Game Night
By: Pi-Zero
I knew there would be a problem as soon as Chip volunteered to host the party. Though rolling in dough (his parents were pretty well off and gave him money to keep from pestering them), he was a fucking tight-ass when it came to sharing. Unsurprisedly, I was right. When we got to his apartment to watch the big game, there was his big TV, nice couch and chairs, and like nothing to eat.
Gregg, by far our biggest player at 6'8" and built like a fucking brick shit-house, groaned, "What the fuck Chip? You know I get hungry when I'm watching the game! Don't you got anything for a guy to snack on?" Chip, as usual, came up with some lame-ass excuse about having to study and not being able to go shopping. Bullshit. Chip didn't study, ever. It was like a commandment to him. The fucking bastard just decided not to feed us. "But I think I have some carrots and celery in the fridge, and a little dip left. I'll go get that." We just rolled our eyes and spread ourselves out to get comfortable for the game. Gregg followed Chip into the 'kitchen,' really just another space behind a half-wall, though quite effective.
"Hey Chip, Mind if I dig around looking for something edible?" Gregg asked, his head already in a cabinet. At Chip's mumbled he gave Chip a funny look, "Then can I eat any chips I find lying around this dump?" Chip snorted, "Be my guest big-guy. I assure you, there are no chips here. I'd have eaten them already." Gregg chuckled, "Oh, I bet I can find at least one chip you haven't eaten." Chip just shook his head, "Watever... dumbass." After a minute he came out with a meager plate of carrots and celery sticks. The dip was good though. Jack shouted back to Gregg, still rummaging through the kitchen, "Come on Gregg! The game's gonna be on in 20!"
With a grunt, Gregg came out, scowling. He flopped down on the couch, the rest of us made room. Come on! The guy outweighs almost any TWO of us! And he's good, who's gonna argue with him? Gregg scowled around for a minute, then seemed to brighten. He jumped up and grabbed Chip out of his chair. Chip isn't terribly small, he weighs in at a good 160 or so, pretty much all muscle (though he's damn near useless on the field). Gregg, though, just sort of lifted him up out of his expensive black leather chair. Then he sat back down, putting Chip on his knee. Still spluttering about being moved, Chip was totally unprepared for Gregg to scoop up a finger full of dip and paint it from Chip's forehead down his nose to his chin.
Now Chip really started to splutter, "What're you doing you big dumbass? Put me back! And get this fucking dip off my face!" Gregg just smiled, hands around Chip's waist, "You said I could eat any chips I found. I found my Chip! He laughed. Chip rolled his eyes, "Ha ha, very funny, now get me a tow- eeeeew!" He was broken off as Gregg leaned in and licked the dip off the end of his nose, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF A HOLY FUCK IN A BUCKET?!?!? Keep your damn faggy germs off me you freak!" Gregg grinned, "Mmmm, you taste good! Gonna enjoy some more of that!"
Of course the rest of us are sitting there wondering what the fuck this guy is doing, but finding it terrifically amusing. Chip was an arrogant prick and it was nice to see Gregg put him in his place, since none of the rest of us could. Chip, by now, was turning red, he turned purple when Gregg leaned forward again and licked him... all the way from his chin to his forehead! Now the rest of us were just rolling on the floor, laughing our asses off at the purple rage that twisted Chip's face. Gregg grinned again, "Mmm, I'll definately enjoy eating this Chip!"
Then, Gregg yawned... well... sort of. He kinda yawned and didn't stop yawning. His mouth just kept stretching... like some wierd creature out of a horror movie his face just sort of flowed like silly putty. Someone whispered, "Holy fuck." I don't know who. We were all in shock, this was wierd. But that didn't hold a candle to what happened next. Suddenly Gregg leaned forwards really fast, planting his mouth right over Chip's ENTIRE FACE! His cheeks went concave for a second and there was a soft *pop.* Gregg's lips were now wrapped around Chip's neck.
I said we were in shock before. That was a day in the park to the wierdness that would come. No one moved, no one said anything. This had to be a hallucination, right? Maybe Chip put something in his air conditioner or something, 'cause this was fucking wierd. But as we waited for whatever oddity to pass, Gregg grunted and mouth stretched still further, wrapping around Chip's chest. You could see the outline of Chip's head in Gregg's distended throat, squirming for all he was worth.
Gregg was never the most flexible man... well, at least in the normal sense, and the angle was getting difficult. At least, that's what I guess looking back on it now. Anyways, he grabbed Chips hips and dead lifted him. A small gasp escaped someone. Looking back it's kinda funny. We were shocked by him EATING our teammate, but we were still impressed that he dead lifted 160 pounds of frantically kicking weight over his head with no more than a sharp exhalation through his nose and stood there, stock still. Gregg gripped Chip's butt - which caused him to squirm and pulled. His throat constricted around Chip's head which vanished into his barrel-like chest as Gregg encompassed him to his waist. Gregg grunted and swallowed again, with a wet slurp, Chip's ass vanished between those gaping jaws, follwed swiftly by his legs.
