Territory III
By: Pi-Zero

I had spent two weeks planning. I had gone over every possible detail, every possible scenario a thousand times in my head. It didn’t matter how I played this, how I planned it, one way or another, I was going to die.

I had thought I was safe before. Tim was eating guys much larger than I was. But then Tim ate Nate. This act crossed two boundaries. First, I was no longer safe. Though very strong for my size, there was no way I could compete with – much less match – the pure animal power of Tim. And if Tim was going to hunt guys my size, I would soon be a rather small snack.

Second, and the aspect that drove me to this desperate act I had planned was that Tim had stepped on my turf. I was happy to let him hunt my campus, and even my gym as long as he took the big boys. Those were guys who were bigger and stronger than me anyways. I dreamed of someday being able to take down one of those guys, but certainly not now. But Tim hadn’t been content with the big boys. No, he had to eat Nate, not only a boy I could take but one specifically on my list. I had been looking forward to Nate, stuffing his cute, tight little butt down my throat, feeling him squirming and filling me up. That Tim had taken him, barely even tasted him - much less enjoyed him – filled me with a white hot rage.

I had lurid dreams, of somehow shrinking Tim down and tormenting him. Holding him screaming upside down and breathing my rank breath in his face before arrogantly dropping him into my gaping maw to be digested, not even worthy of a burp. But that, of course, was impossible. As Tim had transgressed on my territory and threatened my safety, I was going to have to do something. I was going to have to take a stand.

And I was going to die. I could almost feel Tim’s terrible throat around me now, constricting me, smashing the air from my chest. I would be curled up in his hot reeking stomach, my last struggles brutally crushed out of me by his powerful abs. I shuddered. But I would not go down without a fight. I would go down knowing that I had shown him that he was not the only one, and that he was not invulnerable. And somehow, the thought of my small defiance was good, even if I was going to be digested. Fucking Tim, why’d he have to come ruin everything?

******

Finally, the fateful day had come, the day when Tim would truly be the top of the food chain. I didn’t think he would be on guard, something about his demeanor made me think he had never met another like himself before. I was banking on that to even give me a chance to make him think.

The night before I had snuck into the locker room and, using a key I borrowed from a janitor (it’s good to cultivate friends) I got into Tim’s locker. I took out his bottle and carefully refilled it, blue Powerade, just what he drank… plus a little extra. I didn’t have any shrinking potions, but I was not without my weapons.

So I waited in my spot behind the lockers, watching. At last, Tim shows up, exactly when he usually does, but it still feels like forever. I’m sure Tim will hear my heart pounding, but somehow, he doesn’t. “His body must know I’m not a threat.” I think, morosely. Despite my fears, I watch as he downs the last of his water bottle before stripping and shoving his stuff in his locker.

Now in only his jock, Tim raised his arms and stretched with a huge yawn, “God DAMN, I’ve been fucking lagging all fucking night! What the hell is with me? Jeeze, maybe I’ll just take a nap before I head home.” He stretched out on the bench, and within a minute, I could hear his soft, sonorous snoring. Now, sleeping on a bench in the locker room might seem weird to some people, but many athletes did it with moderate regularity to take a nap. The fact that Tim did it without thinking, leaving himself bareass and his locker hanging open was less a tribute to the horse tranquilizers in his drink than it was a statement of his supreme confidence that no one would dream of messing with him. And if they did, well, you know what happened.

But here I was, not only ready but *planning* on messing with him. I breathed an almost silent sigh of relief, the first part of the plan – at least – had gone off without a hitch. Now I needed to work fast, I was sure that Tim’s metabolism was *at least* as fast as mine, he’d flush the tranquilizers from his system very soon.

Somehow the knowledge that this hair brained scheme could not succeed gave me strength and resolve. I had never been one to do anything the easy way. Barefoot and wearing only my worn soccer shorts (excellent for pulling on over a wet Speedo), I softly padded down from my hiding place to wear the sleeping behemoth lay. “King of the jungle my foot. Well Mr. King, prepare to meet your match.”

