{"sf1_id":null,"sf2_id":"ewQAW2Kn","title":"The Janitor","author":"Charn","words":6475,"posted_at":"2026-05-30T00:15:58.000Z","tags":["bear","castration","forced exhibitionism","lion","noncon","snuff"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/ewQAW2Kn-the-janitor","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/ewQAW2Kn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/9e/d0/9ed0217a-c013-47b2-8108-f6361e04fe84","description":"It's Garras.  \nGet the fuck outta his way.  \nOr don't.","content":"Just a Janitor\u0026nbsp;  \n(c) 2025 Charn \u0026nbsp;  \nGarras the black bear decides to see what kind of white collar crime he can get into. However,\u0026nbsp;  \nlike always, he's left stained blood red.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe supply closet reeked of ammonia and mildew, a cramped rectangle barely six feet across\u0026nbsp;  \nwith metal shelving pressing in from three sides. Garras stood with his broad back against the\u0026nbsp;  \ndoor, the black bear's bulk making the space feel even smaller. Across from him, Mark shifted\u0026nbsp;  \nhis hooves nervously on the concrete floor, the bison's broad chest rising and falling with\u0026nbsp;  \nanticipation beneath a stained work shirt.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Been wanting to meet you for weeks,\" Mark said, his voice trembling slightly. The bison's\u0026nbsp;  \nfingers fumbled with his belt buckle, the metal clinking in the confined space. \"Your profile\u0026nbsp;  \npictures don't do you justice.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras grunted noncommittally, his single visible eye tracking every movement the bison made.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe eyepatch over his left socket gave him a lopsided appearance in the dim fluorescent light\u0026nbsp;  \nfiltering under the door. He let Mark talk, let the bison work himself into a frenzy of need.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe belt came free and Mark's pants dropped to his ankles in one swift motion, pooling around\u0026nbsp;  \nwork boots that had seen better days. His underwear followed, and the bison's equipment\u0026nbsp;  \nswung free. The scrotum hung low and loose, the skin wrinkled and saggy with age, testicles\u0026nbsp;  \nthe size of chicken eggs visible beneath the thin membrane. Above them, Mark's cock extended\u0026nbsp;  \nin a long, thin line, already half hard despite its pencil-like girth.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Like what you see?\" Mark asked, cupping his balls and presenting them forward. The bison's\u0026nbsp;  \nhooves spread wider, bracing against the shelves. \"All yours, big guy. ButchR said you were into\u0026nbsp;  \noral.\"\u0026nbsp;  \n\"That's right,\" Garras said, his voice a low rumble. He stepped forward, closing the distance\u0026nbsp;  \nbetween them. The bison smelled of sweat and industrial soap, with an undertone of nervous\u0026nbsp;  \nmusk. \"Get it nice and hard for me.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nMark stroked himself eagerly, his thin cock stiffening to full mast in his palm. The shaft couldn't\u0026nbsp;  \nhave been thicker than two fingers, but it stretched to a respectable seven inches. The bison's\u0026nbsp;  \nbreathing quickened, his other hand still cradling that saggy sack, kneading the loose skin.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras dropped to his knees, and for a moment Mark's face lit up with anticipation. The bison\u0026nbsp;  \nleaned back against the shelving, the metal creaking under his weight. \"Yeah, that's it. Take your\u0026nbsp;  \ntime with them. I've been backed up all week.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's jaws opened wide. Mark probably thought it was preparation for a blowjob, probably\u0026nbsp;  \nexpected to feel that tongue wrapping around his shaft. Instead, Garras casually leaned\u0026nbsp;  \nforward, his muzzle swimming up underneath Mark's sack, nudging his dick to the side. His\u0026nbsp;  \nteeth clamped down with crushing force at the root of the scrotum.\u0026nbsp;  \nMark's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in stunned shock. His hands flew to Garras's head,\u0026nbsp;  \ntrying to push him away, but the bear's jaws had already done their work. With a savage wrench\u0026nbsp;  \nof his neck, Garras tore the entire sack free from Mark's body.\u0026nbsp;  \nBlood sprayed across the bear's muzzle and the bison's thighs, hot and coppery. Mark's scream\u0026nbsp;  \nfinally emerged, a high-pitched shriek of loss and agony that echoed off the close walls. The\u0026nbsp;  \nbison staggered backward, hooves slipping in the spreading pool of crimson, hands clutching at\u0026nbsp;  \nthe ragged wound that used to be his masculinity.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras chewed methodically, his powerful jaws grinding through the tough, leathery skin,\u0026nbsp;  \nrequiring several strong bites to break down. The testicles themselves burst between his molars\u0026nbsp;  \nwith wet pops, splattering rubbery, gooey, salty hunks of meat and fluid that mixed with the\u0026nbsp;  \nblood already coating his tongue. The texture was dense and chewy and Garras savored the\u0026nbsp;  \ntender morsels.\u0026nbsp;  \nMark's screams had devolved into breathless whimpers. The bison clutched at the shelving\u0026nbsp;  \nbehind him for support, his legs trembling, shock setting in as blood continued to pump from the\u0026nbsp;  \ngaping wound. His thin cock hung uselessly above the carnage, never more than half hard and\u0026nbsp;  \nnow drooping down into a pointless gummy worm.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras swallowed the macerated scrotum and rose to his full height. Mark looked up at him with\u0026nbsp;  \nwild, terrified eyes, his mouth working soundlessly. The bison tried to speak, tried to beg, but\u0026nbsp;  \nonly managed a wet whimper.