Sexy Conservationist's Jungle Tiger Hell (bestiality, rape, hard vore)
A gorgeous young conservationist delves a little too greedily and too deep into the wild jungle, and meets one of the objects of her activism. He may not appreciate the finer points of environmentalism, but he does appreciate the finer points of her supple and delicious body.
Happy International Tiger Day!
Most recent stories:
Dominatrix Program Admission Test (FF, BDSM, spanking, snuff collar, college setting)
The Horrible Death of Princess Drazine of Derzeth (armored warrior princess slaughtered)
Goblin Girlfriends' College Earfuck (Re-)Orientation (MMM/FF, earfucking, rape, orientation play, mindbreak)
Slutty Teacher Quadruple Hanging (FFFF hanging, public sex, orgy)
Sexy Conservationist's Jungle Tiger Hell
Jessie Dougall was grinning ear to ear as she slipped through the jungle, gliding agilely around the boles of great trees, dodging muddy patches from the recent rain that had left the forest fragrant. The scents of flowers, the vegetal aroma of the trees and other plants, the underlying smell of decay that seemed so strangely pleasant to her now.
Jessie was a conservationist, an activist, and a lover of the wild places of the world. She was of an older school of environmentalism, more concerned with species and habitat preservation than her more modern peers, and she was a powerful advocate for all of the endangered and the savage environs where they lived. With her coffee-colored skin, long dark hair, and preference for extremely short shorts and partially-buttoned safari shirts that revealed tantalizing glimpses of her generous cleavage, Jessie was not at all shy about using her good looks to bring further attention to the causes she championed. She had appeared on numerous magazine covers, flaunted her body in racy shots online – all for the cause, of course.
And the cause célèbre to Jessie Dougall was tigers.
She loved all animals, but especially she loved the great carnivora, and most especially of all the tiger. Ever since she saw Aladdin as a child she had dreamed of the huge beasts slinking through the jungle after their prey. She had spent endless hours watching them cavort in videos, watching them swim, grinding out orgasms riding her favorite stuffed tiger, and as she grew into her adulthood and discovered her passion for environmental activism, she had even had the chance to meet one in person.
Even now Jessie thrilled at the thought, and she nursed a secret desire to some day, on one of her jungle jaunts, to get the chance to see a wild tiger up close and in person.
She was currently off the beaten path in a Southeast Asian forest, against the advice of her guide. She’d been traveling through jungles and woods of many kinds for most of her adult life, and she felt safe there, secure in her woodcraft – and distantly in the back of her head, convinced that the righteousness of her cause conferred some sort of blessing of fate.
She slipped into a clearing and stretched in the sunlight.
Unbeknownst to the young activist, huge yellow-green eyes were watching her every move. Great nostrils snuffed the air, smelling her body, the clean sweat of exertion, the underlying scent tones that spoke of a subtle arousal she often felt when she daydreamed of tigers.
Lurking in the jungle, trailing her for over a mile now, was a male Asian tiger of tremendous size. He was a great old beast of a tiger, strong and cruel, but the hairs of his head were growing white with his age, and earlier that day he had been driven away by a younger male from a part of his range that was frequented by one of his preferred mates during her heat.
The old tiger felt no anger or betrayal at this. It was the way of the wild places of the Earth, not a source of resentment.
What he did resent, however, was the fact that he had gotten a noseful of the female’s pheromone-laden scent, and his body had reacted as it was meant to. He had been sporting a nine-inch-long erection for most of the morning, and combined with the claw-marks and bites he had suffered disputing with the younger tiger, he was in an evil mood.
Jessie hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down, then squatted to relieve herself. She stood up and bent forward to pull her shorts back up.
Between her legs, she saw the old tiger crouch for a charge.
A surge of dizzying joy swelled in her heart at the sight of the huge, handsome beast, his mouth gaping in a soundless snarl. It took almost three full seconds for her to come to a slight awareness of her peril. By the time her stomach twisted into a knot of fear, it was far too late, and the king tiger was upon her with a reverberating growl.
Even with the gauntness that had come with his age, he weighed well over five hundred pounds, and he bowled the little conservationist over and over, knocking her breath from her lungs as she spun, her shorts still tangling her ankles.
Jessie’s world spun around her, and she felt something pop inside her ribcage when her roll ended with her midsection crashing against a tree. She looked up, and the tiger’s enormous jaws were inches from her face, open in a terrible coughing roar.
She screamed, covering her face with her hands, and he ungently pawed at her hip, claws cutting her flesh as he pushed her onto her face.
This strange sleek monkey was no tigress, but to most males, in a pinch any hole would do.
