick his spunk would dissolve his victims. He licked his bloodied lips. "Mmm," he purred, shivering in sadistic delight. His gaze wandered back to the now silent crowd. Hunger glimmered in his green eyes. "No one escapes."

"The only question is what to do with you next," the tiger pondered out loud. With his cock throbbing, already yearning for release, only one option remained. And since his buddies were currently busy with their own pleasures, Steve would have to pleasure himself for now.

Paw open, he reached for the huge crowd of terrified furs. They were so heavily congregated Steve had no problem grabbing a few dozen of them. The mass of people in his grasp squirmed. Struggling, however, achieved only further arousal of the tiger, craving a sweet release as soon as possible.

Once Steve's light was switched and he was turned on and hot, he wouldn't stop until his desires were met. "I need some lube," he said. His breathing was deep and heavy with lust. "And bug juice works wonders."

One quick squeeze. That's all it took. The dozens of tiny furs in his paw exploded in a gory mess with a loud squelch. Blood squirted from the cracks and crevasses of his fist, raining down upon the crowd below.

Steve ground the fur, flesh, bones, blood, and guts that remained in his paw into a messy pulp. The huge glob of gore smelled intensely of copper and had the consistency of semisolid coconut oil. "Perfect," said the tiger, grabbing the end of his tail. He smothered the substance all along the tip, ensuring it was properly lubed.

"Still need some more," he noted.

His words prompted the crowd to erupt into more panic. But their screams as well as their feeble attempts to run did nothing. Another few dozen were snatched up by the tiger's enormous paw, struggling even more than the first fistful.

Another squelch and downpour of blood later, Steve coated an additional layer of bug juice on his tail. "There we go," he beamed.

Thousands of horrified spectators were now drenched, stained red with the blood that still drizzled from above. Everything else around them was also painted a dark crimson: a glimpse of hell on Earth. And towering over everything on the other side of the stadium, stroking his tail with mashed up flesh and guts, their devil took form of an epically muscled and tremendously titanic tiger.

Steve rose to his paws and knees. One knee he used to close the gap he'd left in the stadium. His position put his belly and chest hovering over the whole thing, casting a shadow over the field and the mass of bugs.

Streaks of blood stained the white fur on his washboard abs. He licked his black lips, eyeing up the thousands who remained in the stadium. They scattered at the sight, noticing the lusty hunger in his sparkling gaze.

With a single paw, Steve plucked the first to run from the gathered crowd. He handled them with care, wanting to keep them alive. "Cowards have but one destination," growled the tiger with a smile.

Palm open, he reached past his crotch and planted the seven furs on his sweaty taint. A shiver of sensual bliss shot up his spine as they squirmed against the sensitive bridge between his tremendous nuts and tailhole. For a few seconds, Steve fingered himself, howling in pleasure.

Caught between the tiger's padded palm and musky taint, hot sweat drenched each of the seven furs. It, too, was an effective lube, preparing them for the only purpose they'd serve for their muscle god. And even as they prayed otherwise, they knew their fates.

The first of the group was plucked by the tiger's thumb and forefinger. Sweat aided the fox's journey upward along the tiger's taint, sliding between spread, muscled cheeks. The finger on his back kept him pinned tight against the wall of fur that eventually turned to flesh. Before him, clenched but hungry, was the dark puckered entrance the muscle god's rectum.

"Oh god! No!" screamed the fox, squirming against the malodorous winking hole. But his thrashing only aided his entry, his muzzle slipping between the rank walls of warm flesh. That and it only excited Steve more.

"In you go," the tiger chuckled.

Pressure increased on the fox's back and the soft sphincter yielded and opened. The supple flesh accepted him eagerly, muffling his screams as head, chest, belly, and the rest all disappeared into Steve's rear. Walls of hot, musty flesh clung tight around him as the tiger's finger pushed him as deep into the rectal prison as possible.

Steve repeated the motion six more times. Each additional bug shoved into his rectum enhanced his erotic pleasure. And with all seven bugs writhing within him, right against his prostate, his cock throbbed even harder.

"And now for the pièce de résistance!" announced Steve. His tail swayed and curled downward with practiced precision until the lubed-up tip of it rested on his hole. Steve readied himself and, with expert control, slid several feet of his tail right into his ass.

Lungs emptied as the tiger let out a booming roar. Inside him, every inch of flesh quivered with the rumbling of his pleasure. And for the seven still alive in his ass, three died, crushed by the tiger's contractions of sexual delight, guts spilling out both ends of their weak bodies. The other four, along with the deceased, journeyed farther into the tiger's innards as Steve's tail slithered in deeper behind them.

There, deep in the tight tube of the tiger's rump, air was scarce. And the air that remained was heavy with noxious odors. Blood and entrails of the three dead furs squished up against them in the dark confines, serving as the grim reminder that they, too, would become nothing but a gory mush mingling with the tiger's shit. And as they choked on the fetid air, that rapidly became their reality.

Steve remained oblivious to the dead and dying toys deep in his ass. They'd served their purpose well. Now his attention fell upon the thousands of fur still in the stadium. "Today, you shall all receive a gift from your god," he declared. "A glimpse of heaven before you leave this world."

With his paw now free and his tail fucking his own hole, he took a strong hold of his meaty rod. The tiger's entire body tensed in anticipation with each muscle flexing tight, pulling his skin and fur taught, showing the full rippling potential of his body. Pulsing with each hard heartbeat, his drooling cock throbbed eagerly, begging its master to start.

And so he did.

Steve made the first full-length stroke of his shaft. A pool-sized stream of steamy pre poured forth from the mouth of his erection. The enormous ejaculate was large enough to cover the entire field of the stadium. And a few more strokes later, the field was six feet deep in tiger pre cum.

The bugs caught near the bottom bleachers cried out in horror as the goopy substance spilled over. Another panic erupted among the thousands of furs. Some, however, watched in awe as Steve masturbated faster and faster, the tiger's cock growing thicker in his paw.

"Ughnnnn!" Steve grunted in delight as the splendid tingling at the tip of his cock shot like an electric bolt throughout his body. "Fuck!" he exclaimed and stroked harder. "Here it is, bugs! Your god's gift shall shower down upon you!"

Muscles rippled even more as Steve's whole body clenched. Climax swept over his godly form. His tail stopped deep in his ass, and his paw pulled hard one last time over the head of his cock. With a jerk, Steve closed his eyes and snapped his jaws tight. His cock swelled and shuddered in his palm as the first wave of hot cum came forth and shot out in a gigantic string.

The thick rope of steaming ejaculate erupted from the tiger's cock and impressive speed. The Olympic pool-sized glob of semen shot right for the opposite side of the stadium. With such powerful momentum, it hit hundred of furs with an explosive, "Splat!"

Those caught in direct fire of the tiger's seed were shred to pieces in an instant. Skin tore from muscle. Limbs ripped off torsos. The wicked force of the first ejaculation left none alive in the wake of it destruction.

But Steve was far from over.

Shot after steamy shot pumped out of the tiger. And those who weren't caught in the first enormous splattering of cum found a rising tide of sweltering, thick, white goop. Hundreds had already been caught in the inescapably viscous liquid. The heat was unbearable. And those still outside the growing pool of semen watched in despair as other furs melted alive before their eyes.

Most didn't last long enough to scream. And for the ones who managed to cry in terror, a gush of burning tiger side filled them, melting them inside and out.

Steve opened his eyes at last to revel in his work. The sight of bugs succumbing to his seed and becoming part of it was a tremendous turn on. His orgasm continued. It was his goal to fill the stadium, and he wouldn't stop until every single bug receive their god's gift.

With no other choice, some furs jumped from the top rim of the stadium. The fall alone killed them, but it wouldn't save their bodies. They too would join the rest in the tiger's jizz as it soon flooded the entire stadium to the point that it overflowed.

Caught up in the hot sticky substance, burning away at fur and flesh, the last few hundred of furs flowed over the top of the stadium. And cum continued to pour out of the tiger, who roared louder at the last of his ejaculation, draining whatever last bits he could. He stared in proud reverie as his jizz made short work of the remaining bugs, their bodies melting away as the creamy river of corpses flooded the parking lot.

Steve sighed, "Damn." At last he removed his tail from his rear and stood. And like breaking a damn, his seed drained out through the big opening in the stadium.

"It was fun while it lasted," he said, still fondling his swollen cock and balls. The air around him smelled entirely of his sex, which was no doubt carried being carried by the wind to downtown.

He wondered if his buddies were having just as much fun.

John

Busses were weak. After placing a stack of three between his between his bicep and forearm, John raised his right arm and flexed. Metal squealed and crunched together, mixed with the dying cries of the passengers.

In all three busses, windows shattered and the sides closed in under the black, furry mass of John's huge muscles. The only ways out were either against gravity toward the back of the busses or downward to the front. The drop alone would kill any fur wishing to jump. However, the ones who attempted to escape found a much shorter drop than they anticipated.

With his arm flexed above his head, John had his muzzle twisted upward, waiting for the cowards to fall right into his yawning maw. He counted five of them who managed to slip out of the flattening busses in the bend of his arm and shortly after, as the closing sides of the bus pinned the remaining furs inside.

Snapped metal severed the limbs of some. Others were forced into awkward positions as everything gradually closed in around them, the pressure intensifying. Regardless, blood and bug guts started to drizzle from the busses straight into John's waiting mouth.

"More..." the hungry wolf uttered, garbled a bit by the five tiny furs bouncing on his tongue. They sobbed as they were jostled around inside John's cavernous maw, knowing full well their fate.

Mouth open, John beamed and flexed his arm as hard as he could. The strained muscle bulged and outright destroyed the busses, crushing them as flat as a metal pancake. And with it came a river of sweet, red bug juice. Blood from the flattened furs inside poured out as easily as one would juice an orange.

John let the bucket loads gather in the back of his throat, drowning the five in a bloodbath. With a gleeful hum, he gurgled the blood and furs in his mouth, throwing them about violently, ensuring they were painted completely red. And when he'd savored the taste of their feeble struggles long enough, he sent them down the hatch along with the pool of blood.

Blood continued to drip from the busses as John pulled them from his arm. They'd been compressed into a single malformed hunk of metal. Shrugging, he lapped up the rest of the blood and sucked on it like a lollipop for a few seconds. John didn't like to waste too much succulent gore.

"Too easy," he grumbled.

But one bus remained in the other paw. The passengers inside had witnessed everything, but still they prayed for mercy. They maintained a faint hope the giant wolf would spare them.

"Guess I've got to find something much more durable," John added. His gaze fell to the last bus in his grasp. "Ever see a crotch accordion?" he asked the passengers with a wink.

A few responded with hesitant no's, but the rest remained silent. Somehow they understood exactly where this was going. And as the bus glided toward the bright blue jockstrap containing the muscle god's meaty sack and shaft, their suspicions were confirmed.

The air grew increasingly heavy with the wolf's smoky musk. Passengers in the bus watched as John spread his legs, his nutsack bouncing to the motion in his jockstrap. Sweat already stained the bottom of it. Not to mention, another stain marked the area where the head of his monstrous cock rested in the tight fabric, which was already swelling and throbbing with anticipation.

John spun the bus and positioned it so the windows on the driver's side met with his hefty, bound-up ballsack. Everyone inside was assaulted with the wolf's potent, sexual aroma. A couple of the tiny furs were knocked out from the sheer power of it, unable to withstand the heavy heat of the air right up against the titan's balls.

The rest had taken hold of whatever they could grab or had slammed up against the passenger side of the bus. One had fallen right through a window, hitting the ground in a messy splat from the fall. Trembling, they all waited for John to finish them.

"It's just too bad..." mumbled John as his shuffled his thick, defined quads together. The wolf's skin was so tight that the outline of every bundle of rippling muscle was visible. "Too bad this accordion..." he went on, removing his paw from the bus the moment he had it pinned between his legs, "...only plays one note."

He let out a long, strained grunt. Each of his leg muscle flexed. And in no more than a second, metal creaked, crumbled, and...

...Crunch!

"Yep. That's the only note," John chuckled.

He looked down to find blood had splattered in all directions. Some of it had even stained his jockstrap. The tiny furs inside had been reduced to flat, mushy gore, squeezed of their blood by the might of the wolf's legs, which had reduced the space to zero in a second flat.

"Now," said John, clearing his throat. He spread his legs to let the bloody bus fall. "To find something that'll test my strength a bit better. Didn't Teddy mention something about a military base? I guess I should have asked him exactly where it was."

But he didn't need to. Just as he spoke those words, tanks rolled down the streets. And after glimpsing their barrels trained right on him, he grinned.

"Oh, goody!" he exclaimed. "They came to me."

The tanks didn't hesitate. Before John could even take his first step toward them, they fired. Five thunderous shots echoed between the buildings, shattering some of the nearby windows. And five subsequent explosions burst in a fiery blaze on John's chiseled abs and bulging pecs.

A quiet settled into the air for the few seconds as the smoke cleared. The soldiers in the tanks, as well as the several troops positioned behind them, waited in suspense.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" a voice boomed from the other side of the black cloud. Beaming, John pushed his giant head through the smoke. "Boo!"

Another round was let loose. This time each shot was a direct hit to John's face. But this time the titanic wolf didn't even wait. He simply started coughing, fanning away the smoke around his head.

"I shouldn't have to tell you that secondhand smoke can be just as harmful as firsthand smoke," he teased, wagging a scolding finger at them. Yet despite his scornful tone, his fluffy, black wolf tail swished to a fro with glee. "Naughty little bugs," he went on. "You never learn your lesson, do you? But I must admit it's pretty cute when you guys try to put up a fight."

With a single leap he was upon them. The ground shook with the quake of his landing, breaking the asphalt under his feet. "Now these look pretty sturdy," he said, snatching up the first tank. They were nothing but toys to him. And at his height, that's all they ever would be.

As for the rest of the troops positioned behind the tanks, they resembled nothing more than a child's toy soldiers. Still, with the black wolf towering over them like a skyscraper of godly muscle, they did they only thing they knew. Guns lifted to their shoulders. They fired.

Every single bullet failed. John's hide was impenetrable.

"Keep doing that. It feels kind of nice," John joked. One by one, he plucked four of the tanks from the street and stacked them in the crook of his arm. Now this was going to be a real test of his strength.

This time there was nowhere to go. The soldiers inside the tanks were unable to open the hatches, which were either caught under another tank or the creeping mass of wolf muscle flexing in around them.

John's jaws clenched. This one was going to be tough, but that's what he wanted. He strained flexor and bicep muscles, feeling the pressure build on the tanks in his arms. The weakest bits of the armored vehicles bent. Metal screeched loudly as it rubbed together, caving under the growing pressure of John's flexing.

"Ughnnnn!" A long grunt escaped between the wolf's snarling teeth. His arm shook from the effort, but he wouldn't give up until he heard the end of the soldier's screaming from within the tanks.

The remaining tank on the ground and the soldiers behind it continued to shoot at him in a last ditch effort. It wasn't even enough to distract him as he put his whole body into it. Veins swelled all over his godly form but especially in his convulsing arm.

"AAAAHOOOOOO!" John let out a wicked howl. He threw every ounce of his strength in one last flex.

And it worked.

Metal bent and snapped and it started to crumble between his muscles at last. And as for the soldiers inside, their already tiny space grew smaller and smaller until it was gone. Unable to move, pinned in their prison of iron and steel, the growing pressure shattered bones, tore flesh, an eventually caused limbs to explode in a huge mess of gore.

The pain was horrible for those whose skulls hadn't been the first thing squashed within the flattening tanks. Arms and legs were squished into bloody, meat pancakes. Guts spilled from mouths and rears. The life was, at its finest, squeezed right out of their bodies.

And once the last howls of pain stopped, John relaxed. He let the compressed set of tanks fall to the street with a deafening thud. The other soldiers stared at the heap of bent metal in terrible surprise.

One scream from a soldier was all it took to send panic throughout the rest. They turned tail and ran.