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear moved with casual efficiency. One massive paw grabbed Mark's head while the other\u0026nbsp;  \nseized his jaw. With a single, practiced twist, Garras wrenched the bison's skull sharply to the\u0026nbsp;  \nleft. The crack of vertebrae echoed louder than the screams had, a wet snap followed by a\u0026nbsp;  \nseries of smaller pops as the cervical spine separated. Mark's body twitched, a half-hearted,\u0026nbsp;  \ninstinctive twitch of his arm slapping against Garras's belly, before the corpse slumped against\u0026nbsp;  \nthe shelving and then slid down to the concrete with a heavy thud. Blood seeped from the\u0026nbsp;  \nruined groin, pooling beneath the bison's legs. Garras stood over the body for a moment, his\u0026nbsp;  \nchest rising and falling steadily, then reached up to wipe the blood from his muzzle with the back\u0026nbsp;  \nof his paw.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe cleanup was methodical. Garras stripped the janitor uniform from Mark's cooling corpse,\u0026nbsp;  \nunbuttoning the shirt and wrestling the pants off the splayed legs. The fabric was worn and\u0026nbsp;  \ncheap, the shirt too small across the shoulders and the pants too short in the leg, but it would\u0026nbsp;  \nserve its purpose. A plastic name tag was pinned to the breast pocket, the label reading \"Carl\"\u0026nbsp;  \nin faded print. Carl? Had his hookup ~lied~ to Garras about his real name? Unbelievable.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pulled the shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned over his broad chest. The pants barely fastened\u0026nbsp;  \naround his waist, the zipper straining. He tucked his own clothes behind a shelf of cleaning\u0026nbsp;  \nsupplies, then picked up Mark's underwear from where it had fallen. The fabric was still warm,\u0026nbsp;  \nstained with sweat and the bison's musk. Garras used it to wipe the excess blood from his\u0026nbsp;  \nmuzzle, making himself as presentable as possible.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe underwear went into his pocket. The body would be found eventually, but not before Garras\u0026nbsp;  \nhad accomplished what he came here to do.\u0026nbsp;  \nHe adjusted the name tag, fastening it properly to the shirt, then opened the supply closet door.\u0026nbsp;  \nA janitor's cart stood in the hallway where Mark had left it, a gray plastic contraption on wheels\u0026nbsp;  \nloaded with spray bottles, rags, and a mop bucket. Garras gripped the handle and began to\u0026nbsp;  \npush, the wheels squeaking slightly on the polished linoleum.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe hallway stretched ahead, lined with office doors and humming fluorescent lights. Garras\u0026nbsp;  \nmoved with unhurried purpose, his single eye scanning each doorway he passed. The building\u0026nbsp;  \nwas quiet in the late evening, most of the workers already gone home, but there would be\u0026nbsp;  \nstragglers. There always were.\u0026nbsp;  \nExecutives working late. Ambitious climbers trying to impress their bosses. Alpha males with\u0026nbsp;  \nexpensive suits and bigger egos.\u0026nbsp;  \nBetter prey than a nervous bison in a supply closet.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pushed the cart forward, the wheels squeaking rhythmically as he started hunting.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe executive floor gleamed under recessed lighting, a different world from the utilitarian\u0026nbsp;  \nhallways below. Garras pushed the janitor cart across marble tile that reflected his distorted\u0026nbsp;  \nimage, the wheels now silent on the expensive flooring. Mahogany doors lined both sides of the\u0026nbsp;  \ncorridor, most of them closed and dark, but one stood open near the corner, light spilling into the\u0026nbsp;  \nhallway along with the sound of a booming voice. The glass door had the name Birch Steelwood\u0026nbsp;  \nemblazoned across it in gold lettering. Birch Steelwood. Jesus Christ. Garras didn't even need\u0026nbsp;  \nto see the guy inside to know that this was his first stop.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras slowed his pace as he approached, angling the cart to give him a clear view inside. The\u0026nbsp;  \noffice was massive, easily four times the size of the supply closet where Mark's corpse was just\u0026nbsp;  \nbeginning to cool. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated the far wall, offering a view of the city\u0026nbsp;  \nlights below. A desk the size of a small car sat in the center, all dark wood and brass fixtures,\u0026nbsp;  \nand behind it sat Birch Steelwood.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion was a specimen of natural predator masculinity. Broad shoulders strained against an\u0026nbsp;  \nexpensive suit jacket that hung open, revealing a dress shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest. A thick\u0026nbsp;  \nruff of tawny fur covered densely muscled pectorals, the kind of bulk that came from genetics,\u0026nbsp;  \nsupplements, and standardized gym time. The lion's mane was full and well-groomed, framing a\u0026nbsp;  \nsquare-jawed face that radiated confidence and entitlement.\u0026nbsp;  \nBut what drew Garras's attention was what hung below the desk.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch had his designer slacks unzipped, the belt undone, the fly spread wide, and his entire\u0026nbsp;  \npackage spilled out over the edge of his sleek silver zipper. The lion's cock lay flaccid against\u0026nbsp;  \nhis left thigh, thick and black and substantial even in its relaxed state. Beneath it, his scrotum\u0026nbsp;  \nhung heavy and low, a massive sack covered in tawny fur that was darker and shaggier than the\u0026nbsp;  \nrest of his coat. The balls within were enormous, easily visible as two distinct shapes straining\u0026nbsp;  \nagainst the loose skin, each the size... damn. Two fat, furry peaches. Each one hung low\u0026nbsp;  \nenough that it dangled under the chair entirely, the smooth-worn scrotal skin just a lazily taut\u0026nbsp;  \nribbon of flesh disappearing up into the lion's open pants.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe office was sweltering, heat radiating through the open doorway. The lion had one bare foot\u0026nbsp;  \npropped up on the desk, the other stretched out onto the ground beside him, his free hand\u0026nbsp;  \ngesturing as he spoke into a phone pressed to his ear.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"I'm telling you, Hunter, the wife's got no idea,\" Birch said, his voice a deep, resonant baritone\u0026nbsp;  \nthat carried easily into the hallway. \"Last Tuesday was the redhead from accounting.