Now that people generally accept the argument that all sex between consenting adults is proper (an argument I agree with), we can posit the fact that sex between a consenting adult and his or her property is OK, too. Besides, if you take a little time, fucking an animal is a lot more moral than killing and eating it. It’s probably even less evil than killing and eating plants. See how easy moral issues are nowadays?

Animal-fuckers have a long and glorious history

Zeus seduced many a female by appearing as different animals. The Minotaur (among others) was, supposedly, the offspring from humans and bulls mating.

On a more realistic level, if it weren’t for bestiality, we never would have discoverd syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, or AIDS.

Catherine The Great, gossip has it, was accidentally killed when her horse/lover fell on her, after the custom harness broke. Supposedly she needed several helpers to fuck a horse. That was probably a real interesting job to have, especially the cleaning crew. She was in charge of Russia then, so that just gives you an idea of how classy she was.

So what do you need to know

now that you've decided to give up masturbation, but still want to protect yourself completely from the dangers of Herpes and AIDS and therefore are seriously considering bestiality?

The most important single piece of advice I can give is to use your own animals. This kid in my high school got caught in some guy's barn fucking a goat, and pretty soon his whole family moved away to avoid all the crap they got because of it. You don’t want that to happen. And don't think the goat owners would disagree with me on this.

There have been actual reports of dolphins getting friendly, even raping humans, as they frolicked in the water with them, eco-pagan style. Apparently, it has only ever been male dolphins doing that, so there’s a good hint for beach babes that want an easy, no-strings lay.

Dogs can be a real problem. For guys, you will tend to get stuck. Not a situation you want to share with your friends and family, and getting to the hospital in an inconspicuous manner is pretty much impossible, once you need to go.

Women have no problem physically fucking a dog (though the most popular for pet owners is Cunnilingus), but the dog gets a severe attitude, as in “I must be the pack leader, since I get to fuck you whenever I want.” See, the thing is, women shun men to avoid that attitude, but your favorite collie-mix doesn’t know any better, even in front of company.

Dogs have no boner-shame!

This verbose craziness brought to you at the hands of the Freelance Nodeshell Rescue Team

I had usually held the opinion that bestiality is wrong, not because the idea of sex with another species being somehow "unnatural" or "immoral", but because animals can't give consent, and therefore bestiality is by default rape. However, after reading How to have sex with a dolphin, I have realized that that is completely untrue: if an animal approaches you, or is in some other way allowed to choose to initiate the sexual encounter or not, that could be perceived as consent, no?

Yes, sex with animals is icky. Yes, it's a good way to encourage interspecies transmission of diseases, especially when with primates. Yes, it's socially unacceptable. Yes, it's bizarre.

But is it wrong?

My general opinion has always been that all sex that other people have, as long as it is consensual, is something that's OK, whether it appeals to me or not. Given this principle, it appears that whenever an animal consents—as many actually are able to do—to have sex with a human, is completely acceptable.

Yet another story of Lloyd Llewelyn, my helpmeet and partner for 17 years...

No history of sexual misdeeds is complete without transgressing species. Lacking dogs, horses, or whatever, I can talk, with some authority, about cats.

Unfixed female cats sometimes need Q-tip service, which is quite another story. What I want to talk about is when the game gets...a little personal.

Lloyd was 'fixed', but ever seeking of love, from queens in the area, from his two wives, and, one afternoon, of me.

He proffered, into my hand, a cat’s erection: about the size of my little finger, armed with a few millimeters of ovulation-producing sandpaper, and, if there be eroticism, a nice tumid red, that I found attractively masculine. Then he stared into my eyes, and purred.

“Whad’ye say, baby? Worth a flutter?” He blinked.

Dogs don’t do this. They have an itch. It’s got to be scratched, whether it be in the vulva of a prizewinner, or the hand of kid playing “Red Rocket”. They do it, and it happens, and think nothing of it. Look in their eyes, it's just...nothing.

This was personal. You, who have been so far a really nice person so far, and have given me all manner of good things, are being asked, by someone who has chosen you to make Their Own, through all kinds of scent markings, and do not seem to have strayed to any foreign cats, to well, help him in an intimate matter.

“But…you’re a cat!” I said, though it did nothing for anything. “I’m a human.”

“Not holding it against you, babe.” I tried to translate. “Shag me,love me, have some kittens, just don’t call on me for child support. You know you want it.”

So I held on. What he didn’t have in the actual organ, he had in the rest of his body, and, perhaps, drama. Never has a male tilted pelvis in the universal dance of true romance, in the words of Iggy Pop, than this cat: it was long, it was hard, and he made a convincing snarl at the end. Then headed for the hills (or to be exact, the other side of the apartment.) I found him, still licking his wet spot, a few minutes later, cheerful and chirrupy as if nothing had happened.

Mea culpa.

Bes*tial"i*ty (?), n. [F. bestialit'e.]


The state or quality of being bestial.


Unnatural connection with a beast.


© Webster 1913.

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