Takin' Ya In
By: Giantguy & Sean

What the young punk hadn't counted on is that the hardware store has a silent alarm.

While he was inside the darkened store rummaging for things to steal and sell, there were blue lights silently flashing on the front of the store like the kind on top of a police car.

Before long, a patrol car was driving by on the quiet nighttime road in his patrol car. The hulking cop at the wheel saw the blue lights and pulled into the parking lot, his broad shoulders stretching his uniform and his round ‘roid gut pushing against the wheel. The name etched on his badge was Flannery.

Flannery comes to the door quietly, hearing the punk inside softly rummaging around. The silent alarm had unlocked the doors... the cop slips inside. moving quietly in spite of his bulk. His eyes adjust to the gloom in the store, and he sees the burglar, quickly and quietly putting electronics into a gunnysack to carry.

The cop keeps his eyes fixed on the punk, one hand slowly drawing his gun. Moving forward as quietly as a snake, Flannery slowly raises his weapon...

“AWRIGHT FUCKER, DROP TO THE FLOOR AND FREEZE!”

Tim, the slim, wiry burglar drops down behind a stack of boxes where he can’t be seen. Got to hand to him, Flannery thinks, he moves like a cat.

The tank-like cop moves forward, knocking boxes over, charging to flush his prey out of his hiding place

"Fuck you, pig, I'm not coming out!" The officer kicks at a box, knocking the heavy crate aside with the force of his kick. He keeps advancing steadily, aiming to back the guy into a corner. He catches sight of the young man's face. He's blonde and has a sneer on his face.

The cop looks down, a frown on his mustached face.

"What are you looking at, fucker?" spits the young punk. He sizes up the policeman: his biceps bulge like bowling balls, filling the short sleeves of his uniform, his gut hard and round.

"Looking at what I caught in a rat trap, asshole!" Flannery barks The burglar doesn’t move. The cop takes a quick visual inventory: can’t be more than 22 or 23, wearing a jeans jacket, a white t- shirt, old jeans, and worn-out sneakers. Flannery drawls, “We can do this the hard way, or the easy way..."

"Fuck you. You ain't caught me yet."

The cop strikes a wide stance, ready to unload his gun. "I can splatter you all over that goddam wall, nobody's gonna care, punk!"

He keeps moving forward, cutting off any route of escape for the kid.

Tim stays crouched behind a crate, wondering whether bullets could go thru it. In spite of his his sneer and swagger, he's scared.

The cop braces his foot on the crate and shoves it aside, his uniform pants almost splitting as his quads swell with the enormous effort. He glared at the young man crouched in the corner, looking defiantly up at him with his lip curled.

"Well look what I got..." Flannery laughs, his gut pushing a little at his uniform, with some hair poking out between the buttons. "Whaddya think you're doin' there, ya fucking punk?"

"None of your goddam business, is what."

Flannery cant help grinning at the the punk looking up at his size, as if he was more than he expected.

Flannery readjusts his stance. Still crouching, Tim can’t but help notice the sizable bulge in his uniform pants, as impressive as his beergut.

"Well now it's my business. Gonna have to take you in punk. Some time in solitary is what I'm guessing..."

"No fuckin' way, man. I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I don't think you got a choice, fucker. Put your hands up where I can see em, on top of your head. NOW!" Flannery barks, his voice loud and rough.

Tim is panting, and he still has the defiant sneer on his face, but he slowly does as he's told. Flannery steps toward him quickly, spinning him around to face the wall.

"SPREAD EM, ASSHOLE!" The cop kicks his foot in between the kid's legs. "HANDS AGAINST THE WALL!"

Tim momentarily considers kicking back against the cop, but thinks the better of it and once again does as the cop says. The hulking man moves in to frisk him... Tim can feel the cop's bulging gut pressing against his back... the cop is easily six inches taller than he is.

Flannery roughly yanks the jeans jacket down off the guy’s back.

"Hey! What the fuck!” He feels the cop grip the collar of his t- shirt, ripping at the thin fabric, tearing it off his body. "Hey! You're ripping my shirt, you fucker!"

"No shit!"

Tim has had his run-ins with the cops before, but never quite like this.

"Checkin for concealed weapons... drugs... any other shit you're hiding. Shoes off NOW. Kick 'em off!"

"You didn't have to rip my fucking shirt, you asshole!"

"You gonna make me have to report that you resisted arrest, fucker?"

Tim is still being mouthy, but he knows he'd better do as he's told. He kicks off his shoes.

"Yeah, and maybe I'll have to report you for police brutality!" Flannery frisks down each leg, laughing.

"Yeah, my sergeant's gonna stay up nights worrying about THAT load of crap.”