\u0026nbsp;  \nWednesday I took the blonde from marketing to that hotel you recommended. Thursday...\" He\u0026nbsp;  \npaused, chuckling. \"Thursday was both of them. At the same time.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pushed the cart closer to the doorway, watching the lion's casual display. Birch's posture\u0026nbsp;  \nwas completely relaxed, legs spread wide, one hand occasionally dropping to reach under the\u0026nbsp;  \nchair and scratch at his exposed balls with the unconscious comfort of someone who had never\u0026nbsp;  \nknown shame or vulnerability.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Yeah, I know, I know,\" Birch continued, \"the doctor said I should be releasing 'regularly' for\u0026nbsp;  \nprostate health. But the wife's been on this abstinence kick, some tantric bullshit she read about.\u0026nbsp;  \nSays we should save it for special occasions.\" He laughed again, the sound rich and mocking.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"So I've been backed up all week. Haven't busted a nut since that Thursday. I'm so full my balls\u0026nbsp;  \nache when I walk.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion shifted in his chair, and his hand came up to heft his scrotum, weighing the heavy sack\u0026nbsp;  \nin his palm. The gesture was appreciative, almost prideful. \"These boys are working overtime,\u0026nbsp;  \nlet me tell you. I can practically feel them squirming in my hand.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras stepped into the doorway, the cart wheels making a soft sound on the threshold. Birch's\u0026nbsp;  \neyes flicked toward him, taking in the ill-fitting janitor uniform and the name tag that read \"Carl.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion's expression shifted to one of mild annoyance.\u0026nbsp;  \nHe covered the phone's mouthpiece with one hand. \"The AC's broken again,\" Birch said, his\u0026nbsp;  \ntone making it clear this was a statement of fact rather than a conversation starter. He pointed to\u0026nbsp;  \nthe wall, where an old AC tried to blend in between filing cabinets. \"Fix it.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras nodded slowly, his single eye fixed on the lion's face. \"Yes, sir.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch was already back to his phone call, dismissing the janitor's presence entirely. \"Sorry about\u0026nbsp;  \nthat, Hunter. Just the maintenance guy. Ugh, this place is a fucking sauna.\" He lifted his hips\u0026nbsp;  \nslightly, slapping his dick to his other thigh, then settling back down as he slouched deeper into\u0026nbsp;  \nhis chair. \"Anyway, where was I? Right, so Friday I've got dinner with wife, but Saturday... I'm\u0026nbsp;  \nmeeting this new girl from the gym. Brunette. Tits like you wouldn't believe.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear moved to the far corner of the office where the AC unit hummed uselessly, warm air\u0026nbsp;  \nflowing from its vents. He made a show of examining it, opening the panel and peering inside,\u0026nbsp;  \nbut his attention remained fixed on Birch. The lion continued his conversation, oblivious or\u0026nbsp;  \nuncaring about the \"janitor\" in his space.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Hunter, these girls can't get enough. They see a real man, someone with actual presence, and\u0026nbsp;  \nthey just melt. Not like these weak corporate drones.\" Birch's hand was back on his balls, idly\u0026nbsp;  \nkneading the heavy sack. \"I swear my dick gets hard just thinking about what's gonna happen\u0026nbsp;  \nSaturday. It's been so long since I emptied these tanks, I'm probably gonna flood that dumb\u0026nbsp;  \nbitch.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion's cock twitched slightly at his own words, beginning to thicken. Birch noticed and\u0026nbsp;  \nlaughed. \"See, even talking about it gets me going. Fuck, I need to unload.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras closed the AC panel and turned, moving away from the unit and toward the desk. His\u0026nbsp;  \nheavy footfalls were deliberate, each step bringing him closer to where Birch sat with his\u0026nbsp;  \nvulnerable, impressive equipment on full display. The cart remained by the wall, forgotten.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch glanced up as the bear approached, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. The\u0026nbsp;  \nphone still pressed to his ear, he watched Garras circle around the side of the massive desk.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"I could help clean out your pipes, sir,\" Garras said, his voice a low rumble. The bear's gaze\u0026nbsp;  \ndropped pointedly to the lion's exposed groin, then back up to his face.\u0026nbsp;  \nFor a moment, Birch just stared. Then he burst out laughing, the sound loud and derisive.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"What, you some kind of queer?\" The lion's free hand gestured dismissively at Garras, still\u0026nbsp;  \nchuckling. \"Just fix the damn AC, Carl. I don't need some janitor who reeks of bleach and sack\u0026nbsp;  \nsweat trying to blow me.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nHe returned to his phone call, shaking his head in amusement. \"Hunter, you won't believe this.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe fucking janitor just offered to suck my dick. These perverts are everywhere.\" Another laugh.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Nah, he's still here. Probably getting hard in those ugly-ass overalls watching me sit here with\u0026nbsp;  \nmy package out.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's eyes traveled over Garras with open contempt. The bear stood motionless beside the\u0026nbsp;  \ndesk, close enough now to reach out and touch the lion if he wanted to. Close enough to see\u0026nbsp;  \nthe individual hairs on that magnificent scrotum, the way the skin stretched and relaxed with\u0026nbsp;  \neach of Birch's movements. The lion's cock continued to thicken, responding to his own arousal\u0026nbsp;  \nfrom the conversation, growing heavier against his thigh.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Just get back to work,\" Birch said, waving Garras away with his free hand. \"And keep your\u0026nbsp;  \nfaggot fantasies to yourself.