You Can't Stop Me! (Parts 5-7)
By: Tim

5.

It was after midnight when Tom and Karl walked up the back stairs to Tom's dorm room. Most of the students were out at parties in the frats and sororities, and the dorm was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday. As they got closer to Tom's room, Tom could hear the unmistakable sounds of Bart getting sex at someone else's expense. He motioned for Karl to be quiet, opened the door to his room without a sound. They tiptoed in and looked into the bedroom.

Sure enough, there was Bart, sprawled out on top of someone, fucking the poor guy's brains out like there was no tomorrow. Tom couldn't tell who it was, but the guy was begging for Bart to stop. Tom shuddered as he watched, knowing that if he had stayed home, that would have been him. Bart was an insatiable sex addict with no regard for anyone. After playing football all afternoon, he had worked up a sexual appetite that would take hours of fucking to satisfy, unfortunately for whoever it was he managed to grab.

Karl didn't waste any time. He strode quickly and silently across the room and stood behind the humping mass of bodies on the bed. Then he rapidly straddled Bart from behind, hooked one powerful arm tightly around the jock's neck, clamped his other hand firmly on top of his victim's head, and applied firm pressure to Bart's throat. The young athlete's fuckthrusts stopped immediately and his arms began flailing as Karl dragged him backwards. Skip, who was still impaled on Bart's enormous dick, was pulled along for the ride. Karl squeezed hard; Bart struggled mightily but Karl was too strong. The kid had a thick neck and it took a few minutes to cut off his oxygen. Bart's large, muscular body felt good pressed up against his, real warm and solid, and he badly wanted to eat the guy right then and there. Finally the stranglehold did the trick and the big jock passed out and went limp, dead weight slumped in Karl's arms. Karl reached down and pulled Bart's cock out of Skip's ass. It was stuffed so far in it took a while to pull all the way out; but finally, with a slurping sound, it popped out and Skip fell forward on the bed.

Karl's movements were quick and calculated. He released Bart from his grip and tossed him heavily to the floor. Then he turned his attention to Skip, who was just beginning to turn around to see who had rescued him. Tom held his breath and watched in awe: the next thing happened so quickly it seemed like slow motion. Skip saw Karl, and his eyes widened with amazement, then fear as Karl reached down, mouth already opening wide, grabbed him by the neck with one hand, then hauled him upwards and pushed him in. Skip never had time to let out even a squeak, and didn't have the strength left after Bart's savage fucking to put up a fight. By the time Tom remembered to breathe, Skip's legs and feet were dangling out of Karl's mouth, twitching weakly, and in another couple of swallows he was gone. Karl belched a couple of times, patted his stomach and turned to face Tom.

"Tasty little shit. But now it's your turn," he sneered, grinning wolfishly at Tom, stepping forward. A flash of panic went through Tom. "Please...please don't eat me," he begged. He pointed to Bart, still sprawled out unconscious on the floor. "Eat him instead."

"No, I mean it's your turn to eat," Karl said brusquely. "I'm not going to eat him. You are."

Tom backed up a step. "I can't!" he whimpered. "He's too big. I can't eat a man. You have to do it! Please! You said you'd help me."

Karl reached over and grabbed Tom loosely by the throat. Waves of fear swept over him and he almost began to cry. "Please, no...." Karl swung him around and pushed him into the corner next to where Bart lay. "I told you I'd help you. I never said I'd eat him for you. You have to do that yourself. Time to be a man. Do exactly what I say." Karl was all business. He shoved Tom backwards and then bent down and hoisted Bart's big body up with a deep grunt, adjusting the heavy load until he was holding Bart under his arm like a battering ram, with the jock's head pointed at Tom.

"Open up," Karl commanded. "Open your fucking mouth so I can shove him in."

"No, no, I can't---"

"Do it now, Tom!" Karl barked. Tom was plastered into the corner, his hands pressed to the wall. "I ca-----" His words were cut off as Karl moved forward quickly and pressed the crown of Bart's head against Tom's mouth. Tom's eyes widened and teared over, but his lips parted and widened as well and Karl pushed. "Eat him, fucker," Karl growled. "I'm gonna shove him down your fucking throat. And you're gonna swallow him." He leaned forward and pushed.

