You Can't Stop Me! (Parts 1-4)
By: Tim

1.

It never occurred to Marty that walking through the park at night wasn't safe. He never even gave it a thought. Nobody was going to fuck with a guy his size, and if anybody did, he could easily kick anyone's ass, and in fact was known for kicking people's asses. Marty was the captain of the Mustangs, State's football team. Six-five, 280, all muscle. That night, he was on his way back to the dorm from an impromptu orgy at a house off campus. Marty liked it rough and kinky. He hooked up with Lisa a few times a week. She didn't go to State - she was in cosmetology school - but she did whatever he wanted, and even liked it when he brought along his football buddy Kurt to join in the fun. Trouble for Kurt was, when he started fucking Lisa for sloppy seconds after Marty, the sight of his broad back and bubble butt flexing as he thrust in and out of her really got Marty going all over again, and he ended up pulling Kurt off of Lisa and plowing his ass while Lisa watched, wide-eyed. Fuck, what a scene, thought Marty, feeling a surge in his cock just thinking about going back and forth between reaming his moaning buddy's tight ass and fucking that hot bitch.

The dark path wound down through some tall bushes to a small wooden bridge that crossed a stream, thick with trees on both sides. It was very quiet. Marty never heard the huge predator move up rapidly behind him, so he was taken by surprise as the massive creature hooked one thick arm around his neck, grabbed the waistband of his shorts with the other, and dragged him off the trail into the brush. The predator smelled sex on Marty. Good. They always tasted better when they were marinated in sex sweat. "What the fuck----" Marty spat, trying to free himself. But his captor's arms were like steel bands, and he couldn't get away. He fucking couldn't get out of this guy's grasp! Jesus, the guy was huge! Marty couldn't see him, but from the way the attacker felt behind him he was taller, and certainly heavier and stronger. For the first time in his life, Marty felt afraid. There was actually somebody bigger than him? What was this guy going to do?

He didn't have to wait long to find out. The viselike hold released; Marty had only a split second to catch his breath and not even enough time to try to run before strong hands grabbed him again and hoisted him upwards.... up.... up.... what the FUCK!? Marty suddenly found himself suspended more than seven feet in the air, held aloft by the most gigantic man he had ever seen in his life.

Then, in a swift motion, his descent began.... the huge man's jaws opened wider and wider.... and Marty felt his head, then his broad shoulders thrust inside the man's mouth. And for the second and last time in his life, Marty felt terror as he realized: I can't stop him. He's swallowing me alive.

Mere minutes later, the predator stood, bent over, hands on thighs, breathing heavily from capturing and devouring his meal, sweating profusely and continuously unleashing long, roaring, wet belches that echoed through the otherwise silent park. Every few minutes he straightened up a little and took a few uncertain steps. Dinner was taking a little longer than usual to quiet down. Marty had put up a tremendous fight. The biggest meals always did, but this one was easily enough to take care of him for a few days. Finally, after some more violent belching, the movement in his stomach slowly ceased, and the predator slipped off into the darkness.

2.

Tom opened the door and looked around the spartan furnishings of the dorm apartment. So here I am at State, he thought. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach. Sure, he was glad to be at State, but he was more than a little nervous and felt out of his league.

He'd done well in athletics in high school - baseball, track, lettered in wrestling - and even got a partial wrestling scholarship to attend State. That by itself was a feather in his cap. State attracted the biggest, most aggressive, most talented athletes, and many of them went on to professional sports. Girls went to State in hopes of finding a future pro athlete for a husband. But it was also a Bermuda triangle for jocks. Not infrequently, one would disappear without a trace. Usually it was a second stringer or benchwarmer, not one of the star players. Everyone knew this happened, but nobody said a thing. But everyone also knew you had to be a big jock - or be friends with one - to ensure a safe four years at State.

The football team was particularly bad. The football coach, a huge ex-Marine, knew and didn't care about any of the trouble his team cooked up, on and off the field, as long as the championships and Heismans kept rolling in. Stories of rapes, beatings, and other crimes surfaced periodically. Coach brushed off any criticism of his players. "Boys will be boys," he snorted. "Leave my boys alone." Some of the students resented this attitude, particularly those who had found themselves on the receiving end of a gratuitous ass kicking or unwanted sexual attack from one or more of the Coach's "boys."