"What's this?" John remarked after glimpsing every single soldier deserting the battlefield. "No one escapes me, cowards!" His legs bent into a squat, and he launched himself into the air. He threw his leg up, out, and spread them as he came crashing back down. The last tank, too slow to move out of the way, was reduced to junk under the weight of John's ass

Laughing, John pressed his feet together, corralling every tiny soldier. Except for one. The fastest of them discovered his speed only served to hasten his demise. The cheetah was the only soldier to find himself between John's gigantic wolf feet as they slammed together. His death was quick, ending in a very wet splat, turning into nothing more than a splattered stain of blood and guts on the wolf's padded feet.

"He might actually be the lucky one," John said. He wore a sly smirk heavy with terrible intentions. And the soldiers knew it. They cowered in fear, retreating until their backs hit the wolf's giant feet and ankles. The muscular, black-furred calves to each side tensed with anticipation as John reach down to his jockstrap, pulling out his meat with a hefty plop.

"I will now issue your last order, soldiers," commanded the wolf. "Line up!" As he held up his growing cock, he gestured a long line right in front of his furry ballsack "And trust me..." he added, "...insubordination will be punished accordingly."

As each of them fell in line and submitted, John felt the warm rush of power pumping in his blood. This was the glory of a muscle god, he thought. All shall submit before me!

"Two lines. Single file," he ordered as they drew close. Hot, excited blood filled his cock, swelling even more in his paw. Two lines of twenty five soldiers took their positions under the shadow of John's nearly full erection. Some of them stared in terrible admiration at the wolf's throbbing boner. Others fought their gag reflex as the smell of the titan's sex raided their sensitive noses. The rest kept their heads bowed, staring at the ground.

"Although you were all cowards in the end, you each accepted your just punishment. And after death, you shall continue to serve," John explained to his trembling audience. "As lube for my cock. Hah!"

John slammed his erection to the ground. In a wave of spraying blood, splattering entrails, and mashed muscle, each of the soldiers' bodies was squashed below the wolf's train-sized shaft. The gore was still warm as John scooped some of it up along with his cock.

He masturbated right away. "So good when it's fresh," he joked. The slick bug juice allowed his paw to slide up and down his rock hard shaft with ease. Several seconds later he was painting the ruined street white.

"Now to see what everyone else is up to," he said as he flipped his jockstrap back over his bloodied genitals.

Theodore

An entire college campus, two shopping malls, and the whole audience of a concert in the park and Ted was still hungry. The giant boar cursed his bottomless stomach. Several hundreds of micros later and it wasn't enough to curb his appetite.

He'd even resorted to eating some of them whole, gobbling down as many as he could in a short amount of time. He felt their squirming in his strong but undefined muscle gut. Dozens of furs writhed in a mix of blood, guts, severed limbs, and stomach acid, being digested alive in the nightmarish churning mixture.

The thought of all that protein slopping around in his stomach aroused Ted, but it also made him hungrier. He would not stop until he felt full. And for a hog like him, that could take a while.

"Damn..." he grumbled, picking some gore from his teeth. A burp rumbled up from his stomach, releasing all the air he'd swallowed in haste with the whole furs. "I should probably find something to wash them all down.

The boar's ears twitched to the sound of music. At first, he wondered if he'd forgotten to eat the band at the park. But that was a silly thought, he reminded himself. Of course he ate the band. The drummer had been a delightfully chubby morsel of a bull.

Ted listened harder. His ears twisted to the left, pinpointing the general direction - somewhere closer to downtown.

"I hope it's another band," he said, letting loose another booming belch. "They tend to be a bit salty. And I like salty."

Paying no heed to where he stepped, Ted's eighty foot long and thirty six foot wide feet ended the lives of many fleeing people. Survival was beyond reach once in the shadow of the boar's massive city-block-destroying stompers. Footsteps left in his wake were dotted with soft, wet piles of broken bodies. Under the weight of Theodore, nothing that remained was recognizable.

Countless of them found their demise below his unwitting feet. The coppery smell of their blood adding to the already sour stench of his soles. Ted even remained blissfully unaware of the gory mush collecting between his toes.

Those blood-spattered feet of his carried him swiftly to his next destination. The source of the music came from the top of a skyscraper. It was one along the outer edge of downtown, just a little under his four hundred and twenty foot stature.

Ted inspected the scene with curiosity. Atop the skyscraper was a pool along with a wide bar. A disk jockey had top-of-the-line equipment set up in the remaining space beside a small dance floor. It was a pool party, no doubt hosted by the wealthy owner of the penthouse just below the roof.

The music was so loud and every fur was distracted enough to remain ignorant of the fact the city was in the middle of a muscle god rampage. Their ignorance made Ted grin in devious delight. He'd show them the only pool worth visiting. It was a one-way ticket. No purchase necessary.

"Hello, everyone," Ted greeted them. "You call this a pool? It looks more like puddle." His voice was already loud enough to drown out the blaring music.

The crowd of people, somewhere around fifty of them, stared up at him in silence. None of them screamed at the sight of the massive boar head attached to a buff neck and shoulders. The music continued to play, and some of them even returned to swimming, dancing, and drinking.

Ted seethed, his face scrunching up into a scowl. "Don't ignore me," he growled. With a single swipe along the roof, he grabbed every fur on the dance floor. The music stopped. "The only party you'll be having is in my mouth," he spat before shoving them into his slobbering maw.

The sounds of crunching bones and flesh being ripped apart replaced the sound of music. And for the first time, Ted chewed with his mouth open so the rest of them could witness the price of ignoring a muscle god. He did, however, make sure no blood dribbled into his beard.

Now the cries of terror rang out from the rooftop. Ted's smile returned at splendid sound of fear. He gulped down the chunks of mashed furs on his tongue, making it loud enough for them to hear his throat lift and pull down what remained of their friends.

Several of the party-goers bolted for the stairs. They hoped to escape, but Ted wouldn't have it. He stretched his arm out to the side, and with a single broad arch, chopped off the entire penthouse.

The rooftop careened off to the side, falling toward the street. But Ted caught it. He leveled it out in his grasp, making sure not to let too much water escape the pool.

"Don't go," Ted insisted with a teasing tone. His eyes resembled the color of rust and glistened with keen gluttony. "The party has just begun."

The dozen or so furs in the pool attempted to crawl out of it, but their captor didn't allow it. "You stay right there," he said. "In fact, why don't the rest of you join them?"

With a wide sweep of his hand, Ted ushered each of them into the pool. Filled to the brim with tiny, sobbing morsels, the pool was now a decent protein shake - exactly the thing he was looking for to wash down his previous meals.

"Besides," Ted added, offering them a smile. "I've got a much bigger pool for all of you." Those of them looking at the boar caught a glimpse of the arms, legs, and entrails of their friends caught between some of his teeth.

Ted squeezed the penthouse between his hands breaking it down until nothing but the pool was left. Treading the warm water, somewhere between thirty and forty bugs remained.

"Please! No! Don't do this!" they all begged him.

Ted chuckled. Nothing would convince him otherwise, but he loved to tease. "But don't you want to join your friends from the dance floor? Don't worry. I won't chew you up like them. You can join what remains of them down in my pool."

He lifted the edge of the pool to his lips as he puckered them. Nostrils flared, he drew in the steam from the warm water, smelling the succulent aroma of tiny furs stewing in a pool of their fear.

"This should be fun for you. It's just like a slip and slide," he declared. "Down the hatch!"

In a smooth motion, Ted tilted the opposite end of the pool upward. Water poured first into his mouth and with it the first few furs. Lubricated by water and pig saliva, they slid with ease down his tongue right to the back of his throat. More came after with even more water, and when Ted was ready, the entrance to his esophagus opened.

Water and furs fell right into the fleshy tube as the boar swallowed them alive. The rippling walls of flesh expanded and contracted with each gulp, sometimes crushing a fur or two as he guzzled down the rest. The last ten or so of them piled up at the back of Ted's fat tongue before his sent them down with the rest in his last swig. In one smooth, undulating motion, they were pulled straight down into his hot, eager stomach.

The ones who survived the tight contractions of Ted's throat landed in the dark chamber with a splash. All around them was a sloshing, burning blend of blood, stomach acid, chewed up bodies, and other furs screaming in agony as their flesh melted. They soon added their own cries of pain as tingling sensations swiftly turned to searing burns.

"Sounds like you're having a good time down there," Ted chuckled as he gave his muscle gut a few pats. "Don't worry. You can stay as long as you want."

Feeling invigorated, Ted locked his fingers together in one massive fist. He eyed up what remained of the skyscraper before him before throwing his fist down like a divine hammer from the heavens. It crumbled like a tower of bricks under the force.

The furs remaining in the skyscraper broke just as easily as the building. There was no surviving not only the weight of all the rubble but the might of Ted's fist. Their weak bodies were turned into just as pathetic of a pile that remained of the skyscraper when Ted was done. And for good measure, the boar stomped on the ruins, ensuring none would live. And it worked. The only leftovers of the bugs inside the demolished building were sick splatterings of gore.

"Well, that hit the spot," said the giant boar. He kept his triceps and back muscles flexed, relishing the feeling of power. "I guess I can play a bit harder now."

Ted found a skyscraper taller than he was. Arms stretched, he grappled with it, allowing his bulging pecs to eat a portion of it between them. The bottom half of the skyscraper he took between his gigantic thighs. His cock was already growing hard in his green jockstrap, busting through windows, crushing several stunned bugs with his bulge.

The feeling of warm, squished bug juice on his junk got Ted worked up. Heart pounding faster, a rush of hot blood pumped all throughout his muscled physique. With a roar of confidence, he flexed his pecs, which outright laid waste to the portion of the skyscraper caught between the huge mounds of pure muscle.

More tiny dead furs - the ones caught between his pecs - exploded with the sudden weight on all sides. Their blood warmed Ted's chest, drizzling down his middle.

"More!" he demanded.

This time he flexed his legs together. Everything between them was reduced to dust in an instant. And for the unfortunate bugs caught in the action, they were ground down to flat piles of mush between the boar's massive thighs.

Ted held on to the rest of the skyscraper. He embraced it tightly, hugging it harder with each passing second until it crumbled. More tiny furs died in the muscle god's deadly embrace, making their mark on Ted's mighty chest and belly as no more than small bloody stains on his dusty, dark brown coat.

In a short squat, bringing his arms down, Ted flexed every muscle. He let loose a glorious growl of pride. He may not have had the rippled definition of his buddies yet, but he could destroy a skyscraper like the rest of them. And this rookie was just getting started.

"Now it's time to show off a bit," he beamed. At last, he was satisfied food-wise for the moment and ready for some action. He spun on his heels and glanced downtown. Stan and John were there already having a good deal of fun, and getting in a workout. To his right, he noticed Steve, who already seemed to be on his way downtown.

"Hmm..." he pondered out loud, "...maybe I can have some fun with Steve." Everyone had a thing for the tiger. Same as Stan. Both of them exuded the epitome of masculine excellence and godly physique. Hell, all of Ted's new friends on the force were sexy as hell, but he had yet to go any further than drooling over their perfect bodies.

Maybe it was finally time to change that.

Stan and John

"Hey there, sexy!" Stan greeted the wolf with a slap on the ass.

Fur and flesh rippled as John clenched his bubbly, beefy cheeks. The minivan he had stuck in the crack right below his tail flattened with a rapid crunch. The family of weaklings inside were crushed just as swiftly between the sweaty butt cheeks, their blood dripping down his crack and teasing his tailhole.

"Glutes stronger than steel," the German Shepherd noted, winking.

John laughed, winking back at Stan. "You bet! All the better to destroy things with."

"What else are glutes for?" Stan agreed with a devilish grin. He spanked his friend once more before, gesturing to the scene behind him. "Think I laid waste to five or six buildings with mine."

The portion of the city behind him was in utter ruin. Millions had found their end several different ways: squished into gory stains under Stan's feet, squeezed to mush in his paws, chewed down to delectable protein, or crushed between several of his powerful muscles. The red blots scattered all over his body was the only evidence left of their pathetic lives.

Stan glimpsed the tanks John had turned to scrap metal. "So that's why I haven't run into the military yet," he chuckled. "You took care of them before I could join in."

"I'm sure there are plenty more left at the base," he suggested. "Want to join me?"

"Oh?" Stan beamed. "I'd love to. I'm sure there're plenty of toys there for us to put to much better use than they ever would. Know where it is?"

John shook his head. "Not yet. But now that I know the soldiers scent, all I have to do is follow my nose!"

"Good. I'm getting super horny with this cute guy worshipping my balls." Stan pulled up his jockstrap. The fabric stretched tight around the tiny tiger caught between his furry jewels. Squirming about in hypnotic lust, the tiger now knew no other smell apart from his master. The potent canine musk burned into his nose, becoming a permanent, olfactory experience. Not that the tiger minded

"Picked up a new pet then, huh?" asked John, crouching to get a closer look. The form-fitting jockstrap was tight enough to define the tiger's burly build, contoured between Stan's testicles. He poked the little guy, teasing him by pushing him deeper between Stan's precious jewels. "Guess we'll see if he passes the test."

"Speaking of which..." Stan said, reaching down into his jockstrap, which was now drenched in his sweat. His cock was still fat from arousal, but he was saving that for a little later. He withdrew the sweat-soaked tiger from between his balls, bringing the miniscule fellow up to eyelevel.

"Did I do well, master?" asked the tiger. "Your musk is all I deserve to smell for the rest of my days."

"Damn right!" Stan exclaimed. "It's not too often bugs like you understand their place." He took a few whiffs of the tiger, smelling only himself. The tiger's scent had vanished, replaced with the giant German Shepherd's testosterone-rich sex. "Seems you've passed the first test, pet."

"To please you is my only will, sir. I shall worship you until the end of time," replied the tiger.

"Not that you'll be surviving that long," Stan laughed. "I go through pets quite frequently, bug. Only the most durable survive long... which brings me to the next test for you." He hung onto that sentence for a moment for suspense to build in his pet.

"I am yours to do with as you wish, master. What is the next test?"

"You're on cleanup duty between my pecs," Stan answered.

"Nice one," John chimed in, nodding. "If he can't survive there then he's not worth having as a pet."

Stan dangled the tiger upside down, making him dive head first between the tight, furry canyon between the German Shepherd's massive pectorals. "Clean me like a cat should, using only your tongue, pet. You can thank me for the meal later," he added. "And if you do a good job without turning into mush then I'll consider you worthy."

"Ready?" John asked as he crushed an entire parking lot of cars below his foot. "I can't wait to play with some more toy soldiers."

"I'm ready whenever you are," Stan replied. "Let's show them just how much of a joke their military _might_is."

The titans leveled every building on the way. Hundred of thousands more micros died in their warpath to the military base. Not a single tiny fur remained alive. Nor did their bodies remain whole. Whether they found their death below the giants' feet, in their paws, in their mouths, between their muscles, or simply crushed between them and some other object, the tiny people were torn apart limb from limb or burst into explosive gore.

Entire city blocks in the suburbs were laid flat. Houses, along with their inhabitants, became piles of debris in the deep trenches of their footprints. Even the ground itself couldn't withstand their immeasurable weight.

And before they even made it to the military base, the weaklings had scrambled their air forces. Fighter jets came soaring at them, firing their guns, launching their missiles. Bombers even attempted to fly high above them, dropping fire from the sky.

All of it was ineffective.

Nothing in their arsenal could break through the impervious exterior of a muscle god. They were the titans of strength and durability. Even a nuclear blast would be but a firecracker to them.

"Looks like they were ready to get the party started!" John cheered. Adrenaline pumped hard through his arteries and veins again, bulging and pulsing throughout his rippled form.

Sight of his sexy friend getting pumped up did the same for Stan. His muscles twitched in anticipation of the rampage he'd release upon these puny bugs. Their pathetic attempt at fighting back was going to be entertaining in the least.

"I know, right?" Stan replied at last as he swatted a jet with an open palm. It exploded against his paw, but not before the pilot was able to eject. The gunner, however, hadn't made it in time. Explosive fire incinerated him, before he could even hit the button.

As for the pilot, hovering in the air with his parachute, he would not find solid ground upon which to land. When he looked down, he found the enormous, gaping maw of the colossal German Shepherd. He furiously tugged at the strings and kicked his legs, hoping he could evade Stan's jaws.

