Beneath a sky bruised with the first tentative kisses of night, Bucky, a lean and lithe gay rabbit, hopped through the underbrush. His nose twitched, not with the scent of clover or the sweet perfume of wildflowers, but with the musk of testosterone and the tantalizing promise of sex. He had heard whispers of this place, a forgotten rest area left to the whims of nature, where horny beasts went to rut and satisfy their insatiable urges.
The rest area, a relic of a bygone era, had been abandoned for nearly a year, left to decay with the rerouting of the highway. Weeds choked the asphalt, and ivy snaked up the walls of the derelict buildings, reclaiming the space with greedy tendrils. Because the place was abandoned, Bucky figured chances were high that he was going to score a hook-up. Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest, his fur damp with sweat and anticipation. He could feel the throb of his cock against his thigh, eager and ready.
A low, guttural noise echoed from the public restroom, a crumbling concrete block nestled in the shadows. Bucky’s ears perked up, his curiosity piqued. He approached the doorway, the stench of piss and mold filling his nostrils. The moon cast a faint glow through the grimy skylights, illuminating the filthy tiles and the shattered remnants of mirrors.
And there, in the center of the room, was a sight that made Bucky’s cock twitch with intrigue. A massive tiger, his orange and black stripes stark against the dull tiles, was sprawled on the floor, his limbs bound with thick, black rope. A thick disposable diaper was secured around his hips, the word “URINAL” scrawled in bold, black letters across the front. The tiger was almost motionless until his eyes, fierce and wild, locked onto Bucky’s.
Bucky hesitated at the threshold, his heart pounding in his ears. The tiger’s gaze was intense, but there was something else there — a hunger. Bucky stepped closer, his eyes tracing the tiger’s muscular form, the thick cords of his arms, the broad expanse of his chest. The diaper did little to hide the bulge of his cock, straining against the confines of the plastic.
“Well, well,” Bucky murmured, circling the bound tiger like a predator himself. “What do we have here?”
The tiger growled. “You gonna stand there and stare, or are you gonna do something about this?” he rasped.
“I do have lots of questions.”
To the tiger’s left, a pile of clothes lay neatly folded. Bucky’s eyes widened as he leaned over, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric. A navy blue police uniform, crisp and official, was topped with a matching hat, the badge glinting even in the dim light. His heart pounded as he picked up the hat, turning it over in his paws, the significance of it sending a shiver down his spine. He swallowed nervously, his gaze flicking back to the tiger, the hard lines of his body, the fierce intensity of his eyes. The tiger was a cop, a symbol of authority and power, now reduced to this — bound, diapered, and at the mercy of whoever might stumble upon him. Bucky’s mind raced with questions and uncertainty.
His eyes traced the ropes binding the tiger, the knots tight and secure, the kind meant to hold firm against struggle. He wondered if the tiger had done this by choice, if the fierce beast had willingly given up his power. The thought sent a thrill through Bucky
But the tiger’s gaze was hard to read, his eyes burning with an intensity that was both intimidating and alluring. He couldn’t tell if the tiger consented to this, if he was a willing participant in this twisted game, or if there was something more sinister at play.
Bucky carefully reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of the diaper, the crude letters scrawled across the front. The tiger growled, a low rumble that vibrated through Bucky’s fingertips, sending a jolt of lust straight to his cock. There was something intoxicating about the scenario, something darkly erotic about the power dynamics at play.
He leaned in, his voice a low murmur, “Did you do this to yourself, officer? Or is there someone else pulling the strings?” The tiger’s eyes flashed, his body tensing, but he said nothing, leaving Bucky to navigate the murky waters of desire and consent, the lines blurred by the raw, primal need that hung heavy in the air.
Bucky smirked, his cock throbbing at the challenge. He reached out, tracing a finger along the tiger’s jaw, feeling the vibration of his growl. “And what would you like me to do, officer?”
The tiger’s eyes flashed, his hips bucking against the restraints. “Shouldn’t it be obvious? Fucking use me,” he snarled.
Bucky’s cock pulsated at the raw, primal need in the tiger’s voice. He knelt down, running his hands over the tiger’s chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the soft fur. He leaned in, his breath hot against the tiger’s ear. “Is that what you want, officer? You want to be ‘used’ like a urinal?”
The tiger groaned. “Yes,” he hissed. “Fuck yes.”
Bucky had ventured into the cruising spot with a clear fantasy in mind: finding a dominant beast who would stand tall and proud, allowing Bucky to kneel before him, lick the engorged head of his massive cock, and take it deep into his mouth. He yearned to feel the weight of a thick shaft on his tongue, the taste of pre-cum leaking from the tip, the raw power of a pent-up beast in heat.
