A Gay Bestiary
© 2008 by Anel Viz. All rights reserved.

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

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Raptor  (Aquila chrysaetos)

       Out of lust, the god took the form of an eagle.

       The youth was in every way perfect.  Following the course of the Scamander toward the distant sea, he walked over the plains of Phrygia, rejoicing in his virility.  The sun rose above the peak of Mont Ida and warmed the breeze that wrapped itself lovingly around his nudity.  Ideally proportioned, supple of limb, graceful in motion, toned, unblemished, he let his intelligent gaze scan the horizon, taking in the early morning emptiness.

       Swooping down, the eagle carefully folded his taloned feet around the youth so as not to scratch him, and flew off, bearing him toward Mount Olympus.  His quarry put up no struggle, but gazed at the bird in adoration, as if he recognized the god.

 

 

Moths  (Order: Lepidoptera)

       It was close to midnight.  The slender young hustler stood leaning against the street lamp.  He wore a leather jacket and tight jeans.  The light reflected in his pale face flickered like a flame that drew the gaze of other men, drab and plump as night moths, but hesitant to step beyond the shadows and be burned.

       Far above his head, less cautious insects flew dizzy circles round the glow and sometimes dared to bump against the glass.

 

 

Goldfish  (Carassius auratus)

       He swims in lazy circles, round and round the little castle in the center of his bowl.  Its curved walls magnify the landscape of the alien world outside.  Tiny snails cling to them, or move imperceptibly across the pebbles below in quest of the dark threads that float slowly down from him.  He has no other companions except the bright orange shape that mirrors his motions above the  glinting surface.  It has no substance, for the fingers that scatter crumbs for him pass right through it, and he doesn’t feel its lips when they meet his to close around the crumbs.

 

 

Koala Bear  (Phascolarctos cinereus)

       Not the hairy, butch, beer-guzzling, often overweight guy familiarly known as a bear, but more like a soft, plush teddy bear, the koala is, in fact, not a bear at all, but a marsupial and, unlike butch beer-guzzlers, a protected species.

       Despite their large heads, koalas do rank high on the intelligence scale.  Their brain – one hesitates to use the plural for anything so dimwitted – has shriveled to size of a walnut since they first evolved, and if it weren’t floating in a lake of spinal fluid would rattle in their skull like castanets.  Scientists blame the shrinkage on fifty millennia of a low-energy, low-protein diet, made up exclusively of eucalyptus.  They have probably become addicted to the stuff, and began eating it in an attempt to control their cough-like bark.

       Male koalas have a double or bifurcated penis (if you like that sort of thing), which they have unwittingly used to spread the chlamydia epidemic that has decimated its numbers.  If cute and cuddly attracts you, please inquire about his genital health before you get too intimate.  You’re safer with the other kind of bear.

 

 

The Flying Fox  (Pteropus vampyrus)

       Another misleading name – this animal does fly, but it is no fox; it is a bat, the biggest bat in the world, with a six-foot wingspan.  It has other names as well, such as the fruit bat, because of its diet and sexual orientation.  A number of same-sex pairs have been observed hanging very close together and looking very foxy.

       Other animals are also called flying foxes.  One is an aquarium fish, of all things.  Unlike its namesake, it does not fly; in fact, it usually keeps close to the bottom of the tank.  At least no one calls it a fruit bat.

 

 

The Frog  (Pelophylax kl. esculentus)

       Girls were squeamish.  No princess would touch him, much less place him in her cupped palm and kiss his cold and clammy skin, rank with the water of the marsh.  If he regained his human form, it would be to bed with a boy.

 

 

Ass  (Equus asinus)

       I have written volumes about my boyfriend’s ass without exhausting the topic (or at least my interest in it).  I worship its firm, delicately-haired twin globes, the gentle curve back from his narrow waist, the this crescent lines where his buttocks meet his thighs.  I cannot keep my eyes, hands, mouth – or myself, for that matter – off it.  When we kiss, my hands will travel down his back for a friendly squeeze and stay there.  Before long they will slip into his trousers.