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion leaned back in his chair, that enormous sack settling even lower between his spread\u0026nbsp;  \nthighs, and returned his full attention to his conversation. Garras remained where he stood, his\u0026nbsp;  \nsingle eye fixed on all that exposed, vulnerable masculinity that Birch displayed so carelessly, so\u0026nbsp;  \narrogantly. And then, he moved closer, his massive paw extending toward the lion's exposed\u0026nbsp;  \ngroin. Birch's eyes flicked down to register the movement but he didn't pull away, didn't cover\u0026nbsp;  \nhimself. The lion simply watched with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the phone still\u0026nbsp;  \npressed to his ear as Hunter's voice buzzed faintly from the speaker.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's paw made contact with that heavy scrotum, thick fingers sliding beneath the warm,\u0026nbsp;  \nfur-covered sack. Birch's eyebrows raised but he still didn't stop the janitor, instead continuing\u0026nbsp;  \nhis conversation. \"Yeah, Hunter, hold on a second. The help is getting handsy.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras cupped the lion's sack in one palm, lifting gently to assess the weight. The scrotum was\u0026nbsp;  \nsubstantial, the skin soft and pliable but the contents within dense and firm. The testicles shifted\u0026nbsp;  \nin his grip, two massive orbs that were just too big for him to grasp in even his huge bear mitt.\u0026nbsp;  \nThey were hot to the touch, radiating warmth through the thin skin, and impossibly heavy. The\u0026nbsp;  \nbear had handled plenty of equipment in his time, but Birch's nuts were genuinely dense, the\u0026nbsp;  \nkind of endowment that spoke to serious testosterone production and natural virility.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"What the fuck are you doing?\" Birch asked, though his tone carried more interest than anger.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion spread his legs wider, allowing better access. Into the phone he said, \"The janitor's\u0026nbsp;  \nactually got his paw on my junk right now. This is wild.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's other paw moved to Birch's cock, wrapping around the thick black shaft. Even\u0026nbsp;  \nflaccid, the meat was substantial, girthy enough that Garras's fingers didn't quite meet around\u0026nbsp;  \nthe circumference. The lion's cock was silky-smooth, the skin shifting easily over the firm interior\u0026nbsp;  \nas the bear began to stroke.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch sucked in a breath, his hips shifting forward instinctively. \"Shit,\" he muttered, then louder\u0026nbsp;  \ninto the phone, \"No, of course I'm not stopping him, Hunter. You know me. I don't care where it\u0026nbsp;  \ncomes from as long as it feels good.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras stroked with deliberate, practiced movements, his paw gliding from root to tip in smooth,\u0026nbsp;  \nconsistent motions. The paw cupping Birch's balls remained still, simply holding the weight,\u0026nbsp;  \nfeeling the heat and density. The testicles were packed tight in their sack, firm and full after a\u0026nbsp;  \nweek without release, swollen with backed-up production.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion's cock responded quickly, beginning to swell and stiffen in the bear's grip. Blood rushed\u0026nbsp;  \nto the organ, thickening the shaft and lengthening it inch by inch. Birch's breathing deepened,\u0026nbsp;  \nhis chest rising and falling more prominently beneath the expensive shirt. The phone remained\u0026nbsp;  \nat his ear but his attention was splitting, his eyes half-closing as pleasure built.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Yeah, he's good at it,\" Birch said into the phone, his voice slightly breathless. \"Better than the\u0026nbsp;  \nredhead, actually. Knows how to grip it.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras continued his steady stroking, watching as the lion's cock grew to its full size. The shaft\u0026nbsp;  \nexpanded in his paw, becoming longer and thicker, until it stood at full mast pointing toward the\u0026nbsp;  \nceiling. The erection was formidable, easily ten inches of solid black meat, thick as a beer can\u0026nbsp;  \nand crowned with a flared head that had darkened to a nice, meaty purple with arousal. Veins\u0026nbsp;  \nstood out along the length, pulsing visibly with each beat of Birch's heart.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's paw looked almost small, wrapped around that massive cock, his fingers straining to\u0026nbsp;  \nkeep their grip on the girth. Pre-cum began to bead at the tip, clear fluid pearling from the slit\u0026nbsp;  \nand running down the side of the shaft, providing natural lubrication for the continued stroking.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Fuck, that's good,\" Birch groaned. His free hand gripped the arm of his chair, knuckles\u0026nbsp;  \nwhitening. Into the phone he said, \"Shit, I think I'm gonna bust soon, Hunter. This guy knows\u0026nbsp;  \nwhat he's doing.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion's balls had drawn up slightly in Garras's other paw, tightening as orgasm approached,\u0026nbsp;  \ndespite being so incredibly heavy and full. The bear's thumb traced over the taut skin, feeling\u0026nbsp;  \nthe firm orbs beneath, appreciating their size and weight one final time before sliding the edge\u0026nbsp;  \nof his claw against the neck of the lion's scrotum, and slowly pulling down, stretching them away\u0026nbsp;  \nfrom the lion's groin.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's breathing became ragged, his hips beginning to thrust up into the stroking paw. If he\u0026nbsp;  \nnoticed the increasing strain on his sack, he didn't mind it. \"Almost there,\" he panted. \"Gonna be\u0026nbsp;  \na big one after a week of nothing.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras increased his pace slightly, his strokes becoming faster, firmer. The lion's cock was\u0026nbsp;  \nrock-hard now, straining upward, the head flaring even wider as climax built. Pre-cum flowed\u0026nbsp;  \nsteadily, coating the shaft and the bear's paw in slick fluid.