Predator: Under the Bleachers, The Conclusion
By: Tim

I didn't see much of Doug for the next few days. He avoided me. He kept to himself, left the house early, went to the gym by himself and spent his time hanging out at the pool, shooting hoops at the rec, or having beers with the boys. I tried to make small talk a couple of times but his answers were short and he usually found some excuse to leave the room. After a day of that, I gave up trying. I figured the tension of the Officer Kelly situation was messing us both up, so I decided to concentrate on making good on my promise and taking care of the problem.

I found out where Kelly lived the very next day and made it my fucking mission in life to track his every move. I also began starving myself, eating only regular food, no guys. No big meals until I've bagged that fucker, I swore to myself. I wanted to be ravenously hungry when I finally cornered him. Truth was, and I'm embarrassed to admit this now, I was pretty nervous. I thought I'd be able to dominate in a fistfight or brawl with him, but eating him I wasn't so sure about. I was used to eating these gym boys and in retrospect, it might have been making me soft. I mean, they fought back and all, but in general I was just so much bigger than they were. I outweighed most of them by 100 pounds or more and, well, they just couldn't stop me. With some practice, it usually only took a few minutes of work to pound them into my gut. Then I could kick back with a few cold ones and enjoy digesting my meal. Officer Kelly was not one of these smooth muscleboys. This guy was like a mountain of rock, hairy, and really solid from years of physical training. His legs were almost as big as mine and his chest and shoulders were impressive - huge, thick, and powerful. It wasn't show muscle, either. The guy was super fit, and strong as an ox, and had the experience and police training to know how to fight guys bigger than him. You can see why I was apprehensive. I'm cocky, but I'm not stupid. But Officer Kelly was muscling in on me in more ways than one. I had to defend what belonged to me. Male honor and all that shit. As far as I was concerned, there was only one way to resolve things.

I followed Kelly for the next few nights as he tracked Doug, who fortunately hung out in public places and with groups of other guys so Kelly never had a chance to get him alone. I was getting pretty good at lurking, if I do say so myself. Overall, the surveillance work was pretty boring, although on the second day I did watch Kelly overpower and eat a fairly decent sized street punk behind the bar. That just made me even more uptight about the whole thing, but the timing hadn't been right for me to take him down. Even worse, after a few days of behaving himself, Doug's appetite started to kick in and he started getting irritable and antsy. He hadn't had a good meal since the Marine at the beach, and that was a week earlier. What's more, the rodeo was in town, and that always got his blood going. The first night the rodeo started, he headed out the door. "I'm hungry. I'm gonna go bag some grub. I'll be back late. Don't follow me around, I can take care of myself." The door slammed behind him.

There was no way I was going to let him go out there on his own with that cop still sneaking around. I was kicked back watching wrestling with just my boxers on, so by the time I threw on some clothes, it was dusk and Doug had disappeared. I headed towards the fairgrounds where they were holding the rodeo and wandered around for a couple of hours. No sign of Doug, or Kelly.... then I got lucky. I had just decided to make one more round and then go see if Doug had made it home with dinner when I saw Kelly walking over towards some bleachers. I got really nervous until I saw his stomach was pretty flat. Then I felt relieved. I tossed my beer into the trash and set out after him. My stomach growled. "Showtime," I muttered.

It was about 11 at night, a still, hot summer night. All the rodeo events were over, and the bleachers were empty. Most of the crowd had left, and there was no one around. I followed him as he went back behind the bleachers and squatted down, watching something... Far off in the bleachers there was a big guy, holding a beer in one hand and the rest of the six-pack in the other and talking to a smaller guy.... I squinted and realized the big guy was Doug, and he was talking to some little cowboy and standing pretty damn close to him, sometimes putting his hand on the guy's shoulder or chest. I knew what he was up to, the smooth operator. He was picking up some dinner and entertainment for the evening. As I watched, Doug pulled another beer out of the carton he was holding and handed it to the guy. I stifled a snicker. Sometimes Doug was pure evil.