I talked big, in that silent locker room, to no one but myself, but looking over Tim’s huge slumbering body I realized again the futility of this act. I lifted Tim’s hands from the bench, watching him for a sign of movement and marveling at their muscularity and size. Taking a last preparatory deep breath, I rolled my jaw a few times and yawned.

Trying to work as quickly as possible, I pushed Tim’s hands into my mouth and over my tongue. His forearms alone filled my mouth as much as some of my meals’ *thighs!* The best I could hope for was to suffocate both of us, but I had to try. Tim had no respect for territory, no sense of subtlety. And feeling those rippling forearms brushing my tongue, the musky, grassy taste of his skin, my stomach grumbled and I began to salivate. My body wouldn’t let me turn back, even if my mind had wanted to.

I swallowed, my throat grabbing Tim’s hands and pulling them down into the darkness. Or rather, they pulled me further forward onto Tim, since there was no way my puny throat was going to pull Tim across the bench. My lips were now wrapped around Tim’s elbows and already I was feeling stretched. I swallowed again, hard, pushing myself forward and managed to take another inch of Tim’s arms, his biceps starting to squeeze into my mouth, his forearms stretching my throat in preparation (I hoped) for more of him.

I watched Tim, sleeping head, praying for him to stay asleep for just a little longer. I swallowed again, forcing my already aching jaw over his huge biceps. Having even this little bit of Tim inside me gave me an incredible rush. I could feel the incredible power of Tim’s arms, even in his sleep, and I was containing it, controlling it, making it *mine.* I growled low in my throat and swallowed hard, only advancing a half inch this time.

I was approaching Tim’s head now, but that also meant I was starting to have to contend with his hugely muscled shoulders and lats. I swallowed repeatedly, a half inch, a quarter, nothing. Crap. I was stuck and I was just short of Tim’s head. I could feel my throat flexing around Tim’s beefy arms, trying to pull him into my grumbling stomach. I could smell Tim’s hair, right under my nose. I let out a grunt and tried to push forward, swallowing as hard as I could… no luck, nothing.

I was well and truly stuck. I couldn’t force myself any further forward, my jaw refused to dislocate further. Tim was going to wake up and I was going to die, hardly having made the point I was so desperate for. I was so lost in my own pathetic reverie that I barely noticed Tim’s eyes flutter drowsily open. But I couldn’t miss his deep voice booming out, “What the FUCK?” A tiny part of my brain registered the fact that he was truly surprised, it hadn’t occurred to him that he might not be the only one with this ability. The other 99% of my brain registered, “HOLY FUCKING SHIT I’M GONNA DIE!!!”

Now, when normal most people’s brains think they’re going to die, their bodies turn and run, jump back, or at least start. Not so with mine. Years of being a swimmer and diver had taught me to do one thing when startled, jump. To do otherwise will either get you a loss or severe pain in the head. So, when Tim woke up, bleary as he was and my brain registered extreme fear, I did exactly that, I jumped.

Let me tell you, I don’t recommend this experience to anyone. I had been stopped in my progress down Tim’s titanic body more by extreme pain than by actual physical limitations. Now, that option was lost to me. When I jumped, my legs hurtled me forwards with a huge burst of force. I squinted and tears burst into existence as my jaw was brutally dislocated. Tim grunted, “Get the fuck oommmph!” and his eyes widened I managed to cram his entire head and shoulders into my mouth in one lunge.

I thought my body was going to be ripped apart. Searing pain shot through my mouth, jaw, and throat as they were forced to expand to accommodate Tim’s head and massive shoulders. I panted heavily through my nose, hot against the Tim’s flexing lats. All I wanted to do was lie here and let the pain fade, but that option was not open to me. Though still drugged, Tim was awake, and not about to take being eaten lying down!

Tim was certainly not going to go without a fight. He flexed his arms in my throat and I thought I would burst. As painful as it was, I was glad that I had planned this all out and taken him this way. With his arms and head already inside me, there wasn’t too much he could do to get me off him.

