Lunch Money
By: Pi-Zero

Chris smiled, he was finally here. Yeah, it was State and not the private school he ahd wanted to go to, but it would do. He had done it, survived high school and gotten out, escaped to freedom.

High school had been absolute hell for Chris, namely because of one man, Brett Travers. Chris was a smallish guy, just on the fit side of average, and quiet, slow to make friends. Brett had capitalized on this and singled Chris out for bullying attention.

Now, to be clear, this wasn’t normal bullying. No periodic noogies, or even swirlies for Chris. No, this was Brett slamming Chris up against the nearest wall, tree, locker, bathroom stall, in order to demand lunch money. Then lunch money and homework, then papers written. Never having been much of a fighter and lacking anyone to stand up for him, Chris meekly submitted to the punishment. He gave his money to Brett every day, did most of Brett’s homework and other assignments, and as a result, his own studies suffered greatly.

That was, of course, why he had only been able to get into State, the constant torture had taken a severe toll on Chris’ grades. But he had gotten into State, and now he was here, free of high school and free of Brett.

It was the day before classes were to start. Chris had gone to the campus store and bought his books for the semester, which drained his wallet by just over two hundred dollars. But it was worth it, biology, physics, and an interesting literature course. Before going back to his dorm he stopped by the bathroom.

He was just coming out of the stall when he heard the door click shut, and the click of a lock snapping, “Hello, Dickwad.”

Chris froze, his body paralyzed by that familiar appellation. He wanted run, but there was nowhere to go with the door locked, and even if he could, where would he go after? He finished opening the door, cursing himself for being so stupid. Of Course Brett would get into State, Chris had made his grades for him!

Sure enough, there stood Brett, all six-eight, muscle packed, grinning feet of him, “Hey, Dickwad, it’s collection time, I need my free lunch.”

Chris stood shaking, “I… I don’t have any money, Brett. I… spent it all on my books… I had ramen for lunch ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything better.”

Brett walked easily towards Chris, backing him up against the cold wall, “Oh really now… well, you know what would happen if you lied to me, so I’ll have to believe you. I’ve got Calculus starting tomorrow, and you’ll be doing my homework.”

Standing pinned against the wall, Brett’s blue eyes piercing his, the hot, unpleasant breath from the larger man assaulting his nose, closed his eyes for a second. Four years more of torture at Brett’s hands flashed before his eyes, and something inside him snapped, “No.”

Brett raised an eyebrow quizzically, “No? Look, it’s the beginning of the term, so I’ll give you a break. Get me double lunch money tomorrow and get right started on that tomorrow and we’ll call it even.”

Chris felt that fire in him building, his eyes narrowed, “No, you arrogant piece of shit. I’m not giving you money, and I’m not doing your fucking homework.”

Brett glared down at the much smaller freshman, “Then we have a problem, Dickwad. They say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, but they’re fucking wrong. If you’re not going to provide my free lunch and you’re not doing my homework, then you are no longer useful to me.”

For half a second Chris though Brett was done and would leave. But no such thing happened, Brett just kept glaring at him, obviously waiting for a response. Chris growled, “Screw you, you big fucker. I’m DONE being your bitch.” He pulled back and let fly, punching Brett in the stomach as hard as he could.

Caught off guard, Brett bent double with a “WHUF!”, breathing hard. The fire burning hot and high in his stomach now, Chris grabbed Brett’s head, not quite sure what he planned to do next, feeling only the burning sensation in his gut. He pulled his knee back, thinking to slam it into Brett’s face, “I’m going to KILL yaaaoooooooOOAAAH?”

The fire in his belly rose, and something popped. He had lost his words because as he started to yell, Chris’ jaw had continued to open. And suddenly he knew what he would do, his mouth was huge, impossibly distended, who needed a knee when he could remove his problem with Brett forever? Brett’s head would easily fit in his mouth, and somehow, he knew with his bones he could do it, he could EAT Brett.

He gripped Brett, pulling him toward his now gaping mouth, intent on cramming the bully down his gullet to feed the fire that burned there. As his lips touched the crown of Brett’s head and he tasted the sweet flavor of his meal, he suddenly felt a more familiar sensation in his gut.

Brett’s fist connected hard with Chris’ soft stomach, a sensation he was well acquainted with. Memories flooded back, of pain, fear, and cowardice. The fire in his belly guttered and died not even a flicker left, his mouth shrinking back to its normal dimensions.

A lightly swung arm easily knocked Chris’ grip free of Brett’s head. Brett stood, glaring down at Chris for second before slamming a hand into Chris’ throat and pinning him to the bathroom wall. Brett smiled, a cold calculating smile, “Found the fire, did you? After all these years? Too bad for you, Dickwad. You’re weak, Dickwad. You’ve always been weak, you’ll always be weak. Even your fire is weak!”

Chris began to shake, how could Brett know? There was no way he could possibly have seen what was happening, except for that wet ring touching his head!

Brett’s eyes narrowed, boring into Chris, “No money, no homework, and now you think you can fucking waste me, eh Dickwad? Well now, I think I WILL be getting that free lunch from you, what do you say?”

Barely able to resist crying, Chris stuttered, “I… I… I d-d-don’t know w-w-what you mean!”

“Don’t give me that shit, Dickwad. Turn about is fair play. You always were a little shit, you should be thankful, now I’m going to turn you into a BIG shit! Law of the jungle and all, big strong animals eat small weak animals. I’m the big strong predator and you’re the pathetic weak little prey!”

“No… no… please… anything! Money, homework… sexual favors! ANYTHING!” Chris cried.