As much as I liked watching Doug lure in his prey, I had to keep my focus on Kelly. He was crouching there behind the bleachers waiting to make his move. I slowly moved closer and closer until I was only about 20 feet behind him. A few minutes passed. The smaller guy tipped his bottle back, emptied it, and tossed it aside. Then he got up to walk a little ways away and piss, leaving Doug sitting alone on the bleachers. Kelly straightened up and started moving towards him.

Fuck no, I thought, feeling a flare of adrenaline and rage through my gut. In a few strides I was on him and had him in a headlock, dragging him backwards. "Going somewhere?" I demanded. "Where ya goin', Officer? Feelin' hungry? You wanna eat something? Eat me." I tightened my hold on his throat.

"Fuck you, college boy," he barked. Then he grabbed my arm with both hands, crouched down and bent over fast, actually throwing me over his back. I landed hard on my butt in the dust behind the bleachers. It hurt like hell. I'd tried to prepare myself mentally, but that was the first real indication I had that this guy was going to put up a big fight and that he probably had some moves that the guys I played varsity ball with didn't know. In football I was used to landing on turf with 20 pounds of pads on and always with a guy under me to break my fall. In street fights, well, I never hit the ground in a street fight. It was the other guy who hit the ground. I didn't know what it felt like.

"Come on, son," Kelly laughed, gesturing me towards him with both hands as I hoisted my ass up. "Bring it on. You're big, but you ain't shit. I'll wear you down, boy. And then I'll put your big jock ass in my stomach. I eat punks like you every day. You're mine." I didn't say anything, although I knew the last two punks he ate were about half my size, but if he actually had eaten a man as big as me I didn't want to know about it just then.

I'd already anticipated he would try to slowly wear me out and stay out of my grasp to stay in the game. I'd have to overpower him with brute force and simply pound his ass into the ground before I could eat him. I got to my feet and we started circling each other slowly. I knew all I had to do was get him in range and I could take him down. He knew if he stayed out of my reach he could try to wear me out by getting me to run around and lose steam. What he didn't consider was that despite my size I was more agile on my feet than I looked, and this was his downfall. He tried to show off with some boxing feints that didn't impress me a lot; I just leaned back and dodged. One of them connected right on the bridge of my nose. That pissed me off and I rushed him and took him off his feet for a minute, then shoved him hard. He stayed up, but he was unsteady. I kept coming and nailed him with a haymaker that rattled his cage but good. He stood there trying to clear the cobwebs and I saw my opening.

I'd always wanted to try something I saw once in the NCAA heavyweight wrestling finals. The guy used this move in the opening seconds of the match and won instantly. I still couldn't believe they considered it a legal wrestling move, but it was hot and I didn't give a shit about legality anyway. I dove under the huge cop, picked him up, pressed him over my head for a couple of seconds....then slammed him down hard on the ground. The thud when he hit the ground was pretty loud. "OOOOOF!" All the wind got knocked out of him. I kicked his arms back, jumped on him, sat down hard on his chest and pinned his wrists.

"That was for Doug," I told him. "You ain't gonna eat a buddy of mine. Nobody fucks with my friends. You're lunch meat now." I thought I was making a point, but he started laughing in my face, gasping and wheezing for breath.

"I'll eat whoever I fucking want," he snarled. "You'd eat him too, you're just to dumb to know it yet. And you think he wouldn't eat you given half a chance? Well, he would. He'd shove you in his mouth in a second if he thought he could. We're predators, you stupid fuck. Even predators get eaten. Everyone's fair game. One of you dumb muscleheads is gonna end up eating the other one. Mark my words. You'll eat him. You'll get hungry enough and your buddy won't be able to stop you from havin' his ass for lunch."

"Shut up," I said. "Shut the fuck up." I didn't want to hear any more of this shit. I smashed his face in with a couple of explosive right jabs and was stoked to see that the second one knocked a couple of teeth out. "Let me tell you something, asshole. You're my food now, and you're gonna be my shit tomorrow. I'm gonna eat you whole. I'm gonna shove your big ass down my throat, because I fucking can, because I'm bigger than you. You fucked with the wrong predator. Got it?" Still straddling his chest with my full weight, I slapped his face a few times, then flexed my guns. "Shouldn'ta tried me, you stupid shit," I jeered. Feeling the struggling of this big powerhouse underneath me was highly motivating. His eyes were wild and hateful, and he was bucking and fighting like hell. He tried to sit up and push me off and I pounded his face again with a roundhouse right, knocking him back to the ground in a split second. "I told you not to fuck with me. Stay down." My mouth was watering so much I was slurring my words, so I dropped my jaw a little and started drooling on him. Right then I realized I was really, really hungry and really, really pissed off. I hawked up a big mess of spit and unloaded it onto his face and chest to grease him up for the slide down into my stomach. I was ready to eat him.