Tom had heard all of this, having gone to high school only a few hours away. "Stay the hell away from the football players when you get to State," was everyone's advice. In high school, he could hold his own. At 5'8" and 165, Tom had an impressive, muscular build, with well-defined pecs, the beginnings of a six-pack, and the beefy, round glutes and thighs that went along with his compact body type. The girls loved his butt and his dark, wavy hair and blue bedroom eyes. Tom never lacked for female attention and was completely unaware that there were a few guys that liked what they saw when they checked him out, too.

The little apartment had a tiny kitchen with a hot plate, a sitting room with an old couch and easy chair in it, and a small bedroom with two double beds. Tom sighed and went into the bedroom and threw his duffel bag on one of the beds. Might as well put his stuff away and go check out the campus. As he unzipped the bag, Tom heard a noise behind him. He turned around and saw a big, broad-shouldered athletic looking guy slouched in the doorway, just looking at him.

"Hey," said Tom, a little nervously. This guy was bigger than any of the guys back at high school, probably 6'3" and definitely well over 200. Thick biceps exploded from a dingy white t-shirt that was a couple of sizes too small to show off wide shoulders and a powerful chest. The dude was goodlooking - could have been on the cover of one of those fitness mags - but didn't look all that friendly, either. "Hey, I'm Tom." He held out his hand.

The guy stepped forward and engulfed Tom's hand in his own, gripping it so hard Tom had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from wincing. "Bart," he said in a deep, authoritative voice. "Varsity football. What sports do you play?"

"Uh... I'm new here. I'm gonna be on the wrestling team, though," Tom said.

"Cool," said Bart, staring down steadily at Tom. "A wrestler." He had short, dark brown hair and blue eyes, like Tom. He gave Tom an up-and-down look, appraising his body silently. "You look like you got the build for it. Turn around and lemme see what else you got."

"Wh--what?" Tom was completely taken aback. He'd never had such a question from a guy before, and the way Bart was looking at him made him uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"

"I said, turn around." Bart crossed his muscular arms across his chest. "You're new, so I won't kick your ass this one time, but in the future when a football player tells you to do something for him, you do it. Now turn around before I change my mind about kicking your ass."

Tom instinctively but nervously submitted to the order. He immediately felt a strong dislike for Bart and felt humiliated that this stupid oversized arrogant asshole was bullying him so easily. What a fucked up way to start college. He remembered everyone's admonitions about staying away from the football jocks, and this was probably why. Maybe he could get transferred to another room.

Suddenly he felt hot breath on his neck and strong hands grabbing his firm ass, squeezing it. "Ah, yeah," Bart growled. "I knew it. Now that is one fuckable ass. Gonna shove my big dick up there and fuck you stupid." He pressed forward and pinned Tom firmly against the wall. "Unless you think you're man enough to stop me," he whispered nastily into Tom's ear, then leaned down and bit Tom's ear and neck hard. Tom cried out in pain and fear. "Ow! Stop, you're hurting me!" He'd heard about this back home. Cornholing, the guys called it. Usually it was your older brother who fucked you once he got old enough to want to fuck, but didn't have a girlfriend. Tom was an only child and had never been "cornholed", and he didn't want to be "cornholed." And now all of a sudden there was this huge guy breathing down his neck, wanting to fuck him. Problem was, this guy could. All of a sudden, Tom just wanted to get the hell out of there. "Get away from me," he snarled, trying without success to push back against the immovable bulk of his roommate.

"Shut up." Bart grabbed Tom by the neck, pulled him back and tossed him face down on the bed. He straddled Tom's back to keep him from escaping. "I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you," Bart grunted, fumbling with the drawstring on his shorts. He produced the monster, spit on it to lube it up, stroked it up to full size and then, without any preparation or warning, pushed it deep into Tom's bowels with one prolonged shove. The next hour was vile for Tom. Bart pounded his ass, pinning him to the bed on his stomach as he satisfied himself in the wrestler's tight little butthole, unloading twice before he was done. When he was finally finished, Bart rolled off. "Nice fuck," he said casually to Tom. "I knew that ass was tight. Now it's mine. Whenever I want it, until it's not tight any more. Of course, you tell anybody and I'll fuckin' wreck ya," he added.

Tom glared at him, his face red from crying and streaked with tears, his teeth clenched in anger. "You stay the hell away from me," he hissed.

