Taming the Tigers

By SiliconDog

When you're a sports photographer, and gay, you have to get used to a few things. Even in the middle of a locker room filled with hot sweaty muscle, you have to learn to keep your mind on your business or you'll be out of it soon. So it was the biggest surprise of my life that a new love would enter my life through my work, and covering the circus, at that!

Last winter, when the circus came to town, the posters went up promoting the feature attraction: an act by the world's biggest tigers, with their trainer, Kamal. The poster even made some magazines: Kamal posing with only blue tights, granite pecs and abs shining, with a tiger draped over his shoulders. A second tiger lay between Kamal's legs, snarling for the camera. I saw the poster go up even in my gym; a half-naked giant like Kamal is good advertising for just about anything, especially in January.

The day we met I had been running late and got to the coliseum after dark. When I found the tiger cage in the deserted stadium, I could see only Kamal and the two tigers. I thought I hadn't made a sound, but Kamal turned towards me and waved. "Come on down to the gate, and I'll let you in!"

"In?" I thought. But as I crossed towards the cage, I saw that the two tigers were well behaved, standing at ease near a pedestal.

"It's all right, they know how to behave with strangers" he called, unlocking the gate. I crossed into the cage, watching the two tigers who in turn watched me. Kamal turned and locked the cage shut behind me. "I'm sorry you were late, we just finished practicing for the opening Sunday."

Up close and personal, Kamal was far more impressive than the posters. After years of shooting sports events of any kind, my first impression is usually that the more muscular the man is in a photo, the shorter he is in real life. But Kamal was in the range of tall basketball players. Pushing seven feet, I guessed that he could weigh at least 350, and a fleeting glance at where his blue leotards hugged his waist told me that however much he weighed, none of it was fat. They clung like a sausage skin across a bubble butt that was probably harder than oak and low around his waist under a six pack you could count even when he relaxed.

Another surprise was how friendly he was. After years of spiking into their bodies drugs you can't legally use on a horse, many bodybuilders in the flesh have fairly screwed up skin (no matter how much suntan lotion they paint on) and helter-skelter eyes. Kamal's face was the opposite; short yet thick wavy hair and high cheekbones with brown eyes and a mouth that framed a bright smile. And the light brown skin that flowed over the immense muscles of his torso was flawless and even had a light shine in the stadium lights. His chest was immense, two hairless shields, under traps and a thick brown neck. Finger-sized cordons tied the plates of his chest to his flaring lats. He had the proportions of a shorter bodybuilder, but I could already tell he could move his weight as smoothly and swiftly as his tigers. His voice had the echo of the density and strength of his chest and an authority that Marine Corps drillmasters would envy.

The last thing was his basket. In the posters, he had the goods. But whoever designed the poster had done some editing, since standing in front of me, he had the greats.

He introduced me to the two tigers, the biggest in the world. "Ali" and "Wang" had been captured in Indonesia as cubs after they had been injured and their mother killed by poachers. Raised in a zoo, they had reached young maturity growing very fast, and with a high intelligence as well. Kamal was clearly proud of them, as a teacher would be of his most prized pupils. Brothers, Ali and Wang were similar in coloring, brown, red and white stripes over a heavy pelt and thick white whiskers. Wang had been named after the Chinese character its stripes painted on his forehead.

"We are practicing early, you see, so Ali and Wang can get used to the stadium, and new sleeping quarters." He shrugged. "They both like an audience, especially Ali. He is a bit of a showboat!" Ali pricked up his ears.

"The circus poster with them is very popular" I said, unconsciously making my speech a little more formal, the way you do to cover your own embarrassment when meeting a foreigner who speaks English better than you do. "Where they make it look as if you are carrying one of them."

Kamal turned. "Oh no" he smiled. "We did that for real, didn't we?" He barked something in a different language (Arabic?) and Ali sprung to attention. His paws were the size of large pizzas. Ali padded over to Kamal, who in one swift scoop crouched down and in a fireman-style carry swooped under Ali and swinging his shoulders under the tiger's torso and holding his paws around his arms, he stood with the tiger draped over his immense shoulders.

