Streets of Hollywood V: Declaration of War
By: Voreboy
My eyes open. I’m sitting in Tory’s apartment. A cramped, one-bedroom apartment that costs $850.00 a month. That’s Hollywood for you. I scratch my stomach. Fuck I’m huge…and then I remember I ate Tory no more than 2 hours ago. Just this morning I was at the Renaissance Hotel with Shannon. We spent time together until I realized I had to leave in order to finish digesting my meal for last night. I couldn’t tell Shannon I ate people. He’s the last person I wanted to scar for life.
The only reason I came to Tory’s was to take an acid trip…that and a few hours of rough sex. I had no intention of eating him before I arrived. I have to make sure I’m not around any people when I’m high. I can’t risk eating someone I’d regret.
My belly was swollen. It jutted out just past my kneecaps. I sat up for a second. I took a minute to scratch my arms and my pecks. I felt movement in my stomach. It was faint. Tory may be alive, but just barely. After two hours I highly doubt he has any oxygen to breath. My dick twitches. I’m guessing I’ve had a hard on for a while now but the stirring of live prey has an erotic effect on a man. I grabbed my horse-hung cock and slowly started to stroke it. God, how I love having a big dick. Face it, size matter and if you don’t have it you’ll just end up someone’s bitch. Not me though. I am Man; suck my dick. Period.
A phone rings. It’s Tory’s cell. The Caller ID says “Disney.” I understand. It’s code. When you need to contact your dealer, or when you’re on the subject of narcotics in general you NEVER call a drug or a dealer by their actual name. You come up with every dumbass, idiotic, illogical, Morris code you can think of to keep yourself from being busted, by one side of the law or the other. Disney is both a person and a business, which means “Disney” stands for “Dealer.”
“Hello?” I answer. I place the headset in my ear so I can talk and pleasure myself at the same time.
“Who is this!?” A dark angry voice answered. I scratched my chest as I fondled myself.
“Name’s Will. Who dis?” I asked in a mellow tone.
“Where is Tory?”
“Tory is…sleeping at the moment.” I said as I rubbed my gut.
“Well wake him the fuck up.”
“Sorry bro, he’s not waking up anytime soon. He got his ass tore up, tripped off some acid and if you can believe it barely had enough energy to feed me something to eat. He’ll be confined to his quarters for a while.”
“How much did he charge you for the acid.”
“Charge? I do not get charged under any circumstance.”
“That little bitch! You’ll pay good money if you value breathing.”
“While I value breathing, I don’t think I’ll be handing over any cash. Debit/Credit doesn’t work for me either.”
“This is probably going to be a stupid question- do you know who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are Motherfucker, and while you’re not the biggest fish in the sea you are somewhat important to the business. I would like to speak with your boss but since I know I’ll have to kill you to get to him, let’s just cut the chat and arrange a business meeting of our own.”
“Where would you like to die?”
“I would like to die an old man asleep in his bed. I would like you to die tomorrow night at 2:00am in Griffith Park.”
“What if I hunt you down before then?”
“Tory is probably the only person who would know where to find me. Unfortunately for you, you won’t know where to find him.” And with that, I hung-up the phone.
Hand to hand combat is somewhat of an erotic stimulant as well. I’ve been kickboxing since I was seven years old and to be honest, I’m damn good at it. As I jacked my cock thing about how satisfying to beat the living hell out of a henchman of my target, I realized how much better it would be to devour him afterwards. My stomach was still stirring. Poor Tory, such a good fuck but an even better meal. After a few minutes I blew my load all over Tory’s floor.
The End