"Fuck.... you...." he rasped. I got up and grabbed his arms and slowly dragged his huge body under the bleachers. It had been a short fight, but he was beaten, all mine now. I laid him out, sat my ass down on the ground beside him, and took his head and neck in both hands. I was starting to get pretty jacked now, feeling my power, so I couldn't resist one more jab before I started filling my mouth: "I'm gonna turn you into 150 pounds of shit, and you... can't... fucking... stop... me." He started to curse and thrash then, and I knew I had to act fast so I just opened my mouth wide and roughly forced his head in, trying not to think about the fact that I was trying to eat almost my entire bodyweight all at once. To this day, fuck if I know how I did it that first time.

I don't think I'll ever know for sure how long it took me to swallow him all the way. A good hour, probably more. All I know is that it was the hardest fucking thing I've ever done, especially getting past his shoulders and getting his arms in. I had to wrench one of his arms around, practically dislocating it so that he couldn't push me off him. That took one arm out of play, but he kept squirming and struggling and trying to hit my face or shoulders with his other fist. He actually connected a couple of times - once with my nose, one I took on the side of my jaw - it smarted like hell, but all that did was get me even more pissed off and determined to totally devour his big ass. His shoulders were so wide and thick I basically had to fucking wreck his entire upper body by crushing and compacting it enough to get it into my mouth, all while pulling him downwards. I don't mind saying that's pure power right there - that's what hitting the gym does for a guy. His muscles were so strong I could barely squeeze his shoulders together. I'd never encountered this kind of moving resistance before - not on the field, not in the gym, not from prey. It was made even more difficult by the fact that he was sopping wet from sweat and drool, and my hands kept slipping. Somehow, between applying as much pressure as I could and fucking whaling on his back and chest with blows that would have outright killed any normal-sized guy, I fucking destroyed him. I just kept crushing and pounding his massive upper body and managed to wedge him in up to his waist.

I'd read recently about this 2,000 pound crocodile they found somewhere. That is really big for anything, even a crocodile. Turns out it had been eating people for a while - almost 100 of them, to be exact. It doesn't take a math major to figure out that's thousands of pounds of live food. No wonder that crocodile was so fucking huge. I liked it instantly. It reminded me of me. I thought it was awesome, so I was bummed to find out that they had captured it and moved it someplace where it couldn't eat people any more. I bet it was pissed. I would have been. I wished me and Doug could have kept it as a pet. So while I was eating Officer Kelly, I kept thinking: "This one's for the crocodile." It helped me focus. Like I said before, I'm a big fan of anything that eats everything else. Bears, lions, snakes.... or me and my football buddy Doug. Survival of the fittest, man, that's what it's all about. Size equals power. Be large and in charge. Eat or be eaten. Personally, I'm on the eating end of things.

It seemed like my throat, stomach, mouth and hands would forever be glutted with the guy's huge bulk, it took so long to eat him. And he kept fighting long after most guys have given up, but there was no way I could stop. You can't imagine what it's like to breathe like a locomotive through your nose for an hour because your mouth and throat are crammed full of thick, struggling live meat. I was used to grabbing a 175-pound guy, easily holding him up over my head and shoveling him in, but this was totally different. The cop was so big that I could feel him filling up my gut while his very large ass was still in my mouth. I was trying to squeeze and compact him with my throat muscles, but he was so hard I couldn't compress him very much. All I could do was push with all my might, trying to pack him in. My gut was just not used to having so much food in it and it was trying to adjust. I'd give a couple of really big shoves and work him in another inch or so, then I'd have to take a breather and let my stomach get used to the load, all the while with him struggling, fighting back, kicking his tree trunk legs, trying to squirm backwards. This guy was doing everything in his power not to be eaten by me. Then I'd push again on him real hard and move him another inch. The guy was 6'3". Taking that in an inch or two at a time - you do the math. Plus it wasn't just the height, it was maintaining control of so much mass. At the time I ate Officer Kelly, I weighed about 280, fighting trim. I could easily handle a lot of weight at the gym, with squats or benches, but in short bursts, not this sustained effort over so much time. My muscles were tired and shaking by the time he was only halfway inside me, but I finally had his arms in and I knew by then he wasn't going anywhere but all the way into my stomach.