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Fuck, fuck, here it comes,\" Birch gasped. Then, remembering the janitor beside him, he looked\u0026nbsp;  \ndown and growled, \"Hey, bitch. Swallow it all. I don't want any on my suit.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch put his free hand on the back of the bear's head, and pushed down, and Garras,\u0026nbsp;  \nsurprisingly, obliged him. His maw opened, angled down to hide the rows of thick, worn fangs,\u0026nbsp;  \nand then he descended down, engulfing the entire length of that massive cock in one smooth\u0026nbsp;  \nmotion. The shaft slid deep over Garras's tongue, the flared head urgent and needy and hard\u0026nbsp;  \npast the bear's tonsils as the big bear took every inch.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Oh, fuck!\" Birch shouted, his body going rigid. The sensation of the hot, wet mouth wrapped\u0026nbsp;  \naround his cock was overwhelming. Garras's now-free paw took the lion's nuts from his other\u0026nbsp;  \npaw, his fingers wrapped around the base where the scrotum connected to Birch's body, and he\u0026nbsp;  \npulled downward, stretching the skin taut, drawing those massive testicles away from the\u0026nbsp;  \nprotection of the lion's groin.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's orgasm hit like a freight train. His cock pulsed and throbbed in Garras's throat, the first\u0026nbsp;  \nrope of cum erupting from the tip with violent force. \"Fuck yes!\" the lion roared, his hips bucking\u0026nbsp;  \nupward, driving his cock even deeper into the bear's mouth.\u0026nbsp;  \nThat was the moment that Garras decided to 'cut in'. One razor-sharp claw sliced through the\u0026nbsp;  \nstretched scrotum at its root in a calm, deliberate, smooth flick of the bear's fingers. It was\u0026nbsp;  \nalmost incidental, but the effect was devastating.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe massive ball sack came free, suddenly heavy and loose in the bear's grip, separated\u0026nbsp;  \ncompletely from Birch's body. Blood spurted from the ragged wound, hot and arterial, spraying\u0026nbsp;  \nacross Garras's paw and onto the plush carpeting beneath the chair.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's second rope of cum fired in a hot gush down Garras's throat, his orgasm continuing even\u0026nbsp;  \nas the mutilation registered. The lion's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in confusion and\u0026nbsp;  \nshock. His gaze dropped down, to where the bear's big head nursed at his groin, and to the\u0026nbsp;  \nside, where Garras held up a grisly, black furred prize. The lion's huge testicles hadn't even\u0026nbsp;  \nfinished twitching in their sack, the big round organs settling down as Garras proudly held up the\u0026nbsp;  \nhefty scrotum in the hot, musky air between them.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"What-\" Birch started, his voice strangled, but he couldn't come up with more words to follow.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe third pulse of cum erupted from his cock as understanding dawned. The lion's expression\u0026nbsp;  \ntransformed from ecstasy to horror, his face contorting as pleasure and agony mixed into\u0026nbsp;  \nsomething incomprehensible. He sucked inwards, back arching as he felt himself climaxing hard\u0026nbsp;  \neven as he stared at the results of his emasculation.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras held the severed balls higher, ensuring Birch could see them clearly, see what had been\u0026nbsp;  \ntaken. The lion's eyes locked onto his own castrated testicles, and in that moment of perfect eye\u0026nbsp;  \ncontact, the bear's jaws closed.\u0026nbsp;  \nTeeth sank into the root of Birch's cock, just above where it met his body. Garras bit down firmly,\u0026nbsp;  \nslowly, methodically, his fangs sheering the thick shaft and severing the internal structures.\u0026nbsp;  \nBlood vessels ruptured, flooding the bear's mouth with hot copper. The urethra split, releasing a\u0026nbsp;  \nfinal spurt of cum mixed with blood.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's scream finally emerged, a raw sound of pure anguish that echoed off the office walls. His\u0026nbsp;  \nbody convulsed, caught between the dying spasms of orgasm and the trauma of emasculation.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe phone fell from his nerveless fingers, clattering onto the desk.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras's jaws continued their work, grinding through the tough tissue until the cock separated\u0026nbsp;  \ncompletely. The severed organ remained in the bear's mouth, still twitching with the remnants of\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's climax, as Garras leaned back and let the lion see the empty space where his manhood\u0026nbsp;  \nhad been.\u0026nbsp;  \nBlood poured from the dual wounds, mixing with the cum that had spilled during the castration,\u0026nbsp;  \ncreating a pink froth that pooled in the leather chair and dripped onto the expensive carpet\u0026nbsp;  \nbelow. Garras stood back up, observing his handiwork with professional detachment. Birch's\u0026nbsp;  \nempty groin continued to pulse and spasm, the ragged stumps where his genitals had been\u0026nbsp;  \nattached still producing the final dregs of his interrupted orgasm.\u0026nbsp;  \nCum bubbled up from the severed urethra, white fluid mixing with the steady flow of blood to\u0026nbsp;  \ncreate a pink foam that oozed down what remained of Birch's cock root. The wound where his\u0026nbsp;  \nscrotum had been was wider, more ragged, blood pumping from several torn vessels. The lion's\u0026nbsp;  \nbody didn't seem to understand what had happened yet, still caught in the physiological\u0026nbsp;  \nresponse of climax even as catastrophic trauma set in.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch sat frozen in his chair, his body rigid with shock. His mouth hung open in a silent scream,\u0026nbsp;  \neyes wide and unblinking as they stared at the space between his legs where his manhood had\u0026nbsp;  \nbeen. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, the expensive shirt now soaked with sweat.\u0026nbsp;  \nOne paw remained locked on the chair's armrest, the other hanging limp at his side.