       I want to go for a ride.  The domesticated ass is, after all, a beast of burden.  It will be a bumpy ride, but I mount bareback.  This ass comes ready saddled with cushions that mold to the forking of my legs and a dip between them to rest my horn in.

       At first we amble slowly with a rocking motion.  Then, picking up speed, I bounce, and he begins to bray.  Soon I am braying too, and, like a worshipper, I spill my sweet libation.

 

 

Aye-aye  (Daubentonia madagascariensis)

       His ungodly shrieks pierce the night.  Why would such a secretive and solitary creature call so loudly?  To seek a mate?  To warn of danger or frighten it away?  His saucer-like eyes must see everything.  Slowly, stealthily, he crawls along the branches, probing for insects deep into the wood with a middle finger as long as his forearms.

       Behind the mosquito netting, other long fingers – his – pass stealthily over my body, tickling me in places only he may touch.  His middle finger probes, slowly, carefully, to draw from my throat a softer, more peaceful “Aye!  Aye!”

 

 

Sperm Whale  (Physter catodon)

       The name derives not from “sperm” (after all, virtually any animal that reproduces sexually produces sperm), but from “spermaceti”, which sounds like a kind of pasta, but is actually Late Latin for “whale’s sperm”.  This would not distinguish this species from other whales were it not for the fact that the sperm whale stores vast quantities of the stuff in his head – and in her head too!  Males and females alike swim around with a headful of spermaceti.

       Most naturalists theorize that they use their sperm-packed heads for defense rather than reproduction.  Males in particular are known to ram what they perceive as an enemy, and have even sunk a few ships that way.  Those on board naturally interpret it as aggression, but it is not impossible that our leviathan mistook the ship for another whale and was making sexual advances.  Remember his large brain encased in a sea of sperm.

       The male sperm whale is a solitary creature; females and calves are social animals and live together in large pods.  About the time they reach sexual maturity, the young bulls enter a phase of male bonding and leave the group to form their own bachelor pods.  (Reminds you somewhat of our bachelor pads, doesn’t it?)  There the adolescent whales dream of future conquests, boast about fictitious sexual experiences, and compare the size of their penises, which they measure in feet, not inches – six, seven and a half, eight, etc. – for, like us stubborn Americans, they have yet to go metric.

       Eventually they drift apart, but some, presumably the gay ones, remain in pairs and care for each other.  It is not unusual to find two beached whales together, both of them male.

 

 

Otters at Play  (Lontra candensis)

       How unfair to call otters the clowns of the animal kingdom!  Clowns, though agile, feign clumsiness to choreograph a self-mocking performance.  Otters frolic to amuse themselves, not us.  Their sport most resembles a cross between water ballet and collegiate wrestling.  They dart, they spin, they slide; they bump into, brush against, chase each other, like my lover and I in the waves at the nude beach.

 

 

Red-Eared Turtle  (Trachemys scripta elegans)

       Sunning himself on a rock that jutted above the surface of the river, waiting for an insect to alight nearby so he could snap it up, he spotted another of his kind lazing on a rock some twenty or thirty yards away.  Yet maybe not exactly his kind.  Could be a female.  So hard to tell when they’re encased in a shell!

       He amused himself with lascivious thoughts, picturing the tempting morsel that shell might hide, soft and waggly like the little tail behind, or longer, stiffer, like the neck and head reaching proudly toward the sun.

 

 

Nesting Gulls  (Larus angentatus)

       He guarded his little pile of sand and stones fiercely amid the clamor of the rookery, pecking savagely at any bird that dared approach.  Except him.  For him he opened his beak to receive the fish and sweet prawns regurgitated from his craw.

       He’d struggled at first, indignant that another male should have pounced on him, his beak clutching his neck, his talons in his flesh, his wings beating against his sides.  Then the thrill of union spread through him, and he submitted.  Did seagulls mate for life?  He hoped so!

       Only one thought troubled him.  How would he react when he discovered he hid no eggs incubating beneath the warmth of his belly?

 

 

Praying Mantis  (Mantis religiosa)

       Females terrified him; he kept his distance.  A single one, pale green and motionless on her twig, multiplied in the thousand lenses of his eyes to become an army massed on the horizon, forelegs raised in menacing supplication, voracious to mate, voracious to feed.  A brief moment of futile pleasure, then she’d bite off your head before leisurely devouring the rest of your body and its thrashing limbs.