Somehow, God knows how, I finally got him all the way in. Even his fucking feet were huge and seemed to take forever when all I wanted was to be done with this gigantic fucking meal. I hoisted myself up with all the strength I had left and stood up unsteadily, letting gravity pull him all the way into my stomach. That was the fastest part of the whole ordeal. As soon as I stood up his entire massive bulk slid smoothly down, out of my throat. It settled in my gut, filling it completely and stretching it out. Suddenly I could breathe more easily. I stood there for a few minutes, breathing slowly and regularly, trying to focus. I couldn't. There was so much going on in my body my brain shut off. I was sweating bullets, for one. I had come all over the place a dozen times, and the ground around where I ate him looked like someone had dumped buckets of water on it from all the saliva and sweat. I could feel bruises and scrapes on my own chest, back, face and arms from his trying to fight me off. I could feel my heart racing and my cock throbbing, and something like jolts of electricity pulsing through me from all the adrenaline and testosterone I had both produced and ingested. I was completely running on instinct and physiology, not thinking at all. I could still feel the policeman in my gut. He was moving around - a lot. I belched again and again, trying to reduce his air supply. Somehow it didn't work - he kept moving around in there. I had him trapped in my gut and this fucker still wasn't giving up. Yet before long my entire system would start breaking him down and pushing him through like it had done with so many guys before.

When I was finally able to think, my first thought was, "I fucking did it. I fucking ate a entire 250-pound man." Not just a big fat slob, either, but a real fucking load of dense muscle and bone, a Herculean predator that did not want to be eaten. I fucking rock, I thought, smiling weakly, sucking air. I stood there for a few minutes feeling my huge meal shift and protest. I poked my gut with my finger. "Sucks to be you, fuckhead," I told Officer Kelly, then stumbled home awkwardly to start digesting him.

***

I dragged my ass in the front door, kicked it shut behind me, and collapsed into the long-suffering recliner, totally wasted and panting. My heart was hammering in my chest, my metabolism was racing, and that giant motherfucker was still struggling inside my gut. It had been half an hour since I got him in there and he was still fighting it. I didn't even want to think about what it was going to be like when I was ready to unload him on the other end. I wasn't there five minutes when Doug came back from the rodeo with dinner, the guy I saw him with at the bleachers. He threw the front door open and looked surprised when he saw me crashed out there in my old recliner. I must have been a sight. I felt like a beached whale, I was soaked, all my muscles were sore and tired, I had a black eye, and my jaw and chest were raw and bruised where Kelly had clocked me. I felt worse than I did after a rough football game. But I also felt like a million bucks, because I'd done what I said I'd do.

I looked Doug square in the eye. "I got him," was all I said, patting my hand on my belly. His eyes widened as he looked at my hugely distended gut, and for a split second he just stared at it and took it all in without saying a word. Then he looked back up at me and grinned. We high fived, he looked away, and nothing else was said. For some reason Kelly's last words suddenly echoed in my brain: "One of you muscleheads is gonna end up eating the other one." I frowned and pounded my palm against my forehead a couple of times to knock the thought out.

"Brad, Toby. Toby, Brad," Doug said as he walked through the living room trailed by a very muscular, very drunk young cowboy. I glanced up at Toby. "Hey." His dark eyes lit up under his dirty straw hat when he saw me. "Heyyyy!" he smiled widely, giving me a quick once-over. Of course he liked what he saw. Even with my belly sticking out what felt like halfway across the fucking room I'm still a fucking stud. "Hey, Dougboy, maybe your friend here wants to join us?" he drawled, winking at me and grabbing his full crotch. He had nice, full muscles packed tightly into a grimy tank-top and faded, ripped Wranglers. I put him at about 19 or 20, 5'9" (that's with the boots on) and 170 of real muscle built from working hard outside every day, not from a set of gym equipment. My mouth watered a little and I wished I wasn't so damn full.