I reached up and grabbed Tim’s waist, gulping hard and forcefully pulling myself down his body, sliding my lip under his bulging chest, forcing my own body to straighten out as Tim’s arms begin to push into my stomach. Pain bloomed again in my throat as Tim’s head pushed it open and his shoulders began to stretch the thin tube. Most of the guys I had eaten before were half as wide as Tim and I hoped desperately that I wouldn’t simply pop like a too full shopping bag.

Tim, realizing that trying to burst my throat with his arms alone, and feeling me begin to creep further down his body starts to struggle in earnest. His legs gripped the bench beneath him and his upper body swung back and forth, to shake me off him, I presumed. Luckily, for me his available actions were severely limited without his arms and already prone. He did, however, manage to shake enough to knock me off the bench, overbalancing him as well and dragging him after me, my hands gripping desperately to his waist.

I gulped again, my arms bulging as I dragged myself down the taper of his chest to his stomach, my tongue rippling under his chest to help pull him into me… or me over him. My throat became one long tube of liquid fire as Tim’s massive shoulders threatened to rip it apart. But by some miracle it held as Tim’s protesting head was forced into my heaving chest.

Tim began to flop about like some strange sort of grounded fish. God damn that hurt like a bitch. Though I was trying to be the predator here, the one in control, his body was simply too large for my smaller one to control in this position and my body flopped along with his. Of course I took twice the beating as I served as protective padding for Tim!

I do not take well to being beaten on, I growled, wishing I could make some sort of smart ass remark, and instead contenting myself with gripping Tim’s waist and forcing another few inches of his delicious, muscular body into my mouth. Tim’s head broke through into my stomach, splashing into the little that was there. I had starved myself for two days in the hope of making my stomach willing to work a little harder, but I could not deny myself water.

Tim’s thrashing intensified, and now, though his body was tapering, my work got harder. With my next swallow, Tim’s shoulders followed his head into my stomach. This instantly stretched my stomach, gave Tim more freedom of movement, and made it so I was trying to curl Tim up into me, against his will. Tim, of course, didn’t want anything to do with this, and locked his neck.

I swallowed, pulling as hard as I could, but I couldn’t force Time to curl up when he had decided to remain rigid. My muscles were no match for his. I wasn’t sure what to do, here, I certainly couldn’t go back, but I couldn’t go forward either.

As it turned out, Tim answered the question for me. He flopped again, and as we hit the ground, I swallowed. To successfully “flop” Tim had had to flex his body, and as we hit the ground, that curve had been accentuated. It was only my luck that I swallowed at that moment, pushing Tim in another few inches. Now Tim’s chest was entering my stomach, and he could no longer straighten out to slow me that way. My lips were wrapped around his waist now, I was beginning to think I might not only survive this, but triumph.

Now forced to stop bracing himself, Tim began to curse me. “I don’t know who the fuck you are but you are so totally FUCKED! I’m gonna fuckin’ rip you apart from the fuckin’ inside out you motherfuckin’ son of a BITCH!”

I gulped again, my upper lip now bumping into his bare ass. I realized that as far as I come, this was going to be the hard part. While I had eaten men before, never had I swallowed someone larger than I was, much less as much larger and STRONGER as Tim! My stomach was hugely stretchable, but it was beginning to feel painfully stretched, even without Tim trying to push on my stomach walls. Thank goodness he’d been weakened slightly by lack of air.

As I yawned trying to swallow in Tim’s big bubble butt I realized something else. I couldn’t use gravity. Normally, I would lift my prey above my head like Tim did to help me force my unwilling meal into my stomach. But Tim was much heavier than I could lift, even had I been able to move that much stuffed as I already was.

Way past the turning back point, I angrily grabbed Tim’s butt and pulled him into me with all my strength, stretching my maw open painfully wide but jamming Tim’s entire ass and groin into my mouth.

