Brothers II: Tool Time
By:JohnBoy

Chapter One

For almost two weeks now, Jack had been watching the renovations taking place on the old house across the road -- or more precisely, he'd been watching the two men who were doing it.

The house itself had been nearly gutted, with a large section of the front wall on the first floor completely removed, probably to make way for a bay window.

Fortunately, this allowed Jack to see much of what was going on inside the place. He could just sit on his porch, having a beer and pretending to read a magazine, while taking quick peeks with the binoculars in his lap... the men didn't seem to realize they were being watched, they never even looked over.

The first guy was quite short, lean but fairly well-built, with a small face, a close- trimmed brown beard and a buzzcut -- not too bad looking. He had to be in his mid- twenties. Jack had never found out his real name, he'd only heard him referred to as "Sprite", a cute nickname that suited him somehow. He seemed to be doing most of the re-wiring, plus some plumbing. He was usually pretty quiet.

The other guy, however, was much more interesting...

He was quite a sight: at least 6'6" tall, though it was hard to tell for sure because Jack had never really seen him up close. He was an older fellow (at a guess, in his late forties or early fifties), but man, he looked powerful!

He had a very stocky, burly build, with a massive barrel chest, wide shoulders and hugely muscled arms covered with tattoos. He was also rather thick around the waist, with a bit of a gut hanging over his belt. Jack guessed that the man must weigh well over 300 pounds, maybe even close to 350. He usually wore a tank-top, stretched very tight by his mass, and his broad chest was exposed, showing a mat of curly salt & pepper hair. His large head was shaved, and his rugged face sported a bushy, grey goatee.

This man was named Roger. He did most of the carpentry, and always seemed to enjoy making as much noise as possible in whatever he was doing. He loved to smash things. He swore constantly. When he moved, his huge boots clomped heavily on the wooden floors and the tools on his belt rattled and clanked loudly. Obviously a man who liked to announce his presence. Jack suspected that little Sprite was a bit scared of big old Roger, and he wasn't surprised.

Maybe he thought he was going to eat him, Jack thought to himself jokingly...

Earlier today he'd watched them taking their lunch break, and as usual Roger had put away an enormous amount of food, washed down with 4 or 5 beers. His massive belches could probably be heard several blocks away.

Now they were getting back to work...

"Come on, you COCKsucker!!" Jack smiled at he sound of Roger's deep, rough voice. He couldn't see where he was at the moment -- there was a loud hammering, the splintering of wood and then a deafening crash, followed by a satisfied roar from Roger.

From the upper floor, Sprite called out weakly, "What the hell was that?"

Jack shifted in his chair, felt the stirrings of an erection. Yes, he'd decided that Roger was a bit of an asshole, much too overbearing and aggressive for his tastes (almost to the point of being comical). Surely not someone he'd want to get to know personally. But he was also one of the most ruggedly masculine men he'd ever seen in his life, and he couldn't help wondering, what would it be like?

It was exciting to think of a man like Roger completely dominating another guy.

At night he would often fantasize about Roger and Sprite, going down to the basement of that house after a hard day's work... Roger would tear the clothes off the little guy with his thick, meaty hands and then begin licking the salty sweat off his body with his fat tongue. Then he'd roughly force him down to his knees -- Sprite could not protest -- and he'd order him to open up, and feed him that huge, throbbing piece of meat. Then they'd be on the floor, and poor little Sprite would be almost completely hidden under the bulk of the massive, 300-pound man who was mounting him...

Jack wondered if it wasn't so impossible. On a few occasions, through his binoculars, he'd thought he'd seen Roger looking at Sprite with a kind of hunger in his eyes when he thought the little guy wasn't looking.

But maybe that was just his imagination.

Towards the end of the day, Sprite said that tomorrow would be his last day on that job, he'd pretty well finished all the electrical work. After the two men had cleaned up and driven off in Roger's truck, Jack remained on the porch, thinking. That meant the huge man would be alone now. Maybe... but no, of course he couldn't approach the guy. A brute like Roger probably ate queers like him for breakfast!

The next day, Roger was unusually silent. Sure, he still stomped around and crushed things, but he didn't talk much.

When lunchtime came around, Sprite was surprised to see that Roger had not brought anything at all to eat, and commented on it. Jack was a bit surprised too.

"Oh, I got me a big dinner planned," was all the man would say.

As the day wore on, Roger kept giving the smaller guy that weird, hungry stare, except now he was making no attempt to hide it. Sprite pretended not to notice, but he was becoming visibly nervous. At one point, through his binoculars, Jack thought he saw Roger wiping some excess spit from his lips with the back of his hand -- he was salivating.

Something's going on here, Jack thought... but before he could think about it any further, the phone rang. His little vacation was interrupted, he had to return to the office right away to deal with a computer glitch.

Jack drove to work, disappointed that he was going to miss watching Roger and Sprite's last afternoon together. It seemed as though something was going to happen, though he had no idea what. But he was sorry he'd miss it...

Chapter Two

Jack returned home several hours later, just as night was beginning to fall. The problem at work had finally been solved.

Right away he noticed something out of the ordinary: Roger's pick-up was still parked on the front lawn of the old skeleton of a house across the street, though the two men were nowhere to be seen. Strange, he'd never known them to stay this late before.

