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Everyone was looking at him. Which wasn't unusual. Most people couldn't resist staring at the massive zebra whenever he entered a room. Collins was taller than almost anyone, and he had the bulk to back up his towering height. Muscle and weight, all making for heavy falls of his boots as he made his way inside the grimy bar. But in this particular case, it wasn't his size that was drawing all those eyes in his direction. Everyone wanted to know what a prey species was doing wandering into a place where he wasn't exactly welcome.

He had to have known. While it wasn't like there were any signs outside advertising the establishment's exclusive nature, it was far from subtle with a name like The Predator's Den. There was no missing that glowing neon sign. Yet there he was, a zebra, sitting right there at the bar like nothing was wrong. Ignoring every single stare he was getting and just settling his hefty self down on a stool as best he could fit and balance. That left him hunched over the bar, still taller than the standing bartender.

"Whisky," Collins said simply.

The well-dressed coyote looked at him with suspicion, but he didn't get paid enough to care about warning the zebra he might be in danger. He'd find out soon enough. So he just poured the drink and slid it over, moving on to other customers. Collins sipped casually, looking ahead, seeming to take no notice of the group that had already risen from their seats to introduce themselves.

Though the group that approached came from all manner of different species, they dressed in similar outfits and leather and denim, and moved like a coordinated pack. So it was fitting that they were led by a particularly large wolf. He was already wearing something of a nasty expression as he walked up behind the zebra, his upper lip curling back in something that was half sneer and half snarl all at once. The rest followed closely behind. A gang of tough-looking carnivores from all corners of the world, they were already baring their various claws and fangs.

If there was any sort of instinctual drive telling Collins that he was being swarmed by various meat-eaters, he didn't show it. The wolf was flanked by a tiger, a crocodile, even a hawk, but he just kept drinking, slowly. Savouring the whisky. Licking over his lips. He didn't even flinch when the leader of the group gave him a warning growl. It took a shove from behind to actually catch his attention. He looked over his shoulder, his expression neutral.

"Don't you know where you are, meat?" the wolf rudely demanded.

Collins just shrugged. "A bar, seems like."

That just had the group closing in on him even more. They were all but huddled against him. Though he was still quite possibly bigger than all of them put together. The wolf went on, his tone low and gruff, growling threateningly.

"Our bar. Only reason for a walking buffet like you to wander in here is to get slaughtered. What are you, a cop or something? You know we've got a deal. Anything that goes on in here is our business. Pred business."

"Oh yeah?" Collins didn't sound very interested. "Well, if you're so worried about your own business, maybe you'll stay out of mine."

The wolf snorted. "Funny. Yeah, steak over here thinks he's clever."

He held out his arms and turned around, gesturing to the rest of the bar to look. Plenty of people were. Some were sinking down in their seats, trying to make themselves scarce as they sensed impending conflict. Others were leaning in with hungry looks on their faces. Bearing their fangs in violent grins, licking their chops, outright drooling here and there. A few more of them rose, starting to approach as well, perhaps wanting a piece of the action that seemed inevitable. Or maybe a piece of the zebra himself.

Collins didn't say anything else, which only seemed to make the wolf more aggressive. He gave a shove to the bulky herbivore, and when that failed to elicit the right kind of reaction he moved around to the zebra's side and swiped the drink right out his hand. The glass crashed down to the bar, spilling the remainder of the golden liquid across it and to the floor. Though the music was still grating and grinding as ever, it was the only sound in that crowded bar. A hush fell over everyone else, muting the numerous growls all around as everyone sucked in a breath of anticipation.

"That was good whisky," Collins said, regarding the mess of broken glass and spilled liquor.

"So let's see you do something about it," the wolf challenged, staying close. Not quite in his face, because he wasn't tall enough, but still hard to ignore.

Collins nodded slowly. "I see, I see. Alright, well. Thought I might get a few drinks in before it came to this, but if you're that eager."

He stood. That left him showing off his actual height once more, his head alarmingly close to the ceiling despite it being a full two stories high. He stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles before looking over the group of four that was crowding him. The tension was thick, with all those predators striking aggressive poses, ready to take down the titan together. Collins didn't seem phased. He took his time, looking like he was getting ready for an exercise routine rather than a fight.