None of the pilot's actions mattered. His fate was sealed. Ivory fangs took their place in front and behind him, stained with drool and blood. He even notice the intestines of a previous snack caught between two of the muscle god's back teeth. The gruesome sight was his last.

Stan clamped his jaws shut on the pilot, ending him in an instant. His tiny body exploded in a spray of blood as the rest of him was smashed like a hamburger under a sledgehammer-sized meat tenderizer. Intestines and other organs spilled out from his middle on each side of Stan's teeth. The remainder of the pilot's blood dribbled down his lips to the corner of his muzzle.

Before swallowing the tenderized morsel, Stan yanked the parachute free. It served a perfect napkin to wipe some of the gore as he swallowed his tiny snack. He then resumed slapping the remaining jets out of the air with John.

"It's a nice test of the reflexes, huh?" noted Stan. His pecs bounced at the repeated motion of swatting at flying insects.

The tiger between Stan's pecs kept his body as firm as possible as the hard walls of muscle continually closed in on him and released. It made his job of cleaning up all the blood and gore much more difficult, but he didn't want to disappoint his master. He charged on like a soldier, lapping up a mess of entrails matted to Stan's fur.

John snatched the next fighter jet from the air. Even though the engine still pumped out thrust, it was motionless. The giant wolf held it in place between thumb and forefinger, with the former planted right over the cockpit. Ejection was not an option.

A smirk crawled along John's black muzzle. He pulled the jet close so the pilot could see him. "So weak," the wolf teased. With only a slight increase in pressure, the acrylic glass cracked under his finger. "Can't make these things stronger?"

More pressure and the glass shattered. The pilot threw his arms up instinctually as the glass poured down around him. The only thing left between him and the wolf's giant, encroaching finger was an arched strip of metal. But even that was already buckling under the pressure.

John let out a short, single laugh. "Buh-bye," he said just as he pinched thumb and forefinger together. The nose of the jet was separated from the rest as the cockpit was turned to scrap metal coated with the pilot's squishy body parts. He flicked away whatever was left over on his padded thumb.

"It's hilarious they think they even have a chance," John chuckled.

"I know, right?" replied Stan, jumping up to catch one of the bombers. He swiftly turned it into a ball of steel, which was so easily malleable in his paw. Same as the soldiers caught inside. "Watch this," he said. With his eye on another bomber in the air, he lined up for the pitch. Leg up, flexing his core and back muscles, showing off each rippling contour, Stan threw his weight behind the ball as he sent it flying.

Stan's pitch easily broke the sound barrier, causing a sonic boom as it zoomed through the air. His aim was perfect. Not even a millisecond had passed and the other bomber was utterly eviscerated. Every part was turned to dust. And as for the organic weaklings inside, they too were shredded into fine, gory particles.

"Nice!" John cheered. They each watched as the ball continued flying out into space and eventually even out of orbit. "Better watch out. You almost hit the moon," the wolf added, joking.

"It could stand to have another crater," Stan winked. His eager gaze fell to the gathering soldiers in the base. They appeared to be ready to put up another pointless fight. No matter. Both Stan and John didn't mind one bit.

"My turn," said John. After Stan's deft display of strength and accuracy, he wanted to show off, too. He took hold of a collection of vehicles around him, and just like they were snow in his paws, he crushed them together into a relatively rounded and multicolored ball. He continued to add to it until he had an adequate bowling ball in his paws.

Two convoys of humvees rolled out the base. Mounted turrets were already trained on the giants and firing ineffective bullets. Some soldiers in the vehicles used rocket launchers, which were just as useless against the furry muscle gods, not even singing their beautiful, blood-stained coats of fur.

John took a single step forward as he swung back the balled up cars. The definition of his back muscles was on full display during the motion as he leaned forward into a slight squat as his back leg swung along the ground. The enormous ball flew over a hundred feet before it hit the street and rolled with incredible speed right at the double line of humvees.

The drivers in the front of the convoys had no time to react. John's makeshift bowling ball was upon them in less than a second. With a loud, continuous crunch, the asteroid-sized sphere rolled over each vehicle in the two lines. The soldiers didn't even have time to stare in awe as the towering ball flattened them within a few milliseconds. Sprays of blood, limbs, and entrails accented the asphalt around the compacted humvees in a checkered mosaic of carnage.

"Strike!" Stan hollered, giving his friend some applause. "Beautifully done, John."

"Thank you!" replied the wolf, who took a jocular bow. "I always knew bowling for bugs was my sport."

"No doubt," Stan laughed. "But I think it's time for a different kind of fun. What do you say?" He wore a suggestive smirk, alluding to his growing lustful urges. Witnessing the slaughter of bugs too stupid to realize their place among the muscle gods was awfully arousing for the German Shepherd, especially when doing so with sexy friends. And John was a one-hundred-percent beefcake of a wolf.

"Hell yeah, Stan. I'm down for getting dirty," answered John. His paws were already peeling the jockstrap from his rapidly expanding meat. He looked forward to any opportunity he got to play with Stan.

Stan licked his lips, eyeing up the wolf's fat, swelling cock. His loins tingled with his own arousal, and the bulge in his jockstrap rapidly reached its limit. "Let find some toys to play with at the base. I sure I can think of something fun. In fact..." he paused for moment with a devious sparkle in his eyes, "...I already have an idea."

John's heart skipped a beat at the devilish gleam in the German Shepherd's eyes. Stan never disappointed when it came to erotic ideas. "I'm drooling already," said the wolf, wiping the dribble from his lips.

Stan grinned and winked. "Follow me."

Soldiers continued to defend the base despite knowing their weapons did nothing. Some of them were smart enough to flee. At least they thought it was a smart idea. But the cowards were the first ones Stan and John plucked from the ground.

"Only one place for cowards," they told the deserters.

Each fur they'd caught running away swiftly found their scenery changing from the inside of a paw to a full frontal view of the grand expanse between the muscle gods' scrotum and anus. The air there was hot and heavy with the smell of the wolf's and German Shepherd's sweaty musk. And the closer they got to the beefy behemoths' winking tailholes, the more musty the air became. The stench reached its malodorous maximum when their whole bodies made contact, pinned between finger and foul flesh.

Squirming against Stan and John's hungry holes only hastened their entry. Sweat dripping down from between the giants' flawlessly toned glutes was enough to lubricate them, easing them into the dark, musty hole of puckered flesh without much pressure. They screamed in horror as they sank into the pernicious prison.

Stan bit his lip as the first one wriggled all the way inside. He pushed his finger in with him, sending the tiny fur deep into his rectum. Six more later, he and John clenched their holes tight, sealing the cowards inside.

"Anyone else want to run?" Stan addressed the rest of the soldiers.

Silent, the lot of them stared in disgust and terror after witnessing over a dozen of their comrades fingered right into the ass of two muscle gods.

"Good," added Stan after noticing his captive audience. "Do so and you'll get to suffer in our ass like them before you die. But if you stay still, I promise a much better death." Once he finished that sentence a few more of them ran. And just like Stan promised, they joined the others up his tailhole.

"Any others?" John asked. His cock grew stiff from all the squirming in his rectum.

No one else moved.

"Now stay there and I'll get things prepared," Stan continued. His gaze darted around the base until he saw noticed the hangar at last. After tearing off the roof, he found exactly what he was looking for - cargo planes.

Excited, he hummed as he pulled out two of them. He snapped off the wings as well as the tail until all that was left was a phallic shaped hunk of aircraft.

John watched from the sidelines while keeping an eye on the crowd of soldiers. They'd run completely out of ammo and now had nothing better to do than watch their fate being planned and organized right in front of them. The giant German Shepherd manipulated their largest aircrafts like a child's toy.

Satisfied with his work, Stan tested them out to be sure they would serve his intended purpose. He took the first and brought the opening to the head of his cock, sliding it over like a condom. A grin slid along his muzzle. "Perfect," he noted. The aircraft fit snugly over his canine shaft, and he was sure the other would fit John just as well.

"Am I now thinking what you're thinking?" John inquired in heart-pounding, arousing excitement.

"Probably..." Stan smirked, his face lighting up with lusty thrill, "...especially if you're thinking about bug-filled, airplane fleshlights."

Panic erupted among the soldiers. Some tried to flee, but it was already too late. Stan and John scooped them up and dropped them into the hollowed out cargo planes. As the planes started to fill, the bodies inside starting to look like a mass of writhing worms.

"How fitting," Stan remarked, placing the last soldier in his plane. "They squirm like the bugs they are." He held his palm over the open end, ensuring none of the toy soldiers spilled. Some of the tiny furs were already suffocating as the weight of their comrades in the middle and top crushed them. The pressure was too intense for some, breaking them, snapping bones, and tearing flesh enough for blood to spill from their veins.

Cockpit windows turned red as increasing amounts of blood streamed down from the wriggle mass of terrified furs. John lifted his plane to get a better look at gathering gore. "What a perfect meat tenderizer," he stated, chuckling.

"I know, right?" Stan agreed. "And we haven't even started yet." The beefy German Shepherd was entirely rock hard and so was his friend. They exchanged eager glances and seductive grins before inching their toys down to their stiff cocks.

Slowly, as they pulled away their paws, the opening was replaced with the head of their throbbing dicks. Some soldiers tried to slip out during the small window of opportunity. They found nothing but a face full of musky, canine cock, pushing them right back inside.

The heads of Stan and John's fat cocks were large enough to create a tight seal. Somewhat supple flesh clung snugly to the walls of the cargo plane. Struggling and screaming ensued. Soldiers howled in agony as their limbs were twisted in order to contort to the disappearing space. Pinned against their comrades and friends, they heard bones crack and flesh rip.

Foot by gradual foot, Stan and John pulled the plane over their cocks. Blood was the only thing able to escape the tight seal. The warm, crimson liquid served as a perfect lubricant, easing the dog and wolf's entry. And the more they pushed, eventually added their strong hips to the motion, the more blood eked out and coated their swollen shafts.

Inside, the soldiers started to break even more. Those alive in and near the cockpit drowned in their own blood as well as the blood of their comrades. Their gurgled screams only added to the wet sounds of flesh being pulverized around them. Choked by the gory pool, the last taste on their dying tongues was not only blood but the bitter-sweet of canine pre.

The warm cream pouring out of Stan and John's shafts added to the pressure as well as the lubricating mixture dribbling between their meat and the inside of the plane. With a powerful thrust, Stan shoved his cock the rest of the way inside. One loud squelch sound resounded throughout the base as the soldier's inside Stan's makeshift fleshlight were mostly reduced to a mess resembling ground beef.

John did the same. He flexed his glutes, bucking his hips. Another squelch erupted from his plane, sending some of the built up gore squirting out around the base of his cock. Intense pressure had sent some of it all the way up to splatter the wolf's lips and chin. With a chuckle, his tongue danced along his lips to lick it up.

"So hot..." Stan growled. He nibbled on his bottom lip as he watched John taste the splattered gore on his muzzle. With a stronger grip on his plane, he jacked it faster. The tenderized soldiers inside were pulverized further, bursting in a raucous wet squish with each powerful pounding. Soft and soggy gore squirted from his fleshlight, too, soiling the beige fur of his belly.

"You like that?" John smirked with an alluring flick of his brow. The strokes of his plane increased to meet his friend's pace. He spun a bit on his heels to put his sexy ass on display. With his tail lifted, he bent over for Stan, spreading his legs just enough to divide those divine glutes and reveal his hungry, winking hole.

"John, you have such a hot ass," Stan said. His tongue crawled along his lips as he approached the wolf's rear, taking hold of John's tail with his free paw. "Think I need to get more acquainted with it."

"I think so, too, Stan." John kept his back straight, showing off all the heavenly contours of his powerful back muscles. He knew it'd get the German Shepherd even hotter. "You're already nice and lubed up. Might as well put those mashed up soldiers to use."

Stan let out a single laugh. The plane came off his cock with a moist smack. He discarded it and took hold of his bloodied boner, already feeling his knot start to swell. Layers of torn flesh, hot blood, ripped entrails, and his own pre cum covered his veiny erection. "Damn right!" he exclaimed, slapping both paws to John's ass.

He yanked John back. The wolf clenched his jaws as his buddy spread his hole. Slick with gore, the German Shepherd's thick cock entered him effortlessly.

"Fuck..." John growled, feeling his friend fill him. In less than a second, Stan was balls deep in his ass, growing knot and all. Instinctually, he clenched his tailhole, making a tight seal around his buddy's knot.

The tiny furs in John's ass - the ones who'd been durable enough to survive up to this point - were met with a giant, bloody, dog dick. The already rank and musty air was made more foul as they were pinned between the squishy walls of the wolf's rectum and the dog's gore-soaked erection.

Their hellish experience didn't last long. Stan was too horny to stop right there. Flexing his upper body, he took hold of John's hips and used them as leverage. His fat cock slipped back and forth, impatiently and relentlessly pounding the wolf's ass. The tiny furs who'd survived rolled with the motion as Stan's cock thickened with more hot blood, their bodies stringing out and flattening like dough under a rolling pin.

John held tight to his makeshift fleshlight, jerking it faster. He felt Stan's throbbing cock growing inside of him, the dog's knot swelling to his maximum, which stretched his anus farther and farther by the second. All of it rubbed hard against his prostate, making his cock itch for release.

Stan leaned over John and gripped the wolf's shoulder with his right paw. His other paw remained on John's hip. With just his hips, he humped with gusto, adding an accelerating crescendo of wet slapping as he drove his cock deep inside his friend repeatedly each second.

"Ughn!" John grunted. He could no longer hold back. His whole body tensed as bolts of sexual pleasure shot from toes to fingertips. A wave of warmth pulsed upward from his balls and into his hard shaft.

Cum surged from the wolf's gigantic cock. The white sea of wolf seed filled any remaining space in gore-filled plane he used as a fleshlight. He held firm to the plane, but the delightful feelings overwhelming his body made it difficult to hold on to the mounting pressure. And with another enormous ejaculation, the plane jettisoned like a rocket from his cock, leaving long stings of his steamy cream over the military base.

"Fuck yeah!" roared Stan. The sight of it sent him over the edge. With one last, hard thrust, he shoved his dick all the way inside. His balls swung up to hit John's meaty balls, forcing more sweet seed from the wolf's twitching manhood.

Stan's entire body grew tight as he hung on to John, making sure his swollen knot was deep in the wolf. "Mmmmmph!" he grunted in ecstasy, and the first big wave of German Shepherd seed emptied into the wolf's ass. Humping continued as he dumped several more loads of his hot cream into John's receptive rump.

When he finally pulled out of John's well-used rear, a torrent of his cum came with it as if opening the tap of a semen-filled keg. Muscle gods produced enough seed to fill dozens of pools. And as more cum spurted from Stan's cock as well as John's cock and ass, the military base swiftly became a winter wonderland of thick creamy goo instead of snow.

The wolf and dog panted. The air was thick with the smell of their musk and the sweet cum at their feet. They exchanged glowing grins. Sex was always a wonderful workout.

Steve and Theodore

"Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!" chanted a huge crowd beneath Steve.

The huge tiger had his left arm over his back doing one-handed pushups. All the tiny furs gathered under him had wonderful, shaded view of his spectacular abs. Most of them gawked while they counted for the tiger, swooning over such a perfect physique.

Steve caught a glimpse of Ted as the boar approached. "Gotta love the admirers," he chuckled, hardly winded by the twentieth pushup. With a big push, he switched arms, digging a deeper paw print into the street and causing an earthquake.

From behind the tiger, Ted certainly enjoyed the scenery. Steve was in nothing more than his jockstrap, which was currently strung up tight between his meaty ass cheeks. Never before had the boar witnessed such a delectable derriere. Below that was the big cat's bulging ballsack. The precious feline jewels were wrapped up tight in the flexible blue fabric along with his plump pecker.

Ted noticed blood dripping from Steve's big bulge. It didn't take long to discover why. Directly below the tiger's large, hanging fruit, a messy pile of mashed up furs soiled the cratered street. No doubt they found their end under the immense weight of Steve's cock and balls.

