Territory I
By: Pi-Zero

I went down to the locker rooms to see what I could see. It was late, and I'm a soccer player, so anyone who did see me wouldn't think twice about it, but mostly the locker rooms were empty anyways. I went to my own locker which I had very strategically chosen and sat down, opening the locker softly in case someone came in and saw me.

My locker's about three in from the main walkway, but some pissed off athlete bashed the lockers by mine some time ago and they were tilted a bit right next to mine. This left a gap where the set that my locker was a part of leaned away from the rest. Through this gap I could see much of the rest of the locker room, including the most popular part, with the bigger lockers without really being in any danger of being seen. All that was left was to wait, oh how I loved fall season!

I had to wait a while, but eventually I was rewarded by two beefy football players walking into the other end of the locker room. I recognized one, a big sophomore player named Grant. He was pretty big, 230 lbs at least, and all muscle. I didn't recognize the other one, I decided he must be one of the new freshman recruits. He was even bigger than Grant, and had to be 260 on the conservative side. I had deliberately come in after the main team was done practicing; they were likely to notice me with that many guys around. The guys who stayed late were always the hotter, better built ones anyways, the ones who stayed late to practice and work out. I leaned in close to the crack to watch them.

"Wow, hot work out there tonight, Timmy." Grant said, ruffling his partner's (apparently Tim) hair.

Tim batted away Grant's hand and grunted, "I told you not to call me that."

Grant laughed, not catching the angry glint in Tim's eye as he pulled his pads and shirt off, revealed a broad, muscular chest and well formed abs, dripping sweat and leaving himself with a cowlick where his shirt had caught on his hair, "Come on big guy. You're the biggest guy on the team and you're a froshling, it's our DUTY to pick on ya! But seriously, dude, you fucking dominated out there. I'm no slouch and I feel like I've been through a fuckin' meat tenderizer!"

Tim grinned as he pulled off his own pads and shirt, making Grant's well formed muscle look small, "Damn right I dominated, got to show you little guy's who's gonna be boss on this team!"

Grant rolled his eyes and laughed, punching Tim in the arm, "What the fuck ever man. Hey, I'm so fucking hungry I could eat a fucking horse, what say we go grab us some grade A beef?"

He looked up to see that Tim had stepped up in front of him. Tim cocked his head, an eyebrow raised, "I'm fucking hungry too. Crushing guys always makes me starved, but why would I want to go anywhere? Looks to me like I've got some perfect grade A beef right here. And already tenderized too…"

Grant's face scrunched up and he stepped back a pace, only to run into the wall, "Uh… dude… what the fuck are you talking about? Do… do you want to like suck my dick or somethin'? Look man, I got nothin' against gays or anything, and if Jenna keeps cockteasin' me I might think about lettin' you have a swing on my dong, but jeeze…" he trailed off.

Tim had just stood there through Grant's awkward speech, hands across muscled chest, accentuating his huge biceps and shoulder muscles, a soft smile on his strong jawed face, "I don't remember saying anything about your dick, little Grant. And truthfully I have little interest in it except as part of the rest of your Grade A, tenderized beefy body." He stepped in closer to Grant, pressing his teammate up against the wall.

Grant looked confused, and a little nervous, "Well I sure as fuck ain't grabbin' my ankles for no dude, man. Now quit this and lets go get a damn burger and we'll forget this ever happened." He tried to push Tim away from him, but the bigger man was leaning into him and didn't budge an inch. Grant was simply too worn out from practice.

Tim grinned hugely, his perfect white teeth gleaming in the poorly lit locker room, "No need to bend over, buddy. I want your perky rump roast in my mouth, not my dick in it." He leaned over the cowed man in front of him and licked the side of his face, "Mmm"

Grant made a face, "Fucking DISGUSTING man! You CANNOT lick my ass you fucking cocksucker! Dude, get OFF my right the fuck NOW!"

Tim didn't move so Grant took a swing at him. Tim easily caught Grant's arms and pinned them to his sides, "Not off, little Grant, IN. I enjoyed tenderizing you today, showing you who was the top of the food chain, ME. And now it's time for the king of the jungle to eat, fucker. Later."