"Who's first?" he casually offered.

The wolf struck before he even finished his sentence. He lunged high, attempting to go straight for the zebra's throat with his fangs bared. The zebra just returned the favour, catching the lupine by the neck in both hands, easily supporting his weight as he hefted him right up into the air. The two locked eyes for a moment before the rest of the gang interrupted their staredown. The tiger made an attempt at clawing at the zebra's thigh, though the hefty equine just shrugged it right off.

He did release his grip on the wolf though, dropping him right on top of the hawk, leaving them both crashing down together in a clumsy heap. A few feathers drifted into the air. He turned to the tiger and simply gave him a mighty kick, thumping him in the chest with one of his boots, knocking the cat right off his own feet. The tiger went sailing and then skidded across the floor, gasping, the wind knocked right out of his lungs. That left just the crocodile left to attack, and he jumped forward with a gnash of his powerful jaws, but he was much too slow.

That mass of bulky, scaly male was plenty strong. Heavy too. But the zebra hefted him up just fine, taking him by the collar and lifting him right off his feet. He didn't hold him for long, didn't bother with a staredown. Instead, just flung him right across the bar, sending the croc crashing into the many accumulated drinks. So much for wasting good whisky. And everything else. At least the croc's scales kept him from being hurt by all the broken glass.

That was when the wolf and hawk managed to get back up. Collins knocked aside a few other aggressors who made other attempts. He hit them hard enough that some of them smashed through tables, or just dented the floor when they crumbled to the floor down. That was all the attention he bothered to give them. His real focus was on that gang of four who had started it all. They seemed to think they ran the place, so he was just going to have to show them how wrong they were.

The wolf was his first target. He reached for the fallen canine before he could properly scramble to his feet from atop the hawk. That snarling wolf wasn't quite so impressive anymore. He was still showing his fangs, but he looked less aggressive and more simply frustrated, maybe confused. Especially when he was so easily picked up by his collar. Collins didn't even need to use more than one hand to support the entirety of the wolf's weight. No matter how big he was.

"What the fuck," came the wolf's growl as he glared at the muscular zebra dragging him into the air like a toy. That was the best he could do to understand how he was getting so easily overpowered by someone he was supposed to easily dominate.

"Something the matter?" Collins didn't act smug. Just matter-of-fact as he dangled that supposedly ferocious predator before him. The hawk was rising, so he stomped a boot down on the bird's chest, keeping him down as well. And the tiger wasn't even getting up, remaining on his hands and knees, gasping.

All he got for a response was a snarl, slightly choked. So he went on. "Guess you're not used to being treated like prey. Being pushed around by people bigger and stronger than you. You've had your way all life long. So now it's time to teach you a lesson. Not that you'll remember it when I'm done."

The wolf just scoffed at such a statement. It was a foolish use of his last moments. Not a moment after that, and Collins was opening up his jaws, and wide. He might not have had the same fangs as a carnivore, but those gaping jaws lined by strong, flat teeth, dripping with saliva were intimidating enough. That was the maw of a predator, species aside. And the wolf was right about to get very intimately acquainted with it.

A slick, slimy embrace slipped over the wolf's muzzle, sealing his lips shut, keeping him from even crying out for help. He made a muffled noise, and kicked all around, swatting his paws against the zebra's chest, but nothing was working. And none of his gang was helping him. Nor were any of the other patrons. They knew how this place worked. Predators were free to bring their prey, or claim them whenever they liked. No one was exempt. Even those who called themselves alpha predators. And if the zebra could do it, then he was more than welcome to try.

The bartender stood cleaning a glass as he watched the wolf being turned from confident pack leader to struggling prey. He wasn't even aggressive, or combative. Simply squirming in what felt distinctly like terror. No surprise there. He'd obviously never been on this side of the dinner table. Collins stood up tall and proud, displaying to the entire bar's remaining patrons just what was happening. He was eating that faux-tough wolf whole, and nobody was going to dare stop him.