"They chose to die that way." Steve caught him looking. And just as he said that, a tiny crazed cat jumped into the pile of gore as Steve's bulge lifted from the street again. The titanic tiger let out a booming laugh. "Speak of the devil. We've got another volunteer to add to the pile."

"I submit to your glory!" chanted the cat, drooling at the sight of godly genitals dangling over him. The muscle god's sweat-drenched jockstrap would be his chosen form of divine deliverance from his mortal coil. "Turn me into mince meat, my lord!"

"What can I say? I'm a crowd pleaser!" Steve boasted. Every defined muscle in his back, core, and buttocks flexed as he lowered.

"Yes, yes, yes!" the tiny cat rejoiced. "You're the embodiment of feline perfection! Take me!" The shadow of Steve's crotch grew as it approached the willing fur. Hot and heavy musk overwhelmed the air where the tiger's sex had already lingered, but the cat was overjoyed to partake as the air grew thicker with Steve's potent pheromones.

Steve lowered himself slowly. Not only did he want to watch, he wanted to crush the little guy as gradually as possible. Feet turned to inches. Inches disappeared and the gap closed. The supple and sweaty tip of his bulge pushed into the cat's face, muffling his cheers, eventually smothering the rest of his body.

With arms open to embrace his god's junk, the cat accepted the bulge's salty and sweaty kiss. But not only sweat stained the tiger's jockstrap. Leftover cum from the stadium as well as pre cum currently leaking from the muscle god's shaft added to the flavor. The cat writhed in erotic ecstasy as every inch of him was pinned between the growing weight of Steve's hot junk and ground up corpses below. And soon he would become just another fleck of wet gore on the ground, joining all the other's who'd wished death by tiger bulge.

The cat's exuberance was well beyond most worship Ted had ever seen. Steve, however, didn't appear to be a stranger to such submissive micros, and delighted in torturing each of his devout admirers. At the nadir of his pushup, he clenched his ass, twisting his hips forward and digging his crotch into the street.

Pleasure turned to pain for the cat. Beneath the growing weight of Steve's massive, sweaty junk, either the ground would give first or he would. And he was much softer than the ground.

The cat let out a howl of terrible agony as Steve clenched his ass harder, pushing his stiffening cock deeper into the ground. It only took humping the ground once to create a wet pop. The first thing to explode was the cat's head. His skull cracked and the rest burst into a bloody pulp with the rest of his body following suit, becoming the pathetic gory stain on the tiger's jockstrap he'd wanted so much.

Ted gulped. Watching Steve reduce that tiny cat to bug splatter got him hot and bothered, especially when he had an unobstructed view of the tiger's beautifully beefy behind. Enthralled and aroused by it all, the boar ran a thirsty tongue along his thick lips as Steve finished his pushups.

"Nineteen! Twenty!" cheered the rest of the furs gathered beneath Steve's belly and chest.

"Fuck yeah!" roared the giant tiger as he returned to both paws on the ground. The crowd below hollered with him. "Your god is pleased," Steve added. His pecs bounced excitedly above his admires, who watched in endless approbation. "And now that you've served your purpose..."

Steve shot his arms out from under him. His furry white chest and belly fell. Some of his admirers accepted their demise like good little bugs, and others screamed out of instinct. They tried to run, but the tiger's muscular front brought them to the ground in an explosive splat before they could go anywhere.

"...it's time to die," Steve finished, feeling the tiny bags of meat popping under his pecs and abs. Very few of them survived. He could feel them squirming about in the defined crevasses of his muscles. It was something easily remedied.

Steve flexed his pecs. With deft control, he ground them together tighter and tighter until he felt them surviving furs end in a wet pop or simply ground into gory mush. He did the same for any bugs caught between his abs, flexing and manipulating his impeccable eight-pack.

Ted continued to simply observe the tiger. The amount of blood oozing out around Steve's sides and running down the street suggested he may have killed well over a few thousand puny bugs.

Satisfied with the lack of struggling beneath him, Steve turned to his back. He rested his head on his paw and met Theodore with that delightfully charming smile of his. Nearly, all of the snow white fur on his chest and belly was dyed a bright red with small splotches of severed limbs and entrails here and there.

"So Ted..." started the tiger. From his position on the ground, with his head somewhat lifted, his bloodied abs were flexed to full, rippling definition. Sight of it made the boar drool.

"Y-yes?" replied Ted.

"You still hungry?"

Just as he said that, the giant boar's belly rumbled. The mere mention of hunger set off his formidable appetite. He also intuitively understood that which Steve may have been alluding, especially with all those mashed up furs stuck to the tiger's belly and chest.

Ted bit his bottom lip. Was this an invitation for something much more, too?

"I..." stuttered the boar, chuckling, "...I'm always hungry."

"And you like to keep things clean?" Steve asked.

Ted only nodded, his heart hitting hard up in his throat. The sexy tiger was actually flirting with him!

Steve removed a paw from behind his head to wave the boar forward with a finger. "Then how about you get over here, rookie? 'Cause I need a clean-up on aisle tiger," he winked.

Ted swallowed hard. "Right away!" he exclaimed and nearly tripped as he dropped to his knees. Everything crumbled under his weight as he crawled on all fours over the tiger.

Steve lied back down with both paws behind his head, elbows pointing out. The position spread his massive pectorals, revealing all the chunks of ground up fur meat between them. More drool dribbled from Ted's snout, which he slurped back up before the tiger could notice.

Another groan rumbled in the boar's gut. Ted licked his lips and inched toward Steve's chest. Steve had ground so many micros between those huge pecs of his. A decent snack was actually waiting to be licked right up, and that's exactly what Ted did.

The boar's tongue slipped from his mouth and he scooped up all of the bloody meat between the tiger's pecs. He moaned in pleasure as it slid down his tongue and throat. Mixed with Steve's salty sweat, the gore tasted better with such spectacular seasoning.

Feeling more at ease, Ted dove deep with his tongue, running it all over the tiger's bloodied chest. The massacre replayed in his mind as he lapped up the remains of Steve's willing victims. Thousands of lives were ended in the blink of an eye, turning them into the delightful pulp he was currently suckling from Steve's left nipple.

Steve purred. "Lower," he demanded, forcing Ted downward to his abs.

A grin swept along the boar's broad snout. With only the tip of his fat tongue, he explored each muscled contour like the streets of a small town. Steve shuddered in delight as the boar's big tongue slid all along his belly, licking up the blood and gore. It tickled. But it was even more than that. It was erotic.

"Lower..." the tiger demanded again, his breath growing heavy and shaky from his arousal.

Ted was already close to the rim of Steve's jockstrap. Any lower and... "Oh!" noted the boar. An eager, hungry smirk curled on his wet lips, red with the blood of the tiger's victims.

"That's right," Steve beamed. "There should be some more to clean up down there, too."

Ted slid a pair of fingers under the rim of the tiger's jockstrap, which was growing tighter by the second. He peeled it over the meaty member and all the way down below those big feline balls. To his surprise - and delight - he found dozens of dead furs smothered by tiger's giant genitals. Steve's growing erection as well as his fuzzy white balls were coated in blood and flesh: more of the tiger's victim for Ted to clean up.

Drawing a deep breath of Steve's hot sex, Ted dove down between the big cat's thighs. The heat between the tiger's legs was intense with the humidity of his sweat. Ted loved it. He kept his tongue flat as it inched out and slid along the tiger's scrotum, meeting with a sweaty taint. His jaws spread and he welcomed the first of Steve's savory and bloodied nuts into his mouth.

Ted lathered the tiger's testicle with his saliva. He rolled it around on his tongue, cleaning off every bit of gore. After doing the exact some to Steve's other nut, he noticed just how much the tiger's cock had grown. Standing tall, resting on the tip of his snout, was a full blown erection.

"Mmmm," the boar groaned in delight. His tongue danced upward along the tiger's scrotum to the base of the feline boner. He lapped up all the blood, limbs, and guts all the way to the tip, pulling the head of Steve's meat right into his mouth.

Steve sighed as his body twitched in pleasure. "You got it," he growled. "Clean it good for me."

Already lubed with bug pulp, and now with his slippery saliva, Ted pursed his lips around the tiger's cock and took it all in. The meaty member filled him nicely. Hot blood pulsed through Steve's manhood, throbbing against his tongue, roof of his mouth, and all the way back to his throat where it slid down.

Pre leaked from the tiger. The semi sweet liquid mixed well with the savory chunks of tiny bodies. Ted's throat constricted around Steve's hard shaft. A tight seal formed around the feline erection and pulled downward in a swallow, taking a decent amount of the gore and pre with it.

Ted mumbled once more in satisfaction. He loved the taste of the tiger. Three more times he held the tiger's long, fat shaft deep in his throat and swallowed. More pre went with each gulp. Sweet mixture of puny bug juice and creamy tiger fluid dribbled down his receptive esophagus, warming the boar all the way down to his rumbling tummy.

The feeling of the boar's tight throat tugging on his cock got Steve tingling from head to toe. He took hold of Ted's big head and held him there. "More," he growled.

Ted couldn't control his overflowing salivary glands. Hot drool, mixed with blood and pre, seeped from any opening in his lips, and before long, his slobber coated most Steve's crotch. Unable to move his head but eased by the deluge of spit, he focused on using his tongue and throat to massage the length of the tiger's cock.

In a repeated, constricting, and wavelike motion, Ted's throat massaged the head and more of Steve's manhood. Both of them expressed their pleasure with a continual song of lewd grunts and groans. Wanting more, Ted took hold of his own cock with his right hand. With his other he reached forward, searching for the tiger's amazing abdominals, letting each rippling muscle stimulate his trembling fingertips.

The feeling of those mighty abs under his palm sent an arousing thrill down the boar's spine. His cock swelled even more in his hand, and he jerked it faster. He also continued to swallow down the increasing amounts of pre pouring out of Steve's thick cock. The tiger was getting close. He could sense it.

"Damn! You're good at this, rookie," said the tiger. "Now hopefully you're as hungry as you said you were."

"Mmhmm..." replied Ted, nodding against Steve's furry crotch. Anticipation tickled each of the boar's nerves, his body approaching its own climax.

Every muscle in the tiger's body tensed. Ted felt it, especially on the big cat's belly where each core muscle flexed to its peak. The sensation of the tiger's hot body - a symbol of perfection - showing off and getting off to him was the last, necessary signal for the boar sexual crescendo. And as the first fat string of hot tiger seed emptied into his throat, his entire body seized in overwhelming, lustful bliss.

Steve's paws slammed to the ground. Everything underneath them crumbled as fingers and claws curled into a fist. He twisted his hips forward, shoving his cock deeper down the boar's throat as load after load of his cum was ejaculated.

And Ted continued to swallow. He easily guzzled down the torrent of cum that filled an entire stadium earlier. It wasn't quite as much as that, but by the end of the tiger's prolonged orgasm, his stomach was brimming with the warm, goopy cream - just another form of protein for the hog.

Ted also made his own mess. As he felt the tiger's seed filling and warming his eager gut, the tingling sensation of sexual pleasure of hand stroking shaft hit its pinnacle. Loads of his own gooey goodness shot out in several steamy spurts.

Any furs who had the misfortune of surviving the encounter with the tiger had witnessed it all. And if they hadn't passed out from the heat and stench of the muscle gods' sex then they found their demise under a sticky sea of white, boar cum. Thick spunk flooded the street and trapped any bugs who'd stayed to watch the pornographic display of titans.

Ted's semen was so viscous it was impossible for any micro to move, even when caught up to only their ankles. It worked like quicksand, drawing them deeper into the steamy muck. But it wasn't actually drawing them in; the scalding spunk was dissolving them alive.

Each fur trapped by the boar's cum experienced several seconds of agonizing pain as they were digested alive in the flooded streets. Pig semen was especially potent. It worked fast enough for the pathetic bugs to remain conscious through most of it. Flesh and bone sizzled into more cream, burning fast enough to cauterize the blood vessels as it happened. They didn't pass out until cum dissolved them all the way up past their heart with nothing but their head bobbing atop the growing puddle of semen. And that, too, bubbled away with the rest.

Once the last bit of rich cock juice evacuated his shaft, Steve released Ted. The boar pulled away from the tiger's crotch in a long, wet slurp and a gasp for air at last. Cum dirtied his lips, chin, and beard, but he didn't care as he licked it all up. In his opinion, Steve could dirty his face any day of the week.

"Not bad, rookie," said the tiger, winking. That dazzling smile returned to his manly muzzle. "I hope you enjoyed the meal."

Ted rubbed his flat gut. He felt full to bursting, but his strong muscles kept it under wraps well enough. He just needed to get that divine definition of the tiger's bodacious belly. "I certainly did," he answered, flexing his abs and giving them a pat. With his right forearm, he wiped away some of the slobber still dribbling from his snout.

"Funny thing is it's not quite like me to ask," added the tiger. "I'm usually a bit quiet about those things. I guess I got caught up in torturing my admirers so much I couldn't help myself. Especially with a hungry hog nearby."

"And who could refuse such a sexy hunk?" Ted beamed.

"I know, right?" The tiger's smile stretched from ear to ear as he lifted pumped his arms, showing off two huge mounds of contoured biceps. He kissed each one. "Everyone wants a piece of me."

Steve may have had an ego, but it was earned. Not to mention Ted was inspired by the luscious tiger. He wanted to emulate as much as him as possible, especially in terms of achieving such a perfect, superheavyweight bodybuilding figure.

One day he'd have it. But perhaps that would entail a little less tiger cream. And now that he'd had it, he knew it'd be difficult to resist the temptation.

"You think it's time to join Stan and John?" he asked.

As Steve rose to his feet, he nodded. "Probably," he replied. "And knowing them, I'm sure they're both up for another round. Are you, rookie?"

Ted nodded and gulped in nervousness and eagerness. All four of them? Of course he was ready.

Stan, Steve, John, and Ted

"Come on, Stan. One more!" John encouraged his friend. Among the demolished buildings downtown, the German Shepherd was on his back with his legs upward, balancing the wolf on his feet for a leg press. John kept his abs and back tight in a plank, waiting for Stan to push him back up into the air.

"Ughnnn!" growled Stan. Every leg muscle strained to push the wolf upward. Quads shook as the burn settled in on his last rep of three sets.

John spread his arms outward in a superman position. He, too, trembled as he kept his body straight. The intense full-body workout got him sweaty more than usual under the afternoon sun.

The wolf's potent body odor was the first thing Steve and Ted detected when approaching their friends. Around the canines was a landscape of devastation. Nearly every building had been leveled, less a small portion next to the ocean. The salty spray of sea water clung to the musk of each muscle god, infusing the air of the entire metropolis with it.

The place was eerily quiet save for the exercising titans. All the screams of micros, blaring of sirens, and crumbling of concrete and asphalt had faded to the crunching ruins beneath their gigantic feet. That and only the whispering panic of puny, petrified furs holed up in the last remaining part of the city.

"Looks like you two have been having fun," said the boar as they approached.

Stan lowered John to the ground after hitting the peak of his rep. He rolled to his feet and bounced upward in a jolly leap. He loved the feeling of his muscles burning after a good workout. When he hit the ground, an earth-cracking tremor brought down any remnants of standing buildings in the immediate vicinity.

Rolling and stretching his shoulders and back, he glanced at the tiger and boar. With a quick sniff of the air, he could smell the sex on them. A grin cracked along his black lips. "Likewise, rookie," he replied at last, winking. "Guess the tiger's charms worked on you as well."

Ted blushed. It was true. But who could resist such a stunningly sexy feline, he thought.

"Had to hog the hog, huh, Steve?" joked John. "Always have to be the first with all the rookies you do!"

"Well..." chuckled the tiger, "...pork is a personal favorite."

They each burst in laughter, even Ted. When he thought of the other tiny boars he'd eaten, he would have to admit they were a personal favorite, too. Any kind of pig was usually portly and packed with flavor.

Stan and John also noticed just how red the white fur on Steve's chest and belly was. Despite Ted's cleaning, it hadn't been enough to remove the deep stains of blood. At the very least all the severed limbs and entrails were gone, digesting in Ted's stomach along with the tiger's cum.

"Found some worshippers?" asked Stan. A crimson chest and belly on the tiger was a hallmark sign of Steve partaking in a cult massacre of his willing admirers. No matter where they roamed, muscle gods were bound to have some number of worshipers eager to die by their might.

