Subway
By: Cusros

My stomach let out a crippling growl; so severe I had to bend over slightly.

“Wow, I even I heard that,” Jay commented next to me.

“Yeah, that was pretty strong,” I replied, clutching it.

He grinned, “Speaking of strong, I had no clue you could bench that much. How did you get so strong?”

Impatiently, I snapped, “By eating properly, not by gossiping in front of a subway! Get your skinny ass in there and start ordering your sandwich.”

Jay had asked me to drag him along to a gym session. The poor guy wasn’t an ounce over a hundred twenty pounds, if that. Given his average height, he looked like a waif. While there, he bet me I couldn’t bench my weight. When I asked what he was betting, he offered lunch. Grinning, I benched 290, nearly half-again my weight. If I had known the guy drove like a centenary widow, I would have skipped the offer. Still, can’t turn down a free lunch.

The little guy ordered a six-inch cold cut. I shoved him gently, nearly topping him, and joked, “That… is not how you get any bigger. Let me show you how a man orders. I’ll take fifteen footlongs, all on whole wheat.”

The subway employee opened his eyes in shock, and Jay looked over at me. He protested, “I offered to buy you lunch, not food for the next two weeks. Six is all I’m paying for.”

I rolled my eyes, “Do I have to get all the cheapest variety too?”

“I don’t care what you get, but just because you beat me in a stupid bet doesn’t mean you can take advantage of me like that.”

“Fine. I’ll have two steak, two tuna, and two meatball, all double meat.”

The attendant looked at me funny and said, “You know there’s no way to fit a double meat meatball into your mouth right?”

I scowled and said, “Let me worry about that.”

Half an hour later, we were at a small, secluded area with a picnic table in the local park. I stripped down to my swimming trunks, half because it was beating hot out, half because I enjoyed showing off my body every chance I get. Jay took my cue and stripped down too. The poor boy had two rows of visible ribs. He had defined biceps and abs more due to the complete absence of fat on his body than any shape the muscles themselves held.

I ate the tuna first. I’m not a big fan of the flavor of tuna, but it’s got the best protein out there, so I eat it when I’m hungriest so I don’t notice the taste. Hungry as I was, each footlong didn’t take more than eight bites. I let out a small burp, more to prepare than due to any pressure, and looked up briefly. Jay was staring at me, mouth agape. He still hadn’t touched his sandwich. He said, shocked, “You didn’t spend a minute eating either one.”

I grinned, “Told you I was hungry.”

Showboating, I got out the meatball subs next. The guy at the counter was right; the things were huge with double meat. I strained to open my mouth wide enough, and only managed to bite a bit off, getting more sauce on me than food in me. Jay laughed. Now it was a challenge. I strained further, managing to get a solid bite. As I swallowed the huge chunk, my stomach growled further. It needed food NOW, and I wasn’t being fast enough. Desperation caused me to take bigger and bigger bites. Each bite got easier, until I got to the second meatball sub, which I devoured in the same time it took me to chow down on the tuna sandwiches.

Not enough.

I reached for the steak subs. I opened as wide as possible, fitting in a whole six-inch into my mouth. I didn’t even pause to chew, instead opting to swallow it whole. The other half of the sandwich suffered the same fate.

Not nearly enough.

Desperately, I opened my mouth as wide as possible, and crammed in the whole last sub, swallowing it in a single bite.

More!

Burping loudly, I looked down to realize I was out of food. I scanned desperately for more food, my eyes falling on the pitiful, still untouched six inch of Jays. I lunged out for it, only to find myself grasping Jay’s arm.”

“Screw you pig! I need to eat…” at that point I stopped listening to him, my whole body aching with frenzied hunger.

FOOD! screamed my stomach.

More out of desperation than conscious thought, I pulled Jay’s arm unceremoniously towards me, jerking his whole body onto the picnic table. Thinner by far than a footlong sandwich, I jammed Jay’s whole forearm into my mouth.

At this point, I should have realized that I had just stuck my friend into my mouth. But all I was aware of was desperate hunger, and the delicious, meaty flavor of his skin. I reached for his biceps and started to pull him in.