The air is close and sticky in the store. Tim starts to sweat down his sides. He jerks away from the cop’s rough hands.

"Just for that punk, we're goin' to full strip search. Lose the jeans. You got five seconds."

"What, are you a faggot cop or somethin'?"

Flannery smacks the punk across the back of the head with his meaty hand. "You'd like that, wouldnt ya, ya little faggot asshole!"

Tim cries out. "Ow! You fucker!"

"Jeans. I'm counting down. FIVE... FOUR..."

Tim hastily unsnaps and unzips his pants and shucks them off. He stands there in just his white underwear. "I said a STRIP SEARCH, punk. Nobody wants to see your fuckin tighty whities. " Flannery reaches out before Tim can move. A fist grabs the waistband of his underwear, and pulls, the fabric ripping right over his ass.

Tim feels the cotton fabric rip in the cop's ham fists. "Fuck! Now what am I going to wear!" The cop laughs. “We got plenty of orange jumpsuits back at the jail,”

Tim can hear the smirk in the cop's gruff voice. "Now... CAVITY SEARCH ... punk like you probly knows what to do... DONTCHA ... Bend and spread em, kid." Despite being wiry, the punk is a small-built fellow. He looks all the smaller naked, next to the hulking cop.

Flannery can see the snarling young man considering another remark, but he seems to decide against it and does as you say, obviously defiantly. Tim can feel the cop's body heat as he moves closer. One rough thumb pushes between his tight round cheeks. The cop 's thumb probes deeper, shoving against the punk's butthole.

Tim’s face twists into a combination of a wince and a defiant sneer. Over his shoulder, he can see the cop's huge veiny forearm and massive bicep flexing as he digs in deeper between the kid's asscheeks.

"Fuck, man, cut it out! I ain't got nothing in there."

"Maybe not kid... but I'm still takin' ya in."

In one swift move, Flannery grabs the perp’s wrists and slaps a set of cuffs on them.

Naked and looking furious, his hands cuffed behind his back, Tim glares up angrily at the cop's rugged face.

"What's your fuckin' problem NOW punk?"

"My problem? You fuckin' hit me on the back of my head, and ripped my clothes, and played with my butt."

"Awwww... that ain't NOTHING compared to what's gonna happen to you when your little ass hits the lockup."

The punk squints angrily, but Flannery can see the fear in his eyes. He's obviously thinking about a cell with criminals as huge as this cop.

"You're gonna be pounded so hard you're gonna forget your own name..." Flannery leans down, grinning. "If ya played yer cards right, I could get ya into solitary..."

Tim’s eyes finally fall. "You want to make a deal or somethin'?"

"Oh, I ain't makin' any deals... " The cop grins... Tim noticing how wide his mouth is.

"What, then?" The kid scowls, but Flannery can tell he's puzzled. The cop rubs his gut, slapping it a little.

“Well... maybe I'll just take ya in myself...ALL the way in..."

Tim looks even more puzzled. The cop was rubbing his gut, and the kid doesn't like the way he’s looking at him.

"No fuckin' arrest reports to file... no hassles with the public defender... yeah, I'm likin' this idea..." Flannery rubs his jaw, flexing it, making a little popping sound...

"Huh? No paperwork if you send me to solitary?" The cop smiles again. "Not MY kind of solitary...You're gonna be all alone... in my gut."

Tim looks like he's ready to make some exclamation, but then the color drains from his face as he realizes the cop is completely serious.

Flannery starts to unbutton his uniform with one hand, revealing a hard muscled beer gut, thrusting out proudly. He moves his callused hand across it, through the trail of hair leading down from his chest over his belly

Tim pulls away. "No fuckin' way, you fucker- I ain't going in there!"

"Oh... I think ya ARE, fucker..."

Tim strains against the handcuffs, his bare feet doing a useless scuffle on the concrete floor. The cop thrusts one foot, tripping the cuffed kid, who topples onto a stack of sacks of concrete, breaking his fall.

"You asshole! You knocked me over."

Flannery grabs the guy’s legs by the ankles in his meaty fists. He opens his mouth like he's about to answer... it opens wider as if he was yawning... his mouth stretches further... and further.. his tongue seems to be getting thicker and wider...

Tim tries to kick his legs, but they just wiggle in the cop's grasp. There's a frantic look developing in his eyes. "Cut it out! You can't do that, man!"

Flannery stretches his tongue out, wrapping them around the kid's feet as he draws them into his mouth. Tim can see the outline of a massive hardon straining in the cop's pants... the head outlined thick and ridged... he feels the cop's coarse pushbroom moustache against his feet as they slide into the cop's mouth.