Maybe they were "doing it" in the basement, as he'd fantasized. He was almost tempted to sneak up and peek into a window, but no, that was much too risky. As Jack was fumbling with his keys, he thought he heard something...

It sounded almost like a muffled shout, quickly cut off, and it had seemed to come from the place across the road. From the basement.

Jack stood on his porch and watched the house for a long time, listening, but nothing else happened. He realized the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and now the urge to get closer to the old house was stronger than ever. His increasing curiousity and excitement actually made him take two steps towards the place before he even realized what he was doing. He stopped himself, knowing it was too dangerous, too tempting for him to even be standing out here. He went into his own home and locked the door.

That night he had an incredibly vivid dream...

Roger was a giant, over twelve feet tall, and he was chasing him. Jack could feel the ground shaking under his feet as the enormous mountain of a man stomped after him, bellowing and snorting, getting closer. He could feel his hot breath almost scalding the back of his neck like steam, and he knew the giant was almost upon him now, he could see the shadow looming... Then with a deep, roaring laugh, the giant just scooped him up off the ground like a toy, tossed him into the air and caught him again. The huge hands that held him were now crushing the breath out of him, almost cracking his ribs. Then Roger held him up close to his massive, grinning, furry face and said in a booming voice, "FUCK, YEAH! I GOT ME A BIG DINNER PLANNED!!"

Jack awoke covered in sweat and his own semen. It was the first wet dream he'd had since he was a teenager. Shaking, he got up to clean himself off, noticing that it was just after 5 am.

He took a look out the front window -- the truck was still there. What was going on? Then he realized there was some movement, but it was hard to see clearly, the nearest street-lamp was out. Jack carefully slid the window open and strained to see into the darkness.

The quiet outside was broken by the sound of a long, low, gurgling belch. "Oooff..." That was Roger's voice. Now Jack could make him out, but just barely. He could see the faint, red glow of a cigarette. Roger was alone, slowly walking down towards his pick-up. But he seemed to be walking funny -- he was lumbering, staggering as if carrying a great weight. "Buh-AAAARRP!" Another belch. Then he noticed something else: Roger's gut was huge, a big, round ball nearly two feet in diameter!

"What the hell...?" Jack muttered. But before he could get a better look, the big man had gotten into his truck and driven off.

He knew that he must have been seeing things, it looked as if Roger had gained about 60 or 70 pounds or more, and all in his belly. But that was impossible. Some kind of optical trick of the darkness, or maybe his eyes were tired. Maybe the dream had really gotten to him. Perhaps he was even still asleep!

He spent the next couple of hours tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He could not stop thinking about what he'd seen, or thought he'd seen. In the end he decided it MUST have been part of the dream, and convinced himself of that fact...

Throughout the day, however, two other thoughts kept returning: one, the truck had definitely still been there when he'd gone to bed the night before (he knew he hadn't been asleep when he saw that), and two, it was gone in the morning. So what had been going on over there during the night? And where was the little guy, Sprite?

No-one came back to the old house all day. Jack got tired of watching and waiting, tried to busy himself with other things. But he knew it was futile, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it until he actually went over there and took a look around, though he wasn't sure what he expected to find.

Dusk was approaching, the neighbourhood was quiet. Roger had not come back. Jack took a deep breath and steeled himself, then casually walked across the road...

On the muddy lawn he could make out tire tracks and two sets of boot prints mixed in with the sawdust. Jack placed his foot inside one of the larger, clearer ones -- looked like a size 14 or 15. Obviously left by Roger.

He looked up at the house. Try the door, or just walk in through the gaping hole in the livingroom wall? There was nobody around, so Jack just used part of an old trellis to help him step up to the hole. For a moment he had an image in his mind, that he was climbing a beanstalk... then he was standing inside the house. "Fee-fi-fo- fum," he mumbled to himself, feeling nervous and exposed.

Someone was coming up the street, walking their dog. Jack quickly moved into the next room, stepping over scraps of wood. The place was almost empty, just a shell of a house -- there was really nothing here to steal, so he doubted anyone would call the cops even if he had been seen. There was a storey and a half above him, but he didn't think there was anything up there to interest him. Jack headed for the basement.

The stairs were gone, fortunately a ladder had been left there. He flicked the light switch (it worked), and looked down at the bare concrete floor below. He suddenly felt very anxious, he wanted to leave. He was worried about what he might find, even though he knew he'd most likely find nothing at all. But he'd come this far... Jack carefully climbed down into the basement.

There were a few pieces of old, rotted furniture down here, a large trunk in the corner. Some of the guys' power tools had been stored down here as well. Near his feet there was a sprung mouse trap. And against the far wall, there was a small pile of clothes.

He approached it. There were some work boots in there too. He picked up the t-shirt, and recognized it as the last shirt he'd seen Sprite wearing. Before he could even think what this meant, Jack realized that he could hear a vehicle pulling up outside...

Chapter Three

Jack stood rooted to the spot, holding his breath, unable to move. The t-shirt was still clutched tightly in his hand. He heard large, heavy footsteps crossing the floor directly above him...

Shit, he thought, that's Roger. The big man had come back. But why now?