Nor were they going to do anything about it when he started making himself a little more comfortable. Feeling those huffs and grunts of fright turning into muffled whimpers inside his bulging, striped throat was making him horny. It felt good to snuff out all that confidence with the power of his dominating gulps. So he went ahead and unzipped with his free hand, letting his firming shaft drop forward and thud against one of his thighs. Not even fully hard and bigger than any of those supposed predators could ever dream of being. Striped like the rest of him, it was one impressive spire, hot and giving off the enticing musk of a powerful male.

The rest of the wolf's gang, or pack, was useless to help him. Even as he started trying to call out to them. He was far too wrapped up in gullet flesh, left writhing and kicking as he got swallowed down along with a tidal wave of zebra saliva. He was going down, barely even having to be pushed inside. The force of Collins's swallows alone was dragging him right up and then sending him back down. He was a big enough meal to make for a notable bulge, but not big enough that the zebra even hesitated to keep eating him. He started stripping his prey down as he ate him too, pulling off that coat and throwing it to the ground. Then he got a fistful of the wolf's shirt beneath, along with plenty of his fur, tearing some of both as he yanked hard. That made for a bare patch on the wolf's back, and left him yelping out inside the zebra's throat.

Collins took the opportunity to look around at the rest of the gang. The hawk was still firmly pinned beneath his boot. The crocodile was down and out, possibly not even conscious after crashing that hard into the bar. The tiger was getting up though, so Collins spared his other hand to grab the cat by the neck, dragging him over and picking him right up as well. The response was a frightened mewl, the tiger just flashing gleaming, fearful eyes as he dangled there, not even struggling. Maybe he'd squirm more once the wolf was fully eaten.

Which wasn't going to be long. Collins let his tongue slather out over the wolf's bare fur. A bit musky, but plenty delicious nonetheless. Especially once the fear sweat started. He could feel all the wolf's muscles starting to tense up, going from just flexed to rigid. Helpless and frightened. Kicking less and more just twitching. He was going down and he was realizing he had no chance of rescue. That he was going to get digested by a zebra. The humiliating legacy was almost as bad as the actual fate.

Once he got to the midpoint of his meal, the zebra just shoved his tongue right down the wolf's pants. He was his prey after all. No reason he couldn't have his way with him. So he slipped and smeared over the canine's sheath, over his balls, taking in the taste of his meal. There was nothing generous about it. It was just showing everyone that the wolf belonged to him, leaving him whimpering as his hips started to vanish past the zebra's smooth teeth. Nibbling on him, even giving a few gnaws, but mostly focused on simply consuming him.

The tiger mewled pathetically as he watched his alpha disappear, shaking his head in horrified disbelief. Of course he didn't say anything. There was nothing that could have changed the zebra's mind. Maybe they all deserved it. They had fully intended to hurt the herbivore. Maybe even take him down and tear him apart, as an example. The tiger knew well just how far the wolf tended to go when he was mad. But he hardly seemed like a leader anymore. Especially when a few muffled attempts at begging for his life echoed up from deep inside the towering equine. Nobody could really tell what he was saying, but there was definitely a few desperate pleas going on.

None of it phased the zebra. He tossed his head, roughly snapping his head back and whipping the wolf's legs all around. One of the canine's boots went flying right off and soared across the bar. The other, Collins simply plucked off and tossed over his shoulder, not caring where it landed. He had a pair of kicking legs framed between his teeth, and he was drooling hard all over them. He made sure to make his slurps extra noisy as he sucked down his meal, finishing him off. The final sound he got out of the wolf was an outright scream. Even for someone being eaten alive, it was pretty pathetic. Like a screech. Who knew wolves could even make that sound?

Collins licked and nibbled at the wolf's exposed toes, then tucked them in with a forceful shove of his tongue. One loud gulp, and he was gone. His fate was sealed, as a zebra's prey. He was left licking his chops, dragging his tongue over every single one of his teeth to catch the lingering bit of flavour there. A bit musky, a bit smoky, but he couldn't complain. Maybe he would have savoured him for a while in other circumstances. But no, down to the stripey gut he went.