I also knew that little Toby was not going to have the fun he thought he was with big studly linebacker Doug. See, he's not the first cowboy to come here to rodeo and hook up with some other hot guys. Oh, no. Doug and I both have gone to that well many, many times. Instead, what Toby WOULD get was his hard muscled ass pounded to mush repeatedly before Doug finally put him out of his misery and ate him. We both loved it when the rodeo came around, although this year I was going to miss out on the redneck buffet since Officer Kelly would take several days to completely digest and the rodeo would be gone by the time I got my appetite back. Cowboy meat is tougher, leaner, gamier, more musky than the usual pretty boy gym jocks and bodybuilders our diet mostly consisted of. They've got a more natural flavor because they don't have all the bullshit cologne and aftershave and deodorant that the college boys do, or all the useless supplements and crap vitamins the bodybuilders take. What also makes them good food is that they're stronger and harder to subdue - they're used to hard labor and physical confrontation, much more than your average gym rat, and they fight back hard. Totally worth the extra effort, in my opinion. Doug insists he could eat one every day, he likes them so much, but I like more variety. Knowing Doug, he probably COULD eat one every day.

"He's busy digesting," Doug replied curtly. "He just had a cop for dinner. Come on. Bedroom's upstairs on the left." I busted up laughing at Doug's no-nonsense delivery as he jerked a thumb at the stairs. Toby looked surprised for a second and let out a nervous, rapid chortle, but after three six-packs hearing that I had eaten a man didn't seem to phase him. "Whoa.... you ate a cop for dinner. Cool!" His goofy grin returned rapidly. "Wrestle ya for top!" he slurred at Doug. Fucking ridiculous, considering Doug's size. "Fuck you," Doug said brusquely. "I'm top, you're my bitch. Get your ass up there. Hurry up."

"Aw, all's he's saying is he likes getting his ass kicked," I teased Doug. "Go ahead, wrestle him. Afraid he's gonna beat you?" "Oh, he'll get his ass kicked, all right," Doug growled with an evil grin. "I'll rough him up some before I fuck him." He looked again at Toby. I could tell he was starting to get impatient. Doug's not real good at what they call delayed gratification. "I'm horny. NOW," he ordered, pointing to the stairs. I grinned as I watched Doug easily take charge of the drunk redneck kid.

"Well, okay then, Mr. Top, yes, sir," the cowboy giggled sheepishly, winking at me. He gave Doug an admiring look and a sloppy salute, barely able to conceal his excitement, and started stumbling up the stairs. He was one of those young macho guys who was usually on top by default because of his build and good looks, but who secretly longed for someone exactly like Doug or me to dominate him. If he had been less wasted he might have realized he was in big trouble, way out of his league - though even sober he couldn't have known just how complete his submission to Doug would be. Anyway, it didn't really matter, 'cause his fate was already sealed - he was going to end up either in Doug's stomach or ass, period, end of story. We both swiveled around to get a good look at his retreating butt and thighs. Nice. I gave Doug a thumbs-up. "Breakfast in bed," he shot back, then turned and thundered after his catch, taking the stairs two at a time.

After some thuds and yelling that sounded like Doug basically throwing Toby around (foreplay, I guess), Doug wasted no time getting down to the business of fucking and the entertaining sounds from upstairs began: the relentless banging of the bed frame against the wall, Doug's grunts of satisfaction and pleasure, and Toby's whimpering and moaning. It sounded like Doug was having a great time, but that Toby had gotten in over his head and was wishing he'd stayed back at the county fairgrounds with his buddies. I smiled thinking about just how far over his head he'd be as the evening wore on. After a while, the steady pounding and animal noises faded as I drifted off.

***

I woke up from an uneasy sleep a few hours later and headed upstairs for a horse piss. My stomach was still heavy and full of Officer Kelly. His squirming had finally stopped, but he was a helluva lot of extra weight to haul around, and I felt really slowed down. After sitting in one position for a while I was really stiff and sore from all the physical punishment I'd taken. I hated to admit it, but fighting and eating Kelly really took everything I had. You have to remember, this was the biggest guy I'd ever eaten and I wasn't used to it yet. Now I could take him down no problem, but back then I was still at a kind of food plateau of about 200 pounds, give or take a little.