Now that impressed me. In weightlifting tournaments, when a weightlifter tries that with far less weight than Ali, you hear enough screaming and yelling to make you think the guy's trying to give birth. But carrying a half a ton of fur and muscle on his shoulders, quads pumped under the blue tights, Kamal fixed me with his brown eyes and I knew that Ali wasn't the only one here who knew how to put on a show. Ali was stretched across his master's pumped oaken shoulders, a four foot tail flipping cheerfully back and forth, preening for the camera.

Take their picture, you asshole! That's your job! I cursed myself silently as I snapped off several shots, Kamal grinning broadly as he held Ali's immense bulk effortlessly atop his immense torso. Remembering that in the posters, the second tiger had posed crouched between Kamal's legs snarling at the camera, I looked for Wang. Wang had decided to pad across towards us and lay down, by accident I thought, between me and the gate. It's hard to gauge those big brown and yellow eyes, but if I sensed that Ali was a showboat, then Wang had a serious case of jealousy. Both tigers were emotionally in tune with Kamal, but the way Wang looked at me, I felt like a shoplifter. An edible one.

"Down you go." With that Kamal crouched and Ali undraped himself from his master and padded back past Wang.

"Isn't it the wrong time of year to wear that little?" Maybe a dumb question, but if I could get us talking on one side of the steel bars and the tigers on the other side, what the hell.

"Oh no" he said. "They have to see why the master is the master, you know? Especially" he turned to show me the trapeze over the arena, "when I train them to perform up there!" He casually put his catcher-mitt sized hand on my shoulder to guide me across to the trapeze, and that's when I started to hear the low growling from Wang. Kamal snapped something fast in his language, and like a whip it silenced Wang. He shook his head at me. "Jealous, eh?" He shrugged. "What can you do?"

I thought, man, I could do plenty, if we were on the other side of the bars from them. His hand still on my shoulder, he explained how his tigers would perform when the circus opened while Wang, though quiet, was thumping his tail on the floor every once in a while to remind us both that he was still there and still very pissed off.

"Now, then, when Ali begins to --" as he said that, I could feel his hand gently begin to go down from my shoulder on my arm -- and that's when Wang struck. I had time to hear one growl before Kamal was suddenly there besides us roaring in my face. It felt like a furry subway train car passing within inches of my nose, when Kamal turned and in a flash, grabbed Wang as if in an Aikido move and both fell to the ground, Kamal on Wang's back, his legs wrapped around Wang's hind legs, arms holding the tiger in a full nelson, and hands clamped around the huge tiger's neck. Bellowing a command that made me step back too, he rolled Wang over, the tiger clamped under the immense muscles of Kamal's back and legs.

The pencil-sized veins in his forearms almost popped through his skin as he squeezed again against Wang and the great bellowing of the tiger died for lack of breath. The four great legs lost their power the head lolled, the breath crushed from its throat under Kamal's iron fingers. In one move, Kamal snapped his arms and legs out from under the tiger and stood over the beaten animal, alive but defeated. I was stunned to watch such power, but not so stunned I forgot to hit the shutter of my camera for one picture -- as he got up after wrestling the tiger, Kamal had a huge basket which was trying to decide to go right, left or straight up.


Later in his dressing room, Kamal was still apologizing for Wang's "manners."

"He must have sensed how you were feeling" he said.

"Feeling?" Jeezus, I had been psyched out by a jungle animal. But Kamal only grinned again, and tenderly took my hands in his great paws and guided them down to his belly, hooking my fingers under his tights. I pulled again, then harder to stretch them over his still-pumped quads to reveal a bikini that was tented over a massive boner. No more than a quarter of an inch wide over his hips, they were in essence posing trunks that would have scooped down to just over his pubic hair, except that his cock was swelling so high that the fabric floated inches over lemon-sized balls.

His great hands clamped on each side of my head, my own hands dove under his bikini and pulled down his foreskin over the great head. Clamped (just barely!) around the pole, my mouth dove at the tip of the bikini, soaking through with his precum. Not until my jaw hurt could I get the full head into my mouth; then Kamal gently pulled me away and stood me up as easy as I would hold a kitten. He then undressed me, never touching my skin with his fingers, and only until I stood before him wearing only my jockey shorts did he finally hook his fingers into his own bikini and stepped out, his own cock stiffening at me.