Once his prey settled down and stretched out his belly some, rounding it out with that sexy bounce of being well-fed, he lifted his shirt up. That let everyone see that jiggling shape of struggling wolf, kicking and thrashing in terror as digestives attacked him immediately. It was all making the zebra harder. He huffed out through his nostrils and gave his dick a few strokes, though it was hardly necessary. Just the feeling of prey not just squirming, but outright fighting for his life inside of him was enough to get that stripe-clad spire of meaty zebra cock pulsing right up until it was making an indent against that squishy gut of his. That let the wolf feel it throbbing right against him while he struggled against the gurgling fluids.

He was already getting doused in acids. Already getting tingled and eaten away at. He'd been permitted to keep his pants on, but the rest of him was totally exposed. It tickled a little at first. Then it itched. And then it started to burn. A soft, warm heat at first. A mild burn. But it was getting much worse, and quickly. Until the wolf was calling out, shouting, yelling. Then screaming again. Then simply choking in the acidic air, his lungs burning, his eyes watering. And then he just went silent, his squirms slowing. Still very much alive, but all the struggling was only making things worse. So he gave up. Gave in to his impending digestion just in hopes it would be less unpleasant for him if he submitted.

That was the show the rest of his crew was given. Those who were conscious anyway. Every time that wolf had ever intimidated them, ever ordered them around and taken charge, it was all being undone by the powerful compressions working over their former leader, and the messy sounds of a painful digestion. Collins had obviously eaten meat before. He was more experienced with it than any of them, even. He stood there, proudly jerking his cock with one hand until a thick bead of pre had formed at the tip, decorating the broad slit. It was copious enough to fill a shot glass.

Having already softened the wolf down to a partly liquid state, all it really took was another hard flex of his muscles to snuff him right out. A powerful clench that revealed his toned abs atop that squishy bulge, crunching and crushing what was left of him into little more that pulp. Everyone heard it. Especially the tiger still hanging there, submissively, hopelessly in the zebra's grasp. One moment the wolf was still faintly whimpering, and the next he went instantly silent. All that was left to do was digest the ruined meat that remained.

"That was your leader?" Collins calmly asked the tiger. He didn't scoff, didn't especially mock. He just let the observation be what it was. "Well then. Guess you better follow him."

Anyone would have been satisfied there, could have called it a meal and left the bar. But despite already digesting down the majority of a wolf, Collins's gut was still calling for more. He glared at the tiger, looking into those frightened feline eyes. Watching the way that big cat shook in front of him. For a moment Collins considered whether the tiger deserved the same awful fate as the wolf. But then he thought back to those teeth and claws coming at him, the ferocious expression on the cat's face when he still thought he had the advantage. He was only acting like a scared little kitten because the tables had turned.

"You look pretty scared. Almost as if you're trying to make me feel bad. But I know you'd take advantage of any chance I gave you." He snorted hotly in his prey's face. "So I'm not giving you one. Say hi to the doggy for me."

The tiger had mostly just given up until that point. Once he was gazing into the slick, dripping confines of the zebra's maw, staring right down towards his fate, he changed his tune. Maybe it was the scent of digesting wolf on the zebra's breath. He started to kick, started to struggle, except that it wasn't even like a proper fight anymore. It was more like just a straight up panic attack, leaving him uselessly flailing and shuddering in terror as that slobbery embrace neared his muzzle.

"No! No, no!" came his panicked cries, soon muffled as his muzzled dipped into the zebra's glistening jaws.

Collins was wrong about one thing. The tiger didn't even try to make any last-ditch effort. He just seemed to think that if he wiggled enough he might make some sort of progress. The zebra was perhaps mildly impressed that the cat didn't even try to bite or claw. But it didn't change the fact that he was going down. And faster than the wolf did. Once he got his teeth wrapped around the cat's soft fur, he needed more. All the churning going on below was only spurring him to even greater heights of hunger, until he almost felt like he was starving.

It became almost like a blind fury. He simply fed himself, ravenously, gobbling down the feline. It was such a ferocious display that the cat simply seemed to lapse into paralysis, literally scared stiff, rigid all over while the zebra's tongue stuck his shirt to his chest with all that sloppy saliva. He was more than just rubbing his cock by that point, instead outright stroking himself off until his balls were swelling and growing taut to his body. Collins outright thrust into the air, jutting his striped meat right out, dribbling down heavy gobs of pre to rain down on the bird below. All the hawk could do was sputter and turn his head, unable to even get his arms up to defend himself from the musky precipitation. His feathers were matted down, all but ruined, but he was thus far one of the lucky ones.