Before Jessie could guess the animal’s bestial intentions, he was above her, his barbed erection poking at her wet pussy. Then he clamped his jaws around the back of her neck. Her hands flew to try and push him away, to free herself, but he bit harder and gave a growl that vibrated through her entire body.
Jessie, whimpering with disillusioned terror, opened her mouth and shrieked as the tiger thrust half his enormous length inside her tight body.
His cockhead was armed with little spines. Going in, she barely noticed them, her attention absorbed by the size of his cock, the viciousness of his thrust, stretching her open, the pain of his teeth in her neck. But when he pulled out slightly, moving his hips to get a better angle, they raked her insides and drew a fresh wail from her lips.
He shoved himself back into her, deeper than before, and hot tears ran down her cheeks as she felt the painful scraping of those barbs and the awful hugeness of him.
This was…
“Ouuuugh, no-o-o-o-o!” she sobbed. “Oh, God no!”
This was exactly like what she’d dreamed about.
Jessie knew all about tigers. She’d watched them mate, over and over. She knew exactly what tiger dicks looked like, and she’d imagined exactly this scene so many times.
It wasn’t her fault that her body was reacting. Despite the terror, despite the pain, despite the blood flowing down her neck, she could feel something rising inside her, inexorable.
He rocked his hips again, and again his cock pushed deeper inside her and his growls reverberated through her body, turning her muscles to jelly. She sank down, legs unable to hold herself up, until she was prone on the ground. And he followed her, rutting her, until his cock was buried balls deep in her juicy wet pussy.
He stayed there, crouched over her, short little thrusts filling her, and sizzling energy coursed through her lithe young frame as she felt…
“Oh God! Oh God! Oh fuck, I’m cumming!”
She felt her body stiffen in climax, and as she did she felt the tiger squirting inside her, a massive load of feral cum forcing its way into her deepest parts. The knowledge that she was being bred by this magnificent creature thrilled her, reigniting her own orgasm, and she shuddered there beneath him as he emptied his balls in her tight, hot depths.
Soon, his weight grew to be uncomfortable, then actively painful. Her neck felt stiff, the wounds from his teeth suddenly noticeable not as a pleasantly painful accompaniment to the weird pleasure of his monstrous dick plowing her, but as actual injuries, agonizing and fearful.
He let her neck go, and she screamed when he pulled his cock out of her, the spikes scraping her insides one last time.
She turned onto her back, unable to close her legs because of the pain between them, and a new course of tears poured down her cheeks as her body shook with sobs. As her depraved arousal subsided, it left only torture and terror in its wake.
And the tiger stared at her, and lowered his head to her exposed belly, and opened his mouth wide.
And he bit. His teeth scythed through smooth skin and soft fat and muscle, tearing a huge mouthful out of her like an excavator digging into soft earth. He raised his head and bolted his delicious, feminine mouthful down.
Watching her own flesh disappear down his throat, Jessie heard a weird, wavering keening sound, and realized it was coming from her own mouth.
The tiger looked at her with what might have been feline annoyance, and shattered her jaw with a blow of his paw, his claws tearing gouges into the side of her face. The pain hit her in a fresh, white-hot wave as he dipped his muzzle into the wet, red hole of her belly and rooted around for choice bits of organ. Her liver, her kidneys, he devoured with contented rumbles.
Jessie couldn’t tear her eyes away. She was paralyzed, her legs slowly pumping up and down like they were trying to run, her fingers twitching. When she managed to raise a hand near his huge bloodstained head, he lunged and latched his fangs into her forearm, slicing flesh and crushing bone, then jerking his head away, ripping her hand from her arm.
“Please, man, please,” she said, her eyes swimming. “I l-love you, I don’t underst...”
He gave an uncanny moan and dragged his claws down the front of her shirt, slicing through fabric and flesh, buttons popping off. For a few minutes, he laved her breasts with his rough tongue, tasting her sweat, then he bit hard into her right breast, cutting through skin and fat and deep into the muscle of her chest. When he jerked his head back, one of her ribs came with it, and he eagerly tore her meat from the bone.
Jessie was beyond conscious speech now. The pain was simply too much. She was making animal noises, drooling, whining wordlessly, lost in an ocean of monstrous agony. Her mind retreated, no longer attempting to make sense of what she saw.
There were flashes of lucidity, of vision. She saw the head moving with a strange orange and black blur, dipping, ripping, pulling parts of her away. Her breasts, more of her belly, a mouthful of her juicy thigh.
With that bite, crimson squirted harder than before from a torn artery. Jessie did not know it.
As her life’s blood poured out onto the ground, Jessie died, her half-open eyes watching the tiger consume her sweet flesh.
Posted Jul 30, 2025, 1:56 AM UTC