Predator: Ryan
By: Tim

Yeah... where was I. Oh, yeah - I was telling you about how Officer Kelly became my biggest meal of the summer. Actually, if you wanna get specific, I was about to tell you how I completely fucking mauled and devoured his big ass one night that summer. It was awesome, if I do say so myself. I've never had a meal put up such a fight, and I earned every calorie of it. That's why I'm the big dog and guys like Mike Kelly, well, they're dog food. Prime beef top quality dog food, but dog food nonetheless. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Officer Kelly showed up at our house one morning a few days after Doug made the mistake of eating a guy in the gym locker room. Turns out Officer Kelly had been investigating the seemingly unrelated disappearances of a number of young local men and Doug's latest meal showed up on the radar. Some guy went to the gym and never came home, and his girlfriend called the cops. The gym had a security camera pointed at the only entrance to the locker room which clearly showed that the guy and Doug both went into the locker room, but only Doug came out. This got Officer Kelly's attention, so he dropped by to ask us a few questions. Big, buff dude, probably around 40 or so, about 6'3", in great shape for a guy of any age. One of those mean, bullying cops that most people do NOT want to mess with. Except me and Doug, of course. I had his number from the very start - a big bully, not half as smart as he thought he was. I figured if he thought he was going to fuck with me I'd have to take care of things, even if he was a cop. Old Dougy tried to play innocent, but he smirked a little too much and looked nervous when Kelly started asking him about the disappearance of the guy, and some of his answers didn't make a lot of sense, which I think made the policeman even more suspicious. When the cop found out we hung out in the same places where some of our other meals were last seen, he got a serious look on his face. Then Kelly started poking around in our back yard after he left and looked with some alarm under this tree at a huge pile of shit the size of one of those sandbags you use for ballast in your pickup truck during the winter. Inside, we were peeking out the window and howling with laughter, knowing that Kelly was looking at what was left of the guy from the locker room. Man, the look on his face was priceless. Stunned, I guess you'd call it.

Anyway, a lifting buddy of ours, Rob, is a cop. He used to go to our school, State, and play on the football team. The next day Rob calls me up and says that Kelly told him confidentially that he thinks Doug is somehow involved in the disappearance of this dude, as well as maybe some of the other missing dudes (ha! guilty as charged), and that Kelly's going to follow Doug for a few days on his own, no backup, nothing formal, just see what he's up to. "You're not involved in this, are you, man?" Rob asks, sounding worried. Good old straight arrow Rob. "Hell no!" I assured him. "I didn't think you guys would be," Rob said. "I told him you were both on the up and up. Kelly seems to think Doug's a conniving criminal and you're some kind of dim bulb dumb jock. Pretty funny, really." "Hilarious," I said, checking myself out in the mirror, admiring my pecs and thinking about whether or not stuffing Rob into my stomach would improve my bench press. I decided it probably would. Rob was a pretty hot guy, good build, clean cut. Kind of an earnest, trusting, overgrown Boy Scout, that sort of guy. We made some small talk and hung up. I flexed my pecs in the mirror and made a mental note to have him over for dinner once things cooled down a bit.

Yeah, so back to Officer Kelly. So he came over to our place one morning when we were watching some sports and just hanging out and started asking Doug a bunch of questions about the security camera tape and about this missing kid Ryan. Now, I have to interject here: I TOLD Doug not to eat Ryan in the gym. We were spotting each other on the bench press when Doug noticed the guy, and so the whole time he was spotting me he kept whispering things like, "Check him out, man. Just the size I like. Look at his glutes, man, look at his back, the guy's solid. No fat anywhere. I bet he shaves his body - look how smooth he is, he'll slide right down, he's all sweaty and oiled up," and on and on and on, like a teenage girl. Yeah, the kid definitely looked like a good sized meal, a sturdy six-footer, close to 200 pounds, looked like he was working on being a bodybuilder, though personally I'd already had a big lunch the day before (I'd ambushed a UPS guy in the alley behind this office building....okay, another story for another time) and I wasn't hungry. It was late, and there was hardly anybody in the gym - just me and Doug, this guy Ryan, and a couple of chicks, and the front desk clerk. When the chicks packed up their workout shit and left and the desk attendant went into the back, Doug got all excited and started to sweat and pace. "I'm gonna get him!" he whispered urgently to me. "I'm gonna nail him in the showers!" I was doing flyes and when I heard this, I had to pause and put down the weights. "Doug, are you out of your freakin' mind?" I asked him incredulously. "We'll follow him when he leaves and take him off somewhere - don't eat him in the locker room. Somebody could walk in on you." "You could run interference for me," he said hopefully. "No way," I said, picking up my weights again. "Last time I did that for you, someone DID come in because you were taking so long. I am NOT eating another fat janitor just because you can't wait another 10 fucking minutes to have dinner." I hammered out a few fast reps and then stopped and sat up again, pissed off. "You didn't eat enough today, did you? How the fuck are you going to get bigger for football this fall if you don't eat every few hours? You know that's how you start losing mass, dude. I can't fucking believe you. You're just not serious about getting big, I guess. Whatever, man. Size is power. It's up to you, it's your bod." I shrugged and went back to my reps.