But the sight before him now was something else entirely. The tiger, bound and diapered, his muscular body sprawled on the filthy, piss-covered tiles, was a vision of debasement and humiliation. And yet, there was feral heat that set Bucky’s blood on fire. Seeing the tiger in that position, willing to be used as a urinal, sent a shiver of excitement down Bucky’s spine, awakening something carnal and depraved within him.
With a growing sense of lust, Bucky hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his gym shorts, pushing them down and kicking them aside. His cock sprang free, stiff and aching, the cool open-air breeze sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel the tickle of the wind against his horny hole, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. His mind raced with filthy thoughts, imagining the tiger being used by countless men, their cocks pissing all over him, their cum marking his body.
He wondered if the tiger could be swayed to turn the tables, to take that raw, animalistic lust and ravage Bucky’s horny hole. The thought of the tiger’s thick cock stretching him, filling him, fucking him with wild abandon made Bucky’s cock wild with anticipation.
Acting on his depraved impulse, Bucky stepped closer, his cock in hand, the tip aimed at the tiger’s broad chest. With a wicked grin, he began to piss, the stream of warm urine arcing through the air and splashing against the tiger’s chest fur. The tiger gritted his teeth, his body tensing at the initial contact, but as the warm piss cascaded down his body, soaking into his diaper, a low purr rumbled in his chest. The tiger’s eyes closed, his body relaxing into the sensation, the humiliation and debasement morphing into something pleasurable. Bucky watched, his own lust growing as the tiger’s purrs filled the air, the sound vibrating through his body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins.
Bucky wanted to draw out the tiger’s torment, to tease and tantalize him until the beast was nothing more than a writhing mass of pure humiliation. As his stream of piss continued to paint the tiger’s chest, soaking his fur and dripping down to his diaper, Bucky decided to up the ante, to push the tiger’s boundaries even further.
With a smirk, Bucky slowly lowered his ass, the firm globes of his cheeks pressing against the sodden diaper. He could feel the tiger’s cock beneath him, a thick, hard length tenting the plastic, straining against its confines. Bucky’s heart raced as he positioned himself, his tailhole grazing against the tiger’s bulge, the thick barrier of the diaper doing little to disguise the heat and hardness beneath.
He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate tempo, his ass sliding against the tiger’s cock. He could feel some of the shaft, likely thick and veined, pressing against the diaper, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through his body. Bucky sighed contentedly, his eyes fluttering closed as he reveled in the sensation. This was no lifeless piece of rubber, no mere toy designed for pleasure. This was a living, breathing beast, a cock throbbing a yearning for release, a formidable force barely contained by the slowly thinning barrier of the diaper.
Bucky’s pleasure receptors were on overload, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The feel of the tiger’s cock, the sound of his growls, the knowledge of his own power — it all combined to leave Bucky breathless and aching for more. He leaned forward, his hands braced on the tiger’s chest, his fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath the piss-soaked fur. His hips moved faster, his ass sliding against the tiger’s cock with increasing urgency. He could feel the tiger’s body trembling, the beast’s control hanging by a thread.
Bucky gasped, with his own orgasm building, his body tensing with anticipation. He knew he was playing with fire, that the tiger was a wild, unpredictable creature, but he couldn’t stop. He was riding the edge of danger.
Bucky, his body still tingling with the thrill of his perverse dance, paused to study the tiger’s face. The beast’s expression was a complex interplay of pleasure and pain, a grimace that twisted his features one moment, only to be replaced by a look of blissful ecstasy the next. The tiger’s head would occasionally tilt up, his teeth gritted, his eyes squeezed shut — a clear indication that something more was at play.
It was then that Bucky noticed the subtle shifts in the tiger’s body, the way his hips would buck slightly, the way his breath would break into short, lustful gasps when his diaper was pressed firmly against the ground. A realization dawned on Bucky, a filthy understanding that sent a fresh wave of lust coursing through his veins. The tiger was plugged, his hole filled with something that sent jolts of pleasure and pain shooting through his body with every movement.
A wicked smirk spread across Bucky’s face as he leaned in, his voice a low, sultry sing-song tone. “Oh? Is the big kitten cop plugged as well?” he asked, his fingers trailing down the tiger’s chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. The tiger’s only response was a slow nod and a deep, resonant growl that vibrated through Bucky’s fingertips.