Suddenly Tom's lips and mouth felt strange... plastic, almost liquid. And without understanding how it got there, he could feel...no, taste, a large, hard, lumpy mass in his mouth: Bart's head. Fuck, this guy had a big head. The texture of his skin was rough and scratchy, and it tasted salty and sweet and masculine. Tom closed his eyes, unable to comprehend what was happening, but the jock's large, hard head was still there. Tom swallowed involuntarily, and together with Karl's relentless pushing, his throat surprisingly began to open and the head began to move smoothly down. Tom's tongue felt the thick corded muscles of Bart's bull neck and the hot pulsing of the big male's strong heartbeat. My tongue is on his carotid artery, thought Tom. His head spun. He could hear Karl, seemingly off in the distance, growling, "Eat him, fucker! Do it! Take him!" This couldn't be happening. This isn't happening. This is impossible.

Karl kept barking at him like a drill sergeant. "Get ready, son," he snarled. "This is the tough part, the shoulders, and this guy's got fuckin' big ones. Open it all the way up! Eat this rapist football prick! Eat him, motherfucker!" Karl yelled, breathing hard as he manhandled Bart. He grunted and shoved forward hard. There was no choice. Tom moaned, both in fear and some other, new feeling of overwhelm and excitement. There wasn't any going back, only through. Karl wasn't going to pull Bart out of his mouth. He was going to force feed Tom with this arrogant football jock. Tears of exertion and overstimulation involuntarily streamed down Tom's face. He wasn't sure he was ready for this, or even if he wanted to do it, but another shove from Karl and something changed. Suddenly he began groaning and drooling copiously, feeling torrents of saliva pour into his mouth and drip down his chest. He felt his mouth expand, felt the hard, round masses of Bart's shoulder muscles and arms slowly slide in past the corners of his lips, lubricated with his own viscous spit... and then his tongue felt the broad expanse of Bart's powerful chest. Tom's tongue swept slowly across the thick slabs of Bart's pectoral muscles, the bristly, wiry hair lightly covering them, the deep crevice between the athlete's proud, rounded jutting pecs, the large, blunt, protruding nipples. The heartbeat again, thumping hard, faster now, deep in the young man's chest.... hot blooded, live, warm prey.... And the taste filled his mouth and senses.... like nothing he had ever eaten before. Smooth, strong, musky, salty all at once, like comfort food with an ironically supercharged nutritional value... Tom dimly realized he was eating the best meal of his life so far. This guy tasted... damned good. Tom moaned.

"Yeah," Karl grunted, giving another firm shove. "Tastes good, don't he? And you ain't even eaten the best part yet." He kept shoving Bart's big body in a little at a time. Tom wasn't fighting it any more, just struggling to keep his throat and mouth open and move the massive meal into his belly. The top of Bart's head had reached his stomach. Even though Bart's arms were pinned to his sides, he had regained enough consciousness to struggle. But Karl relentlessly pressed forward, driving the large meal into Tom's compact wrestler's body. Tom could feel Bart's pulse speeding a bit as the doomed jock realized the seriousness of his situation. For some reason, this made Tom feel very hungry.

Tom's tongue washed across the firm surface of Bart's stomach now, up and down across the shallow ridges of the corrugated abdominal muscles, feeling them flex and tighten; and then another abrupt push from Karl changed everything. Oh my God, thought Tom as his mouth was stuffed full with the big jock's fleshy, muscular ass. It had the flavor of the stud's chest, only moreso, and another range of complex, very strong flavors, earthy, pungent, insistent, succulent ... Tom couldn't describe it, just sucked and swallowed voraciously to get more and more of it, holding his hands on Bart's steely thighs and greedily trying to cram more of him down. He felt a thick, long, solid tube of heat squashed hard into his tongue, throbbing and pulsing. It's his cock, Tom realized. That's what this fucker's been ramming up my ass for weeks. Suddenly a torrent of hot, thick liquid filled his mouth, then another and another and another, and a sharp new flavor arrived. The football player had ejaculated involuntarily, aroused uncontrollably as his own bodyweight pressed his hungry penis deep into the pleasurable hot wetness of Tom's tongue.