That tiger might have passed out for a while, because for a good duration of being swallowed whole he was just limply hanging there like some sort of black and orange noodle. Survival instincts weren't getting him anywhere. He didn't have instincts for this kind of thing. Zebras didn't eat tigers. This was unnatural. Wrong. And yet feeling that sheer power, that muscular strength that overtook him with every single compressing gulp, threatening to simply shatter his sternum, ensured that even when he blinked back to consciousness, he was in no better shape. At first he just jerked back sharply, recoiling in horror as he remembered where he was. Then he was mewling, yowling, screaming. All the way down. His voice was even higher than the wolf's.

Of course, it was useless. For one, no one was getting near the zebra to help him. They could see the hunger in his eyes, could see how easily he stuffed an entire predator down his gullet, and so the outline of cat beneath his neck stripes only descended further. And none of his cries even got far anyway. They were effectively muffled in zebra, enveloped and nearly silent. Fit only for stimulating the very same predator who was causing them. And no matter how hard his feet ended up impacting the zebra's burly chest, nothing could even make him flinch. Swallowing the tiger was nearly as easy for him as breathing.

Collins stripped away the tiger's pants once he got to his middle, not bothering to unzip them but merely ripping right through. He hadn't bothered with the cat's shirt and so he needed himself a better taste. Just like he'd teased the wolf, he had himself a good lick over the tiger's balls, and his sheath. Not getting even a twitch in response, even if it felt good. There was far too much dread and horror in his body to even think of being aroused. Even as the zebra kept him hanging there, tilting his head back but holding his prey by the thighs to keep him from sliding down too quickly. He wanted to tease and taste for a while, absolutely basting the tiger's balls before moving up between his thighs and savouring his fur.

Cats were always a bit feminine, even the most thickly-built of them. The tiger was no exception, tantalizing the zebra's tongue for long enough to prevent his fate. It almost seemed like Collins had calmed down some. That the tension and energy of the room had faded once more. Some people were even turning back to their company, thinking the worst of his rampage was already over. Until at least he proved them all wrong with a violent shove right atop those soft kitty paws, jamming the rest of the cat straight down his gullet, biting at his toes as they passed. The result was a shrill cry that soon transformed into choking and gurgling as the cat was forced down to splash into the soft remains of the wolf, left to panic and punch against the slimy walls soon constricting him from all sides.

"Two down," the zebra said, licking over his lips. A deep belch like distant thunder escaped soon after. "Who's next?"

He hadn't quite reached climax despite his incessant self-pleasuring, his cock still dripping a steady supply of thick, potent precum down on that bird beneath him. When he looked down at the captive, he got a furious look. One clearly masking fear, but there was still that little spark of defiance left in the feathery meal-to-be.

"You get anywhere near me and I'll peck your goddamn eyes out I swear," the hawk warned.

Collins was unimpressed. And something about the threat, rather than intimidate him, just excited him a little more. It was going to feel good to melt that confidence down inside him. Just like the tiger was doing right that very moment. He sucked a breath in through gritted teeth, took his cock in both hands, pulling up and down, stretching the striped skin taut, and he focused. On the sensations of prey inside him, on the tiger's struggles, already failing. He might have been drowning, or already melting. Either way, the zebra didn't care how bad it was in there for him. It wasn't a chamber meant for people, it was meant for food. And so the tiger was rapidly becoming such.

It was a particularly alarming twitch from his prey that really sealed the deal for him. That wasn't just the usual squirming from the tiger. That was the feeling of muscles breaking down, ceasing to function. He was destroying that pretty kitty. And that was the catalyst he needed to finally cum. He pointed his cock down as much as he could, though it was too firm to properly aim. And nobody even bothered to step in as he unloaded a fat, steaming load of zebra jizz all over the bar's floor, some of it splattering up over the bar itself. The coyote had long since gone for cover, not wanting to get caught up in the chaos, and so Collins was free to mark the place down like it belonged to him. It pretty much did by then.

