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Fruit of the Furloom

By bearmonster

Charn let out a happy sigh.

Heading out of work a little early to enjoy a little bit of a stroll along the beach had been a good idea. The rapturously warm heat from the pleasantly cloudy sky traced its way down along the tiger's throat as surely as if he'd drunk down a glass of liquid sunlight.

But as delicious as the tranquil weather had been, it only served to remind Charn that sunlight was not terribly filling. A lazy tongue glided across Charn's lips as his gaze inevitably turned towards the meat market that the beach so generously provided.

There was a glint in the tiger's eye as he brought his attention to a four pack of elk cheering and hollering. V shaped torsos bobbed over savory bubble butts as they jumped, sprinted and spiked in the rigors of their volleyball game. Charn felt his own loins twitch as one particularly hung stud dived to save the ball only to miss and groan, his head slamming forward into the sand while a nut peeked out of his shorts. His bros turned and laughed and it wasn't until the sand began to lightly sauté the buckball that the elk realized what had happened, yelping as he jumped to his feet and patted himself down.

It brought a smile to the tiger's lips as he continued to window shop.

And as surely as if the buck's slip had been a portent of good fortune, Charn caught sight of an armadillo in a pinstripe suit with a megaphone calling and beckoning disinterested passersby to come towards his booth.

Behind the rather eager and eccentric fur, a flapping banner advertising BEST BULGE CONTEST rippled in the beach sun. Beside him stood a couple of rather bored, yet handsome looking contestants standing behind a couple of curtains not unlike a voting booth. As Charn walked over closer, the armadillo alighted his pitch upon the tiger.

"You there! Before you are some of the greatest specimens of malehood the world has ever seen!"

Charn kept his expression bemused but his heart skipped a beat as he looked at the smiling bulls that seemed to stand up a little straighter now that it looked like someone was considering ogling them. Before Charn could ask a question, the armadillo seemed to puff up again, his beady eyes squinting.

"Now I know what you're thinking, no man wants to look at another man's bits but these are truly exceptional. It's not a predilection of your sexual desires, it's art!"

Charn nearly had to strangle the burst of laughter that built in his chest. The man couldn't have marked him any more incorrectly and it wasn't going to just be the armadillo that was in for a rude surprise.

"Now, see here, I see you hesitate but it's as simple as this! You come behind this curtain... You look over the four specimens here and put your vote in the little red box at the end of the line. It's practically community service for your fellow man! As a representative of the Fruit of the Furloom corporation, I can guarantee your vote will help determine next year's undergarment fashion!"

Charn was openly grinning now as the armadillo reached over to a nearby table and grabbed a hold of a rolled up bit of cloth and unfurled it to reveal a reusable grocery bag with a pair of big shining cherries emblazoned on it of the Fruit's logo.

"Here young man! Catch! Vote! Do your fellow man proud! Be a true patriotic hero!"

It was just too damn easy. But Charn's paw snaked out to grab the bag out of the air and chuckled.

"Well how can I turn down an offer like that?"

And so with the armadillo's blessing, Charn sauntered over to the little impromptu curtains and felt his cock twitch as he found himself staring down a line of fresh goods.

Window shopping was one thing. But nothing came close to the real thing.

Charn felt like a kid in a candy store, grinning from ear to ear as he forced himself to only look at the first contestant. Given the capitalism he was about to indulge in, the least he could do was vote authentically.

The first jock was full to the brim, sagging its red fabric down to the middle of the bull's thighs, elongating the golden 1 that graced its front and the tiger's mouth practically watered. A traditional jock, the curve of the slowly engorging bull's cock made for a proud bulge that adorned two of the unabashedly most handsome balls that Charn had ever imagined. Imagined only in that they were still annoyingly tucked away behind such enticing underwear and before he even really realized it, mesmerized by wanting to inspect such magnificent specimens, his hands had pushed forward to grip underneath the jock's scarlet harvest.

A surprised moo echoed out above the tiger as the bull's tongue slipped out while his brethren turned to look at him and they began to shift, eagerness building up in their eyes as they awaited their turn.