The combination of flavors of Bart's jock butt, cock and balls were like an aphrodisiac to Tom. He felt a sudden surge in his loins and realized he too was coming all over himself, Karl, and Bart's beefy thighs. Somewhere off in the distance, he heard Karl laughing.

"Jock ass, cock, balls - it's like the heart of the artichoke, if you're a gourmet," Karl chuckled, giving Bart another shove into Tom's maw . "My favorite part. Eat him up, stud, eat him up. Did he come? They do that sometimes." Tom moaned a feeble but enthusiastic assent. He never wanted this meal to end. Karl kept up a firm pressure, and the flavor changed again as Tom ingested Bart's tree trunk thighs, hard as rock and lightly covered with hair like the chest. They also tasted like the chest: firm, delicious meat. Once Bart was in all the way to the knees, Karl carefully released his hold and stepped back. "Finish him," he ordered Tom.

Tom stumbled back, unsteady with all the extra weight crammed into his gut, and reached up, grabbing Bart's ankles. Bart kicked weakly, and Tom felt his huge meal struggling, all the way from his mouth to his stomach. The writhing of Bart's heavy body made Tom unsteady on his feet, and suddenly he felt afraid; Bart was in control of him all over again. "Don't worry," Karl said quickly, putting his hands on Tom's shoulders to steady him. "He's not going anywhere but down. Push him in and finish his big ass off. That fucker's yours. His ass belongs to you now." Tom paused, gathered the rest of his strength, and then with a steady effort slowly pushed Bart's calves and feet into his mouth. His lips closed around the rough, dirty soles of Bart's big feet, he swallowed hard a few times, and then it was over. He felt the huge mass of what was now food sliding slowly down to the bottom of his stomach. Tom looked down and saw his gut growing as it filled with his meal. "Uhhhh," he moaned, suddenly worn out. He stumbled a couple of steps and fell backwards heavily onto the bed.

6.

Karl loomed over him, grinning hugely. "You're the man! Welcome to the world of the predator, man! You fucking did it!"

Tom groaned and put his hand on his swollen belly. "Fuck.... he's so big in there. There's so much of him, it feels so fucking hot and full in my stomach. And he's moving around a lot, too." He groaned again and released an enormous belch. "Uhhhh.... fuck. He's so fucking big, I'm so full," he kept repeating. "I'm so full." He belched again, loudly and wetly, and tasted his meal on his breath. It sure tasted good. His cock twitched a little.

"Feels good, huh?" Karl grinned. "You lucky sonuvabitch. First time and you bag prime Grade A jock meat. Let me tell you, boy, it doesn't get any better than what you just had. There is just nothing on this earth like having a belly full of jock. And they taste so damn good, too, better than anything else. I told you you could do it!" He sat on the bed next to Tom. "You had some help though. I choked him out cold for ya so he couldn't fight ya. If you'd tried to do it alone I'd be talkin' to him now, not you, cause he'd've eaten you for lunch, believe me. 'Course then I would've eaten him myself. But anyway, he's wide awake now, and he doesn't want to be in there. He's used to bein' the big man, bein' on top of everybody. You just took him down and his instinct is to fight it. But you conquered him, so just lay back for a bit now and get off on feeling that big bad boy squirm in there and submit to you. I love this part. Makes me want to jack off."

Tom shifted uncomfortably on the bed, unaccustomed to the heaviness and churning in his gut. "Yeah, but what now? What if he busts something inside me? Am I just going to be like this with a big fat stomach for the rest of my life? Uhhhhh.....maybe I should let him out." Tom's stomach gave a noticeable heave as the meal struggled. He belched violently, and the movement in his gut slowed a little, but didn't stop entirely.

"No, you should NOT let him out," Karl said sternly, pointing to the struggles in Tom's gut. "See, he's still kickin'. If it was just you and him, as soon as you let him out, he'd kill you. NEVER let prey go, especially not a big, dangerous one like him. He can't do any damage in your gut. There's just not much room in there for a guy his size. He's so fuckin' squashed and crammed and packed inside your gut -- so damn tight he can't really move much. All he can really do is flex his muscles and wiggle. It just feels like he's moving more than he really is." Tom looked up earnestly at Karl, taking in the lesson.