Then Jack realized something else: Roger would surely notice that the basement light was on. What would he do? Should he hide? He looked at the naked bulb hanging from the low ceiling and considered unscrewing it. But Roger was moving again, the floorboards creaking loudly under his weight, and now he was heading towards the cellar door.

Jack instinctively went towards the large trunk in the corner and crouched down behind it, it seemed like the only real place to hide. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Roger's thundering voice called out from above, "WHO THE FUCK IS DOWN THERE?"

For awhile he could hear nothing but his own pounding heart, and then... another creaking sound: Roger was coming down the ladder.

Jack tried to think what to do next, but his mind was a blank. Roger was going to find him for sure, and he had no idea how he was going to explain his presence here. Reluctantly, he decided it would be less undignified for him to reveal himself now. He slowly stood up.

Roger was standing at the base of the ladder, one large hand still gripping a rung. He had to crouch a bit because the ceiling was so low. He was looking directly at Jack.

Jack tried to think of something to say, but he was frozen. The man was fucking huge! He noticed that his belly was not so enormously distended as he thought he'd seen it the other night, that was a dream anyway... still, it did seem a bit fatter than usual. But this was the first time he'd seen him this close up, without binoculars that is.

"Come outta there," Roger said in his deep, rumbling voice.

Jack stepped out from behind the big trunk.

"Just what are you doin' in here, buddy?" The man was walking slowly towards him -- there was a somewhat sinister-looking half grin on his face that made him feel very uneasy. "Well?"

"Uhhh..." He couldn't think of what to say. He saw that Roger's tattoos consisted mostly of snakes and serpents, coiled around each, swallowing each other. He also had a pretty big bulge in the crotch of his worn jeans, and Jack felt his own cock start to get hard despite his fear. He tried not to think about it right now.

"Hey, I asked you a fuckin' question." He'd stopped, standing only a couple of feet from him now, hands on his hips. Roger had intense, pale blue eyes that stared down at Jack unblinkingly, drilling into him. Jack found he could not look away from those eyes. Even though he was terrified, it was also exciting to be this close to the man... he only hoped Roger wouldn't notice his hard-on!

Somehow he managed to speak: "Um, I, uhh... I live across the street."

"Yeah, I know, I've seen ya. This is private property, man, tell me what you're doing here."

He was a bit surprised to be recognized. "I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trespass. I was... I was looking for something. The-"

"You tryin' to steal my fucking tools?" Roger stepped closer, actually pressing his rounded stomach against Jack's flat one.

Jack staggered slightly, tried to stand his ground. "No!" He gasped, "I, er, just wanted to see the work you guys were doing on the house. That's all." He could feel the hot, beery breath blowing down into his face and smell the dark, musky, man-sweat smell from that massive body. Up this close, the hairs of Roger's thick goatee looked like stiff, grey wires. Frightened, he found he could not look at the man's face, and his gaze settled on Sprite's clothes.

Roger seemed to calm down a bit, and he stepped back. "Oh. Okay man, that's cool. Ah... anyone know you're here?"

"What? Uhh, no, I don't-"

Then Roger noticed what Jack was looking at. For awhile the big man said nothing, he merely stared at the pile of clothes.

Scared as he was, Jack could not resist asking the question: "Wh-what happened to your friend?"

Roger slowly turned to him with a sly, toothy grin -- he was missing one of his upper bicuspids. He chuckled a bit and said, "Oh, we was just havin' some fun..."

"But... where is he?"

"He's around." Roger's belly made a loud, gurgling rumble. "Why do ya wanna know?" He looked down and his eyes widened a bit.

Oh shit, thought Jack, he sees my boner.

But Roger only smiled. "You really wanna know where my friend is?"

Jack hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

The huge man leaned down towards Jack and put a big paw on his shoulder. And he said in a low, almost conspiratorial tone, "I ate him."

Chapter Four

The two men stared at each other for several seconds. Finally, Jack cleared his throat and said, "You what?"

Roger grinned widely. "I'm serious, man. I ate him up. I swallowed him whole." Jack studied the big man's face, wondering what to make of this statement.

Obviously this was some kind of joke, and yet... well, something about the way the guy was looking at him made him feel very uncomfortable.

"I see," was all he could think of to say.

Roger straightened up and laughed, a hearty, booming sound from deep within his broad chest. "I guess ya don't believe me, eh?"

"Well..."

"It's the truth." Roger gripped his shoulder tightly again, and brought his face down to within inches of Jack's. "I just fuckin' gulped him down in one bite. Mm-mm, he was a tasty little fellah too!" Jack tried to back away but the huge hand held him firmly in place. "What do you think of that?"

Once again, he thought of what he'd seen last night, but dismissed it. This was getting ridiculous. "I -- I guess I don't know what to think. Look, I'm really sorry I-"

"Don't you be sorry, buddy, I'm glad I ran into you." There was an urgent growl from Roger's stomach. He was holding him now by both shoulders. "I just came by to pick up the evidence" -he cocked his head towards the clothes on the floor- "but what a surprise, now I got myself a nice treat. Oh yeah!" He was looking into Jack's face intently, and Jack recognized that look -- it was the same hungry stare he'd seen him giving Sprite before.