Doug looked repentant and contrite for all of about three seconds, but his urgent appetite distracted him. "Okay, so don't run interference. I'll just eat him real fast," he said in low, measured tones, looking intently in the mirror and locking his eyes on Ryan as the muscleboy walked across the gym towards the locker room, completely oblivious to the fact that a huge football player was stalking him and was going to corner him and devour him whole, alive and kicking. I think they call that being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doug tracked Ryan's every move in the mirror, licking his lips and slowly rubbing his crotch. When I saw the look in his eyes as he focused in on his victim I knew he was going to eat this buff kid right now whether I helped him or not. I know that look. Sometimes if you see a meal and you're really hungry, everything else just sort of fades into the background until you satisfy the urges in your gut and your groin. I sighed. "Fine," I said, "but if somebody comes in, you're on your own. And don't leave his clothes in there," I yelled, knowing that Doug wasn't even listening - by now, all his senses were directed towards his prey. I didn't give a shit if Ryan heard me. Ryan was already jock food at this point anyway. I wasn't really pissed that Doug wanted me to stand guard for him, I was pissed because he wasn't sticking to our schedule and eating regularly, and now he was all hungry and had low blood sugar and was making a bad decision because of it. At least he wasn't eating junk food. This is just the kind of shit you put up with for a good friend. I'm ballsy as hell, and I'll definitely eat a guy in a public place, but with some awareness of my surroundings. I'm not going to jail just because I have unusual dietary requirements. Doug likes to live dangerously, likes the risk of someone walking in while he's eating. He even once ate a guy on an elevator between floors. (Another story for another time.)

I finished my flyes, sat up and set the weights down just in time to see Doug following right behind Ryan into the locker room. "Go get him, stud," I snickered to myself. A second after they both disappeared I heard a strangled yell, then a gasp, some muted cries, and some loud grunting and scuffling. Clearly Doug was wasting no time manhandling the kid and shoving him in. "Aw, what the fuck," I muttered. I got up and strolled over to one of the stationary bikes near the locker room door and started pedaling away dutifully, keeping an eye out for the desk attendant. I fucking HATE the exercise bike. The exercise bike didn't like me much either; it creaked and groaned, protesting under my weight. Maybe it knew I was feeling a bit grumpy and wanted to twist it and stomp it and crush it into a pile of useless metal.

I didn't pedal long. About two minutes went by. Then I heard a huge, prolonged belch and Doug came out of the locker room, walking very fast, giggling a little, a big goofy shit-eating grin on his handsome, tan face. "Okay, we can go home now," he said, wiping his mouth and chin with Ryan's red workout shorts. His entire body was wet with sweat, saliva, and cum, and his tank top and shorts were plastered to his skin. He slapped his full stomach a few times. "I told you he would slide right down, Brad. There's a buck ninety of lean beef in the tank now, baby! FUCK YEAH!" Doug's deep voice boomed out across the gym. The words kept spilling out of his mouth. "That guy was solid. Unbelievably awesome chow, man. His ass ALONE, man, fuckin' firm juicy freakin' bubble butt, it fuckin' filled my whole mouth, I was drooling so much I couldn't eat him slow if I wanted. Must've cum a gallon. There's a fuckin' lake of spit on the fuckin' floor in there, man. Ripped, I'm tellin' ya, five percent body fat TOPS, but it's all mine now. I'm gonna beat your bench press this summer if I bag more dudes like him," and on and on and on, just talking shit, pacing back and forth like a wild animal, and burping up all the air in Ryan's lungs. Every few paces he'd stop and slam his fists against the wall or on my chest and shout, "Yeah!" His pupils were totally dilated, and I knew he was completely jacked up on all the adrenaline and testosterone, both his and his meal's, and the explosive, unrelenting physical exertion of the conquest. When the fight-or-flight urge kicks in for the prey, there's no opportunity for flight so they go into fight mode which releases a bunch of chemicals into the bloodstream. You eat that and you're gonna be flying for a while. Doug was having a power surge. That's the best time to pick fights or play football or wrestle or kick someone's ass or fuck somebody or hit the weights real hard...or find more food. Once it wears off, you sleep and sleep.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You'll fucking never beat my bench, you big pussy," I ribbed him, punching him hard on the chest to make my point and trying hard not to smile at his excitement. "He just found out he's going to the Olympics," I explained to the desk attendant, who had reappeared and was looking very nervous about seeing a highly aroused 250-pound muscle jock pace around yelling and pounding his fists against the walls. The attendant disappeared again. Seeing my buddy so happy now that his hunger was satisfied... well, suddenly I didn't feel grumpy any more. I know how good it feels to have a big, solid, warm, live mass of food still struggling in your stomach. "Come on, stud, grab your shit and let's blow this place. You're getting the carpet all wet."