He pulled my jockey shorts down to my knees - but no further. Reaching between my legs with one great brown hand, he spread his fingers over my butt, two fingers on my right cheek, two on my left, as if I was sitting on a bicycle seat. His middle finger itched my asshole and in a second, I felt him lift me up with one hand, my 200-pound body dangling in the air, and with his other hand dropped my jockey shorts and tossed them onto the bed. I could only squirm as, balanced on his hand, his middle finger pushed in and started to massage my asshole and he brushed his teeth over my nipples.

My own hands roamed over the separate heads of his shoulders and biceps. Under the skin, his body was as hard as an inflated truck tire. I couldn't even dent the veins, much less the muscle. He pulled me to his torso and I felt a second and then a third finger spread me open, as he began to rock his fingers back and forth, massaging me even further open. He fell back towards the bed of his dressing room, me falling in front of him.

With one hand, he held me as a kitten while he reached towards the counter for the condoms. We then lay, his chest against my back, his arm scooping my leg up until he had wrapped me in his arms, the head of his cock taking the place of his fingers.

I felt his tongue and hot steady breath in my ear as I was split deeper and deeper, until those great hot furry balls which had been bouncing against my asscheeks were firmly wedged against those great thighs and my butt. My arms helpless in his grip and my legs sandwiched between those thighs, I was helpless; I couldn't move. I could only control my voice, keeping the moans and shouts between clenched teeth. He had stopped moving all together, completely embedded in my ass, only moving his tongue slowly around my ear. Under attack, it felt almost as sensitive as my butt under his thick tongue and teeth. My own breath was fast and faster, and he relented as his fingers started to massage my nipple, first the left, then the right. A hissing moan boiled out between my teeth and he rewarded me by tenderly clamping his other great hand around my balls, heavy calluses of his palms rubbing against my nuts.

Every muscle in my body, my legs and arms spasmed -- and he held me tight as easily as a kitten. He rolled onto his back and I shot straight up, again and again, his heavy throbbing cock milking my balls into the air. I had gone limp as my mind blew up in white fire, and he rolled completely off of me.

With his body showing as much purpose as he had when he was dealing with the tigers, he rolled me onto my back and then rolled on top of me on his knees, rolling the condom off of his red, angry boner. His eyes commanded me to grab his still-full balls - and the instant I grabbed those hairy nuts he began to shoot, again and again, thick white strips dropping into my six-pack, over my limp cock, and then across my pecs and shoulders. Pulse after pulse, until he started to slow; he pulled my head up and shot the last few strips on my head.

With a deep, purring sigh, he did one half of a push up down onto me, one arm wrapped around my sweaty dripping body with the other gently massaging my hair, rubbing the last of his load into my scalp as if it was a shampoo.

Kamal had marked his territory.


When I awoke much later, his legs were still wrapped around my torso, two beer keg-sized thighs clamped around me. Dozing lightly, Kamal purred in the dim street light from the corner. I wondered why I had awoke, then I felt it again; my foot was brushing against a wet towel. When I moved it slightly to avoid waking Kamal, it only happened again, a rough wetness against my toes. I arched my torso to see, and then I saw Wang at the foot of the bed. His thick white whiskers and muzzle still stained with a small red of blood, his tongue shyly flicked out to again touch my toes. From my angle, he looked as big as a Volkswagen.

Feeling the sudden tension, Kamal awoke before I could say a word and shook his head.

"Oh, Wang" he said like a father towards a mischievous son, "you got out again!" Casually, he reached towards his tights. "Back you go!" He turned to me. "They always can get out, you know." He tousled the top of Wang's great furry head. "He knows he was bad, and wanted to apologize."

"Apologize?" I was calmer now; Wang was still nuzzling my toes. He isn't going to try to eat me after all; we're going to be friends.

"There's nothing to fear," he smiled at me, two broad rows of teeth in the dark.

"You're part of the family now!" •

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