"What did you do to him?" It was barely above a whisper.

Roger shook his head a bit. "I told ya, man. Still don't believe me, I guess I hafta prove it," he said almost sadly. There was a rising groan from down inside his belly. "Fuck, that little guy was sooo cute... I wanted him for a long time. Y'see, when I get horny, I get a hunger that I just can't satisfy any other way. My- UUURRF!" A sudden belch blasted warm, beery mist directly into Jack's face, and he gasped. "Aw, sorry man. My gut is just fuckin' churning, I guess it needs feedin' again! Shit, I thought Sprite would hold me for awhile, took me all night and most of the day to digest him..." Roger licked his lips, "but I guess I'm still hungry. Damn, you're hot! And you look mighty tasty! Yer a bit bigger than Sprite, but I think my belly can handle you!"

Jack's mind was reeling. This guy was some kind of psychopath or something, he had to get out of here. And yet as he listened to him talk, his erection kept getting bigger. How could he be so scared and so turned-on at the same time?

He was about to speak but then Roger released him, stepped back and said, "Okay. Now take off yer clothes, it's dinnertime."

Jack just stood there, speechless, afraid to even move.

"Come ON!"

"But, I..."

Roger gave him a hard thump on the chest with the palm of his hand that almost knocked him back into the wall. "I ain't got all night. Take your clothes off, or I'll fuckin' take 'em off for ya!"

"Okay, okay." Jack began pulling his shirt off with shaking hands.

"Oh yeahhh, lemme see some skin..." Roger mumbled as his greedy eyes roamed over Jack's exposed torso.

Okay, Jack thought to himself, this guy's gonna rape me. If he likes to play this weird game, fine, I'll go along with it. He can go ahead and pretend he's going to eat me if that's what gets him off. If I just co-operate, maybe I won't get hurt. Besides, I might enjoy it... if I could only calm down a bit!

"Now your pants."

He removed his shoes, jeans and socks. Roger began undoing his belt. "What do you want me to do?" Jack asked nervously, as he stood there in only his underwear. His boner was pretty obvious now.

Roger undid the button on his pants and groaned as he relaxed his belly. "You don't have to do a thing, man, 'cept take off them briefs."

Jack took a deep breath and did so. He figured it would be pointless to try to hide his now fully erect cock, and so just stood there, watching for the big guy's reaction.

Roger was rubbing his crotch with one hand and his gut with the other. He had the strangest expression on his face... eyes very wide, almost bulging, as he hungrily examined every part of Jack's nakedness from top to bottom. He was turning red with excitement. Shiny sweat appeared on his forehead, and veins were popping out on his temples. There was also some drool on his lower lip. His huge chest heaved with each breath, and he moaned, "Ohhh, so nice..."

All this only served to frighten Jack even more. He knew he had a nice body (he tried to take care of himself), but he wasn't quite prepared for this. Strangely though, as scared as he was, his arousal was also increasing. And he realized that he was dying to know what was going to happen next.

Roger pulled up the front of his tank-top so he could rub the hairy skin of his belly. Suddenly he dropped heavily to his knees with a grunt, and grabbed Jack roughly by the waist. He pulled him closer, and began licking Jack's stomach -- more than just licking, he was slobbering all over him, coating him with slippery spit, using his wide, smooth tongue like a paint brush. It seemed incredible how much saliva he was producing!

Jack covered his face with his hands and muttered, "Holy shit..." It was weird and erotic, he'd never felt anything like it. Roger turned him around and started licking his back, his ass, then his legs, his bristly goatee tickling the skin -- Jack moaned with pleasure. Roger heaved himself up into a standing position again, and continued with Jack's arms, shoulders and neck, grunting and slurping all the while. Jack was almost completely coated with spit now -- he wished the guy had spent a little more time slobbering on his dick, but he was in no position to complain. Is he tasting me, he wondered? It didn't matter, it felt fantastic. He wanted very badly to touch this huge man, but dared not. Instead, he began to stroke himself (and noticed how unusually slippery the saliva was).

Now Roger was standing before him, breathing heavily, large hands gripping his shoulders tightly. His body seemed to be radiating an intense heat. He looked down into Jack's face with those wide, pale blue eyes and Jack felt the fear again, though not as intensely. Roger was in complete control, he could do anything he wanted to. But maybe this was going to be alright, he thought...

Roger slowly began to move closer. He pressed himself against Jack's naked body, rubbing against it, and Jack had to close his eyes -- this felt too good. When he opened them again, the huge face was looming in his field of vision, filling it.

Jack's lips parted in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, Roger licked his face from his chin to his forehead. He recoiled a bit, and this forced a low chuckle from deep inside the man's massive chest.

Then Roger sighed and said, "Okay, buddy, I can't wait no more. It's time for you to go down the hatch."

Chapter Five

There was an eerily wide grin on Roger's face that made Jack shudder. He was suddenly reminded of the Giant dream...

Roger took a step back and reached down into his pants, then with some effort yanked out his cock. Jack stared at it in disbelief -- it was enormous, at least ten inches, and as wide and thick as his own wrist. Roger gave that monster a few, rough pumps and it swelled even more. A big dollop of glistening pre-cum bubbled out and began to drip towards the floor. Then he moved in again, getting a good grasp on his slippery shoulders. He pressed the head of his now rock-hard member firmly into Jack's stomach, at a point just above his bellybutton.