“Want a preview?” Brett laughed, opening his mouth. Chris could see the huge expanse of his tongue, the dark pit leading down to a stomach that waited to destroy anything that entered it. Brett belched, a horrible reek washing over Chris, causing him to gag, “Like the room? I’ll give it to you for free, just get me a free lunch! HA HA HA! That’s right, Dickwad, get used to the smell because by this time tomorrow you’ll be nothing but a steaming pile of shit I’ll flush down the locker room fucking toilets.”

Before Chris could do more than blabber more hopeless promises, Brett grabbed his shoulders and leaned close, his mouth expanding with an ease that shocked even Chris who had just opened his mouth a minute before. A huge tongue stretched out and licked across Chris’ face, clearly more torture.

Chris fought valiantly then, survival reflexes kicking in, all the while searching inside for some last guttering spark of that flame that had burned. Trying with all his might to find it again, that he might yawn wide and still devour his captor… but it was not to be. All he could do was stare in horror as he fought as Brett lifted him bodily from the ground and crammed him into that terrible darkness, smashing his face into the cold slimy wetness of Brett’s tongue and mouth.

Brett was wasting no time, he heaved Chris up again, stuffing Chris’ head past his mouth into the dark void of his throat, stretching easily around his meal, enjoying the sensations. Chris screamed then, causing a visible (and pleasurable) vibration in Brett’s throat, as he realized that Brett had managed to force his huge mouth open wider to encompass Chris’ (admittedly not very wide) shoulders.

There was nowhere for Chris to go, his head already beginning the downward trip, his arms were pinned to his sides by Brett’s tight mouth and lips and his legs were backed up against the wall. He squirmed like a stranded eel, but there was little use, he was largely reduced to screaming obscenities at his lifelong enemy.

Brett was enjoying his meal immensely. He took his time, wanting to drag it out, to torture his meal as long as possible. He took a long slow gulp, taking in Chris’ chest and pinning his elbows before gripping Chris waist to hoist him up vertically above his head.

Inside, Chris felt the red tinged world of Brett’s throat tilt as he was shoved further. “Shit, he’s got me over his head, there’s nowhere to go but down… not that I didn’t already know that.” But still he fought, as his head connected with a tight opening below him. The entry to Brett’s stomach.

Brett swallowed, letting gravity drag Chris’s stomach into his mouth, cramming Chris’ shoulders deeper into the tight embrace of his throat. He closed his eyes to savor Chris’ desperate struggles as his meal’s head broke through into his stomach.

If Chris had thought the smell of Brett’s breath was bad, this was a thousand times worse. He thought he would die as the acrid stench assaulted his nose, stinging his eyes. It smelled like vomit, like unwashed urinals, like locker rooms… like death. His face was smashed into what he supposed was the remains of Brett’s last meal.

As he continued to scream obscenities and pleas at Brett, a piece of his mind was yelling, “This is fucking impossible, just my head fills his stomach!” while another calmly responded, “And? It should have been impossible to get even this far, and YOU were prepared to try it.” To which, of course, the first part had no response. Chris realized then that he was probably going crazy… not that it mattered.

Brett’s lips had reached Chris’ waist now and Brett grabbed Chris butt and crammed it bodily into himself like it was a double cheeseburger. Chris’ shoulders were forced through the opening of the stomach to join his head, pressing out Brett’s six pack abs with the outline of Chris.

Chris could feel Brett forcing more and more of his body down that terrible throat and into this awful prison. Slowly he was being forced to curl up, unable to resist the force of Brett’s stronger body. He tried to continue fighting, but he could feel the cold air of the bathroom on his legs being replaced by the disgusting slime of Brett’s tongue.

Now that his meal’s ass was being forced down the tight tube of his throat, progress was easy for the hungry predator. Brett gulped easily, pulling Chris’s meaty thighs into his mouth, watching the futile kicking of what remained outside his mouth. Already curling, Chris had less than no hope of resisting.

Chris realized that Brett wasn’t even bothering to hold his legs any more, and why should he? There was no escape now. He wasn’t sure there had ever been any hope of escape. “I’m through being your bitch.” He had said, and he realized now that in that rash moment, he had sealed his fate. His knees were slipping past Brett’s heartless lips now, leaving him only able to flex his toes in angry denial of his situation.

Brett pursed his lips, sucking Chris’ lower legs in like oversized noodles, swallowing to force more of Chris into a ball in his stomach. He looked over his nose at the squirming feet hanging from his now only slightly stretched mouth, thinking, “Ha, the last the world will ever see of Dickwad. Later, loser.” He didn’t even have to swallow, he simply opened his mouth a little wider and let Chris’ own weight drag him down.

“No!” Chris yelled as he felt the tight wetness of Brett’s mouth claim the last of his body. He couldn’t resist as Brett swallowed, forcing the last of Chris’ legs and feet down, cramming Chris into an even smaller ball. There wasn’t enough space here, Chris could feel Brett’s stomach stretched tightly around him, trying to crush him ever tighter.

Brett laughed, running his hand over the bulging outline of Chris’ body, “Deny me will you, Dickwad? Hope you enjoy being nothing but a meal ticket!” He paused to savor the feeling as Chris squirmed and struggled desperately, muffled shouts coming from within his distended belly. “About time you found your rightful place.” He flexed his stomach muscles and let out a tremendous belch, satisfied as he watched Chris’ outline grow more defined with the loss of air.

For his part, Chris struggled futilely for a few more seconds until the loss of air and general exhaustion overtook him. As consciousness fled him, he felt the tingling begin on the lower part of his body, Brett beginning to digest him, he supposed. Finally, he succumbed completely, Brett’s powerful stomach forcing him tighter and tighter, reducing the free space and the bulge in Brett’s stomach.

Brett grabbed the books Chris had been carrying, “Sweet, bet I can turn these back in for a refund of a couple hundred!” The next morning, anyone by the bathroom would hear Brett laugh, “Later Dickwad! And they say there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

The End