What was it in her fetid scent that so fascinated others of his sex?

 

 

The Shrew  (Crocidura leucodon)

       I recognized her shrewishness before I married her.  Shrews can be tamed; I have a bit of a temper myself.  And who could resist that twitching little nose?  Fool that I am, I thought the many things we have in common would compensate for her myriad shortcomings.

       We’re both tiny, despite our insatiable appetites; the calories just burn away.  And we have the same tastes – insects, seeds, nuts, worms – and are smart as whips.  Why, our brains are close to one-tenth our body mass!  But we’ve never had an intelligent conversation.  The bitch won’t let me near her except to have sex.  I can’t really complain about that.  She drops another litter almost every month.

 

 

Hyenas  (Crocuta crocuta)

       We gay spotted hyenas can stay happily closeted and openly satisfy our lust.  What you humans call effeminacy passes for masculine behavior in our packs, where females are dominant.  That allows us to give our submissive side free reign.  What’s more, our bitches are built much like males, and have a clitoris that may extend as far as seven inches beyond their vulva.  Seven inches, think of it!  Wouldn’t you consider that a respectable endowment?  It’s easy to imagine you’re sucking cock when you lick her nether parts.

       There is, of course, the odor of her estrogen, and hyenas have a highly developed sense of smell, but our alpha bitches secrete a fair amount of androgen as well, which makes their cubs more aggressive than the offspring of our lower echelons.  I’ve been fooled more than once, thinking I was coming on to another male and pretending to take him for a female.  When it turned out he was a she, I’d mate with her anyway while continuing to fantasize.

 

 

Leopard Etiquette  (Panthera pardus)

       He sniffed longingly at the tree trunks where other males had rubbed their hindquarters to mark their territory, warning their fellow leopards away.

       If he ventured further, not as a hunter, but as a mate; if he showed submission, reaching his paws forward till his jowls touched the ground, his tail raised in invitation; if he nuzzled their forelegs and purred, would they understand?

       Understand him or not, they would attack, nor show him mercy till he fled, his tail between his legs, or gasped his last breath, his mangled throat torn open.

 

 

Trolls and Fairies  (Homo inversus)

       The troll, although generally labeled a creature of folklore, sometimes surfaces in gay bathhouses, where he is easily identified by the unwelcome advances he makes to the other fairies.

 

 

Hammerhead  (Sphyma mokkaran)

       A man-eater.  With a name like that the hammerhead is clearly a top in his superorder, the Selachimorphs.  His appetite is voracious; his attack, ruthless.  Behind his monstrously flared head, the powerful muscles of his long, tubular body propel him forward at amazing speed.  His frenzies are truly awesome.  He sinks deep into the soft flesh of his prey and, once attached, does not let go.  He thrashes relentlessly, jerking his helpless, shrieking victim this way and that.

 

 

Kudus  (Tragelaphus imberbis)

       The two hunters put aside their rifles and spread a blanket on the short grass of the savanna.  When they lay down and showed more interest in each other than in predation, the small herd of kudu, usually so skittish, ventured forth from shelter of the acacias and warily approached to see what they were up to.

       They had never seen humans couple before.  (I might add that, despite its omnipresence on the Internet and in video rental stores, neither have many humans.)  They observed that it didn’t involve mounting from behind, hooves flailing in the air; instead it reminded them of a mother nuzzling her calf.  First the men slowly peeled away each other’s layers of clothing.  The puzzled kudus noted that both animals were male, made a mental note of the fact for possible future use, and cautiously moved in for a closer look.

       The men lay head to groin as if getting to know each other, sniffing, licking.  Then, instead of getting down to the business of procreations, each inserted his genitals into the other’s mouth.  They moaned their pleasure instead of trumpeting it.

       The noise of a twin-engine plane on the horizon scattered the herd.  The aircraft followed the fleeing animals, passing directly over the lovers.

       Seated next to the pilot and watching the kudu through binoculars, a man caught sight of the pair and trained his binoculars on them, turning his head to do so.