Bart leaned down and pushed his face right into Tom's. "If I want to fuck you, I will. Got it? You can't stop me." He smiled broadly. His teeth were large, even, and white. Then he turned around and swaggered off, his big cock, still semi-hard, swaying back and forth as he strutted away.

The very next day, Tom went to the administration and tried to get his room switched. Let someone else be a pussy for that big dickhead, he thought. His butt was aching and raw and his back was sore and bruised. Bart was a fucking evil brute. The administration lady was nice was firm. No deal: all the rooms were assigned, and besides, freshmen had to stay put for at least one semester before they could petition for a new assignment. Tom thought about going to the campus police, but the thought of admitting that he had been raped by a guy shamed him, and Bart's threat echoed in his mind. He had to just stick it out: there was no way he could tell anyone what had happened. He didn't know anyone else at State, so there was no one he could stay with, either.

Hoping for the best, Tom returned to his room that evening. Bart was there watching a game on TV, shirtless, boxers, a beer in one hand. He didn't even look up at Tom. "Hey bud," he said casually, taking a swig of beer, never taking his eyes off the game.

Phew, thought Tom, maybe it was an isolated incident. He went to the bedroom and got into bed, but couldn't sleep for a long time. After a while, he heard the TV go off, and a few minutes later Bart came in, got into his own bed, and turned the light out. Finally, Tom heard his roommate snoring, and it was only then he was able to go to sleep.

A few more nights passed, and although the two didn't exchange many words, Bart didn't attack him again. Tom started to think maybe it was just a one-time thing. Maybe Bart was just letting me know he's an upperclassman, Tom thought naively. Kind of like an initiation thing, like they do in frats. He couldn't have been farther from the truth. Tom's reprieve was only because Bart was fucking a guy in another dorm. Unfortunately for Tom, a week later the guy escaped by dropping out of school.

The attacks resumed immediately and went on for weeks after that. Tom tried to reason, tried to beg, plead with Bart; offered him money, term papers, anything as long as he was left alone, but to no avail. He tried leaving the room early and coming back late, hoping Bart would be asleep. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Sometimes, after he tiptoed around the snoring jock and slipped into bed, the snoring would stop and suddenly Bart was on top of him, grinding that huge cock against him, then shoving it deep into him, all the while telling him menacingly, "I told you you can't stop me. I can fuck you whenever I want. You're my bitch." The worst thing was that even when Tom started trying to hide at night in other dorms or campus buildings, somehow Bart always knew where to find him and would haul him back to the room where he'd be punished for trying to hide.

Tom started to believe Bart really did own him.

3.

It was a hellish first semester at State for Tom. Somehow, Bart could find him wherever he was on campus, like the walls had eyes. Tom quickly realized that the football players pretty much ran the school. It was worse than the rumors he'd heard. He started to wish he'd gone somewhere else to college, but State was the cheapest school he'd been accepted to, and then there was that scholarship too. Maybe if I saved up some money I could rent a room somewhere off campus, Tom thought. One Saturday afternoon he went for a walk, just to get away from the school and clear his mind. There was a football game that day, and Bart was playing in it, so he wasn't around, but Tom knew as soon as he got back he'd be all pumped from the violence of the game and things would be particularly brutal. Tom walked across campus, crossed the street and walked into the big park. Within a few minutes he was surrounded by tall trees and lush undergrowth. He crossed a stream on a wooden bridge and doubled back around to sit by the bank for a while, off the path where nobody would see him. The sound of the water was the only thing he could hear, no traffic sounds, nothing else.... and he drifted off....

He slept for a long time - when he woke up, it was dark, and eerily quiet. He looked at his watch. Ten thirty. Fuck! thought Tom. I missed dinner at the dorm. Considering everything, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go back there tonight anyway. It was a warm, early fall night, quite comfortable. Maybe I'll just stay in the park tonight, Tom thought. He'll never find me here.

Just then Tom heard a scuffling sound, like some sort of large animal rustling around in the brush nearby. The sound startled him and he turned to face it, heart pounding. He could see a large form moving around a few yards away. It wasn't the type of animal he expected. It was bigger.... in fact, there were two of them. As Tom peered through the darkness, his eyes gradually became accustomed to the darkness and then, dimly, he could see what it was.

An enormous man was clutching something -- a body? -- and dragging it backwards towards Tom. His back was to Tom, but even so, Tom could tell the man was enormous. He was much bigger than Bart even, probably seven feet tall, wide, thick, and powerfully built, like a huge grizzly bear. His arms and legs were like tree trunks. He was wearing a tank top and had tattoos on both arms.