Flannery moans as he slides both feet in his mouth... precum begins to soak through his uniform pants. He stretches his mouth wider around the punk's legs, pulling him in deeper.

Tim stares at the bulge in the crotch of the cop's uniform. "Fuck, you really are a faggot cop! You enjoy this! Lemme go, man!" He squirms frantically in Flannery’s grasp.

A belch escapes from the cop's throat as he stretches it wider to accommodate the punk's slim frame. He grabs Tim’s slim hips, greedily stuffing him deeper into his throat.

Tim fights it, struggling against the unrelenting handcuffs. If only he could get his hands free to grab something to pull himself out of the cop’s huge mouth, or push against him to try to get out...

Flannery grunts loudly with the effort of flexing his gullet wider and wider... his cock is painfully hard, the same reaction he always has when he swallows a full meal whole... it's not so much the kid’s naked young frame giving rise to the bulge in his uniform pants, as it is the enjoyable feeling of total power he’s got over the surly punk he’s swallowing alive.

Flannery has the familiar feeling of complete domination and power surging through him like electricity, letting him distend his jaw and throat further and further as he almost inhales the kid. He braces himself and flexes again, pulling the guy's slim body in past his waist...

Tim feels his ass slide into the cop's warm mouth. He feels the rough moustache against his waist. He sees two ice blue sparkling eyes staring down at their tasty, struggling meal.

"Fuck, man, I'm sorry. Please let me go. I'll never cause you any trouble again."

Flannery’s wide tongue slides against Tim’s ass, slipping and sliding through his crack. Flannery doesn't reply, but only grabs the kid at his elbows and pulls slowly, savoring the feeling of the warm body filling his mouth and throat. He sees a glaze over the young man's eyes. For a moment, he's quiet and almost stops struggling.

The precum pumping out of the cop's thick cock has outlined his prick in his tight pants. Tim’s wrists strain at the handcuffs. "You can't eat me, man! You don't want to eat these fuckin' handcuffs!"

Flannery just chuckles deep in his chest... the punk doesn't know that later... much later ... it's easy enough to regurgitate a pair of cuffs... hardly any wear on 'em... he thrusts his neck forward, now engulfing the punk midway up his torso.

Tim can feel the cop's tongue rubbing against his back, pressing him against the roof of his mouth, slowly but surely dragging him inward. He sees that monstrous cop mouth getting closer and closer to his head. He knows he'll be totally inside in a minute or two, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. By now, he's screaming.

Flannery moves his thick hands up to the punk's shoulders. The kid's yells are lost in the darkness of the empty store... Tim can feel the cop's hot breath blowing into his face... he feels the cop's throat muscles pushing all around his body, gulping him down toward solitary confinement in the cop's stomach. He squirms as well as the tightness of the mouth and throat allow. The cop 's lips are around his throat, his mustache beginning to brush over his face... he sees the cop's eyes glaring triumphantly down at him, as if to say, "Who's the smart one now, fucker?"

He feels the cop's hands now on the top of his head, slowly guiding him between his lips, the cop's moans vibrating all around him... he feels the moustache drag up and across his face as his head is gulped in.

Flannery’s lips close over Tim’s head, as he lets out one long sigh of relief... his jaw starting to return to its normal position as Tim begins to slide down his massively stretched throat. His gut bulges obscenely, pushing out in a huge round ball as his prey descends to his stomach.

In the dimness, Tim catches a glimpse of the glistening of the cop's saliva on the roof of his mouth. But then the last bit of light disappears as Flannery closes his mouth, and Tim feels the throat muscles at work as he is... transferred into his cell.

Flannery staggers to his feet, adjusting to the added weight in his gut. Too bad, he thinks, that the punk can't see what an impressive bulge he's making in Flannery’s hairy, round, but well-muscled belly. He leans against the wall as he feels the guy shift within him... the movement triggering the release of a huge load of jizz into his pants. The feeling of power is overwhelming.

Inside the stomach, Tim feels the gravity shift as the cop stands. He can be felt struggling inside the stomach, still fighting the cop even now that he's totally subdued and swallowed.

Flannery's abs contract, compressing the kid into a tighter ball, as his prick spurts again and again.

Back at the offices of the security company, the lone overnight worker sits transfixed in front of one of the video monitors... hypnotized by what is taking place in the dim night-camera image... Close to blacking out, Tim has no idea that anyone but the cop knows what has happened to him. Flannery lets out an enormous, resonant burp... Tim feels the air pressure change suddenly as the cop gives his satisfied belch, and begins shuffling toward the car... his bloated gut full and heavy, hanging over his belt...

The cool night air doesn't bother the tough cop, despite his bare skin- and the Tim is in where it's always nice and warm.

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