Steve arched his back and rolled his shoulders, standing straight, pushing out his massive pecs. His bloodied chest was a symbol of pride worth showing off. "You bet," he boasted. "They seemed to flock to me in this city. Especially after what several of them saw me do at the stadium."

Just then, Stan felt a stirring between his pecs. "Oh yeah!" he exclaimed. "I nearly forgot." He dug between the huge pair of muscles, searching for the tiny tiger. "Speaking of admirers, I thought it was time to replace my dwindling number of pets. This one will be a fine specimen to add to the collection."

Steve and Ted approached to get a decent gander at the little guy between Stan's thumb and forefinger. The feline may have been a bug, but he was a stud, even enough to make Steve a smidgen jealous.

"He's cute," said Steve. "And I know just how much you like taking the cute ones for pets."

Stan grinned. It was only the cute ones worthy of his time anyway. "And it looks like he survived," he noted with a hint of surprise. The little guy had been stuck between his pecs for a while. "Seems durable enough to be my pet."

"I'm so happy, master!" the tiny tiger squeaked. He was covered in blood and bloated from all the eating he had to do to clean the tight space between Stan's pecs. Despite eating the gruesome gore of his neighbors and others, he appeared unaffected. "And thank you for the meal! You're the best master a pet could ask for!"

"Damn right!" boasted Stan, puffing his chest up to look mighty among his friends. Just like Steve, he enjoyed any kind of ego inflation.

"May I return to your pecs, master?" asked the pet. "I have some more cleaning to do."

"You certainly may, pet. Keep your master happy and you'll live another day. But live or die, you should be happy to have such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"No doubt, master! My life is yours!" agreed the tiger as he was tucked back away in the furry gulch between Stan's pecs.

Ted eyed up the last bit of Benton city that remained. "Not much left of the city, huh?" he remarked with a boastful chuckle. "Seems we've done a number on their numbers."

"One hundred million little bugs down to... what... several hundred thousand now?" John estimated. "And soon to be no more than one cutie pie tucked away between Stan's pecs."

It was difficult to imagine they'd done so much damage over the course of an hour. But as they looked back to appreciate their work, the devastated landscape resembled a post apocalyptic movie scene. The ground itself was cracked and cratered simply from the incessant earthquakes produced by the titans' movements. Earth that remained intact was impacted by multiple footprints and imprinted body parts where the muscle gods had knelt or lain.

Not even the air currents were able to carry away their mingling odors. Their musk lingered and hovered over the decimated city like a thick haze of sexy smog. Several puddles - at least from the giants' towering perspectives - of jizz scattered the ruins, creeping across the land, dissolving any organic matter that remained. The warm cum, too, added to the heavy odor of sex drifting over the soon-to-be dead city.

"All in a day's work break," Stan joked. "Now to savor the last piece of fun left in this city. And how delightful a coincidence it happens to have an amusement park."

"Really?" Steve beamed, his ivory fangs sparkling in the sunlight. "The stadium was a treat. This might be better. Even if I have to share."

"You don't get to hog all the fun, Steve," teased the wolf.

"Yeah!" Ted agreed, lifting his chin high. "Hogging is my job!"

All four let out a good laugh. They sighed and moved their attention over to the small section of city left standing. A few skyscrapers, smaller than the ones they'd destroyed earlier, blocked a fat, fingerlike peninsula stretched into the ocean. That's where the amusement park awaited their next - and last - patrons.

Stan measured himself with the tallest of the remaining skyscrapers. The top was just below his chin, which he rested on it. The steel frame instantly buckled under the new weight of the canine's muzzle. "Not very sturdy," he noted with a smirk. Taking a step back, he made a fist. "Shepherd... punch!"

Like a parking garage-sized wrecking ball, his fist swung in an unstoppable uppercut. The top half of the skyscraper was decapitated. Of the tiny furs caught in the direct line of his punch, they experienced immediate and intense blunt force trauma, resulting in bodily explosion. The rest were thrown with the severed building into the deep ocean. And if they hadn't died from being tossed about the rooms like a fragile ragdoll, they met their maker in the drink.

As for the rest of the skyscraper, Stan lifted his foot and let it hover over the cut off portion for a moment. Ten or so little bugs were lucky enough to be spared simply by being a floor below the one thrown into the ocean. But Stan would never let such luck continue.

The survivors hardly had enough time to look up before the shadow of a gigantic, padded doggy foot blotted out the short-lived sunlight that had flooded the building. They caught a glimpse of tiny dead furs stuck to the bottom of the German Shepherd's foot, which now resembled road kill. The corpses clung to the rough, black pads, squeezed dry of their fluids with guts dangling from flat, severed torsos. The dreadful display was a glimpse at their future. And no sooner than when the thought crossed their mind, the foot came for them.

Stan stomped on the last of the building. Dust and debris exploded around the crater of his foot. And anything organic caught between his foot and the ground was added to his collection of messy stains on his pads. He wiggled his toes, feeling a mushy pile of dead bugs between them: some unfortunate souls who'd undoubtedly line up nicely in the stairs where his huge toes came crashing down.

"Nice!" said Stan, making wet sounds with the gore between his toes. "It's like warm, moist, and slippery putty."

"That's why it makes such good lube," John added.

Three of the last skyscrapers were roughly the same size. Ted had one in his sights from the beginning. He had a plan to show off in front of all the guys. "Hey!" he called for their attention. With his fingers stiff, he threw them down into the ground at the base of the building like two huge shovels. He held the skyscraper upright as he uprooted it. "Watch this!"

Ted brought the building, nearly half his height, up past his flexing deltoids. He held it like a javelin and aimed for the ocean. Pulling back he let spring-like tension building up in his core and back muscle. He marched forward and tossed it with all his weight, his body continuing forward after the throw, leveling any of the smaller buildings in his way.

The rest of them watched as the skyscraper flew several miles until it finally landed in the ocean with a giant splash and a tidal wave. He stood tall and brushed his palms together in pride. "Pretty good, huh?" he asked, seeking their approval.

John chuckled. "You call that a throw, Teddy?" He took hold of a similar skyscraper and lined up for his own toss. "You've still a lot to work on, rookie." With several steps forward he let it fly.

Each of them watched in suspense as it surpassed Ted's throw by a mile before crashing into the sea. John brushed his paws together like the boar and smirked. "Now that's a throw," he boasted.

A bit of disappointment settled into Ted's bones, but he knew he should have expected that. He was the rookie after all, and they had much more practice with this sort of stuff. But in light of it all, he enjoyed the friendly competition.

"Please..." grumbled the tiger. Steve stepped forward and grabbed the last similarly-sized skyscraper. "Both of you need to step aside and watch the master at work."

From the outset, it was easy to tell the big cat wasn't simply being cocky. His form was perfect. The curvy, definitive lines of his muscles under his coat of golden orange fur locked into flawless position. He held his dazzling smile as he glided forward, launching the skyscraper from his grasp.

The air buzzed and boomed as it flew. Both John and Ted watched wide-eyed as it made it an additional five miles past the wolf's throw. The best of the three by far. Ted told himself he had a lot of working out to do before reaching anywhere near Steve's level.

Stan laughed and shared a high five with the tiger. "Show off," he teased.

"Oh please..." Steve replied with his own humor, "...you do it, too, stud."

"Guilty as charged," the German Shepherd admitted before turning his gaze to the peninsula, which was curiously abuzz with life. It appeared the last of the puny bugs were intent on enjoying their last few minutes of life. All the rides were running and buzzing with the cheers and screams of the riders. "Shall we move on to the closing event?"

"Of course! Absolutely!" the rest agreed.

Ted already felt his loins tingling from the excitement. "Time to give them the real thrill they've all been seeking."

"And a thrill it will be!" echoed John, patting the boar on his back. "Start at the water park? I see a tangle of four waterslides that need a happy ending if you catch my drift."

"Sounds fun. Count me in," the others concurred.

On their approach to the amusement park, they destroyed everything. Not a single building was left standing. And as for the small portion of the peninsula connecting it to the mainland, Stan dug out a canal, turning it into an inescapable island.

"Listen up!" announced the German Shepherd as his friends laid waste to all the cars in the parking lot. Very few furs found their death there, crushed as flat as their vehicles. It seemed majority of them stayed in the amusement park, eking out the last bits of enjoyment before their inevitable death.

"We're not here to interrupt your fun," continued Stan. "Just as long as you don't interrupt our fun, which will result in your demise. There's no doubt about that, even if you try and run. So I suggest you keep on doing what you're doing now and accept when your time has come, because your next ride could be your last. And if we catch anyone avoiding a ride _because_it will be their last then we'll have a special ride as punishment. Understood?"

Silence clung to the warm ocean air for a moment. The park goers not currently on a ride stood frozen in awe at the four titans just outside the entrance. Eventually, a park-wide announcement system crackled to life. "Understood!" it said and the park went back to life.

"That's what I like to hear," Stan replied. "However, feel free to scream and struggle on our rides. The terror is half the fun anyway, right?"

For good measure, they piled cars up along the entrance of the park. It was now a prison for the last of Benton City's citizens. And who better to warden such a prison than four muscle god law enforcers? This was their territory now, and the only sentence they dished out was the death penalty.

"So?" Stan turned to John. "Waterslides?"

The black wolf pointed to four tubes interweaving among each other. They each came out at the four cardinal directions into separate pools. Every fifteen seconds or so, a rider slipped out ready and raring to go again or wander off to a different ride.

"Is everyone thinking what I'm thinking?" asked John. He was already removing his jockstrap, his growing rod of meat and balls plopping out of it.

"I'm definitely on the same page." Steve winked and followed John's example, removing his jockstrap. Stan did the same.

Ted was the only one confused. He scratched his snout trying to imagine what his friends were up to. "I'm not sure I understand," he said, caving to the peer pressure and removing his jockstrap, too."

"Ever sent a bug down your cock, rookie?" asked Stan.

Ted raised a fuzzy eyebrow. He'd never even thought to do such a thing.

"I'd assume not with that look," the German Shepherd laughed. "You're in for a treat then."

"And it's a great way to replenish your spunk!" added John, with a friendly slap to the boar's ass. "The puny meat bags dissolve like salt in water in our jizz."

Ted recalled the people who had melted within seconds in his cum. The memory of his seed being that potent was instantly arousing. He hadn't even realized his cock was in his hand, growing fat by the second. And as he imagined the waterslide riders sliding straight into his piss slit, his junk grew even faster.

"Alright," Ted nodded at last. "Let's do this then. I never imagined my cock could be so fucking hungry as well as horny."

"That's the spirit!" cheered the wolf, giving the boar another jocular spank. "Your dick's a muscle, too. Gotta feed it some protein just like the rest!"

"Not actually true," Ted replied, chuckling. "It's more like a sponge that fills with blood."

John blushed. "Shut up, smart aleck..." he grumbled but still wore a grin. "Let's just go get your cock fed anyway. You've got some spunk to replenish after your... ahem... _party_with the tiger."

"Now that I cannot deny," said the boar. He still couldn't believe Steve had even given him the time of day. Such a sexy beast. And if things went well, he'd be having that kind of fun with two other sexy studs.

The amusement park was packed. Stepping without squishing at least ten bugs was an impossible task. Not that any of them were treading lightly to begin with. By the time they'd reached the set of waterslides, the bottom of their feet had a thick layer of flat, mushy furs. Each step left a gory footprint as blood, guts, and body parts scrapped off on the asphalt.

They each took position at the end of their very own waterslide. The ground shook as their asses hit the ground, crushing several bug under those toned glutes. Fat, drooling cocks landed in the pools at the end of the slides, eager for a good feeding.

Like a fleshy plug, the boar, wolf, dog, and tiger pressed the head of their dicks onto the tube's opening. Their piss slits were large and flexible enough to eat the very end of the slide, adding an entirely different tube to its length. But just as slippery.

Ted was the first to feel a rider slide right into his cock. Water and pre may have been leaking around the insertion point, but the unsuspecting fur slipped right in with ease. His fat shaft gobbled him up ravenously. The fleshy tube opened up for its meal, allowing the rider to continue his extended ride straight into the boar's prostate where an entirely different pool waited for him.

"Mmm... damn..." moaned the boar. "They just slide all the way down. No resistance." He already felt his hot cum going to work on rider, turning him into even more pig spunk. The struggles Ted felt in his cream-filled chamber didn't last long at all. But that fleeting moment of writhing, digesting flesh aroused him further, fueling his craving for more.

"What are you waiting for?" Ted glared at the micros at the top of the slides. They appeared to be hesitating. "Forget about that stupid one-at-a-time rule!" With a finger, he forced five of them forward until they slipped into the slide, right past the point of no return. They screamed all the way down until their cries were muffled by the boar's throbbing shaft, spreading the slippery, musky flesh with their momentum and landing with a splat in a sea of semen.

Ted shivered in delight as all five of them thrashed about in his sticky spunk, their fur and flesh melting the instant it made contact. Their howls of terror and anguish rumbled against his balls. That feeling alone pushed him close to orgasm.

"See? I told you you'd love it," noted John. The wolf was enjoying his own pair of tiny furs dissolving into his seed.

"Hurry it up, cock food!" Stan demanded. The riders petrified with fear at the top of the slides were testing his patience. He'd yet to get one. "My balls are itchy for some tasty treats."

Trembling, a husky shuffled over to the top of Stan's slide. He stared up at the giant German Shepherd, who cracked a smile for the scrawny little guy.

"That's more like it," said Stan. "You made the right choice, cutie. And since you're skinny, I'm sure you'll slide right down my hungry cock with ease. It'll be a quick ride, but be happy you get to become the spunk of such a sexy muscle god."

The husky gulped and sat down on the start of the waterslide. His whole body was shaking, knowing what was awaiting him. But he had no choice. Either way he'd end up in the giant's body, he figured. After letting out a long sigh, he grabbed hold of the bar and pulled himself forward, starting his short journey to Stan's meaty manhood.

As the husky traveled down the tube, the air grew more humid. The smell of sex and the musty odor of pre assaulted his nose a little over halfway down. Some light was able to filter through the tube, so when he came upon the German Shepherd's huge cockhead, he had a second to glimpse the yawning piss slit waiting for him.

Pre was pumping out of the dark, vertical slit. The transparent, slick liquid had built up in a large puddle. The husky slid through the thick cream, coating him in of layer of it, right before his legs slipped into the cavernous cock tube. The supple flesh closed in around him, but he kept going deeper and deeper down the dark shaft until he squeezed through a tight hole and into a large pool of hot liquid that instantly clung to his body.

The pain was immediate. From every direction, as the dog's spunk sloshed all around him, his fur and skin started to liquefy. He remained conscious to the searing agony as it worked down to his muscle, bubbling away in a caustic cacophony of sloppy gurgles, turning straight into more of Stan's hot spunk. Even his bones disappeared. Or rather they sizzled into the goop, becoming dog seed ready to be pumped out during the next orgasm.

Dozens of furs went down the slides. Whoever had the misfortune of being in line at the time the four had arrived, they found the end of their day at the water park inside a muscle god's cum-filled prostate. Some tried to leave the line and quickly learned the error of their ways. They found themselves shoved in entirely different hole on the other side of the giants' big balls. But over the course of two minutes, the line for the four waterslides was reduced to zero, especially when they sent six down at a time, all becoming more seed for the titan's to release later.

"And this ride in now out of commission," Stan said, pulling his cock from the tube. His balls were engorged and his prostate overflowing with cum that it already poured out of his cock in a constant stream. "Tear it down John."

"Gladly," the wolf replied. With a single sweep of his strong arm, the tubes and the stairs up to the slides collapsed. Water continued to spray from the broken plumbing, but no one would be using that ride anymore.

"On to the next one?" asked Ted. He had his gigantic, swollen balls cupped in his right hand, loving just how much they'd grown from all that feeding. An overabundance of cum was also dribbling from his fat shaft.

"Sure," Stan agreed. "But let's split up for a little while so we can cover more ground."

They each nodded.