Grant could only stare in horror as Tim yawned wider than should have been possible. He whipped his head about, but he was pinned and couldn't avoid Tim's mouth as he lunged forward and took the entire of Grant's head into his mouth.

I can only imagine Grant's confusion and fear. Here he was, a man used to being the Big Man On Campus, the tough guy, able to take on anyone, completely helpless. He could only writhe in Tim's seemingly unbreakable grip as the big football player inhaled noisily through his nose, scrunching up his face in concentration as he pushed down, forcing his ridiculously distended lips to stretch around his teammate's shoulders. I was riveted with fear and excitement, hard as a rock in my pants. Never had I witnessed such an incredible display of power!

Tim apparently didn't want to be bothered with bending over his meal, because he shifted his grip to Grant's waist, leaving his arms free and flailing. Then, despite Grant's obvious heft and the fact that he had just finished a long workout, he lifted Grant, flailing arms, legs and all over his head. Holy shit, this guy was strong.

Tim gripped Grant's waist tightly over his head and, taking another noisy breath through his nose, pushed, literally stuffing Grant's chest into his mouth and Grant's head down his throat. Greg was still yelling in there, I could hear his muffled shouts, and (more disturbingly… hottly?) SEE his head moving in Tim's stretched throat.

Grant's arms were rapidly becoming pinned to his sides, Tim had already eaten his chest and pinned his elbows, and Grant was obviously starting to panic. He flailed about wildly, but amazingly, Tim stood perfectly still despite most of 230 lbs swinging above his head.

Tim's throat muscles flexed and Grant's head vanished from his neck and into his chest, replaced by his larger shoulders. Grant's arms were completely pinned as Tim reached his waist, only leaving Grant's hands free, clenching in space, grabbing at nothing. I wondered briefly how Tim planned to get Grant's asshugging football pants off.

I needn't have `worried.' Tim released his now useless grip on Grant's waist and the doomed jock slipped in to his low slung pants before snagging again on his bulging butt. Tim didn't even pause, he reached up and grabbed Grant's knees. His arms bulged and his throat worked. Tim's lips stretched briefly as Grant's butt slid into his mouth and down his throat in one long shove, dirt stained pants and all, leaving only Grant's lower legs still kicking futilely outside the big jock.

Grant, for his part, wasn't giving up. Cries still came from inside Tim's now hugely distended belly. It was strange seeing what appeared to be a GIGANTIC beer gut with obvious six pack muscles on it. Of course it was odder to see it move by itelf, and the occasional visible imprint of a hand, or… was that his head? His feet still kicked frantically outside Tim's mouth.

Tim was unfazed, his throat worked once, and Grant's own weight pulled his legs in to the ankles. Tim swallowed again and the last of Grant vanished and Tim stretched his jaw a couple times and closed his mouth with a smile, "Oy, you were indeed Grade A meet, Grant! And tenderized just right, too! Still nice and squirmy, but easy to turn into a meal!"

I could only barely make out Grant's words, muffled as they were by Tim's stomach muscles, "FUCK YOU, you fucker! Let me the fuck OUT! I don't know how the FUCK you did this, but you are so FUCKED. I'm gonna fucking rip you apart from the fucking inside!"

Tim's stomach began to thrash and bounce. Tim, for his part, stood there, unconcerned, actually seeming to enjoy himself, "Nice job, Grant, you're quite the fighter. But I need to go home now, settle down." His stomach muscles tightened around Grant, clearly showing his outline and Tim let out a huge belch, "Mmm, much better."

Crushed by Tim's stomach into a tiny fetal ball and deprived of air, Grant's struggles quickly faded. When they ceased, Tim grabbed a big shirt out of his locker and pulled it over his head. He stuffed Grant's stuff into his big duffel bag and shut his locker before vanishing from my site out the far door.

I sat for a few minutes, realizing my crotch was sticky. I had cum somewhere during the end of Tim's meal. I was amazed. I had never seen anything like that. It had taken Tim about 3 minutes to overcome a 230 pound, muscular jock, stuff him down his maw, and turn him into a squirming lump of glorified burger. Holy fuck. The guy must have had a lot of practice. I snuck off to head home and jerk off, thinking about what it would feel like to have that much jock squirming inside me…

To be continued...