When we got home, the first thing that greeted us when I opened the door was the strong smell of unwashed athletic gear and laundry, empty beer bottles, and the remains of a bunch of take-out pizza boxes. "We gotta clean," I grumbled to Doug. "Later, man," he said, throwing Ryan's workout shorts, tee shirt and sneakers, all of which were soaked through with sweat, cum and drool, in a corner with a bunch of clothes from other meals. He stripped off his wet tank top and tossed it on the pile too. "I gotta let this big fucker digest for a while so's I can soak up the power. You know he's still moving in there a little?" he asked, holding his hand on his stomach. "Tough mother. Five percent body fat," he reminded me with a playful shove. "Yeah, it was all show muscle, the guy was a wimp," I grumbled, shoving him back. We both knew it wasn't true. Doug had hit the jackpot with one of the best catches of the summer so far and I was a little envious. The UPS guy I had was definitely a side of beef, but more like ten percent. Okay, twenty. Okay, so he was the same size as Ryan, but it wasn't all quality muscle. I decided sheepishly I probably didn't have too much room to rag on Doug about his eating habits.

We didn't end up cleaning that week. One thing led to another - we were driving down to the beach the next day, but we got a late start. Doug was up late hitting the punching bag in our basement, still wired from ingesting nearly two hundred pounds of muscles and hormones. Then he stayed in bed until past noon sleeping off his meal, and once he was finished digesting Ryan he headed out to the back yard with the sports section and it took him a full hour for his big dump. We didn't get on the road until 5. When we finally got to the ocean, we hooked up with some football buds from the team, stirred up some trouble with some Marines from the base down there (turns out I was hungrier than I thought...another story for another time), and ended up being away for a few days. The first morning we were back was when Office Unfriendly showed up.

Kelly zeroed in on Doug right away because of the security tape. "I went in there to take a piss," Doug said ingenuously. "Look, you can see for yourself I was only in there a minute. I was taking a piss. I think he was taking a shower. Or something. I think the shower was on. I don't remember seeing him in there, Officer. I really had to piss bad. Was he really right in front of me? Maybe he was taking a shower. You know what, I think I remember I had to take a shit, so I was in the stall and I didn't even see him." Aw, fuck me, I thought to myself, listening to Doug bumble around through the interview with Officer Kelly. Why don't you just tell him you followed this Ryan guy into the locker room, kicked his ass, swallowed him alive and that your body turned him into a big pile of crap? At least I'll get some comic relief out of that instead of watching you dig yourself deeper and deeper.

I knew, and I'm sure the tape showed this too, that Doug was so hot on that guy's trail going into the lockers that he could have been arrested for tailgating. Seriously, if he hadn't been wearing shorts his dick would have been prodding the guy in the ass, he was really that close. I imagined the guy Ryan feeling Doug's warm, moist breath on his neck right before the linebacker's strong hands grabbed him around the neck and shoulders and pulled him back close, taking control of him, then feeling the intense heat radiating from Doug's larger body, the vibration from the deep, ravenous growling rattling through Doug's throat and powerful chest as he prepared to engulf his meal...Doug's hot, wet mouth clamping down around his head and neck....the big, calloused hands hooking Ryan under his sweaty, deep armpits and hoisting him upwards until his desperately kicking feet left the floor... the feeling of tight wet warmth on Ryan's broad shoulders as Doug's mouth stretched to accommodate their width ...then the inescapable slow, constricted slide down the greedy, unyielding throat, squeezing and compressing him, pulling him farther and farther inside the huge body of his attacker...one of Doug's rough paws on his rounded pec, the other cupping one of his big round glutes, guiding him into the football player's large stomach in one firm, continuous motion... Maybe he tried to fight, but it all happened so fast and Doug was so strong, he never had a chance... At what point, I wondered, did Ryan realize he was food, that Doug was eating him, swallowing his entire body?

I couldn't fault Doug for being a gluttonous male predator with no self-control, since that's me too. It's just that it was exasperating to hear him lie so badly. We're the same age, but he's like my little brother. I knew I was going to have to bail him out again, like I did when he just HAD to eat this wrestler in a bathroom at the college and the janitor came along. The guy's got no limits. That's one of the things I love about him, though. I mean, it was him that showed me you could pull a guy into your ass. As for bailing him out, well, that's where my stomach got filled to capacity...

The End