The boar's tummy grumbled loud enough for all of them to hear. Ted's balls may now have been full, but his stomach was starting to empty. "Seems like it's time for another quick snack," he said, chuckling.

"Again?" John teased, poking the pig in the belly. "I would've thought Steve had filled you up."

Ted grinned. "He certainly did. But I digest quick." With his eyes on the tubes left over from the broken waterslides, an idea popped into his big head. He grabbed the longest among them and held it up, wearing a devilish smirk on his snout. "You guys go wherever you want. But I've got the pools."

Theodore

"Attention all people currently enjoying the wave pools," announced the giant boar. "Please remain where you are. Or better yet..." Ted examined the three big pools in the water park. "All of you get in the deep end. This will work better for all of us. And if you dare try and leave the pool, I'll make your death much messier than either of us would like. I like to keep things relatively clean."

The swarms of bugs in the wave pools did as they were told and gathered at the deep end. Ted smiled, rolling his shoulders back with pride. Commanding these pathetic weaklings was what he was always meant to do. He just knew it somehow.

Ted held true to his threat for those who tried to leave the pool. All of them ended up in his hand, squirming in a big pile. He shoveled them into his broad snout, snorting like a hog as he did so. With his tongue, he manipulated the large group of furs in his mouth, forcing them into a twisted mass of bodies between his flat back teeth. He bent down and kept his lips curled upward. He wanted them all to see the punishment for trying to run.

Crrrunch!

Blood sprayed out from the one side of his mouth as he bit down slowly. The tiny furs between his teeth popped and gushed like cherry tomatoes, their guts spilling from the corner of his snout. Back and forth, he ground his teeth until the bugs were no longer recognizable. And with a sloppy slurp he sent them down his hungry hatch.

"Anyone else want to get messy?" he asked, wiping the gore from his lips. No one else ran. "Good." Another booming rumble thundered from his gut, scaring several of the bugs in the pools. "Now on to the main event."

Ted pulled the long tube he'd grabbed from the waterslide and brought it up to his lips. Like a straw, he laid it on his tongue and formed a tight seal around it. After getting down on his knees, he crawled to the first pool, squashing some furs with his big hands. He placed the end of his makeshift straw in the deep end and started sucking.

Fur after tiny fur was drawn into the tube along with the pool water. The suction force pulled them against gravity, all the way to the dark, expansive cave of the boar's salivating mouth, landing on his supple tongue. But the water and the furs kept coming as friends, family, and strangers all joined each other between Ted's jaws and teeth.

When the water stopped flowing from the giant boar's straw, they knew exactly what it meant. And as the fat tongue below them shifted, their instincts were confirmed. The boar's throat opened and the water started to drain with the closest furs going with it. Everyone else screamed in terror as the tongue swung backward, causing a tidal wave that forced all of them to the dark pit awaiting them. They fell into the abyss never to return.

And as swiftly as the first gulp slid down to his stomach, it was replaced with another. Gulp after gulp, Ted drained the first pool in a matter of seconds. Not every fur was sucked up by his straw, but he made sure to send them down the hatch, too, licking them up and swallowing them whole like the rest.

After the second and third pool, he started to feel full at last. Hundreds of the little buggers were alive and sloshing about in his pool of water and stomach acid. And as more of the acrid, gastric juice oozed from the fleshy walls, they thrashed about in the slosh, digested alive.

Ted rubbed his rock hard belly until he heard the last of their screams, which didn't take long. He loved how his gut made short work of the weaklings, turning them into fuel for his godly muscles. They truly were the best protein to use in pursuit of a more defined body. Too bad they just tasted so damn good that he couldn't get enough of them, even when they were part of a drink.

One day I'll control myself, Ted assured himself. He was having too much fun though. Just not today.

His abs tensed as he laughed and pat his gurgling gut. Hard at work, his insides would turn all the meat into that slight layer of fat keeping him from achieving the definition he wanted. But for the moment his irksome appetite was sated.

Steve and John

One of the simple pleasures in life was lazily drifting down a river in a tube. It was called the lazy river at the water park for a reason. Often that's where the chunkier people got to drink a beverage and bask in the sun as the water carried them in a never-ending loop.

Today was different. Today the lazy river had an end.

It was simple really. The lazy river abruptly turned to a yawning cave, then a dark tunnel, and last a deadly chamber of acid.

No action was required. John had lain down, belly to the ground, and dipped his furry black chin into the river. The water continued to flow straight into the wolf's huge muzzle and right down to his stomach.

Where the riders expected to float and sunbathe, they instead came to a halt in a pool of gastric juices. And rather than the sun heating their bodies, they burned and sizzled in the wolf's acids. Not even the rubber tube could withstand the caustic prowess of John's churning gut. It made short work of them and ever shorter work of the riders.

Peaceful silence turned to howls of agony echoing from deep within the yawning end of the ride. Their screams bellowed from the wolf's throat as more tiny furs drifted into the murky tunnel. The dying screams of friends and family being digested alive were enough to send a panic throughout the rest of the lazy river.

A wave of terror shot through the gathering riders at the entrance to John's eager, drooling maw. Strings of saliva dribbled from the roof of the lupine's mouth, waiting to coat their next victims for the ride. They watched as the wolf's throat opened again in a large gulp, allowing the water to flow again.

In less than a second a dozen of them were yanked forward with the rush of water. The dark cavern yawned around them, and after a short hill of pinkish flesh, they accelerated down a pitch black slide. With a wet splash, they landed with the rest.

Some of their fellow lazy river riders had already been dissolved to chunks of partially digested muscle and bone. Blank stares from furless and skinless faces, with patches of flesh still stuck to the skulls, greeted them. And if that hadn't served as a good enough herald for what was to be their fate then the searing pain of the wolf's stomach acid was an instant reminder.

But the water didn't last long. As it drained completely down John's throat, the rest of the riders were left without a river about which to laze. Sighing in relief, they thought the ride was over and they were saved for the moment, hoping to get a little more fun in before their inevitable death.

After a loud belch, John stopped any tiny fur attempting to leave the empty lazy river. "Did I say we were done?" he said, looking over to his friend. "Steve?"

The tiger was seated alongside the lazy river. "Nope. You came for a ride on the river, and we took that away from you. Replacing the water is the least we could do." Steve pawed under his furry scrotum, fingering his tailhole with a bug that tried to escape. When his cock was fat and ready, he pulled it up over a large group of riders.

The shadow of the tiger's cock crept over the large group until the sun was completely out of view. Steve repositioned himself, letting his giant balls droop down between the walls of the lazy river. The fuzzy orbs created a snug and effective dam. He held his tail high, giving the furs on the other side an up-close view of his winking tailhole. The only thing missing now in the river was some kind of liquid.

With a devilish but charming grin, Steve held this tip of his enormous rod with a single finger. He stared down at the pathetic little bugs in the shadow of his feline cock. The pre dribbling from his jizz slit coated his finger and it started to slip and the shadow started to shrink as his cock started to descend.

The furs, still in their tubes, were frozen in fear at the sight of such a titanic, throbbing dick. Even if they'd tried to run, they wouldn't have made it far enough. Once the tiger's finger slipped from the head of his cock, the monstrous member slammed into the lazy river with a bloody splat. Every tiny fur beneath the musky girth of his cock was squashed into a pulp of slick bug gore. They essentially exploded under the weight of Steve's manhood, arousing the tiger even more.

As Steve's cock swelled further, the force pushed the slippery gore of his victims up and around his meat. It grew to fill the entire space between the walls of the lazy river, coated in a generous layer of blood, entrails, and ground up muscle and flesh. He leaned forward with his legs splayed and slowly twisted his hips, testing the lubrication.

The mushy remains of lazy river riders were slick enough to slide his cock back and forth, and as he pulled back he moaned in delight. He held one paw over his cock to keep it in place. With the other paw, he snatched up six furs watching all of this go down from the sidelines.

Before pleasuring himself further, he shoved the six little toys in the crack right below his tail. His glutes were already tight enough to keep them prisoner there, snug between the constricting walls of sweaty fur, flesh, and muscle. They struggled against each other, squirming helplessly between the tiger's ass cheeks.

Steve smiled. He loved it when they squirmed before ending them. And with his cock itching for more stimulation, their end would come very soon.

Slowly, the tiger pushed his pelvis forward. As the seconds passed, he felt his glutes growing tighter and tighter as they flexed, closing in around the six furs in his crack. When the first one popped and blood dripped down his crack all the way to his anus, he shuddered in pleasure. Excited, he bucked his hips harder, craving the rough stimulation of stone around the head of his erection.

One after the other, the furs in the tiger's crack exploded from the pressure. Blood squeezed from their bodies like juice from a lemon until none was left. And that which remained between the tiger's sweaty butt cheeks, was nothing more than ground up and unrecognizable piles of fur, flesh, muscle, guts, and bone, drained of their liquid life force.

But Steve was swiftly generating his own liquid life force. He used the lazy river to stroke his cock as he humped it. John watched eagerly from the other side. The wolf kept everyone in line as they waited for the lazy river to flow again.

They didn't have to wait long. A wicked roar from the tiger announced the opening of the flood gates. And, boy, did it flood.

Load after sweet load of thick, hot cream poured out of Steve's hard, twitching cock. Any tiny fur close to Steve's cock and in a direct line of his shooting spunk was shredded by the sticky, steamy projectile. The semen may have run slow on its own, but the force of each giant, feline ejaculation summoned a tidal wave of the tiger's thick cum.

The heavy white wave swallowed and overwhelmed every lazy river rider. In a long, thick stream of goop, it flowed down the entire loop until hitting the tiger's scrotal dam.

John watched with a hungry gleam in his eyes. He licked his lips as he knelt behind the tiger, observing the gathering pile of bugs melting away in the tiger's jizz. Cries of terrible pain turned to gurgles as cum swallowed their heads, melting the skin from their skulls in only a few seconds.

With a single giant finger, the wolf scooped up some of the spunk-covered and dissolving furs. He ran the lubricated corpses along Steve's furry taint and teased the tiger more as he rubbed them against his anus.

Steve groaned and more cum pumped out of him, especially when John shoved his finger and the dying micros up his tailhole. And the more the wolf fingered him the longer his orgasm continued.

By the end of Steve's climax, the lazy river was well past overflowing with his hot jizz, catching some of the other water park patrons who thought they'd stick around for the show. They certainly got to stick. The flood of tiger cum clung instantly to their feet and legs, holding them in place as it ate away at them, melting away into more sweet cat cream within several seconds.

The shrill cries and dying gurgles of all the liquefying bugs were music to the giants' ears. Such was the power of their godly seed. The weaklings' bodies were too soft and puny to withstand such mighty virility.

"Mmm..." John growled in delight. He pulled a cum-coated finger from his tongue, savoring the honey-like taste of Steve's spunk mixed beautifully with the blood of dissolving bugs. "You're always a little on the sweeter side, Steve."

"Yeah?" The tiger spun around to let his dazzling smile sparkle in the sunlight. He dipped his own finger in his cum and gave it a taste. "I suppose you're right. That is a bit sweet. Must mix well with the bugs."

"Kind of like a honey barbeque," John joked. "With that bit of crunch if their bones haven't yet dissolved."

"Nice!" said Steve. He glimpsed just how much his spunk had flooded over half of the water park. Any fur exposed to his cum was trapped, eventually pulled into the thick goop, and dissolved until they became part of it. So if Ted had done his job on the other side of the park then the water park was now devoid of tiny furs.

"Looks like it's time to move on to the rollercoaster and other rides," Steve beamed.

John nodded. "Should be just as fun as the water park. I forgot just how fun these amusement parks can be."

"And the best part..." Steve added, "...is seeing the looks on the bugs' faces when they realize they're on the last ride of their life."

"I know, right? I loved the terror in their eyes as they flowed right into my muzzle and down my gullet." John patted his buff belly, flexing his abs. "The squirming doesn't last long, but when they do..." he hummed, "...mmmhmmm!'

"Every snack is better when it screams and struggles!" the tiger agreed. "Now let's go catch up with Steve and Ted. I'm sure there are plenty more opportunities for us to be creative with the last rides."

Stan

Stan had his eyes on a specific ride ever since the waterslides. Among the rollercoasters, Ferris wheel, and other attractions, a tall spire stood tall. The rounded tower stood out in a relatively open area, and the giant German Shepherd had but one thing in mind for it.

The ground shook and the tower swayed as Stan marched over to the ride. A circular row of twenty one seats was wrapped around the phallic structure, rising and falling as the riders expressed thrill and delight. But as the titan approached, their fun turned to fear.

Their turn had arrived.

"So what's the name of this ride?" asked Stan. He leaned over to take a gander at the sign, which arched just above the line. "Power Tower, huh? Seems like a statement I'll have to test, seeing as I'm a police officer and false advertising is something I take seriously. But first..."

Stan dropped down to one knee. The ground shattered and anyone caught under his leg was turned to minced meat. He brought both paws together over a crowd of onlookers, grabbing a large, squirming pile of them.

After returning to his feet, he held the double pawful of tiny furs above the peak of the tower. A wicked grin made its way along his muzzle as his fingers locked harder over paws until every bit of light disappeared between them. The struggling in his paws ensued until the space was so cramped none of them could move.

"We'll need to lube this up nice and good first," Stan said. He continued to squeeze his paws together until he heard the first few snaps and pops.

The puny bags of meat in his paws had their limbs twisted in unnatural ways until they broke. Cracked bones snapped out of place, tearing right through muscle and skin. Blood squirted and sprayed from the open wounds. The warm, red liquid painted everyone in the German Shepherd's paws as the pressure increased all around them, breaking more bones and limbs, and bleeding them dry.

Stan watched in lewd anticipation as the ichors drizzled from the only opening between his paws. Like a faucet of warm blood, it drizzled in a steady stream down to the drop tower. The screams didn't last long as Stan's strong grip reduced them all to gory pulp. And as the last bits of blood dripped from his paws, he used the mushy remains of their bodies as extra lube on the bulbous tip of the tower.

The squishy feeling of mashed up bugs on his padded fingers and palms got his blood pumping. Pre still drooled from his cock as it started to grow fat and hard again. And the thought of what he was going to do next had his insides tingling eagerly.

The tower was the perfect height for him. And that became even more evident as he stepped close to it. With his tail raised high, he inched backward until his felt the top portion of the bloodied tower sink between his butt cheeks. The peak of it, rounded like the cap of a mushroom and slick with the flesh and guts the victims of his mighty grip, kissed his hole.

Stan delighted in the mere feeling of it resting against his puckered anus. Even better were the panicked sound of the riders, who were still stuck near the top of the tower, half of them caught against the giant German Shepherd's swollen and sweaty nutsack. If they weren't shrieking in terror, they were choking on the hot air filled with Stan's thick, earthy musk.

But that was the least of their worries.

The back entrance to the titan's godly body yielded to the growing pressure as Stan started to squat. His hole spread over the top of the tower, devouring it in a drawn out squelch. All the riders thrashed about in their seats, screaming and yanking at the harnesses which once kept them safe. And as the shadow above and around them grew, the tower slowly sinking into the German's Shepherd's ass, the reality sunk in at last. They were stuck, caught in their seats on a giant's makeshift dildo, ribbed for his pleasure.

"Oh yeah...." Stan grumbled in satisfaction as he squatted farther over the tower. He went down to the point of his tight ring of flesh clinging tighter over the row of circular seats, filled with terrified riders. Panting, his gaze fell to the ride operator. "Get 'em up in there for me."

The operator, a lion, gulped as he stared up at the giant's huge ass and rippled leg muscles spread over the tower. He held his paw on the lever wanting to lower it, but he knew that wasn't a realistic option. At least not if he wanted to avoid the muscle god's punishment. As his heart knocked hard up in his throat, he closed his eyes and eased the lever upward.

Metal clanged and gears sprung to life. Dread filled each rider's body and terror infected their faces as the row of seats jerked. They then moved upward.

The ring of flesh above them moaned in a long, lubricated squish as it relaxed. The wide winking hole spread to accept them as the seats moved upward. They were all helpless as their heads hit the supple, musty flesh, and so close to the German's sweaty ass, the air was miserably rank.