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras remembered that the lion's severed cock was still fat and turgid in his maw. The organ\u0026nbsp;  \nwas substantial, thick and meaty, still partially rigid from the interrupted ejaculation. The bear's\u0026nbsp;  \nthroat worked as he tilted his head back, swallowing the entire length in one smooth motion.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe shaft slid down his gullet, the flared head pressing against the inside of his esophagus. It\u0026nbsp;  \nwas dense and filling, a solid mass of male meat that settled heavily in his stomach.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's tongue swept across his teeth, collecting the remaining traces of blood and cum. He\u0026nbsp;  \nsavored the mixture, the copper and salt combining into a familiar flavor. Then he wiped his lips\u0026nbsp;  \nclean with the twin peaches he had claimed from the leonine stud, using the soft furry scrotum\u0026nbsp;  \nto wipe the blood from his muzzle and paws with methodical strokes.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch continued to stare at his ruined groin, his brain struggling to process the reality. Small,\u0026nbsp;  \nchoked sounds escaped his throat, not quite words, just animalistic noises of pain and\u0026nbsp;  \nincomprehension.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras tossed the soiled scrotum onto the desk with an impressive whump of meat against\u0026nbsp;  \nwood, and reached for the lion's pants. The designer slacks hung open around Birch's thighs,\u0026nbsp;  \nthe expensive fabric now spattered with blood and other fluids. The bear gripped the little zipper\u0026nbsp;  \ntag and tugged upward, resealing the lion's slacks over his utterly emptied destroyed groin.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe movement seemed to break through Birch's shock. The lion's eyes focused, his head\u0026nbsp;  \nturning to look at Garras. \"Why,\" he managed to croak, his voice barely recognizable.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras ignored the question, finishing working the zipper closed over the flat space where\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's bulge had been. The blood soaked through the fabric immediately, darkening the crotch\u0026nbsp;  \nof the slacks, but the pants held everything in place. The bear fastened the button, then patted\u0026nbsp;  \nthe front of the lion's groin almost affectionately, his paw pressing against the spot that had held\u0026nbsp;  \nsuch impressive equipment mere minutes ago.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"There,\" Garras said, his voice calm. \"All cleaned up.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe phone lay on the desk where Birch had dropped it, the speaker still active. Garras could\u0026nbsp;  \nhear Hunter's voice calling out, tinny and concerned. \"Birch? Birch, what the fuck is happening?\u0026nbsp;  \nTalk to me!\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear picked up the phone, bringing it to his muzzle. \"Your friend can't talk right now,\" Garras\u0026nbsp;  \nsaid into the device, his tone conversational. \"He's just lost... an important business contract.\"\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Who the fuck is this?\" Hunter demanded. \"What did you do to him?\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras reached out and grabbed Birch by his mane, the thick fur providing a solid handhold.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe lion's eyes went wide again as the bear yanked him forward, hauling him out of the chair.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's legs barely supported his weight, trembling and weak, but Garras forced him upright.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Look, buddy, I'm about to fuck your friend in the ass now,\" Garras said into the phone, dragging\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch toward the massive desk. \"He's not fighting back. I think he's in shock.\"\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Jesus Christ,\" Hunter breathed. \"Birch, fight back! Someone call security!\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear bent the lion forward over the desk, using the grip on his mane to force Birch's upper\u0026nbsp;  \nbody down against the polished wood surface. Papers scattered, a desk lamp toppled and\u0026nbsp;  \ncrashed to the floor. Birch's arms splayed out, his paws scrabbling weakly against the desktop,\u0026nbsp;  \nbut there was no strength behind the movements.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras released the mane long enough to grip the back of Birch's slacks. His claws extended,\u0026nbsp;  \nslicing through the expensive fabric in four long tears. The pants split open, revealing the lion's\u0026nbsp;  \nmuscular haunches beneath. The fur there was tawny and thick, covering powerful glutes that\u0026nbsp;  \nspoke to Birch's natural athleticism.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear gripped the waistband and tore further, ripping the pants completely open from the belt\u0026nbsp;  \ndown to the thighs. Birch's ass was exposed, the tight hole clenched and vulnerable between\u0026nbsp;  \nthose substantial cheeks.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Please,\" Birch whispered, his voice breaking. \"Please don't.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras picked the phone back up with one paw, holding it near his muzzle as his other paw\u0026nbsp;  \nmoved to the front of his janitor overalls. The buttons holding the flap closed came undone\u0026nbsp;  \neasily, and the bear's cock emerged, already thick and hardening with arousal. The shaft was\u0026nbsp;  \ndark and heavy, already as hard as stone and just as unforgiving.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Your friend has nice glutes,\" Garras said into the phone, positioning himself behind Birch. \"Very\u0026nbsp;  \ndeveloped. Must work out regularly.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear pressed the head of his cock against Birch's entrance. There was no preparation, no\u0026nbsp;  \nlubrication beyond the pre-cum beginning to leak from Garras's tip. The lion's hole was dry and\u0026nbsp;  \ntight, clenched with fear and pain.