       “Those poofters Terry and Mitch are at it again,” he said dryly.

       “What of it?” the pilot replied.  “They don’t exactly flaunt what they do; you couldn’t ask for two more discreet blokes.  Kudos to them, say I.”

 

 

White Rhino  (Ceratotherium sinum)

       An endangered species, lumbering and short-sighted, at risk from the very defense with which Nature endowed me, hard, curved and pointed like an erect penis.  In the heart of the reserve, poachers hunt me down under the noses of the wardens, shoot me, cut off my horn, and leave my eunuch’s body for the vultures.

       They send their prize to distant China, where apothecaries grind it to a powder to be sold in market, costly as saffron, and stirred into hot tea as a potion to incite lust in aging, feeble men.

       Now only Viagra can save me.

 

 

The Oyster  (Crassostrea gigas)

       Tip the shell and suck in the tender flesh.  It slides silken-creamy over your tongue.  Press upwards and its plump firmness fills the roof of your mouth.  Breathe deeply through your nose to savor its briny tang before you swallow.

 

 

Blowfish  (Takifugu vermicularis)

       His gonads are deadly poison, his delicate white flesh succulent.  Blowfish sushi, or fugu, has become something of a macho ritual in Japan, so dangerous that a chef must specialize in its preparation.  Still, casualties occur every year, for to increase the risk – and how can there be heroics without risk? – the chef will touch his brush to the lethal parts and pass an imperceptible trace over the fillet, a whiff of milt the stout of heart ingest to prove their masculinity.

 

 

Cockatrice  (unclassified)

       Some claim that all cockatrices are female.  The very name of the beast would contradict that.  Nor can we accept the fact that it mates with the unquestionably male basilisk as proof of its gender.  One is said the come from the egg of a viper hatched by a hen, the other from a hen’s egg incubated in a serpent’s lair.  If so, their mating is obviously sterile, and both cockatrice and basilisk could well be males.

       The basilisk is more snakelike, the cockatrice toadlike, and the glance and breath of both equally deadly, destroying all animal life and vegetation that come in contact with them.  Any place they inhabit becomes a wasteland.  No less lethal when they’ve been killed, their bodies must be burnt and reduced to ash, which, rubbed on silver jewelry, gives it the sheen of gold.

 

 

Cheetah  (Acinonyx jubatus)

       He sometimes tried to picture the life his remote ancestors must have led, those that hunted for the Pharaohs, alone among the great cats ever to be domesticated by man.  Their hunt could not have differed much from the hunt he knew: the silent stalking, a sudden dash, fast and short-lived as a lightning bolt, leaping for the throat and sinking in his fangs, the heady taste of warm blood.

       But afterwards, instead of panting in the shade of some scrawny tree, if you were lucky enough to find one, to return to the royal palace where river breezes wafted through tall painted pillars, and stretch out on the cool stone floor while a man in a white loincloth, his skin smooth and burnished, waved a languid palm frond above your thick fur.

 

 

Stallion  (Equus caballus)

       The naked savage mounted him with a mighty leap, straddled his back, and pressed his knees into his flanks to keep his seat as they galloped across the prairie.  The man raised his arms in the wind and yelled his exhilaration.

       The stallion felt the puny sex squashed against his back and whinnied at the thought of the enormous cock he had, which, when aroused, dangled nearly to the ground from the height of a man’s chest.

 

 

Woodpeckers  (Dryocopus pileatus)

       Wood... Pecker...  How well the two words fit together!  When they go to it, these little red-headed, hairy-feathered birds don’t slide slowly into a convenient ready-made hole; they open a new one and quickly bore in, banging noisily away like a jackhammer.  Their rapid tap-tap-tap sounds like the staccato fire of a machine gun, only not as loud.

 

 

Two Serpents  (Boa constrictor & Naja pallida)

       Eight feet or more of slithering, rippling muscle, they move, swift and silent, one hidden in the dense growth of the jungle floor, the other through the tall grass.  One wraps himself in coils around his victim and squeezes the breath from its body.  The other raises up, flares his head, and spits.