He also made sure to get some of it right in the defiant bird's face, creaming his feathers good until his mussed countenance was barely even recognizable as the predatory bird he was supposed to be. Panting and huffing hot steam, Collins squeezed the base of his softening shaft a few times as he finished off his climax, letting the remnants drip right down onto that beak-clad face. Just to let him know what he thought of that comment of his.

"Mmm. Bird in cream sauce. Chicken alfredo? Fuck it, I don't need to come up with a good joke for you anyway. It's not going to matter soon." Collins chuckled, about to tuck his dick away, but he had another idea. Instead, he started lowering his pants right down, exposing his striped backside to what remained of the crowd. "You know, you're right. I shouldn't let you anywhere near my eyes. Still want to end you though. So..."

He didn't bother to explain further. Instead, he just squatted right down over the avian, letting all his weight come down on him at once. Hell, that could have killed him outright. But he wasn't aiming to crush his prey. Merely smother him, sitting right down on his face. That had him kissed by the sweat black donut of the zebra's asshole, shoving hard over his entire head in one decisive schlurp as he rubbed himself back and forth, grinding and making himself comfortable.

"... Guess I'll just shove your feathery self up my ass instead. Try not to tickle too much."

He held that position for a little while, stripping off as much of the bird as he could. Despite the comment about tickling, he wanted to get those feathers stimulating him all the way inside. So once the hawk was mostly naked, struggling there, uselessly kicking to try to dislodge himself from that musky grip, Collins just pushed down even harder. Clenching all the while, making sure to use that bird as a dildo as he consumed him. Not so confident anymore, was he?

It was all making his dick hard again. Not just the feeling of those features massaging inwards, but of the struggles his prey made as he got eaten in the most humiliating of ways. Sure, the wolf and tiger were busy digesting horribly, but at least they weren't going to die knowing everyone would laugh about the way they got eaten. That hawk was just going to have to live with the fact that his final moments were spent kicking and struggling while a zebra shoved him head-first up his sweaty ass. And it wasn't even going to take him long.

A few clicks and claws of dragging talons were the only sound the hawk could make before long, dragged right inside by the powerful contractions of the zebra's backside. Collins didn't even really have to shove. He just had to flex his ass and that was enough to drag his prey into his body. To consume him inch by inch, leaving him vanishing beneath his lifted tail. Right down to the very last toe, until there was nothing more than a bulge in his lower intestines. Oh, the hawk was definitely going to get digested too, but in a different way. Less sloshing and churning, and more just squeezing, tugging, plucking him one feather at a time while kneading him hard from all sides. Really testing those soft bird bones, straining and threatening to simply shatter them.

It wasn't going to take long. Collins slowly stood, rubbing at his gut. The bulge was the bird was lower than the other two, but it was hard to really say who was who. Mostly he just looked full. Rounded out and packed with softening prey. But it didn't even last for long. He leaned on the bar, idly playing with his dick while his meals digested. Rapidly. They were visibly shrinking down, tightening in with every flex of the zebra's stomach or his intestines. The tiger twitched his very last in violent fashion, going wild with a few dying spasms. It was the most impressive thing he'd managed to do so far, really.

The bird didn't last much longer either. Unlike the tiger, digestion didn't get him first. There simply was no air inside the zebra's backside. He was left to shake and wheeze as he suffocated in zebra ass, kicking a few last times, but so tightly packed in there he didn't even have room to move. Collins didn't give him a single chance. Not because he was afraid of him getting away. But because it felt better to utterly dominate his prey, to make sure the hawk knew at every single moment that he'd been beaten by the zebra.

A short few minutes of relaxing against the bar, occasionally reaching back to help himself to whatever alcohol. hadn't been smashed up by the conflict, and his prey was pretty much gone. His gut mostly flattened over again but for some extra heft thanks to the fat they were turning into. The crocodile was still out cold all the while. Or maybe just playing dead. Collins didn't bother paying attention to him. He already had a plan for him. All he needed was a few more minutes.

That was more than enough time for his body to take what was left of his three-course meal and start converting them to nothing more than nutrients. Letting the cat and dog in his gut press down into his intestines to meet the avian, stripped and dried and turned into something much less flattering than before. That along with some of their clothes he hadn't bothered to pull off before eating them. Those didn't bother him any, his body doing a fine job breaking the remnants of their outfits into base threads, distributing them among the growing mass pushing through his system.