"And second, that's not fat you ate. He's solid muscle, and your body knows what to do with a good meal like him," Karl told him. "You'll digest him. All 225 pounds of him. He'll run out of air in a while, and then your body will start takin' care of business. Your stomach is already compressing him down, belching out his air supply. In another few hours your stomach will be flat again and you won't even know you ate him. Maybe he could bench 400, but now he's no match for your digestive system. He's food. Your body'll use his muscle to build your muscle, and for energy, and... well, you'll shit the rest out. He was real lean, he'll be easy to digest. Tomorrow you'll spend about an hour dumping what's left after your body finishes with him." Karl laughed. "And then he's just gonna be a really big pile of shit. That fucker ain't gonna be rapin' nobody else. No more touchdowns for you, football boy!" he yelled, slapping his hand lightly on Tom's stomach a few times. There was an audible angry growl in response and a sudden jabbing sensation in the pit of Tom's gut. He belched again but the growling persisted.

"An HOUR?! An hour to dump what's left?!" Tom was alarmed. Karl snickered, knowing what he was thinking. "Yeah, an hour. I don't think you realize. You didn't eat a fuckin' pizza, dude, you ate a whole fuckin' live man. That guy's a load! It's gonna take you a while to move him through your system. Tomorrow when you feel a little more settled you can come over to my place. You can take a dump in my back yard tomorrow. You're not going to be able to sit on a regular crapper for this - they couldn't ever clear out a clog that size. You're lookin' at unloadin' a good 200." Karl laughed out loud. "Fuck, man, that's more than you weigh! How fuckin' outrageous is that! You ready for that?"

"Two hundred....How the fuck can I shit out something that big?!" Tom was panicked. He felt a powerful lurch and an ominous rumbling in his stomach.

"Relax. You know how good it feels to take one of those really big, slow shits, when you take your time, read the paper, whatever. It's like that, only better. Totally relaxing. Don't worry. Your body knows what it's doing." Karl smiled. He paused, then said, "Besides, let me tell you: I could just as easily have shoved him up your ass. Same difference. Feels great." He looked thoughtful. "I should've done that, come to think of it, considering what he did to you. Poetic justice. But then you wouldn't've gotten to taste him."

"I don't think so," Tom said. "I can't believe I even did this. I can't believe I ate him."

"Anybody can do it," Karl replied. "It's been trained out of us, but every man is a predator and can eat any other man the way you just put down this big fucker. That was how the gladiators trained, back in the day, so they'd be ready for other large predators when they faced them in the arena. So much for a civilized society." He rubbed his own stomach reflectively. It was packed full after his third meal of the day. "Tell you what, though. Now that you've tasted real food, you're gonna want more. Trust me. Seriously, what would you rather eat now, a quarter pounder with cheese or a quarterback? I know what I'd choose." He paused. "Well, actually I'd supersize it and get two quarterbacks. But you get the point."

A weird chill of excitement spiralled rapidly down Tom's spine and through his full gut. He knew Karl was right. Bart tasted like nothing he'd ever eaten before - like prime rib with the volume turned all the way up - and he wanted more of that. Not to mention the incredible feeling of power he felt swallowing the big jock whole. Fuck... maybe this was what the big boys felt like all the time.

Tom felt himself begin to sweat lightly, and his cock started to throb. Suddenly he realized he had a full blown erection and was breathing hard, like he'd just run five miles.... or won a wrestling match.... or fucked someone. He felt his gut. It was still moving and making a lot of noise. He glanced over at Karl, who was watching him intently.

"See, you're already starting to break him down," Karl told him. "Feelin' like you want to fuck, or kick somebody's ass? That's his male hormones going into your bloodstream. Boy are you in for a ride. You're probably going to want to jack off for the next few hours."

"Why?!" Tom panted. How did Karl know that all he felt like doing was jacking off despite the immense pressure in his gut?

"Well, the guy was knocked out for the most part while you swallowed him, so there was probably only a little adrenaline, not as much as if you'd overpowered him and eaten him and he knew what was happening the whole time. He wasn't conscious at first, so he wasn't afraid. But now that you're starting to digest him, all the chemicals in his body get slowly absorbed into your system. This guy was a fucking stallion, so it's like you're hooked up to a testosterone drip for the next few hours. What a fucking rush." Karl reached out and punched Tom lightly on the shoulder. "Fuck, buddy, I'm stoked your first time was so good."