Tim’s crotch tasted delicious, and I wished I had time to truly pay it it’s due, but there was no way. Instead I grabbed his thighs and pulled again, swallowing and gulping repeatedly, tears jerking from my eyes as my stomach stretched and bulged with the incredible amount of food I was trying to cram in there.

Ever so slowly, I worked my way down Tim’s legs, crawling across the floor as I dragged him into my agonizingly stretched body. Slowly, painfully I forced him to curl up tighter and tighter, even as he swore at me, as his huge meaty thighs were stuffed down my throat, and I passed his knees and flexing calves.

Finally, only his feet remained outside my mouth. My entire body was on fire as if I had decided to run a marathon after breaking both my legs. Tim’s struggles were lessened, but certainly not over, and every motion hurt me. I gulped, ready to send Tim completely down into my stomach… and nothing happened. Tim stayed exactly where he was. I pulled on his feet, trying to push him in, and still nothing. Oh. Shit.

Tim must have felt this, because he managed to find the energy to taunt me, “Fucker! You can’t fucking do it! You’re a fucking weakling! Pathetic! A loser! You’re nothing!”

Something in my head snapped. I felt my body, exhausted and burning as it was find new energy, drawing from reserves I didn’t know I had. I could feel my entire body break out is a sweat. Growling deep in my stomach I grabbed Tim’s feet and STUFFED them down my throat so violently my own hands ended up in my mouth. Viciously I swallowed, forcing Tim’s entire body finally down into my grossly distended stomach, finally clearing my poor abused throat and mouth.

I rolled over, gasping, looking at the huge mound that rose from and above me. I could see Tim clearly outlined in the incredibly stretched flesh, still slowly squirming, “Hah, a loser? Pathetic? What does that make YOU then, TIM? You invaded my territory, and I was happy to let you take your football players, but the smaller boys were MINE, Tim. You didn’t need them, you took them just because you could. You stepped on another predator’s territory, Tim, and now you’re going to pay for it. YOU’RE the loser, Tim. You’re meat now, nothing but a glorified hamburger. Grade A Beef, if you will.” I laughed, throwing back at him the phrase he had used for Grant.

Tim yelled, “You motherfucking faggot sonofabitch! I’m gonna tear you apart! I’m the fucking top of the food chain you fucker!” He began to flail as best he could, trying to straighten out, squirming and writhing within the already stretched confines of my stomach.

I thought I would die. I clenched my stomach muscles as best I could, but I was no Tim able to silence my meal’s struggles with a flex. I lay there in agony, living from second to second, sure that every breath would be my last as Tim exploded forth like a movie alien. Even my previously untapped reserves of energy were draining. I wanted nothing more to sleep, but Tim wouldn’t allow that.

But Tim could not keep up his fight forever, the stale air wore him out as much as my stomach did, and eventually he had to stop for a second. My still tight stomach muscles contracted, and I heaved forth a monstrous belch, depriving Tim of both precious oxygen and squirming room, “That’s right, lunch. Settle down. Face it, you aren’t the top of the food chain anymore. You’re lunch. You’re mine. You are food, all those lovely men you ate to make your body so strong and beautiful, now going to mine.”

Tim kicked again, but there was no room and no air, and it quickly died. I lay on the floor, unable to move as Tim’s struggling slowly lessened and vanished. Gasping as I finally felt him relax completely inside me, my stomach forcing him into an ever tighter ball, I sighed.

I had done it. Somehow, against all odds, I had done it. Though it was as much a warning as anything else. Never could I presume I was the irrevocable top of the food chain. But time for all that later. My exhausted body dragged me towards unconsciousness as my blood rushed to my stomach to begin to process the titanic meal I had given it. I smiled slightly to myself, still tasting the sweat and flavor of Tim on my lips, thank goodness I had picked a day when no one would be in the next day until late night. Hopefully by then I would be able to drag myself back to my room. Gratefully, I surrendered myself to the darkness and slipped into sleep on the locker room floor.

The End