Pressure on their heads mounted as the ride continued upward. In a moist and soft wave of motion over them, Stan's yielding sphincter took them in. The sweaty, blood-coated flesh squeezed tight around their faces as it travelled down their bodies, eventually swallowing all of them inside the German Shepherd's dark rectum.

"There we go," Stan grunted, feeling them squirming inside his ass at last. "Now we just need to get you all the way up there..." He did his best to relax and let the tower enter him. Seventy more feet of it disappeared into him between those toned and sexy glutes.

The world may have been dark deep inside the giant German Shepherd but the riders knew fully what was around them. Hot, pulsing flesh clung hard to their bodies, constricted tight around the row of seats. Blood, guts, and other body parts of Stan's previous anal victims surrounded them, smelling of death. But in that tight, slick space, they had no room to move and no air to breath.

Stan grimaced with a grin and winked at the operator. "Whatcha waiting for? Let 'er drop!"

The lion's paw trembled as he took hold of the lever again. He was uncertain whether the row of seats would drop or not, depending how tight it was in Stan's ass. And even if it did drop, he knew the friction would be too much for the riders, even with the dog's lubricated insides. But in the end, he followed orders.

The lever fell with a loud click. Everyone who was gathered around the ride stared in suspense. They listened as Stan's insides grumbled with the wet slurp of shifting bowels, and in a hellish display of gore, blood poured from the giant's rear. It wasn't his. They knew that.

Deep inside Stan, metallic clicking signaled the beginning of the end for the riders. Gravity was still against them despite the thick tunnel of flesh flush with the row of seats. Not a single soul remained silent as their descent began, but their howls of horror, and eventually pain, were silenced, muffled by the soft, rippling tissue far up Stan's rump.

They tiny furs' arms were forced to stretch from the fall, yanked upward by the constricting tube of living tissue. Worse was the ride's accelerating mechanisms. It had been designed to fall faster than free fall, given a boost from the very beginning. And even though the German Shepherd's insides may have been slick with blood and other bodily fluids, they still clung tight to the victims' fur and flesh. Only the most durable of the tiny furs got to keep their arms and legs.

Several riders had their arm pulled right from their sockets. Legs were also bent upward, breaking, and in some cases tearing off just like their arms. Muscle, tendon, and tissue ripped clean from their torsos, left behind deeper in Stan's rear as the riders continued to fall.

Their cries of agony were one of the few things to escape Stan's ass. The observers on the outside clasped their paws to their mouths, muzzles, or snouts as the blood squirting from the riders' limbs was the first thing to leave the titan's clenched hole around the tower. They, too, howled in utter horror as the sphincter spread slowly in a gushing bloodbath, with severed limbs squeezed out from the hole.

Hemorrhaging bodies, prisoners in the harnesses that were supposed to keep them safe, emerged from the Stan's clenched anus in pieces. The crowd shrieked at the sight, some of them vomiting from the gruesome display of gore.

Stan chuckled as he moaned in erotic delight. Right as he felt them about to squeeze free from his ass, he clenched. The fat sphincter tensed around each furs chest and neck, creating a seal too tight for their heads to squeeze through. But the row of seats didn't stop dropping.

The ride continued without them.

Vertebrae and spinal cords snapped and separated as their heads were held in place. Meanwhile, the rest of their broken bodies dropped. Each decapitation was slow, holding on to strings of tendon and sinew as the row of seats slowed its descent. But when it at last came to a complete stop outside of Stan's blood-drooling hole, only headless bodies of tiny, pathetic bugs were left seated.

The ride operator held a paw to his furry, golden muzzle as lowered it the rest of the way. His lunch wanted to evacuate his stomach from the sight and smell of the massacre before him. When he released the harnesses, the mostly limbless and headless torsos slid out of the seats in a pool of their own blood.

Puke bubbled up into the back of his throat, but the lion swallowed it back down. Blood was everywhere and when he looked up to the giant German Shepherd towering over them all, he found the titan stroking his equally massive erection while looking right at him.

"All aboard for the next ride!" announced Stan. He was met with complete, frozen silence from the crowd. "You seriously didn't think I was done yet, did you?" His sights returned to the feline operator not too far from his giant foot. The lion looked so tiny even from his squatting position. "I want you to make this next one a little longer for everyone. Make 'em ride against my prostate for several seconds while I get off."

Stan's gaze wandered to the bugs in line. "What are you waiting for?" he asked them. "I know you weren't really expecting the Tunnel of Love, but it definitely comes with a happy ending..." he joked, laughing on his own, "...for me!"

The next group shuffled past the gate. They walked through puddles of blood where entrails and other body parts were strewn across the ground. It was all a glimpse of their future.

Terrified and disgusted, the new riders discarded any gory bits of the last riders remaining in the seats. Each seat was covered in blood, staining their pants and shirts when they sat. And once they were situated, they pulled down the harnesses, which had stayed intact during the ride inside Stan.

Despite the warm temperature around them, the riders all shivered. They didn't dare to look up. Their hearts skipped a beat when several metal clicks sounded behind them within the tower and they started to rise.

"Make 'em enter nice and slow, operator," ordered Stan. "I want them to enjoy the ride."

The lion felt sicker. The lives of all those people were in his paws. Even though he understood they were all dead in the end anyway, he couldn't help but feel guilty. And as he pushed the lever upward, his guilt intensified.

He closed his eyes but that didn't save him from the sound of their screaming. With his paws clasped over his ears, he still heard them. The ride moved slow enough that the riders' panicked sobbing and wailing seemed to last forever. But the worst part was when they were silenced. He knew exactly what that meant, and as curiosity took over, he blinked open his eyes and glanced upward.

The giant German Shepherd's tailhole had already begun to swallow the row of seats. All that was left of the riders outside the titan's ass were their dangling legs, which kicked in a wild and futile struggle. And soon enough their legs disappeared, too.

"Mmmpphh..." Stan moaned as they entered him. He took hold of his stiff cock, using some of the remaining gore on his paw as lube. Inside him, he felt the row of seats and the squirming riders sliding farther up his rump. His flesh still clung tight to them with the lifeless heads of his last victims in their laps.

The heat within the muscle god was intense. It was nearly just as bad as the smell, which reeked of death and only grew worse the deeper they went into the dark, musty cavern of soft, undulating tissue. The flesh was so tight around them they could feel Stan's heartbeat pulsing against their entire body. When they arrived near the top of the tower, somewhere deep in the giant dog's colon, all the light and breathable air was gone. They choked, gagged by the rolling, rippled flesh constricting them.

"They've arrived...erm..." stuttered Stan, jerking the full length of his drooling cock. The overload of cum streamed from his fat boner all the way to the ground, landing in a giant glob over a small group of unsuspecting furs. The thick dog cream devoured them like a blob of hazy white syrup, burning away at their flesh the instant it made contact.

"Want any help with that, bud?" asked a familiar voice.

Stan glanced upward to find Ted eyeing up his drooling erection. The boar was licking his lips, obviously hungry for more.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind," answered Stan. He withdrew his paw from his cock. "Go ahead and get your fill."

Stan, Steve, John, and Ted

Ted beamed. First, he got a taste of the tiger's seed. Now he had the wonderful opportunity to get some of that sexy German Shepherd cream. And even though his stomach was still full with the sloshing of water and digesting furs, he felt he had room for more, especially if it meant pleasing a stud like Stan.

The boar lowered himself to the ground until his ass landed a large crowd of furs too slow to escape the enormous surface area of his gigantic glutes. His toned cheeks flattened all of them like grapes under a sledgehammer. He splayed his legs on each side of Stan's feet, crushing several more of the crowd that had gathered around the Power Tower. Even his massive nutsack crushed and smothered a few unlucky furs caught below his hot, furry, and musky crotch.

With Stan in a squat over the ride, Ted easily leaned forward and slide his tongue and snout over the dog's long, throbbing shaft. It continued to drool a steady stream of pre, which the boar let drizzle down his throat before swallowing it.

"Oh damn..." grumbled Stan, delighted by the sensation of Ted's big, slobbery tongue along his cock. "Steve must have really loved you."

"Mmmhmm..." the boar mumbled with his mouth full of dog meat. His head bobbed back and forth over Stan's stiff shaft, taking him deep into his throat.

Stan ran a paw along Ted's snout and cheek until it came to rest on the back of the boar's head. He looked back down to the ride operator, who appeared to be one of the last bugs alive. All the others around them had found their squishy demise beneath the hog's huge legs and ass. "Go ahead and get it started," he told the cowering lion.

The operator whimpered and nodded. He programmed the ride to move up and down along a specific part of the tower, just like Stan requested. When he was done and set the controls to function automatically, he backed away from the panel. He spun on his heels in hopes of escaping but found the path blocked by Stan's foot and Ted's leg. The way out was currently occupied by the titanic boar's ballsack and buttocks. He figured his only chance would be to crawl under Ted's scrotum and through his furry ass crack. And since the two titans were currently distracted, he felt he may have had a chance.

The moment the row of seats started moving inside of him, Stan growled in erotic delight. He imagined just how horrible it had to have been for those pathetic, little bugs shoved deep up there, sliding against his innards.

If they weren't already dead from the lack of air, he knew they were being torn apart. Just like the first ride in his ass, limbs would catch and be ripped from torsos. The thought of their tortuous demise and the sense of absolute power he had over them pushed him close to climax.

The German Shepherd's already meaty member swelled inside the boar's mouth. Ted accepted its girth eagerly. Drool dribbled from the corners of his snout as he nuzzled his nose against Stan's crotch, letting the head of the dog's cock slip down into his throat. He kept it there for a moment as his throat muscles contracted and swallowed down a decent load of pre cum. Stan's creamy, goopy goodness wasn't as sweet as the tiger's, but it was just as delicious in its own right, reminding Ted of unsweetened yogurt. He was excited to have Stan pump it into his stomach.

Up and down, the drop tower ride pleasured Stan's ass like a well made sex toy. Exactly as he'd requested, the row of seats moved like a ribbed piston against his prostate. The tiny furs caught in the seats, at least the ones still living, gagged as they were force fed the blood and gore that had collected on the gruesomely slick walls of flesh. Some of it was their own. Some of it belonged to their friends sitting right next to them, who'd lost their heads on the first fall.

Both the feeling of his ass being worked over by an amusement park ride and the stimulation of Ted's mouth sucking his swollen cock forced Stan closer and closer to climax. He could control it if he wanted to. But he saw no reason to hold back any longer. From his toes all the way up to his crotch, he flexed and clenched. Calves, quads, hamstrings, and glutes: every lower muscle contracted hard, sending his sexual pleasure to the next level.

Steel squealed as it bent within the clenching ring of Stan's sphincter. His balls twitched and his cock stiffened as the tower snapped, breaking from the base. Just before the Power Tower lost its power, the row of seats slid one last time past Stan's cum-filled prostate. All those bugs from the waterslide he'd sent down his shaft and turned to hot jizz were ready to come out.

"F-fuck..." he stammered, interrupted by the thrill of sexual satisfaction pulsing through each of his limbs. His prostate contracted and shot the first giant wave of dog spunk up his long shaft, straight into the boar's warm throat.

Ted grinned and closed his eyes. His slobbered lips smacked wetly over Stan's twitching cock as he pumped load after load down his throat. He guzzled down each and every squirt of hot jizz, thinking about all those little people who'd turned into the German Shepherd's sexy seed. They certainly tasted wonderful as dog cum, he thought.

As Ted continued to milk Stan to the last drop, he felt something tickling his furry and sweaty taint. He hadn't even noticed when something - or rather, someone - crawled under his nutsack. But he knew exactly who it was the moment he felt the cowardly lion squirming between his cheeks.

No you don't, he thought. The pathetic bug was having a hard time squirming his way between the tight walls of his butt crack. But Ted wouldn't allow him to get any farther.

Very little light made it into the humid crevasse. On his feet, with his front against one sweaty butt cheek and his back against the other, the tiny lion attempted to shuffle horizontally down the tight corridor of hot and musky fur, flesh, and muscle. Currently, he had five inches or so of wiggle room, which closed rapidly as the giant hog started to clench his rump.

The originally soft flesh grew more solid as it closed around him. "Shit! No, no, n-mmmph..." he cursed, cut off as the flesh gagged him. He howled against Ted's sweaty ass cheek, tasting the pig's salty perspiration. His back was the first to crack, breaking several vertebrae as it snapped upward along his spine. Pressure then increase around his head as he heard the loud, chattering crackles of his skull breaking.

Warm liquid drizzled down the little lion's cheeks as blood oozed from his eyes and ears. His muzzle and neck were twisted awkwardly, but the boar's giant glutes continued to clench around him. And as the walls grew more and more solid with each passing seconds, he felt the rest of his bones breaking as well as his body being flattened. It wasn't too long before there was a loud pop that ended his existence.

Ted smirked when he heard the wet pop of a tiny lion between his ass cheeks. For good measure, he alternated flexing his glutes, grinding the bug down to a messy stain of gore not too far from his tailhole. With a slobbery slurp, he smacked his lips off of Stan's hard shaft. He licked the last dribble of cum from the German Shepherd's cock as he reached down past his furry nutsack and fingered the mushy lion pulp just on the other side of his puckered anus.

"Ass of steel," he joked, bringing his finger up to get a taste of the ground lion meat.

Stan raised a brow. "Huh?" he wondered. At last his muscles unclenched and the tower slid out from his ass. He noticed then, as he appreciated the murderous havoc he'd reaped, the ride operator had disappeared. "I see. The idiot tried to escape via your butt crack?" Stan laughed at the sheer absurdity of what he just said and Ted joined him.

"Yep," the boar chuckled. "Idiot, indeed!" He wiped his lips and took a gander at the blood coated tower that had slipped from Stan's rear. Not a single rider was whole. Limbs and entrails were everywhere with the occasional head scattered about in the bloodbath. "But not even the Power Tower could survive your ass it seems."

"Of course not!" Stan erupted in boastful laughter. "Nothing survives my ride."

Ted chuckled. "And what's the name of your ride?"

Stan thought about it for seconds before a sly smirk ran along his muzzle. "Rectal Rampage!" he announced, spinning on his heels and flexing his legs, back, and bodacious buttocks for the boar.

"Now that's a ride _I_can endorse!" said John as he and Steve caught up to them at last. "Sorry I missed it. Must have been quite a show."

"Stan 'The Man' Melgar _never_disappoints!" the German Shepherd declared. He flexed the rest of his massive muscles, showing off for the gang. "Now how about we wrap up breaktime with one last hurrah? Looks like we've got some rollercoasters and a Ferris wheel to play with."

"I call the Ferris wheel," said Ted. "I've got the perfect idea for it." The boar raced right for the big, spinning wheel of metal. The ground shook with each bound as he tore through one of the rollercoasters.

"This I've got to see." John followed close behind the boar. He made sure to step on any little bug the swine's giant feet happened to miss on the way.

The Ferris wheel was situated parallel to the ocean. The view atop the ride must have been grand until Ted's huge hand closed around it. The boar ripped it from its foundation, pulling it up in a solid piece of circular metal. The wheel consisted of two outer rings and two inner rings with the twelve carts positioned like the hours of a clock between the outside rings.

One of the carts, and its three passengers, crumbled like aluminum foil under the strength of Ted's grip. Blood oozed between the boar's fingers as it flowed from the chaotic bend of metal in his palm. The rest of the passengers cried in horror as the ground below them grew distant.

Ted grinned as he brought the inner rings of the Ferris wheel up to his porky, pig cock. With a bit of force the two rings slid over the head of his swollen meat, which was still throbbing from the pleasure of blowing Stan.

"Needs a little more lube," he said. Each muscle in his right arm flexed and he increased the grip he had over the cart. The mangled corpses inside were still ripe with blood. More gore drizzled down his fingers, dripping onto his dick. "There we go." With chunks of the dead furs' mushy body splattered over his cock, he stroked the inner rings of the wheel over its head.

"Nice!" said John. "You were right, rookie. That was a good idea."

"Yeah?" Ted chuckled. He gripped the wheel tighter before giving it a good spin around his cock.