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pushed forward.\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's scream was immediate and raw, his body jerking against the desk as the bear's thick\u0026nbsp;  \ncock forced its way inside. The tissue tore, the ring of muscle splitting under the pressure. Blood\u0026nbsp;  \nwelled up around the penetration, providing minimal slickness as Garras continued to push\u0026nbsp;  \ndeeper.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"He's very tight,\" the bear narrated into the phone, his voice steady despite the physical\u0026nbsp;  \nexertion. \"I can feel him tearing open.\"\u0026nbsp;  \n\"You sick fuck!\" Hunter shouted, his voice small and useless over the phone. \"I'm calling the\u0026nbsp;  \npolice!\"\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's hips pressed flush against Birch's ass, his entire length buried in the lion's torn\u0026nbsp;  \npassage. Birch sobbed against the desk, his paws clenching into fists, his body shaking with\u0026nbsp;  \npain and shock. The stumps of his severed genitals bled into his ruined pants, adding to his\u0026nbsp;  \nagony.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pulled back slowly, then thrust forward again. The movement was brutal and deliberate,\u0026nbsp;  \neach stroke tearing the lion's insides further. The desk creaked under the force, sliding slightly\u0026nbsp;  \nacross the floor with each impact.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"The sounds he's making are very interesting,\" Garras continued his narration. \"I don't think he's\u0026nbsp;  \nenjoying this as much as he enjoyed his phone sex with you earlier.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's expensive suit jacket bunched up around his shoulders, the shirt beneath soaked with\u0026nbsp;  \nsweat and tears. His mane was disheveled, plastered to his face and neck. The proud, arrogant\u0026nbsp;  \nexecutive who had dismissed the janitor minutes ago was gone, replaced by a broken, violated\u0026nbsp;  \nshell.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's thrusting continued, steady and merciless, each penetration accompanied by Birch's\u0026nbsp;  \nchoked sobs and the wet sounds of tearing flesh. He maintained his rhythm, one paw still\u0026nbsp;  \nholding the phone while the other reached for the severed scrotum he'd left on the desk. The\u0026nbsp;  \nsack had cooled slightly since the castration, but it was still warm to the touch, the tawny fur\u0026nbsp;  \nmatted with drying blood and bear spit.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear lifted the severed package, weighing it in his palm one final time. Even detached from\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch's body, the testicles retained their impressive size and density. They shifted within the\u0026nbsp;  \nsack, two firm orbs that had been producing testosterone and sperm for the lion's entire adult\u0026nbsp;  \nlife. The skin was soft, pliable, stretched around its contents.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Your friend had some impressive equipment,\" Garras said into the phone, his hips still driving\u0026nbsp;  \nforward into Birch's torn ass. The lion's sobs had quieted to whimpers, his voice nearly gone\u0026nbsp;  \nfrom screaming. \"These balls are the biggest I've seen all week.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nHunter had gone silent on the other end, but Garras could hear his breathing, rapid and\u0026nbsp;  \nhorrified. The bear smiled, bringing the phone closer to his muzzle.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Listen closely,\" Garras instructed.\u0026nbsp;  \nHe brought the entire scrotum to his mouth, his jaws opening wide. The sack was large enough\u0026nbsp;  \nthat it filled the space between his teeth completely. Garras's fangs pressed against the taut\u0026nbsp;  \nskin, dimpling it without breaking through yet.\u0026nbsp;  \nThen he bit down.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe scrotum ruptured immediately, the skin splitting under the pressure of his jaws. Hot fluid\u0026nbsp;  \ngushed into the bear's mouth as the first testicle burst between his molars, the dense tissue\u0026nbsp;  \nexploding into pulp. The taste was overwhelming, rich and intensely gamey, with an almost\u0026nbsp;  \nmetallic undertone from the blood saturating everything. It was organ meat at its most primal,\u0026nbsp;  \nthe concentrated essence of Birch's masculinity flooding Garras's senses.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's jaws worked methodically, grinding the ruptured testicle into paste. The texture was\u0026nbsp;  \nunique, firmer than regular muscle tissue but with a grainy quality as the seminiferous tubules\u0026nbsp;  \nbroke down. Each chew released more flavor, the taste coating his tongue and the roof of his\u0026nbsp;  \nmouth.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe sounds were amplified for Hunter's benefit. The wet squelching of tissue being pulverized,\u0026nbsp;  \nthe creaking of Garras's powerful jaw muscles, the slight groan of satisfaction from the bear. Into\u0026nbsp;  \nthe phone, the mastication was obscene and unmistakable.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Oh God,\" Hunter whispered, his voice barely audible. \"Oh Jesus Christ.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras shifted the partially chewed scrotum in his mouth, positioning the second testicle\u0026nbsp;  \nbetween his back molars. This one was slightly larger than the first, and when his teeth clamped\u0026nbsp;  \ndown, the pop was even more pronounced. The testicle burst like an overfilled water balloon,\u0026nbsp;  \nspraying the inside of his mouth with a fresh wave of fluid and tissue.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's thrusting intensified as he chewed, his arousal building with each grinding motion of\u0026nbsp;  \nhis jaws. There was something deeply satisfying about the act, the complete consumption and\u0026nbsp;  \ndestruction of another male's virility. Birch had been so proud of his equipment, so arrogant\u0026nbsp;  \nabout his sexual prowess, and now those magnificent balls were being reduced to paste in a\u0026nbsp;  \njanitor's mouth.