Bucky’s mind raced with the filthy possibilities, his cock throbbing at the thought of the tiger, bound and plugged, desperate to be used. “At first, I thought you were going to take that thick hardon of yours,” he murmured, his hand cupping the tiger’s cock through the soaked diaper, feeling the pulsing heat beneath, “and shove it into my ass, expanding it, filling me with your thick load.”
The tiger growled again, his body trembling, his cock pulsing in Bucky’s grip. Bucky chuckled. “But you’re far more needy than me, aren’t you, officer? You just want to be an urinal for every man who comes in here, to use you, to piss all over you, to fill you with their hot, steaming loads.”
The tiger’s growl was affirmative. Bucky rose to his feet, his paw wrapping around his own cock, stroking it slowly as he looked down at the bound, plugged tiger.
“You got that fucking right,” Bucky said, his voice laced with cruel amusement. He could see the blush spreading across the tiger’s humiliated cheeks, wrestling with arousal from the thought of a rabbit twink, traditionally prey, toying with him while he was forcibly restrained.
He stroked his cock faster, his eyes locked onto the tiger’s face, drinking in the sight of the beast’s debasement. “You dirty cop,” he murmured, his breath hitching as pleasure coursed through his body. “You and your dirty diaper. You’re just a filthy piss slut, aren’t you, officer? A fucking urinal for anyone to use.”
The tiger’s growls filled the air, a symphony of need and desperation that sent Bucky spiraling closer to the edge. His hand moved faster, his body tensing, his nostrils filled with hot air. The sight of the diapered tiger, bound and plugged, his muscular body sprawled on the filthy tiles, was too much, too filthy, too fucking hot. With a final stroke, Bucky came undone, his cock pulsing, his cum shooting out to paint the tiger’s chest, mingling with the piss that already soaked his fur. He continued to tug on his cock even after the last drop was out.
“Fuck your authority,” Bucky snarled.
Bucky stood panting, his body basking in the warm, exhilarating afterglow of his explosive orgasm. He had never experienced anything like this before. His cock, now spent and slick with his own cum, hung heavy and satisfied against his plump balls. He marveled at the scene before him with calm delight.
The tiger let out a tormented sigh. Bucky watched, mesmerized, as a dark stain began to spread across the front of the tiger’s diaper. The sound of rushing liquid filled the air, and the tiger groaned, his body tensing as the piss flowed freely, soaking the diaper and escaping from the leg gathers to form a puddle on the filthy tiles.
Bucky’s breath hitched, his eyes locked onto the growing wet spot, the primal scent of piss filling his nostrils. A part of him yearned to drop to his knees, to lap up the warm, acrid liquid, to taste the tiger’s submission. But he held back, afraid that such an act would shatter the dominant momentum he had built, the power dynamic he had so carefully cultivated.
Instead, in a final act of depraved dominance, Bucky turned his gaze to the tiger’s discarded uniform. A wicked smirk played on his lips as he reached down, gathering the navy blue fabric in his hands. He sopped up the puddle, the cloth darkening as it absorbed the tiger’s piss. The tiger growled, his body trembling with anger and arousal as he watched Bucky defile his uniform, his symbol of authority and power.
Bucky took his time, meticulously cleaning the floor with the tiger’s clothes, his eyes locked onto the beast’s face, drinking in the sight of his humiliation. He could see the obscene bulge of the tiger’s cock, straining against the confines of the soaked diaper.
As he finished his task, Bucky considered the tiger’s large police boots, a devilish thought crossing his mind. He imagined slipping his foot into one of those heavy boots, feeling the weight of it, the power it represented. He pictured himself kicking the tiger roughly in the diapered crotch, a final, brutal assertion of his dominance. But the boots were too large, and the moment too perfect to disrupt with further violence.
Without a word, Bucky dropped the soiled uniform, the sodden fabric landing with a wet slap on the tiger’s chest. He turned away, his heart pounding with the thrill of his conquest, the taste of power still sweet on his tongue. He gathered his clothes, slowly pulling them on, his eyes never leaving the tiger’s bound and helpless form.
As he walked away, leaving the tiger to his fate, Bucky knew that this night would forever be etched in his memory. He stepped out of the restroom, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heated, piss-soaked scene he left behind.
He made his way back to his car, the gravel crunching under his feet, the sounds of the night echoing around him. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he took one last look at the abandoned rest area, the shadows hiding the bound and plugged tiger, a beast reduced to a mere urinal, a plaything for any who might stumble upon him.
Bucky started the engine, the car rumbling to life, and pulled away, leaving the tiger to his debasement. As he drove, the miles stretching out before him, he knew that the tiger’s night was just beginning, that his job as a urinal was far from over. And as the lights of the rest area faded in the rearview mirror, Bucky smiled.
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