"Well, you fucking helped, man," Tom said in a husky voice, a bit taken aback by the affectionate gesture. He felt different... not reserved and quiet, like he always was, but.... dominant. "You fucking crammed that asshole down my throat. Fuck. I could take him by myself, though, now that I know I can. Yeah. Next time I'm gonna jump a guy from behind and eat him." Tom grabbed his swollen cock and started jerking it. "Yeah. Maybe I'll shove a guy down your throat, huh?" Then the wave passed, his breathing slowed a little and he started feeling more like his old self.

Karl broke out laughing again. "Yeah, man, I'd sure like to see you manhandle the size guy I like to eat. Tell you what, let's go down to the gym and find me a 300-pound powerlifter, and you can pick him up and subdue him and feed him to me." He wiped the tears from his eyes, he was laughing so hard. Finally he stopped laughing and straightened up. "Let me give you some more advice, kid," he said. "Never, never bite off more than you can chew. If you try eating a guy a lot bigger than you, like this dude, and it turns out you can't overpower him, you're fucked. I've seen this happen over and over. A smaller guy like you gets a taste of meat and you want more, so you go for the jackpot and try to take a big guy down. Who can blame you? You just experienced it for yourself, it's great. Of course you want more. And bigger is always better. So maybe you plan it out, you take this guy by surprise, and maybe you get his feet or even his head into your mouth. And maybe this big man you think you're gonna eat hasn't ever eaten another guy before, but once you start trying to do it to him, he's gonna know he can do it himself. Especially if the survival instinct kicks in, and most definitely if you pick a guy like this one, alpha male type. Bad, bad move. All bets are off. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you'll end up as a pile of his shit because if he realizes he actually can eat you, he will. This guy" -- he pointed at Tom's belly -- "this guy you would NOT have wanted to try by yourself. He definitely would have won, no question, even if you snuck up on him. He already had you so dominated and psyched out that you were sleeping in the park to get away from him. That's why I was glad to help out. I've got a lot more experience than you handling dominant personalities. I just eat them. So trust me, you do NOT want to bite off more than you can chew. If you're going to start something, you best be damn sure you can finish it. Otherwise you'll end up like your friend here."

Karl rested his big hand on Tom's stomach. The meal was still actively thrashing and growling. "That is so fucking hot," Karl whispered, gazing admiringly at the outline of the meal. "You really fuckin' put him away. An entire fucking football player on your first try. Most guys need months to work up to a meal that big. Way to go. I knew you could do it. You're a little stud, you know that?"

Tom stared up at Karl, his eyes glazed, breathing heavy, one hand on his cock. He belched a little, tasted jock meat on his breath again and smiled. "So who's next?" he said quietly.

7.

Karl laughed. "Now you're talking," he said. "Well, this has been great, but I've got to get home and finish some things. Tomorrow morning you can come over to my place and unload. And maybe tomorrow night if you're up to it I'll take ya hunting. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Tom said. "I'll just be waiting here for things to calm down in my stomach." He pointed at his belly. The meal was still active.

"Here, I'll write down my address for you. Just show up anytime tomorow. Try to get there BEFORE your ass feels like it's gonna explode. Yeah, and don't worry about football boy, he ain't goin' nowhere," Karl said, smiling. "Just give it a little while, you'll feel better. He'll run out of air and then you won't have all that churning. Might take a while, though, he's sure a fighter. Good job, man!" he said as he left the dorm room.

Tom laid there in the darkness with one hand on his cock and the other on his belly, feeling the enormous mass of food moving around vigorously. It had been about 10 minutes and it was still squirming around a lot. Tom tried to belch. It was only small but he could taste his meal again. God, it tasted good. But his stomach didn't feel so good. He tried belching again. This time nothing came out. It also seemed like his meal was getting even more rowdy and riled up in his gut. It felt like the guy was kicking the wall of his stomach, or punching it or something. Tom kept feeling dull, flashing pains, and his whole midsection felt overstuffed and overheated. Instead of feeling better, like Karl had predicted, he felt increasingly worse.