"Oh, man..." Jack mumbled. He felt close to an orgasm.

The huge man moved in closer, his wide, staring eyes full of hunger. "I'm really gonna enjoy you a LOT." He took a deep breath and began to slowly open his mouth...

He continued to open it -- Jack watched, transfixed, as his mouth stretched wider and wider, much bigger than a mouth was supposed to open. Beer-breath washed over him. There was a faint, wet crunching sound from Roger's jaw as it appeared to dislocate...

Jack could not believe what he was seeing. "Jesus Christ!" He felt panic rising as he looked up into that gaping hole. Roger tilted his head down towards Jack's -- as he watched that enormous, open mouth get closer, he thought, could it really be true? This is not possible! He suddenly began to struggle.

Roger's grip on him tightened painfully, and with a grunt he thrust his head forward and planted his mouth onto Jack's face, covering it from his nose to his forehead. With one hand he quickly grabbed the back of the smaller man's head and pushed on it, tilting it downwards, as he stretched his mouth even wider -- he engulfed the top half of Jack's head.

"Hey, what-?" he cried out stupidly. He felt the hot, slimy wetness surrounding him, the fat tongue being mashed against his clenched-shut eyes, and he began to struggle even more. But Roger's grip on him was too strong. Holy fuck, he thought wildly, this can't actually be happening! He pounded his fists on the man's arms, shoulders, on the side of his head, but it was no use. He heard Roger's nose drawing in another great breath -- the teeth that were pressing against his upper lip and the back of his head opened wider again as he was suddenly pushed in further.

"Roger, NO!! You- mmmmmph...!" His entire head was now completely inside.

He felt the lips contracting around his neck and he tried to shout, but only tasted hot saliva. His ears heard the thick, muffled squishing and glorping sounds of the mouth that surrounded him. There was an enormous pressure squeezing on his head from all directions -- he could not breathe. Roger was now forcefully pressing Jack's shoulders together, scrunching them up, and he could hear the throat ahead of him opening up, feel the mouth stretching wider still as Roger prepared to push him even farther in. My God, he's really going to swallow me, Jack realized with horror. This is why he covered me with spit, for lubricant!

And he also realized something else: he still had an erection.

Roger's arms bulged as he began to lift him up off the floor. At this point, Jack began kicking his feet violently. Somehow he managed to give him a good kick right in the balls, and Jack's head was filled with a deafening roar of pain. The big hands released him, and as he fell his head pulled free. He stumbled back against the wall and dropped to the ground, gasping for air.

He wiped his slick face and looked up. Roger was hunched over, holding his crotch, his red face twisted into a scowl. He gave a throaty, "AAARRGH... FUCK!"

This was his only chance. Jack jumped to his feet and tried to sprint around the huge man, but a massive forearm whipped out and hit him across the chest. He fell like a sack, hitting his head on the cement floor, and everything went black...

Chapter Six

When Jack opened his eyes again, there was a huge, indistinct shape towering over him. He felt confused -- his vision slowly cleared and he saw that it was Roger. He looked about ten feet tall. He was smiling down at him, but it was not a friendly smile at all...

Panic set in again. He tried to get up and a sharp pain shot through his skull, imobilizing him.

"Hmmm... good. Yer awake."

Jack tried to move and realized that he actually WAS imobilized. He looked down at himself: his wrists were tied together, his ankles too. He'd been laid down on a clear plastic sheet, and it felt like his entire body had a fresh, slick coating of saliva. He moaned, and tried to speak, but only a faint croak came out. His head was pounding...

Roger was standing with one foot on either side of him. His huge dick still hung out of his pants (it was not erect, but still enormous). He'd taken his shirt off -- his round, hairy gut swelled with each breath he took. He was shiny with sweat. "Sorry I had to tie you up," he said, "but yer stronger than you look, ya little shit. I don't need another fuckin' kick in the crotch!" Roger chuckled -- his craggy grin was impossibly wide. He began to step backwards, moving towards Jack's feet.

Jack was very awake now. He started to struggle and pull at his restraints. "Let me go! You can't..."

"Oh yeah, I can." He patted his belly.

And now Jack was really starting to believe it was all true: the huge man COULD swallow him whole! His heart began to race, he felt like he could hardly breathe. He tried to roll away; Roger dropped to one knee and grabbed his lower legs, pulling him back. "Think I'll try ya feet-first this time," he said, smacking his lips. He got onto his hands and knees, shifting into position.

"Jesus, Roger! Please don't do it!"

Roger gripped both his ankles tightly in one huge hand and lifted Jack's feet up towards his face. His stomach was growling and groaning loudly, hungrily...

"WAIT!!"

Roger began to suck on his toes, slurping on them noisily. He'd taken all ten of them into his mouth. Jack felt the warm, slippery-smooth wetness, felt the big, meaty tongue squishing between his toes, and the hairs of the thick, grey mustache scratching lightly against the tops of his feet -- he tried to suppress a moan. He didn't want this to feel good! He struggled to pull his feet away, but couldn't.