On the way down the hall I looked in on Doug. He was sprawled out on top of the kid, his big bat still buried deep in Toby's ass, snoring lightly and contentedly in one of those great post-fuck naps. Toby was wide awake, breathing heavily. He was lying on his stomach under Doug, pressed deep into the mattress, his face mashed between Doug's chest and the pillow. I don't think he was drunk any more, and he certainly wasn't having any fun. Doug had been on top of him for hours. He spotted me and whined, "He's fucking smothering me. I cain't push him off me, he's so dang heavy. My ass hurts like hell and I cain't hardly breathe and I gotta piss. Get him off me. Please, mister!"

"You ain't goin' nowhere except into Dougboy's stomach when he's done fuckin' ya," I snorted nastily. "And right now he's takin' a nap, so shut yer yap, hayseed." He started to cry. Whatever. I shuffled on down the hall to the bathroom, and pissed full throttle for a couple of minutes, drowning out his whimpering. It relieved some of the pressure but I was starting to wish the digestion process would kick in a little faster. I lumbered into my bedroom and fell heavily onto the bed. As I was trying to fall asleep I thought, Kelly was the same size as Doug. If I could eat that cop, I could actually eat Doug. I kept trying to push the thought away, but it kept coming back and even worse, thinking about it was making my cock hard. I knew when it came to eating I didn't have any self-control, and for the first time, it bugged me. I didn't like where this was going but I couldn't stop. The enormous mass of food in my gut was slowly beginning to break down and release even more testosterone into my system. I was amped up and all I could think about was the fact that, as big and strong as he was, if I was really hungry and aroused Doug would end up in my stomach.

I fell into a weird half sleep and dreamed I was wrestling with him... It was all so vivid and clear, like I was awake. He was wearing a white tank-top and his blue workout shorts. I could smell his fresh masculine sweat and the clean scent of his soap as we grappled. His familiar smells I never paid attention to suddenly became important... he smelled like food. Somehow I pinned him and sat heavily on his broad chest, my ass flattening his pecs... He looked up at me, puzzled but submissive, like he thought I was playing. I wasn't. I was hungry. I leaned down, took his head in my hands and pulled it towards my mouth, which opened wider and wider... I could feel his warm brawn fighting under me, trying to push me off, but I closed my eyes and stretched my mouth around his big shoulders... He tasted real good and I started taking him in as I stroked my cock fast and hard, thinking about the power and weight his 250 pound body would add to my own. It felt so fucking real....and so incredibly fucking good. Doug, the ultimate meal, a load of concentrated testosterone, a big, tough hunk of meat.... Suddenly I just wanted to cram his whole huge body inside me, I wanted to totally absorb him, all the size and strength he'd worked for years to build... and I grabbed his big muscular football ass, that same ass that had engulfed so many other guys, I grabbed it roughly with both my hands and shoved him greedily into my gut, rapidly wolfing him down, relishing his useless struggles... My cock pulsed and shot over and over as his feet cleared my throat and his heavy body filled my gut....

I woke up with a gasp, in a cold sweat and breathing hard, and tried to remember where I was. That fucking cop was giving me the worst indigestion I'd ever had in my life. I lay there exhausted for a minute, then I jumped up. I went and looked in Doug's room and wasn't surprised to see that Toby was gone. Doug must have woken up and polished him off, probably after one last dominating fuck. I couldn't believe I had slept through that. Now he was spread out on his back, fast asleep, beefy legs spread wide, one hand lightly holding his cock and the other resting on his very full belly. I could hear loud gurgling noises from his stomach as he digested the unlucky cowboy. He looked so peaceful and comfortable. There's just nothing like sleeping off a big, satisfying meal after hours of fucking.

The sun was just starting to come up as I went back to my room and laid down again. I was so tired I knew I'd fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Even though I knew what had happened to Toby, I couldn't wait for my friend Doug to tell me about it himself, to proudly describe his latest conquest... but that's another story for another time.

The End