Charn found himself idly crimping the first contestant's balls before he knew it, a comfortable hot warm weight spilling into his paws as he looked down at the plucked balls that still pulsed in his palm. They were certainly handsome and when he lifted them up, they had weight proper that neatly sagged to present those familiar curves and shadows, but if the tiger was truly truly honest with himself, they were not nearly as perfect as he'd imagined them.

'This is why I should never go shopping when I'm hungry.' Charn's thought brought a slight shrug to his shoulders. Food was food, but he'd been so hungry he'd forgotten to inspect the other goods. Mentally chastising himself, but not too much, the tiger tied off the top of the sack and stuck it in his bag.

The second bulge was a pair of traditional tighty whities, an ebon number 2 straining over a clearly juicy cock but the tiger practically had to do a double take to make sure that it actually had balls. Where they'd managed to find a bull that was so miserably slung was positively baffling. Charn's finger poked at where they should have been and sure enough, there was the jostle of familiar fruit albeit so small it was almost insulting. The feline idly wondered if they were simply not ripe or if perhaps their owner had been a little too vigorous with his juicing.

A size queen for dick might've cared, but it was not on Charn's menu.

At stop number three, a pair of sheer see through boxers did little to flatter their owner's manhood. Likely designed to facilitate easy lazing at the house, the long and lean prick within hung over a pair of unattractive lopsided nuts. It looked as if there had once been three testicles that the bull's right nut had decided to eat and it was so profoundly unappealing, the tiger hadn't even bothered to touch it or give it another second's thought.

He'd almost walked out, deciding that he was never going to come to this grocery store again when something about number four made him slow down. Charn's eyes widened as he found himself coming face to face with a new kind of undergarment that sent flutters through his heart. Part cocksock, part jock, the utterly gorgeous shaft of meat that hung proud from its tightly hugging cock made the bull's pride look like a firm ripe yellow banana, its perfect curve and sheer girth eliciting an unconscious groan as Charn found himself nuzzling it before kissing its tip and sighing happily. He looked down below and of course the nuts that came with it were perfect. And even more so than that, the way the underwear gripped it so tightly (with breathable fabric that never let the boys feel stuffy!) it was practically like a second skin that revealed the heavy dangling delights beneath. Charn's paws couldn't help but grope and fondle them for what felt like forever, the other bulls up above looking a little frustrated with number four's utterly languid look of total pleasure.

Charn made up his mind very quickly. A consumer had to be ready to act on a buyer's impulse because if they didn't, others would come and snatch up their deals. Tracing his claws up from under those weighty virile orbs, the bull gasped and shuddered ash tose sharp talons sent waves of pleasure up to his brain, flooding it with endorphins. The claws traced over to long cords that now hung taut, the cleavage of their heavy cargo forming a heart-like shape beneath their bottleneck. They were so full, so utterly ready that with a claw facing up, it only took a single tug to send the precious bounty into the tiger's palm.

Warm, fresh from the bakery, Charn beamed at his prize and was idly crimping the moaning bull's cut closed when he leaned in close to sniff his future lunch. Simply perfect.

Without a second thought, Charn reached into his bag (admiring the thoughtful packaging that was surely going to make for a nice reveal later of ballbag proper) and placed the first pair of balls onto the little shelf four's jock had been resting on and then as carefully as if they were made of glass, Charn placed the other nuts in the bag, already envisioning a robust tomato sauce with some ricotta for what he was sure was going to be a spectacular lasagna.

Charn emerged from the curtains with a pleased grin, his bag utterly sagging with the weight of its bag. The armadillo was too busy trying to crow in the next judge as Charn found a slip of paper and jotted down a four before tidily popping it into the slot.

As Charn walked towards his car to drive back home, he heard a couple of voices raise up in the distance.

"What the fuck?! THERE IS NO BULGE!"

"What do you mean?!"

"HEY BOSS... UH... I HAVE A PROBLEM!!!"

And if someone had been looking, they might have seen a tiger's tail sway smugly.