"No! Uuuuhh... shit, why didn't you just do this when I was knocked out?"

Roger took Jack's feet out of his mouth and said, "'Cause I like my food alive and wrigglin'! I wanna feel ya squirmin' all the way down, turns me on. Plus you got me pissed, I want ya to be awake for this. Besides," he glanced at Jack's stiffening cock, "looks like yer enjoyin' this!" He winked -- some drool dripped from his grinning mouth, and he slurped at it.

"But I don't want to be eaten!"

The big man licked his lips. "Mmmm, I was right, you taste GOOD!" He uttered a short, loud bark of a belch. "You'd sure go down better without this rope, but hell, I think my stomach can handle it. Can't have ya gettin' away on me again!" His belly gave another deep rumble.

Jack's mind was spinning. He couldn't believe he was actually going to be swallowed alive, and he'd have to watch it happen too! Damn, why was he getting a fucking hard-on again?? He thought of something. "Wait, maybe I can help you." Roger hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"If you let me go, I could... find people for you. You know, bring them to you. For you to eat." He almost shivered at the thought.

Roger laughed. "Shit, buddy, I don't need your help for THAT!"

"But- but- but what if I-"

"Look, if I let you go you'll just tell someone."

"Who the hell would believe me??"

"Okay, enough talking, I'm fuckin' starvin' -- TIME TO CHOW DOWN!" And he began to stretch his huge mouth open again...

Chapter Seven

Jack began to thrash about, but he couldn't break free. Roger pulled his feet closer to his widening mouth, took in a huge breath, and then quickly engulfed them almost to the heels.

"Oh Christ..."

The hand's grip tightened on him, pushed firmly inwards, as the mouth stretched again... another massive, slurping gulp, and both of Jack's feet were entirely inside. As his lips closed around the ankles, Roger grunted and groaned with the effort, his face turning red. Jack could feel his pointed toes beginning to slide down into the hot, smooth, slippery throat. He cried out and tried to kick away, but this only forced his feet several inches further in; Roger gave a muffled moan of immense pleasure at this, and closed his eyes.

I'm dreaming, Jack thought desperately, this all has to be a bad dream!

Roger's hand released him and he paused, just seeming to savour the moment, crouched there on his hands and knees, the long, hairy legs hanging out of his mouth. He seemed to be preparing himself...

Then his eyes opened again, gazing intently into Jack's face. There was such a look of fierce, ravenous hunger in those eyes, and Jack knew then it was no dream. This was completely real.

Roger shifted his weight and grasped Jack around the knees. He began pulling him in, forcefully shoving his lower legs right down into his gullet, and Jack felt himself sliding across the plastic sheet. He struggled violently, whipping his body side to side. He did not want to go like this -- and yet he noticed that his cock was harder than ever!

The big man lunged forward suddenly, and his mouth took him in almost up to the knees. The pressure on his legs now was almost painful. Roger swallowed deeply again, and Jack watched in horror as his knees disappeared into the gaping maw with a wet, glurping sound.

Jack tried to yell out for him to stop, but in his fear it only emerged as a strangled, unintelligible bark. He sat up and punched Roger in the face with both tied-together fists, as hard as he could -- Roger grunted and clamped his teeth down, not enough to break the skin, but Jack yelped in pain. A huge hand planted itself on Jack's chest and slammed him back down to the floor, knocking the breath out of him.

Then Roger went back to work...

He tilted his head and neck downwards slightly as he began to take in Jack's thighs, his furry mouth stretched into a wide, sideways oval. He was no longer using his hands to push him in, he just gulped and gulped, his jaws working as he moved his face forward; the smaller man was almost stationary as Roger ate his way down his legs. Jack could feel the strong muscles of his esophagus pulsating, contracting, drawing him inside, now almost up to his crotch. He could actually feel a heartbeat against his calves.

Roger was supporting himself with one hand, the other was slowly pumping somewhere down below: apparently he was jerking himself off.

The thought made Jack shudder -- but still his own hard-on was throbbing. He saw that he was even starting to ooze some pre-cum. Holy fuck, he thought, there's no way this could be turning me on! Why is this happening to me? God, I'm being swallowed alive!!

Jack could feel his feet passing through the valve to Roger's stomach. Suddenly he realized that he could faintly hear a car going down the street -- for the first time it occurred to him to call out for HELP!

He took a deep breath and shouted as loud as he could, "HEY SOMEBODY HELP ME THIS GUY IS TRYING TO--" But Roger's powerful fist pounded him in the side of the stomach, and this time he was really winded.

While he choked in agony, Roger continued to gulp him down...

Jack could feel his ass and lower back lifting up off the floor. With tremendous effort, Roger began stretching his mouth around Jack's hips, gripping him by his upper arms to help push him in. His lips were stretched unbelievably wide, his throat bulged out hugely. Now Jack's muscular buttocks were squeezing in somehow -- Roger's bristly upper lip pushed down Jack's cock, folding it flat against his belly.

Jack tried to cry out again, but couldn't catch his breath. He felt dizzy, and he closed his eyes. He couldn't watch anymore.