“Put me down! I’ll go buy you another freaking sandwich you pig!” He pressed against my face, but was unable to find purchase. Desperately, he grabbed the edge of the picnic table and placed both his bare feet on my face, one on my nose, one on my chin. He shoved against my face, pulling his arm ever so slightly from my maw.

He had the advantage of leverage; I had raw brute strength. I pulled and pulled against his arm, desperately needing to feed my cringing gullet. Normally, there should have been no chance of me winning in this situation, but I had well over half again his weight, and I was driven by a feral, primitive hunger. His arm started to slowly descend down my throat. Jay contorted his face, and jammed his toes beneath my lips, forcing my mouth wider. Between the sudden strain causing my grip to lessen and the inability to use my mouth, he was able to pull his arm free to the wrist.

My stomach wailed in protest, and I did the same tactic that had been serving me this whole ordeal, I yanked his arm with all my might. Unexpectedly, the gross feet Jay had been shoving against the inside of my mouth, pulled both by his push and my sharp tug, slid way past his knees.

Frantically, I grabbed his ass and shoved it towards my mouth, and crammed it down. My whole chest expanded to make room for his descending legs, and I found myself with my lips up to his swimsuit. Not wanting to eat the thing, I tore it off. Placing my hands on both sides of his thin waist, I began cramming him down my throat. As my upper lips passed over his tight abs, I almost wished I could run my tongue along them and savor their flavor, but the taste of his back was sublime, and the look of sheer terror in his eyes gazing down on me was mouth watering.

I wanted to savor the moment, I really did. However, at that instant, he kicked a foot, hitting my stomach from the inside. The feel of power I got from having a living creature struggle in my gullet was amazing. I had to have him all. Powerfully, I stuffed his chest into my maw, gulping rapidly. I could feel the skin about my chest pull tightly with the strain of the extra area to cover; I did not care.

As I reached his shoulders, his free arm found purchase on the far lip of the picnic table. With a pull powered more by desperation than by strength, he managed to pull his slippery, sweaty, salty, delicious body a few inches. Were my airway not otherwise occupied, I would have roared in outrage. I threw my head back, turning the picnic table on its side.

The momentum carried him further down my throat. As my throat closed over Jay’s free shoulder, he started repeatedly shouting “No! No! No!” I sampled his face greedily with my tongue, knowing well it would soon be lost. As his head slid down my throat, his cries of protest became muffled and reverberated pleasantly within me. I took a couple of deep breaths, moaned in satisfaction, and lay back on the grass, letting the added weight in my gut settle comfortably on me. Contentedly, I watched my stomach shift and lurch with Jay’s struggling. His pleas for freedom reverberated pleasantly through my body. Abruptly, they stopped, drawing my attention. Jay shouted, “ARE YOU EATING AGAIN?”

I suddenly realized I was. Without even thinking about it, I had started eating Jay’s discarded sandwich at a leisurely pace. While no longer hungry, I didn’t really feel full, and was still ready to enjoy more food if it was available. I laughed, causing Jay to squirm with my diaphragm contractions, and said, “Told you I could eat fifteen.”

I consumed the remainder of the sandwich, and rubbed my squirming belly, wondering if I should get more. My eyes fell on Jay’s ripped swimsuit, and the wallet that had fallen out of it. Inspecting it, I found ninety dollars, and a bankcard.

I interrupted Jay’s incessant pleas for escape and complaints about digested food falling on him with a powerful slap to my belly. “What’s your ATM number?” I bellowed, fancying the complete power I had over Jay.

He told me, and begged, “You can buy as many sandwiches as you want, so let me out now!”

Twenty minutes later, I was at the Subway, sitting in front of nine more footlong sandwiches, courtesy of Jay’s bank account. The employee had looked agape at my distended, gut, but after all the sandwiches I ordered, who wouldn’t expect a little bloating? I swallowed one.

“I can tell that you got your sandwiches. Now let me out!” protested the voice in my gut.

Two.

“Ok, not funny!”

Three.

“Running out of space to breathe here!”

Four.

“STOP!”

Five.

Silence.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Burp.

The End