Tom slowly and quietly backed up. He'd already had enough trouble with one big guy, but this one was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

As the giant bear backed up closer, Tom could see the form in his paws and recognized the young man: it was Kurt. Kurt was a backup tight end for the football team, about Bart's size, maybe a little bigger, but not a mean bully. He was in Tom's math class and while the guy was dumb as dirt, he seemed friendly enough and Tom kind of liked him. The giant had one arm around Kurt's neck and the other clamped across his chest, dragging him backwards. What the hell was going on? thought Tom, but he was too afraid to call out.

Then it happened. The Goliath stopped and leaned down, and placing one hand on Kurt's butt and the other under his armpit, lifted the jock up in the air high above his head. Tom's eyes widened and he sucked in his breath sharply as he heard Kurt whimper with fear. Swiftly, the huge man tipped Kurt downwards, pointing Kurt's blond head at his mouth... then he opened his mouth wide... and wider.... and suddenly his mouth became a cavernous gaping chasm. His muscles bulged and he shoved Kurt's head, then shoulders, into his waiting mouth.

Tom was paralyzed with fear. Kurt's beefy torso and legs were sticking out of the huge man's mouth, and he was kicking and fighting for his life. Tom could hear his screams muffled by the body of the predator. The predator kept both hands on Kurt's body and just kept pushing him in, ignoring the thrashing of his meal. In about a minute, Kurt was completely gone and there was a large Kurt-sized lump in the man's belly. The predator stood there, panting, and then burped so loudly it sounded to Tom like a plane was going right over their heads.

"Ahhh....." Overwhelmed by what he had just seen, so frightened he almost pissed himself, Tom let out a little moan of fear.

The huge man whirled around and stared straight at him. Their eyes locked for a very long minute. Then the predator spoke.

"This is your lucky day, punk. I already ate two guys today," he said. He gestured to his swollen gut. "Otherwise you'd be in there with him."

4.

Tom felt like he was nailed to the ground. Everything in him was screaming "Get the fuck out of here!" -- but everything in him was transfixed by what he had seen.

"What did you do to Kurt? How---how did you do that?" Tom whispered.

"What did I do? I ate him," said Karl. "How? I just picked him up and swallowed him."

"But... how?" Tom pressed. "You can't eat a whole man. What did you do with him?"

Karl laughed. "Uh, yeah, I sure as hell can eat a whole man, and I just did. He was damn tasty, too. Those football players really fill me up. What part don't you get?"

"I guess... I guess I didn't know somebody could swallow someone else, whole," Tom said. The whole thing was too much for him. He looked at Karl nervously. "You killed him," he said accusingly.

Karl looked reflective for about a second. "Yeah, I suppose so, but I was hungry and I needed to eat, so I went hunting and he happened to be there. Bad luck for him, good luck for me. Actually it's not just good luck for me, I've been tracking him for a few days. After what happened to his friend he should have known better than to go through this park by himself."

"You make it sound like he was your prey," Tom said, a chill running down his spine.

"Yeah, well, he was," Karl said. "I'm a predator. Probably the biggest, I'm proud to say. This is my territory. I'm at the very top of the food chain. I pretty much eat whatever and whoever I want to. And your buddy there, sure, he was a big man too, but I'm bigger. A lot bigger. So I ate him."

"A predator...." Tom was trying to comprehend everything that had happened, everything he was hearing. "Territory?

"Yeah, predators usually have zones they hunt in, where there aren't other predators but there's lot of prey. If you get another predator trying to move in on your territory, then there's a fight for it and the winner ends up eating the loser."

"So you're the only one like you around here?" Tom asked.

"No, but I'm working on making it that way," Karl said. "Your friend there wasn't a predator, but he was a good-sized prey and that's the kind I need to eat to keep my size up. I don't want anyone cutting in on my turf and taking a meal like him."

"Couldn't you just team up with someone and get more food that way?" Tom couldn't believe he was even asking this, as if the whole thing were totally normal and reasonable.

"Predators usually hunt alone," Karl said. "But sometimes you get a couple of guys who get along real well and they'll work as a team. That works good for a bit. More often than not one ends up eating the other one though. Not always, but mostly. Then once in a while you got your packs. When you got a pack of big guys who like to eat a lot, well, you can't fuckin' stop 'em." He paused and looked thoughtful.