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras chewed thoroughly, breaking down every bit of tissue until the scrotum was a uniform\u0026nbsp;  \nmash of skin, membrane, and pulverized testicle. The flavor had mellowed slightly with the\u0026nbsp;  \nmixing, becoming less intensely gamey but maintaining its rich, meaty quality. Blood and other\u0026nbsp;  \nfluids had created a thick sauce that coated everything.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear swallowed, his throat working to push the substantial mass down into his stomach.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe chewed scrotum slid down his gullet in one cohesive bolus, joining the severed cock\u0026nbsp;  \nalready digesting below. Garras's stomach felt pleasantly full, weighted with male meat.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Your friend is making the most interesting noises,\" Garras said into the phone, his voice slightly\u0026nbsp;  \nthick from the meal he'd just consumed. \"I don't think he'll be fucking your wife anymore.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nBirch had gone nearly silent, his body limp against the desk except for the involuntary jerks\u0026nbsp;  \ncaused by Garras's continued thrusting. The lion's breathing was shallow and rapid, his eyes\u0026nbsp;  \nhalf-closed, consciousness fading as shock deepened.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear's climax approached rapidly. The combination of the assault, the consumption, and the\u0026nbsp;  \ncomplete domination of the arrogant executive had built his arousal to a peak. His thrusts\u0026nbsp;  \nbecame harder, faster, driving deep into Birch's destroyed passage with bruising force.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Almost there,\" Garras growled into the phone. His free paw gripped Birch's hip, claws digging\u0026nbsp;  \ninto the flesh hard enough to draw blood. The lion didn't even flinch.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe orgasm hit with fierce intensity. Garras's cock pulsed and throbbed inside Birch's ass,\u0026nbsp;  \nflooding the torn passage with thick ropes of cum. The bear's body went rigid, his muzzle pulling\u0026nbsp;  \nback in a snarl of satisfaction as he emptied himself into his victim. Each pulse was\u0026nbsp;  \naccompanied by a wave of pleasure that rolled through his entire body.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"There we go,\" Garras said into the phone, his voice rough with satisfaction. \"Your friend's been\u0026nbsp;  \nproperly serviced.\"\u0026nbsp;  \nHunter had started crying at some point, soft sobs coming through the speaker. \"Why?\" he\u0026nbsp;  \nmanaged to ask. \"Why did you do this?\"\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pulled out of Birch's ass, his softening cock slipping free with a wet sound. Cum and\u0026nbsp;  \nblood leaked from the destroyed hole, running down the lion's thighs to soak into the torn\u0026nbsp;  \nremains of his expensive pants.\u0026nbsp;  \n\"Because he was available,\" the bear said simply. He set the phone down on the desk, leaving it\u0026nbsp;  \nconnected so Hunter could continue to listen.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe cleanup was methodical. Garras used Birch's suit jacket to wipe his cock clean, the\u0026nbsp;  \nexpensive fabric absorbing the mixture of blood, cum, and other fluids. The lion remained\u0026nbsp;  \nslumped over the desk, his breathing barely perceptible, his eyes staring at nothing.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear tucked himself back into the janitor overalls, buttoning the front flap. He straightened\u0026nbsp;  \nhis stolen uniform, adjusted the name tag that read \"Carl,\" and picked up Mark's bloodied\u0026nbsp;  \nunderwear from where he'd tossed it earlier. A final wipe of his muzzle removed any remaining\u0026nbsp;  \nevidence.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras looked down at Birch's broken body one last time. The lion was still technically alive,\u0026nbsp;  \nthough for how long was questionable. The blood loss alone would probably finish him within\u0026nbsp;  \nthe hour. If not, the trauma and shock certainly would.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear reached out and patted Birch's head almost affectionately, his paw stroking through\u0026nbsp;  \nthe disheveled mane. \"You were delicious,\" he said quietly.\u0026nbsp;  \nThen Garras turned and walked to where he'd left the janitor cart by the wall. The wheels\u0026nbsp;  \nsqueaked slightly as he gripped the handle and began to push it toward the door. Behind him,\u0026nbsp;  \nHunter's voice came from the phone, screaming for someone to call for help, but the bear\u0026nbsp;  \nignored it.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe hallway outside was still empty, the polished floors gleaming under recessed lighting.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pushed the cart out of Birch's office, pulling the door closed behind him. The latch\u0026nbsp;  \nclicked softly, muffling the sounds from within.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe bear moved down the corridor, the cart wheels now silent on the expensive marble. Other\u0026nbsp;  \noffices lined the hallway, most dark and closed, but here and there light spilled from open\u0026nbsp;  \ndoorways. Voices drifted out, the sounds of late-night workers still grinding away at their\u0026nbsp;  \ncorporate tasks.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras's single eye scanned each doorway as he passed, already evaluating, already hunting.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe night was young, and there were many floors left to explore.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe janitor cart squeaked softly as he turned the corner toward the elevators, just another\u0026nbsp;  \nmaintenance worker doing his rounds, invisible and unremarkable to anyone who might see\u0026nbsp;  \nhim.\u0026nbsp;  \nBehind him, in a sweltering corner office, Birch Steelwood bled out across his mahogany desk,\u0026nbsp;  \nhis impressive equipment digesting in the belly of a predator he'd dismissed as beneath his\u0026nbsp;  \nnotice.\u0026nbsp;  \nGarras pressed the button for the elevator and waited, his blood-stained name tag glinting under\u0026nbsp;  \nthe lights.\u0026nbsp;  \nThe hunt continued.\u0026nbsp;"}