Maybe if I roll over on my side, thought Tom. Sometimes that helped when he had an upset stomach. This time it didn't. He laid there for a minute and rolled onto his back. It was hard to move around with so much weight in his belly. The growling and rumbling in his gut was loud, and his stomach felt stretched and sore in all directions. Another minute passed. Tom felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He knew this feeling. He'd had it before, a couple of times after drinking too much after a high school dance. It was that feeling of dread and resignation you get when you know you're going to throw up no matter what, but all you can do is wait for it to happen.

I know, thought Tom, I'll drink some soda, and that'll help me belch, and use up his air. He tried to push up off the bed, but he was exhausted from the ordeal of bodily consuming Bart. He swung his legs off and tried to sit up, but only succeeded in rolling over a little to the side. And that was when it happened. There wasn't any warning: his meal started to come up. The familiar out of control feeling of his body throwing off a flu bug or too much alcohol swept over him as the huge foodmass lurched and began pushing up through his throat. "Ahhhhh---" Tom desperately tried to swallow and keep it down, but it wasn't staying down. All he could do was lie there, terrified and helpless, as Bart's head began pushing up through his throat and into his mouth. A violent heave and the top of the big jock's head protruded through Tom's distended lips. Tom was sweating bullets and again, tears began running down his face from the physical strain. Another heave, this one even more forceful, and Bart's muscular shoulders and broad back appeared. His usually lightly tanned skin was reddened and slick from the saliva and acid in Tom's stomach. Once his head cleared Tom's lips, he started gasping air like he had just swam up from the bottom of the ocean. "Uuuunnnnnnhhhhhhh! FUCK!" Bart yelled. Tom's body took over and kept heaving forcefully, pushing Bart's thick body out rapidly, much faster than it had gone in. Tom couldn't even try to swallow, couldn't fight the fact that his body was rejecting the meal. He felt his mouth fill with the jock's large ass. Going in it had felt and tasted sublime. Coming out, it was chokingly massive. Another couple of heaves and Bart's legs and feet dropped with a wet thud out of Tom's mouth onto the bed. Tom fell off onto the floor, coughing and choking. His stomach, throat, lips, everything hurt. Bart fell back onto the bed, soaked in sweat, saliva, his own ejaculate and the fluids from Tom's stomach, still panting hard. "You.... stupid.... fuck," he said to Tom with clenched teeth. "I told you, you can't stop me, you stupid piece of shit." They both lay there, Tom on the floor and Bart on the bed, for a minute, Bart still panting, Tom doubled over in pain, coughing.

Then Bart sat up and wordlessly reached down, grabbed Tom by the arm, pulled him up on the bed and flung him onto his back. "You're stupid for even thinking you could fuck with me," he told Tom. He straddled the wrestler, facing his feet, his big butt positioned directly over Tom's head. Still without saying a word, he sat down and rubbed his ass back and forth, pushing Tom's nose deep in his asscrack.

There was a large mirror across from the bed. Bart looked at himself with pleasure. Yeah, fuckin' hot, he thought as he watched Tom struggling underneath him. It turned him on to see a musclejock like that sitting his big hard butt on some pathetic lower life form and using nothing but his own weight to squash the living shit out of it. Bart had never eaten a guy, but his ass had devoured plenty of them. He applied a little more pressure to Tom's face. "Ahhhh...... beautiful," Bart grunted, still staring at his reflection. His cock, still soft and already seven fat inches, flopped down between his legs. Bart reached up and felt his brawny chest, flexed his muscles for himself, showing off his biceps. The narcissistic jock gazed lovingly in the mirror as he flexed and preened. He started rhythmically riding Tom's face, slowly at first, then harder, mashing Tom's face with his ample rump. "Yeaahhhh...." Bart was enthralled by the sight of the god in the mirror effortlessly dominating the worthless mortal. He reached down and took his big warm cock in his hand and started gently stroking himself, playing with his nipple with the other hand. Underneath him, Tom was moaning and struggling. He tried to push Bart off but couldn't budge the huge mass glued to his face.