"I was in a pack once," he reminisced. "Real big guys. One night we ended up at this bar. Closed the place down, matter of fact. Then we ate every last fucking guy in there. There was five of us, and twelve of them. When we was done, there was five of us, and those twelve guys were in our stomachs. I ate four myself. That was when I was young though. When you're in your twenties you can eat anything." He laughed.

"Why didn't you stay in the pack?" Tom asked.

"I did, for a while," said Karl. "We had some good times and ate a shitload. But mostly I'm a lone wolf. Alpha. Don't play well with others. One of em ended up eating another one in a fight about a month after that. Then it happened again, so I just waited until I could make my move, and finally I got both of the guys that were left. By that time they both went about 270, 280, real big from eating so much. Dumb asses. While they were filling up on little guys I was going for the big catches. I knew that was how I'd get bigger. They never suspected I'd eat them. I was already about 350 at the time. Filled me up real good," he grunted, patting his stomach and smiling at the memory.

"Wow," said Tom. He was quite for a long time. Then, "You're going to eat me too, aren't you?"

Karl looked at him, not unkindly. After a while he said, "I can't promise that I won't. If I get hungry, and you're the only guy around, then yeah." He saw the worried look on Tom's face. "Look, you're pretty small compared to the guys I eat," he said, trying to be reassuring. "I'm usually after much bigger guys when I'm hungry. See?" For some reason he liked this little guy.

Tom seemed a little more at ease. "Yeah... okay."

Karl squinted at him. "What the hell are you doing skulking around in the dark anyway? Why aren't you back at your dorm?"

"My roommate.... uh.... my roommate...." Tom stammered, then stopped and looked off.

"Your roommate what?" Karl asked sharply.

"He's... he's kind of a dick," Tom said lamely.

Karl snorted. "Yeah. Must be quite a dick if you're out here." He stared evenly at Tom. "What's he doin' to you?"

Tom looked up, startled. "What....what do you mean?"

Karl said, "I mean, it's obvious you're afraid of him and I know what some of those State guys are like. Believe me, I can smell fear. I smell it and taste it every time I eat somebody. Why are you afraid of this guy? Is he on the football team? What's he doin' to you?"

Tears welled up in Tom's eyes. This was so fucking embarrassing. "Nothing I can't take care of myself," he said sullenly, looking at the ground.

Karl said gently, "If you could take care of it yourself, you'd be back there taking care of it instead of hiding out here." No response from Tom. "Did he rough you up? Did he fuck you?"

Tom nodded.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"He's a lot bigger than me," Tom said angrily. "There's nothing I can do about it. If I'm there, and he's there, he does it. I can't stop him. He knows it, too. He tells me all the time I can't stop him. If I hide somewhere, he finds me and does it anyway. He's right, I can't stop him."

Karl looked thoughtfully at him with a slightly puzzled expression. "Yeah you can," he said. "Why don't you eat him?"

Tom's shocked expression almost made Karl bust out laughing. "What? Like you ate Kurt, and all those other guys? Look, whatever your name is, you're three times my size. This guy's huge, a football player, as big as Kurt was. I can't eat a whole man anyway. I don't know how the fuck you did what you did, but I can't. Okay?"

Karl laughed. "I'm Karl," he said, extending a hand. "And yeah, you can. You just think you can't. And it doesn't matter if he's bigger than you. You can still eat him. Snakes do it all the time. Eat other animals bigger than them."

"Tom," said Tom, putting his hand out slowly, as if he were afraid Karl would grab him, pull him in and stuff him down his throat.

Actually, they just shook hands politely, and Karl released his grip quickly. "No, I couldn't. I really couldn't. But," he said slowly, testing the waters, "you could. He'd make a good dinner for you. I could pay you," he added hopefully.

Karl laughed out loud. "You got a lot to learn, boy," he said. "Sure. But you don't need to pay me, I'll help you out." He looked thoughtful. "Man, I hate those fuckin' State football boys," he said. "They think they own the world. I'd eat every last one of 'em if I could round 'em all up." He was lost in thought, imagining how many incredible meals there were in State's starting football lineup. It was a great daydream. Well, no time like the present. "Why don't you and I head over to your dorm now, and see if dickhead's home?" Karl asked Tom.

Tom couldn't have been happier when he heard those words. Finally, a way out had presented itself. They walked together back to the campus.

The End