The tiny furs caught in the other eleven carts screamed as they were yanked so unexpectedly. Some would have flown right out of the ride if it weren't for the safety bars fixed over their laps. The sounds of their terror plus the stimulation over Ted's boner made the giant boar moan. When it came to a complete stop, he took hold of it again, crushing the next cart in his palm.

Another steady stream of blood poured out from between his fingers, coating several more feet of his cock. Ted slid the wheel farther down his long, hard shaft. He repeated the motions a couple more times until only eight carts remained and the Ferris wheel was flush with his furry, heavily musky crotch.

"Gonna need the rest of your blood and guts for this last part," said Ted to the remaining riders. He used both hands this time, taking hold of two carts. With his slim tail wagging and his bubbly ass clenched, pushing his hips forward, he slowly licked his lips, feeling the base of his cock pulsing against the inner rings of the wheel.

Darkness enshrouded the six riders inside the two cars. The boar's fat fingers crept around them until they had a view of only his sweaty palms. They still smelled strongly of his sex, having fondled both his rod and balls several times over the past hour. The hot, heavy air gagged them as the muscle god started to make two fists, closing in fast around them.

Metal squealed in each direction. Their screams of dread only added to the cacophony of death. They cowered in some futile attempt to avoid their fate, but when the boar's perspiring palms made contact, they knew it was over.

The world closed in on them. Darkness increased until it was all they knew. And the sounds of creaking metal and screams were replaced with breaking bones, snapping limbs, and gurgling blood. Guts spilled from any opening they could find as pressure increased; brains turned to mush as their skulls shattered; and every ounce of blood was squeezed from their body as the bloodthirsty boar completed making each fist.

Ted drained each cart for what it was worth. When he was done, all the gore he'd managed to squeeze from every little bug now coated his boner and ballsack. He sneaked a few fingers between his cock and the inner rings, attempting to bend them without breaking them.

"Oh..." John said, "...now I see what you're doing."

Ted beamed. He winked at the wolf before loosening the rings of metal and bending them over his swollen scrotum. "Figured it'd make a good cock ring," Ted explained. With all the extra, lubricated and malleable metal, the boar fastened the Ferris wheel snugly over the base of his cock and behind his balls, keeping them all in a bulging bundle. Blood continued to drizzle from the bottom of the makeshift cock ring down the boar's fuzzy taint in a sensual tickle.

John gawked at Ted's corpse-filled cock ring in jealousy and lust. "Now you've got me wanting my own," he said with a chuckle.

"Well, there's plenty of pliable metal around," Ted suggested, cupping his bound-up balls in his right hand. He nodded at the nearest roller coast - the one he broke while running through it. "Want me to make one for you?"

"Of course!" John answered.

They strolled over to the broken rollercoaster. Ted caught the line of cars right before they flew off the broken section. He snapped off the line of cars, along with the thick metal bars upon which they rolled, from the rollercoaster. Unsure how much length he'd need for the wolf's meaty rod, he took off a generous portion.

"Now just stand still with your legs spread and your hips twisted forward," Ted instructed him as he knelt down before John.

The black wolf did as the boar requested and flexed his succulent ass, pushing out his cock and balls. All the rollercoaster riders screamed their displeasure as they were tightly fastened around the muscle god's giant cock and furry nutsack. The air reeked of his sweaty musk and hot sex, but they were helpless to move, caught under the thick harnesses around their shoulders and over their chests.

Ted twisted the bottom together, completing the new rollercoaster ride around John's fat cock. The line of cars was situated on the outside around the meaty wolf member, but they were going nowhere, stuck in a wide ring.

"And the great thing about this one..." explained the boar, "...is all you've got to do is squeeze it whenever you want some lube. It has a bunch of little meat packets ready to be squeezed dry."

"Awesome!" John beamed. "We should go show these off to Stan and Steve. I'm sure they want to give them a test ride."

"Sounds wonderful to me," Ted answered. He leaned forward and gave the wolf's drooling shaft a quick lick. "Besides, I've yet to know what wolf tastes like."

John laughed, took hold of his cock, and waved it teasingly in front of Ted's face. "You'll get to soon enough," said the sexy wolf. "And maybe we'll get you a good finale once we're all done here."

By the time they'd caught up to Stan and Steve, the German Shepherd and tiger were playing around with separate rollercoasters. They'd already demolished the few wooden coasters in the park. The two remaining were long, metal coasters, each with corkscrews and loops.

Stan waited after the corkscrew of his rollercoaster. On the left and right of the corkscrew, the German Shepherd's bulky thighs, flexed and ready, itched with a desire to crush the next ride. His eyes eagerly followed the line of rollercoaster cars as they made their way up the beginning of the track.

Click. Click. Click.

Every rider heard the ticking of their death clock nearing midnight. Restrained in their seats, unable to move, every tiny rider stared at the keen and ravenous gleam in the muscle god's eyes. From atop the track, they got a good view of Stan's superheavyweight body as well as his enormous set of genitals cupped in his paw.

Stan held his cock and balls off of the track. Instead the ride ended at his taint, with his long, fluffy tail resting on the portion of the rollercoaster after the corkscrew. Already his weight was bending the metal, which creaked ominously as the line of cars dropped at last, heading right for Stan's muscled and musky thigh trap.

The passengers on this death ride screamed. But their cries rang heavily with dread instead of delight. The farther along the tracks they travelled the closer they arrived to their bloody end.

Stan confirmed their fears as they turned the last corner before the corkscrew. Right before their world started to spin, they caught a glimpse of the German Shepherd's wicked smile. And as swiftly as light turned to shadow around them, so too did the pressure mount in an instant. Two thighs, covered in fur but firm with godly muscle, snapped together from each side.

Their screams ended. The roar of their terror ceased mere feet from Stan's hot crotch. Legs as stiff and hard as rock left no space for their squishy bodies, which exploded in several gushes of gore. A line of warm blood, shredded sinew, and gruesome guts stained the inside of Stan's giant thighs, which flexed and ground the leftovers. By the time he was done, nothing but a flattened scrap of a gory rollercoaster cars remained under the shadow of his cock and balls.

"So close..." said Stan, dipping a finger in the gore and sucking on it for a few seconds, "...but I'm too fast, and my legs are too strong." He glanced over to Steve, who was still waiting on his delivery of bugs. "How's it going over there?"

The tiger was kneeling beside the rollercoaster with the crook of his right arm hovering just below the peak of a loop. "Just waiting for them to make their pass," Steve replied. "Gonna catch them in a bicep curl." He was already flexing, the veins swelling on his bulging biceps.

Tracks rumbled as the line of rollercoaster cars approached. Steve's dazzling smile brightened. "I'll even do this with my eyes closed," he boasted. The lids may have been shut tight over his eyes, but his ears twitched to the slightest vibrations.

The riders heard Steve's challenge. They held their breath in suspense. Most of them knew they still didn't stand a chance, even with the muscle god's eyes closed. The giant tiger didn't need to see them, because those who were privy to such information understood that each of a muscle god's senses were heightened well beyond any bug.

But the tiny furs continue to cling to their hope. They came to the start of the loop, buzzing under the tiger's elbow. Steve's arm muscles twitched. He felt the air shift beneath his arm, smelled the fear of the riders grow stronger, and heard their whimpering crescendo with their upward movement on the loop.

Steve's smiled twisted into a swift smirk. He flexed his right arm fast and hard. His bicep contracted and swelled like a giant, growing mountain under his skin. Halfway through, the line of cars got caught between the tiger's massive bicep and forearm.

Creak. Crunch. Splat.

Of the eight cars on the tracks, Steve demolished four of them. They caved under the rapid reflex of the tiger's arm. And for the sixteen passengers: the hard-as-iron muscles flattened them even faster than the cars they were in.

Each dead rider had similar ends. Their deaths were instantaneous, but the moment of their demise was no less tortuous.

First to go were their legs as the tiger's muscle moved upward in a wave of unstoppable and immeasurable force. Muscle, flesh, and tendons ripped apart as the limbs were flattened, and then the bones were reduced to crumbs.

Next were their torsos. With nowhere else to go, all their internal organs moved along the path of least resistance. Guts spilled out of their mouths, and when they became obstructed, the remaining blood and entrails spilled out of the remaining orifices. Eardrums broke open, nostrils flared beyond their limits, and eyes popped out of their sockets with intestines following close behind them.

Their heads were last to pop in a tiny explosion of brain matter, speckled with bits of their crumbled skulls. All of their blood eventually found its way downward amongst the mangled metal. It streamed into the crook of the tiger's arm where it drizzled down to his elbow, dripping steadily to the ground, making a generous puddle.

Steve chuckled, opening his eyes. "See? I don't even need to look," he boasted again. After relaxing his arm, he bent the other four cars between his bloodied bicep and forearm. The screams of riders were swiftly silenced as he flexed his arm again.

Another river of blood streamed down his elbow, which he cupped in his palm. "Let's squeeze you for all you've got," he said and flexed harder. A few more gushes of blood flowed down into his paw. Once the last drops dripped from his elbow, Steve raised his paw to his lips and drank of the tiny furs' life essence.

"Such a sweet cocktail, isn't it?" said John as he and Ted approached.

Wet slurps smacked from the tiger's tongue and lips as he guzzled down the pool of blood in his paw. He pressed his palm to his nose as he licked the rest, staining the white fur and whiskers on the front of his muzzle. "That it is!" Steve exclaimed. Another big grin stretched ear to ear, this time with his teeth stained red.

"Too bad breaktime is over," Ted added. He scanned the landscape. The amusement park around them was now a wasteland like the rest of Benton City. All that remained standing were the rollercoasters, which they decimated in less than five seconds, killing the last few bugs left in the city.

"We've got a little more time," Stan said as he held his big toe over the last tiny fur. The wolf squirmed hard against his pad, attempted to wriggle free from the mounting pressure. He, too, was made into an explosive spray of gore on the ground.

Stan looked to his fellow officers. All four of them, him included, still had raging erection from their rampage. He also took note of the cock rings Ted and John had fashioned from rides for themselves. A hint of jealousy along with intense arousal coursed through his veins.

"Foursome?" Stan suggested at last. The rest of them looked to him in a bit of shock. "Why not? We've got enough time for a quickie. And I'd rather not go back on duty with a full-blown erection."

Steve, John, and Ted each shared glances before shrugging. "Sure," they all replied.

"How do you propose we go about it though?" asked Ted. He was already eyeing up John's cock, wanting to discover the wolf's flavor.

Stan noticed Ted's ogling eyes. He grinned. "I think I've got an idea," he told the boar. "Think you can handle John's weight on top of you?"

Ted brow lifted high. He had clue what was going through the German Shepherd's mind, but he was certainly interested. "Of course I can!" he nodded, straightening his spine, bouncing his pecs for everyone to see.

"Good." Stan's grin stretched wider along his muzzle. "Then get on the ground. Belly up."

The giant boar did as instructed. He lay on the ground with his chest open to the sky. The afternoon sun blazed brightly and warmly on his chocolate brown coat as he awaited Stan's next instruction.

"Now get on top of him, John. Sixty-nine style," ordered Stan.

John let out a single puff of a laugh before marching over to the prone pig. With his cock and balls in his right paw, he knelt down over Ted. He held his fuzzy taint just above the boar's big nose, letting him get a sniff and a lick in before bending down to his paws and knees.

Ted graciously drew the wolf's fat dick into his mouth, sliding slowly along the length of his tongue until his nose met furry ballsack. He took in a deep whiff of John's masculine sex, sending an erotic shiver down his spine.

All the while, he felt his own meaty member enter the John's drooling muzzle. The wolf's mouth was just wide enough to take his entire, thick rod and just long enough to press at the back of his throat.

"What now?" they each mumbled with dicks in their mouths.

"You leave that part up to us," answered Stan.

Ted first felt a pair of paws around his ankles. Then he felt a separate pair of paws crawl under his armpits, hoisting him upward. The ground disappeared from his back and with gravity assisting it, John's cock slipped deeper into his throat.

Stan and Steve lifted Ted and John from the ground together. Stan spread Ted's legs. Steve spread John's legs. Slowly, both the German Shepherd and the tiger inched forward, aiming their erections right for the winking tailholes before them.

Steve was the first to penetrate. He entered John, lubricated by the intense amount of pre pouring from his cockhead. Ted felt the addition of the tiger's balls, along with the wolf's nuts, on his forehead as Steve pressed forward until he was balls deep in John.

"Aaaooohhhmmmm..." John grumbled over the pig's cock as his hole spread to the tiger's massive dick. It throbbed deep inside him, making his insides burn.

Next was Stan. Each toned, bubbly cheek on his rump flexed as he pushed his hip forward. The fat head of his cock spread the boar's hole, entering him with ease. Ted let out his own groan, gurgling some of the large amounts of pre dribbling from John, swallowing the rest.

"There we go..." Stan grunted as he moved his paws up along Ted's legs, cradling him better in his grasp. He pulled on them forcing the boar's tight sphincter to slide along the entire length of his hard shaft.

Ted moaned louder as the German Shepherd entered him fully. He felt the giant throbbing rod drooling warm surges of pre cum deep inside him while the fuzzy tiger balls disappeared from his forehead. His own meat pulsed as it slid farther down John's slippery throat. The cock ring Ted was wearing kept him stiffer than usual, which already put him on the edge of climax, especially with Stan's huge boner exciting his overfilled prostate.

"Fuck..." growled the tiger, "...this may be one of your best ideas yet, Stan." He pulled on Ted's arms and drew John's tailhole right back over his rod, going balls-deep again, slapping his furry scrotum on Ted's face once more.

Stan and Steve continued their tug of war for several more seconds, using John's and Ted's holes as they pleased. They grew more competitive as time passed, speeding up the rate at which they yanked the wolf and boar over their long shafts.

As they sped up, so did John and Ted. With their sucking that is. They each suckled on the other cock like a giant teat, yearning for the milky prize soon to come. Ted even had a bonus. As his broad snout moved up and down along the wolf's shaft, his nose and chin hit John's makeshift cock ring hard.

The people still alive from the rollercoaster cars on John's cock ring were in hell. Not only was the air around them hotter than a dragon's inferno, it reeked intensely of wolf sex, tiger musk, and boar breath. They had to endure it for many seconds, choking on the humid and fetid air.

But Ted ended their misery. With his fat pig lips, he crushed them and the rollercoaster cars they were in. Their blood and entrails dribbled down the wolf's fat cock and eventually to the boar's throat where he swallowed them with John's pre. The taste of their death was the last thing Ted needed in that moment, and he was the first in a chain reaction, blasting his huge load straight into John's eager throat.

With boar cum spilling fast and hard into his mouth, John gulped it down as quickly as he could. The sweet taste of it as well as the feeling of the tiny furs meeting their demise at the base of his boner sent him over the edge, too. His body tensed along with Ted's and his own hot, creamy seed shot out in its first big load into the boar's hungry snout.

As Ted and John wriggled in their grasp, caught up in the sexual sensations tingling every inch of their bodies, Stan and Steve started to buck their hips. Both the boar's and the wolf's tailholes were clenched hard over their shafts, adding the last bit of necessary stimulation to achieve climax. They each pounded harder and faster until they were both up to their balls in muscle god ass, pumping out load after hot load of their thick seed.

All four of them grumbled, grunted, and groaned in utter sexual delight. The sounds of their pleasure rang across the land and the ocean loud enough that cities miles away could share in the calls of their erotic bliss. Tiger seed and boar seed pumped into the wolf. Dog seed and wolf seed pumped into the boar. By the end, both their stomachs and their rears were swollen with warm, white, gooey goodness.

Stan and Steve eventually withdrew from John and Ted, lowering them to the ground. They, too, dropped to lie on their backs, panting. John rolled off of Ted to his back, gasping for air with pig cream dribbling down the corners of his muzzle. Ted had just as much of the wolf's cum staining his lips. Seed also drooled in a long, white river out their well-stretched tailholes.

Each of them stared at the cloudless sky. They felt the only kind of euphoria best achieved after a sweaty romp in the city with other beefy muscle gods.

"Back to work I suppose?" asked Stan. He continued to stroke his meat, pushing out the last bits of cum from his shaft. "But, damn..." he added, "...there's no playtime like breaktime, huh?"

"Damn right!" they each cheered.