He could feel Roger's big hands getting in under his back, and felt him tense up. There was a straining grunt, and suddenly he was being lifted swiftly up into the air, and as Roger sat back on his haunches and straightened his body into an upright position, Jack felt himself slide down almost a foot. His feet pressed against a soft, slimy, coarsely wrinkled surface; now he was literally standing on the bottom of the man's stomach. He could feel that there was some warm liquid in there...

He looked down, and saw that Roger's lips now encircled him just at the base of his rib cage. Jack's arms were tucked up against his chest, with his fists under his chin and his elbows on either side of Roger's grossly distorted mouth.

Jack looked into Roger's face. Incredibly, the big man winked at him!

He began feel fresh panic and resumed his struggling. This seemed to excite Roger, who began gulping again in earnest. Jack could feel the powerful waves of peristalsis, in addition to gravity, pulling him down --and his struggling only seemed to make him slip even farther in. He felt his knees bending, his feet sliding to the side. (Despite all this, his dick continued to throb...)

Somehow he found his voice again: "Oh man, please don't!" he pleaded. He reached out desperately and put his arms around the back of Roger's head, trying to hold onto the thick, bull neck. His elbows now rested on Roger's huge shoulders -- he was in up to his nipples. The pressure on his chest was considerable, it was getting hard to breathe. He could feel the guy's tongue squirming against his back. The muscular contractions of Roger's stretched gullet pressed against Jack's cock and he moaned... he could feel a burning fullness inside his scrotum building, building, and he knew that soon he was going to orgasm whether he wanted to or not.

Roger swallowed again, his eyes almost rolling over white from the effort, and Jack was pulled in up to his armpits. "No- uuughhn!" His lungs were being compressed. His legs were getting folded up under him. He tried to hold on tight around Roger's neck, but he felt weak...

Another wave moved down the length of Roger's throat, squeezing his body, and Jack suddenly felt himself beginning to cum. "Oh... FUCK!" He gasped.

Roger realized what was happening -- maybe he could taste it -- and his body shook as he jerked himself, vigorously. His face turned dark red, and his eyes squinted shut. In mere seconds, Jack heard the man's load slapping wetly onto the plastic sheet, spurt after huge spurt of it.

Even before he was finished, Roger reached up and took hold of Jack's wrists, pulling them away from his neck. He was far too strong for him to resist. Jack knew it was near the end for him...

Roger held his arms up high with one hand and pushed down on the top of Jack's head with the other. As he felt his chest sliding inside, he saw the big man's eyes open to take one last look at him. Jack tried to shout again, but couldn't get any breath. He felt too tired to struggle any more. He was being swallowed much more quickly now -- darkness surrounded him as his head was completely engulfed, and he felt the muscles of Roger's gullet quickly propelling him downwards. His own shoulders pressed in on either side of his head. He felt his face sliding against the slimy wall of the esophagus as he went down.

His ass-end was entering the stomach now; he was being forced into a sitting position. Above him, he could feel his forearms still protruding from Roger's mouth, sticking straight up, but they too were sliding in quickly. He couldn't think, he was beginning to black out from lack of oxygen...

Jack was starting to curl up into a ball inside Roger's belly. He was barely aware of it as his hands slipped inside the man's mouth. He thought he felt Roger's mustache tickle his fingers as the lips closed behind them. And then he sensed one last, gigantic gulp...

Chapter Eight

Slowly, Jack came to realize that he was still conscious somehow. He was laying almost on his side someplace warm and soft and completely dark. There were thick, muffled noises all around him. His knees were pushed into his face uncomfortably, and his arms covered his head, with his hands pressed against the back of his neck. He was compressed into a tight ball.

But he could breathe, just barely; there was a small amount of air in here, though he almost gagged from the hot stench. Everything felt wet and slimy -- he felt as if he was laying in a puddle. The liquid was slightly fizzy, and he could smell beer mixed with bile...

He suddenly remembered where he was.

Jack felt a wave of cold fear pass over him. He immediately began to struggle, but there was nowhere to move. He felt himself being overcome with claustrophobia, and the inky blackness was terrifying. He grunted and whimpered as he tried to roll into a more upright position. The nylon ropes dug into his ankles and wrists painfully. All around him he could hear various sounds: the slow, pounding beat of Roger's heart, the rushing of blood, bubblings and groanings just beyond the slick, stretched wall of the stomach, and his own ragged breathing.

"Helllp..." he tried to yell, but he knew there was no-one to help him. He couldn't believe it -- he was actually inside a man's stomach!

His movements seemed to rouse the big man. Jack heard and felt a deep, muffled voice, it seemed to be coming from all directions, though he couldn't tell what it was saying. He felt himself shifting, and suddenly everything tipped over onto its side: Roger had just sat up. He must've been laying on the floor.

Above him he heard a violent venting of gas, and the walls surrounding him vibrated as the air inside the stomach was expelled in a huge belch -- Jack felt the stomach contract tightly, squeezing him, pushing him into an even tighter ball, and he could no longer breathe. He began to struggle again, and tried to kick out his legs; he felt the sac he was inside distorting and elongating when he did this, but almost like rubber it pulled back and forced him into a ball again. He could hear Roger chuckling...