Only Chips ankles still remained outside Gregg's lips. Gregg's stomach was becoming distended and we could see Chip pushing against it as he was forced into the confined space. Finally, someone managed to shake off the strange hypnotic horror we all felt. Surprisingly, it was a freshman by the name of Scott. We all called him Sprite 'cause he was fucking everywhere on the field, like magic. He was FAST! Anyway, Sprite jumped forward, "What the fuck! Let him go! You can't EAT him you big fucker!" He grabbed Chip's ankles before they could vanish into Gregg's gullet. "Come ON guys! You've got to help me!"
None of us moved. We were all freaked, but we also saw the look Gregg was giving Sprite. It wasn't the look of a teammate. It was the look of a predator who's just had his meal interrupted. Gregg was normally scary enough to intimidate us, and now? *I* sure as fuck wasn't going to cross him! How Sprite managed to ignore or not see that look, I'll never know. But he did. The fucking smallest member of our team, only 140, and he tried. He started yanking on Chip, trying to pull him back out.
Gregg growled and, his hands now free, grabbed Sprite's arms and PULLED! Completely thrown off balance, Sprite fell forwards. His grip on Chip's ankles sped them down Gregg's throat and his own arms were close behind! He started screaming, but it was too late. Gregg wrapped a huge hand around the back of Sprite's head and pulled. With a wet *glorp*, Sprite's arms stretched Gregg's throat and his face lay on Gregg's tongue.
Gregg repeated his performance with Chip. With another groan and shove, he took Sprite's shoulders. Then he lifted him over his head, this time without even visible effort. Here, he ran into problems however. Chip was taking up space. Gregg wasn't about to be defeated though. He wrapped his hands around Sprite's muscular thighs and pulled, muscles bulging as the muscles of his distended neck worked around Sprite's head and shoulders. With a groan from Gregg's stomach, probably Chip shifting, Sprite slipped downward into Gregg to his waist. Another audible *gulp* and Sprite's ass vanished.
Gregg let his head dropand faced the rest of us, Sprite's legs still kicking from his mouth. He lifted an eybrow and his cheeks hollowed. With a horrible sucking sound Sprite's legs vanished like two giant spaghetti noodles into Gregg's gaping mouth. It was over. Two of our teammates had been devoured by a third.
With a grunt Gregg fell onto the couch. He looked around at us, "WhAAAAT? He said I could have any Chip I could find! I found one!" We all just stared at him. We could see the outlines of Chip and Sprite in his horrifically bulging stomach for Chrissakes! They were still yelling for help! Gregg gave us all a shit-eating grin, "And I always like a little Sprite to wash down my Chip!"
Right. How were we supposed to sit next to that? Especially when it moved and yelled for help? We could have called the police, I suppose. But they wouldn't likely have believed us. Gregg stared at us, "Come on guys! BR-AAAA_AAAAAAA-PPP-AAAAA!!! Ooooh, much better, anyways, come on guys, the games about to start." As he belched, his stomach shrank, releasing all the air that had been swallowed with the two men. It also constricted their movements, so they didn't squirm as much. And at least the yelling had stopped.
So we sat. What else could we do? We sat and we watched the game, and watched Gregg's stomach, still slowly moving. Eventually we got distracted by the game. Probably our minds trying to make us forget it. But then half-time came and went, and then the game was over. We looked over at Gregg again, and gasped. His stomach was back to it's normal tight rippled self. There was no sign of the 300 pounds of meat he had just eaten! None! He belched again and patted his stomach, "See you guys at practice!"
None of us spoke about it for the rest of the weekend. What was there to discuss? What we could have done? How we could have stopped him? I don't think anything could have stopped him really. But then came monday and practice. We were all lined up and the coach came out, "Where the fuck is that lazy ass bastard of a Chip? And where's Sprite? He's never late?"
We all looked at our toes. Finally I spoke up, "Um... uh... you see... we met to watch the big game this weekend at Chips and... well... he forgot to get food." The coach looked at me suspiciously. I don't usually stutter, or falter, and as captain, I'm pretty used to dealing with the coach. Coach lifted an eybrow, "And? Just a lack of food doesn't keep a man from showing up!" I faltered again, "And... um... Gregg was hungry... and Chip said he could eat any chips he could find... So... Gregg at him... and Sprite when Sprite tried to stop him." The coach looked at me harder. Oh fuck, I thought, he's gonna think I've had them all on drugs all weekend. Why couldn't I find a better excuse than that? Oh fuck, oh fuck. Coach looked at Gregg, "True?" Gregg shrugged, "I was hungry."
The coach believed us? Holy shit! He rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Gregg, Gregg, Gregg. Next time you're going to be that hungry, tell me. I'll get you into some rival team's party or something. Chip we can do without, he was useless. But Sprite! He was our best new runner! GAH! Gregg! Try not to eat your teammates in the future! Or at least not the useful ones, ok?" Gregg hung his head, "Yes Coach. Sorry." We were floored. Not only did Coach believe us that Gregg had bodily consumed two of his players, he took it perfectly in stride! Then he suggested finding other guys for Gregg to eat! What the?
Suffice it to say, none of us ever talked. We were the best team around. Gregg could bull through or block anything. The shared secret served to bind us together and we worked as a well oiled unit. We were all a little more carefull around Gregg, but Coach smuggled him into parties periodically and there were no more accidents. There were more unexplained dissapearances, but as long as we were winning and it wasn't anyone we knew, oh well...