Most people would have had to sleep for days to get over a meal like that. Especially a species not exactly known for being ravenous meat-eaters. Collins, he was completely finished with them in little more than a quarter of an hour. He'd had the bar all to himself all the while, helped himself to plenty of good liquor, and most people had cleared out or simply left him alone. Those who had remained were about to get one hell of a show, as he stepped over to the other side of the bar and found the sprawled crocodile.

The reptile was conscious, but he wasn't moving. He was probably hurt, though he wasn't fussing. When he saw the zebra looming over him with a smirk on his lips, he scrambled at first, clinking around in all that broken glass. He had no desire to end up like the rest of his gang. But before he could get anywhere, the zebra stomped his boots down on either side of the sprawled croc, and simply began to lower his pants once more. Showing off that thick pucker. Lifting his tail up. Except, he wasn't going to treat him like he had the hawk. He had a much dirtier plan in mind.

A squat, a faint grunt, and then a firm flex, and the zebra was reintroducing the croc to the rest of his crew. They weren't so intimidating anymore. They'd been turned from vicious carnivores to thickly-packed chunks of zebra shit. Which Collins was more than happy to share with the last survivor, taking a great fat dump right on top of him as the pile grew and grew. The wolf and tiger's bones had mostly been pulverized by the process, but the bird's were still relatively intact here and there. They stuck out visibly from the mess, smoothed over and soft, not doing anything to bother the zebra as he crudely relieved himself right there behind the bar.

"Nngh. Feels good, you know," he mocked. "Just knowing what they used to be. How confident they were. And how this is all they'll ever be now."

The crocodile didn't even dare put his hands up to defend himself. He just laid there, submissive, taking it all right on the face and chest. If this was all that was going to happen to him, if it would meant he didn't get digested that night, then he was just going to have to withstand the humiliation and disgust. Even if it meant getting utterly buried beneath that huge pile of crap, his very features vanishing as it stacked up to excessive height. Overtaking the entire top half of the reptile's body.

Collins was just faintly grunting the whole time, enjoying himself. A nice, satisfying shit to cap off the domination of those would-be predators. To show them who was really in charge. Even if not many people were around anymore, there were enough to make sure that word spread. Three of the toughest predators around, turned into zebra shit. And the last forced to wear them once Collins's bulky body was all done with them. The croc eventually had to struggle, had to clear some room just to breathe so he didn't suffocate, and the zebra wasn't even done with him yet.

Even once his thick dump was over, and he had pushed out a few dozen pounds of former predator, he still had to piss. So he turned around and stood, briefly admiring that monument he'd made. A great, steaming mound of brown filth, topped by bits of dirty fur, and feathers, and a few shreds and buckles of the clothing he hadn't bothered to remove from his prey. Pretty damn impressive, if he said so himself. Then he just took his dick in one hand and emptied his bladder all over it, letting the musky piss trickle down to the crocodile's face, leaving him just that much dirtier. He was going to have to just burn his clothes afterwards.

With that done, he reached over to the bar, grabbed a fistful of a shirt he'd torn off the wolf earlier, and just used it to clean himself up. Hard to add to the insult he'd already delivered, but it was just that much more. He tossed the smeared fabric down on top of the pile, then grabbed one of those jackets he'd plucked off. For a moment he thought to keep it for himself, but nah. No sense looking like one of those punks. So he just tossed it on top of the pile. Beneath which the croc just twitched. He might not have even made it out from beneath on his own. But Collins was done caring about any of them.

An armful of decent liquor to take with him, and he was off. He left the place wrecked and dirtied, but he wasn't going to spare any concern for a place like that. He'd left his mark on it, and no one was going to be able to sit there and act smug drinking there anymore, thinking they were better than all the supposed herbivores of the world. That no one would ever grab them and show them what it was like to be on the dinner plate. After his rampage, everyone knew that nobody was ever truly at the top of the food chain forever. Their time would come. Maybe at the hands, and the stomach of someone they didn't ever consider a threat. But they were safe for the moment, zebra darkly chuckling to himself as he strolled off down the darkened streets, full and thicker, vanishing into the night.