Suddenly he felt himself shifting again, rising. Roger was standing up now. He heard him speaking, and then there was a massive, noisy gulping as air began to enter the stomach again. Jack gasped at it.

Roger continued to take down more big swallows of air, and Jack had enough room to wriggle back into a somewhat upright position. He felt the walls of the stomach moving out a bit, getting tight and smooth as Roger inflated himself. The air pressure was actually starting to hurt his ears -- but then he stopped. Well, at least now he could breathe.

My God, Jack realized, he WANTS me to breathe, he's actually trying to keep me alive! He felt horror at the thought of being conscious while Roger's stomach slowly digested him, and he cried out.

Roger was talking to him again, just a loud, deep, garbled humming, it was impossible to make out the words. But the tone was soothing, and Jack felt a gentle thumping against his side as the huge man patted his gut. The bastard!! He was enjoying this, having a living person, terrified and struggling, inside his belly!

Well, this is where my curiosity got me, he thought to himself, and almost laughed. I guess I'll never make that mistake again!

Jack wondered if there was anything he could do to hurt the man from in here. Or maybe he could just cause him throw up somehow? He managed to get his hands in front of him -- he felt the warm, slippery surface above him, trying to find the opening to the stomach...

He could feel the puckered sphincter, and tried to squeeze his hands through it; Roger sensed this, and somehow he sealed it tightly shut -- Jack couldn't even get one finger in. He could hear the man chuckling at him.

There was more movement. It felt like Roger was walking, though a bit unsteadily. Jack could feel himself bobbing up and down heavily inside the guy's huge gut with each step. Then it felt as if Roger had sat down (perhaps on the trunk?). Next he felt light pressure from the outside, a gentle kneading. Was Roger rubbing his belly?

Jack found that his fear had lessened somewhat, in fact the rubbing was almost... comforting. And he began to let himself imagine what an incredible sight Roger must be right now, with his enormously distended, hairy gut sticking out. He was sure there was a big smile on the man's face too.

He couldn't believe that Roger had made him cum when he was swallowing him, it almost disgusted him to think he'd enjoyed that. And yet he had...

"You asshole," he said aloud.

Roger must've heard his words, because he gave his belly a sudden, hard slap that almost stunned him. This got Jack wriggling again, but he stopped when it occured to him that that's what he wanted: Roger said he liked to feel his victims struggling.

So Jack just sat there, motionless, knowing that he was helpless to do anything at all.

Roger pounded on his gut a few more times, trying to get a reaction from him, but he refused to move.

"Go ahead, beat me to death," Jack mumbled.

Roger was speaking again, and something about the sound had a note of finality to it. He felt the stomach muscles tightening around him, and suddenly the valve above him opened with a whooshing, wet roar -- the whole stomach shook as a huge volume of air was belched out. Jack felt his ears pop. Another loud burp, and his air supply was gone. He heard Roger let out what sounded like a big, satisfied, "Aaaaaahhhh...!"

Jack held what breath he had left in his lungs. Something was happening now. He could feel the walls around him beginning to undulate. And he felt something else too: a slight burning sensation on his skin. It was stomach acid.

Obviously Roger could control his digestive processes at will. And now he'd decided it was time to stop playing with his food, and get it over with.

Jack began to struggle again, but it was no use, he had little energy left, couldn't hold his breath any longer...

He exhaled, and heard Roger belch up the last bit of air.

He felt a hot tingling surrounding him, seeping into him. As he got weaker and dizzier, he realized there was no pain, none at all. The walls of the stomach flexed and churned against his body, like a massage. He was drifting off, slowly losing consciousness. It actually feels kinda warm and peaceful in here, he thought.

The last thing he noticed was that he was getting an erection again...

Epilogue

Three days later, Roger was tearing up some old linoluem from the kitchen floor when he heard someone tapping at the front door.

"Yeah, come in!"

"Hello...?" The door creaked opened.

As Roger stood he burped suddenly, and coughed up something -- he spat it out, saw that it was a small piece of partially dissolved rope. Damn, he was surprised that stuff was still coming up...

He saw a well-dressed young man standing in the hallway, looking around nervously. The man's eyes grew quite wide when he noticed Roger's size, and Roger almost chuckled to himself. He never got tired of seeing that look.

"Ah, pardon me, sir..."

"Can I help ya?" Roger began to slowly walk towards him, scratching under his armpit.

"Umm, I don't know." The young fellow cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "I, uh, I hope so. I'm really sorry to interrupt you."

"No problem." Roger stopped a few feet from him. He saw that the guy was actually kinda cute, in a geeky sort of way. His stomach rumbled loudly. "What can I do fer you?"

"Well, my car broke down just up the street, and... I hate to impose, but you wouldn't happen to have a working phone here, would you? Or maybe you could tell me where there's a pay phone around here?"

Roger grinned widely. "Oh, you can use ours."

He thought about how incredibly lucky he'd been this past month. These tasty young men just seemed to be falling into his lap lately. Those two vandals, Tom and William, then Sprite, then that guy from across the road -- Roger realized that he'd never even found out his name. And all the ones before them, how many was it now? He'd lost count...

Roger pointed to the cellar doorway, where a newly built flight of stairs could be seen leading down into the darkness. "It's right down there," he said, wiping his lips.

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