Still gazing contentedly into the mirror, Bart reached back and gently pulled the two large mounds apart and sat down all the way, slowly, deliberately, pinning Tom to the mattress. His cock jumped and lengthened as he watched the hunk in the mirror steadily bearing down, and as the victim started thrashing and bucking and kicking for all he was worth. Tom knew then that Karl was right: Bart was going to kill him...with his ass. Bart knew it too. "Whoa," thought Bart, losing himself in the mirror so completely he thought he was watching a movie, "that stud's gonna stuff the guy up his ass." He watched with great interest, slackjawed, as the handsome brute started jacking his cock faster and faster and riding his victim's face harder and harder, and in a few seconds Bart saw the smaller guy's head get pushed firmly all the way into the football player's butt. Bart groaned, his eyes glazed with the excitement of the conquest, as he watched the large male in the mirror force himself down on Tom and pull the kid in, subduing his flailing and muted cries. "Ahh, that's fuckin' power," Bart breathed, stroking away with one hand, the other hand exploring his ripped body. This was so easy, and felt so good. It was so erotic to watch his ass take someone, like seeing a snake grab a rat. Once Tom was in up to his shoulders, Bart relaxed, slowly jacking his cock, transfixed with pleasure as he saw the mirror jock's beefy glutes sucking the frantically wriggling wrestler farther and farther in. Tom's sturdy body became his human sex toy. He moaned greedily, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the pleasurable physical and psychological sensations of Tom's losing battle. Bart stared admiringly as his twin's hard muscles heaved and tightened with the effort of taking the man in. "Wipe him out, man," he whispered in a deep, lust-choked voice to his evil muscular reflection.

It took only about five minutes to pack his musclebutt full of wrestler, but Bart could have gone on and on watching himself. It felt so good he was disappointed there wasn't another buff wrestler to play with and shove up there. Once Tom was gone, he laid back, stroking his cock peacefully, his ass completely stuffed. "You fuckin' can't stop me," Bart grunted huskily to nobody in particular, and this declaration of power sent him over the edge. Thick spurts flew up and landed on his heaving chest, his biceps and forearms, on the bed, and the wall, and his whole body tensed as he came. Then he drifted off as the weak struggles down below rapidly subsided to nothing over a few minutes.

He dozed for a little while, then got up, stretched, and walked over to the dresser. There was a piece of paper with the words, "579 Pine" written on it. Bart studied the paper for a moment, then went out to the living room and sat heavily on the sofa, his nude body sprawled out comfortably on the soft cushions.

He dialed the phone while he clicked on the TV with the remote, searching for some sports to watch. "Greg? Bart. Yeah, listen, get the boys together and come over to my room. Yeah, I know who got Marty. What, Kurt's gone too? Fuck. I bet it's the same guy. Listen, this dude tried to feed me to my roommate. No, I'm totally serious, I was bangin' some guy and then this dude fuckin' put a chokehold on me and then force fed me to my own bitch. Dude, this guy is fuckin' huge. I couldn't get out of his chokehold and next thing I know I'm halfway inside that little shit... No, after the dude left I just fuckin' powered my way out and... Huh? The bitch? Ha, my ass got him." He laughed. "Yeah, yet another guy in a losing battle with my ass. Fuck you, you asshole, I wasn't afraid of that little shit, I just put him in his place. Yeah.... No, I got lucky, if that dude had stuck around my own bitch would've turned my ass into shit. How fucking pathetic would that be, eaten by a guy half my size who I fuckin' OWN, who I've fucked more times than.....Huh? Yeah, this fuckin' dude was tellin' him how to fuckin' eat guys and how he shouldn't let me out of his stomach and all kinds of other shit. Serious fuckin' predator. They were gonna go hunting, I think. Sure, we're gonna take care of it. This fucker needs to know there's only one game in town and it's Mustang football. Yup, I know where he lives. Yeah, tell Brett I hope he's hungry. What? Three lacrosse dudes? Fuckin' pig. Tell him he's getting fat. No, don't tell him that, he'll kick my ass. See if Brad wants this guy. I don't know. Naw, he's too big for Mike or Doug. He's huge. Big enough to where I couldn't stop him. Oh, yes, definitely a lot bigger than Marty. Get as many of the boys together as you can, we're gonna need some serious muscle to take this fucker down. Okay, see you in a few."

Bart hung up the phone. Then he stretched out to his full 6'3" and yawned, one hand holding his cock absently, the other rubbing his bare chest as he watched the game and waited for the boys.

The End