 

 

Coral Polyps  (Class: Anthozoa)

       Part of the living reef, the colony sways together in the current as one individual, a long, pink cylinder that swells and contracts.  They squirt their seed into the surrounding brine, where    it hangs, fluid and milky white, till it dissolves, and the microscopic spores float free, disperse, and grow into larvae that anchor themselves to another part of the reef, piling new life on top of dead generations, now hard and brittle, that resemble the massed polyps that produced them.

 

 

Horny Old Goat  (Capra aegagrus hircus)

       That’s what he calls me – a horny old goat.  He says it when we exchange a furtive kiss, and he reaches down and feels my arousal.  He says it when, lying in bed together, my lips reach for his neck and, my leg across his thigh, the rigid length of my shaft rubs against him.  I rotate my hips suggestively.  “Horny old goat!”

       He says it more in resignation than it protest, and readily rolls onto his side, facing away from me, available, acquiescent.  He wriggles closer.  He gasps when I slide into him, and his member hardens in my hand.

       He melts under my rutting; our excitement grows; I erupt inside him.

       Thus joined we lie, still, panting, spent, until I soften and slip out of him, and again he whispers, “Horny old goat!” 

 

 

One-Humped Camel  (Camelus Dromedarius)

       The large hump on a dromedary’s back is composed of fatty tissue in which he stores water.  When he’s drunk his fill, it firms up and stands tall, much like our penises when engorged with blood.  As his body uses up the water, it becomes soft and flabby, and if he goes too long without drinking will hang limp, like our penises after coitus or some other form of release.  But a camel with a drooping hump is thirsty, not satiated.

       The water held in his single hump allows him to cross the desert, but on such a long journey just one hump would not satisfy me.

 

 

Tasmanian Devils  (Sarcophilus harrisii)

       Taking advantage of their status as a protected species, they booked passage on the ferry from Devonport at a reduced rate to ogle the Aussie surfer boys in and (if possible) out of their speedos.  Without taking time to wash, they headed west and followed the Great Ocean Road and the Princess Highway to Point Impossible Beach, the clothing-optional section of Bells Beach, one of the world’s top surfing spots.  They flung their packs on the sand, rolled out sleeping bags, stripped down to their black furry bodies, and built their campfire.

       Although messy eaters, they didn’t leave much trash behind, for they consumed every scrap of food, edible and apparently inedible, squabbling, even fighting among themselves over the choicest morsels.  They were a rowdy batch, and the other beach-goers kept well away from their noise and stench.  When the current carried some unlucky surfer shoreward close to where they were partying, they’d run to the water’s edge to greet him, screaming like banshees and wagging their plump tails.

       Some people complained strenuously, but when the blokes patrolling the beach ordered them to clean up their act or move on, they snarled and snapped at them, forcing them to beat a hasty retreat.

 

 

Bonobos  (Pan paniscus)

       Our closest primate cousins are a highly sexed, promiscuous species, some might say oversexed (as if such a thing were possible!).  Easily scandalized naturalists do not choose to study bonobos.  They have sex whenever, their mating season lasting relatively short periods of time within a year-round fucking season, and they spend as much time at it as they do eating, sleeping and at non-sexual play.  Almost any stimulus imaginable arouses them.  They are the only species besides humans to have mastered the missionary position, but are not so benighted as to consider it superior to or more decorous than other methods.  Decorum does not concern them.  They frequently masturbate themselves and other bonobos, both in male-female pairs and as same sex couples.  They hug and kiss.  They enjoy oral sex and genital-to-genital contact in all forms and combinations, and do so openly.  Three-ways and larger groups having sex together have not been observed in the wild or in captivity, nor has anal sex, but if some curious primate psychologist undertook to teach it to them, they would no doubt take to both with unbridled enthusiasm.  I would be very happy to be a bonobo.

       Sex is the cement that holds their society together, into which they channel the stresses of daily life, their aggressions, fears and frustrations.  They do not use it to establish dominance, but to calm and reassure.  They are egalitarians, who believe in “share and share alike” and “make love, not war”.  It would be a better world if we were all bonobos.

© 2008 by Anel Viz. All rights reserved.

 

Posted: 06/06/07