Date: Sun, 5 Oct 2014 20:44:27 -0700
From: James Ivan <jamesivan2014@hotmail.com>
Subject: Hunter Sniffs Prey

HUNTER SNIFFS PREY

BY JAMES IVAN



PREFACE: The following story is a dark, erotic tale of kidnap and
rape--among other things. To clarify, the key words here are "dark" and
"erotic." Proceed with caution.

That being said, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to
email me. I am glad to participate in discussions with my readers. I'm
always delighted to hear what my readers think and feel, and what scenes
turn them on (or off). So if you absolutely hate the story, let me know. I
mean, I won't be able to do anything about it, but I'm happy to know
(knowledge is power!). Likewise, if you are twisted like me and enjoy the
dark side of fiction like I do, be sure to holla!

Also, if you end up liking this story (you weirdo!), enjoy my other Nify
stories "The Nightwalker Chronicles," which can be found in the Sci/Fi and
Fantasy section.

ALSO also, please help keep erotic gay fiction alive and accessible by
donating to Nifty! Great, now for our feature presentation.



Hunter Sniffs Prey

The heat of August left the lawns of Newberry, Pennsylvania scorched and
brown. For weeks, the county had been trudging in a record-breaking drought
and sprinklers were simply out of the question. The convient mart on the
corner of Albercross and Fifth was sold out of rotisserie fans, and the
local Walmart was fresh out of ice.

If you listened carefully, you could hear the popping of tree sap as the
sun baked the Newberry suburbs. The asphalt sizzled like something charred
at the bottom of a frying pan, and the local roadkill was cooked medium
well--meeting health code standards.

At around two in the afternoon, John "Johnny" Tanner pulled into the
parking lot of the local grocer. It was the hottest point in the day, and a
trickle of sweat slithered down from his armpit.

The tires of his jeep swiveled into the parking space--crooked--and came to
a skidding halt. A twist of the key killed the engine, 38 Special clicked
off the radio, the windows rolled up. Johnny hopped out of the driver's
seat and made his way into the store.

He was a young buck, no older than twenty-five, hair the color of coffee
and eyes the color of dark stained wood. He was--not skinny, no, far from
skinny. Slender was more the word for it. He was lean, and could put on
some more weight without overdoing it if he wanted. But his slender frame
was age-appropriate. Youth had supplied him with a healthy dose of
testosterone, and his muscles were healthy, plump, and toned.

When he stepped through the automatic doors, the refreshing chill of the AC
licked his skin. Johnny was wearing sandals, basketball shorts, and a light
tank-top. The cool air nutured his neck and arms and legs and feet. He
felt, almost, rejuvinated by the cold. He lived in an old house and drove
an old Jeep, both of which offered no AC. Why he continued paying for them,
he hadn't a clue. In the dead of summer, when the heat index was surpassing
a hundred and ten, lying around naked hardly did the trick. In fact, even
as he paced up and down the aisles of frozen food, a glossy sheen of sweat
could still be made out on his skin.

A growing concern: his smell.

Johnny had taken a cold shower that morning, but as the summer heat
thickened, so did his sweat. What was worse, Johnny had always been a
healthy guy. Good genes combined with a moderately good diet and his body
was quick to produce a potent fragrance, one thick with pheromones.

Even now, as he hovered over the frozen vegetables and frozen TV dinners,
Johnny could smell the distinct male odor rising up from his armpits. He
tried to clamp his arms down tight, so not to expose the hairy
undersides. But the scent was still strong. He was even wearing deodorant,
for fuck's sake!

To top it all off, Johnny could smell the saltiness of his own manhood
wafting up from out of his shorts. The polyester couldn't contain his male
scent. His pheromones were too strong--it was too hot!

Jesus, he thought, I stink!

Johnny did his best to calm down. He continued to loom over the frozen
vegetables, trying to bathe himself in the cool air rising up from the
freezer. Fortunately, this was not one of the grocer's busier times. In the
whole store, there was only a handful of other people, so he could dodge
them easily if he had to.

Several minutes passed before Johnny felt his overwhelming scent was
beginning to diminish. At least it wasn't nearly as potent as before. He
drew a deep, meditative breath and began browsing the aisles. He had come
to the store for a reason, he couldn't forget.

In the produce section, he shopped for bananas, plums (it was plum
season!), and fresh strawberries. He found an assortment of nuts and
granola, picked out several colors of peppers, cucumbers, squash, a head of
lettuce, and broccoli.

Everything he piled into a small cart (it was one of those mini carts that
was even too small to fit a toddler) and made his way to the deli, where he
selected a tender cut of chicken breast.

Johnny, who was in no hurry to leave the industrial-sized air conditioning,
stopped by the magazine stand at the far corner of the store--purely for
the sake of killing time. He perused People and InTouch, National
Geogrpahic and The Wall Street Journal. Nothing truly piqued his interest,
but he wasn't exactly looking for entertainment. National Geographic
sounded good, though. After all, it had always been his dream job.

Johnny was maybe a third of the way into an article about an endangered
subspecies of cougars when a large man stepped up beside him. Immediately,
Johnny's heart thumped in his chest. He hadn't known anyone else was down
that aisle. It was as if the man came out of nowhere.

The large man reached for a copy of Esquire, flipped through several pages,
and pored over an article about a wealthy bachelor. There was a pause--at
least on Johnny's end. And it was a pause that lasted for a long, long
time.

The man was like a Viking. His thick shoulders and bristling brown beard
reminded Johnny of a bear. His eyes were dark, his brow rigid, as if his
face were stuck in a permanent scowl. It gave the appearance he was hunting
for something.

Under different circumstances, Johnny might've even given the man a second
look--he was unconventionally attractive. And Johnny, who always considered
himself more on the straight side, was unbiased enough to recognize
gorgeous men when they walked by.

The man wore a wife-beater and weather-worn blue jeans, both of which were
marked with various stains and tears and dirt--the sign of a well-seasoned
traveler. He surpassed Johnny in height, easily achieving 6'2". Judging by
the look of him, Johnny guessed the man was mid-thirties.

Once again, Johnny was concerned about his smell, especially with this man
standing so close to him. And now that his heart was racing, he knew his
scent would only strengthen, and this did not seem like a man he wanted to
offend.

Johnny replaced his copy of National Geographic on the shelf, turned back
to his cart--stiffly--and walked away. He moved past the pet food, past the
toiletries, past the Gerber baby products. He could hear the sun baking the
roof overhead. He could hear the large man at the magazine stand behind
him, flipping through Esquire. He reached the end of the aisle and took a
sharp left down the cereal aisle.

Close call, he thought to himself.

Johnny was in the process of selecting a box of cereal--he didn't know why,
he never ate cereal--when the sound of heavy boots scraping the linoleum
crept up behind him. Johnny glanced over his shoulder, only to find the
lumberjack rounding the corner.

The man came with a swagger. Nothing ostentatious, but it was confident
enough. His smoldering gaze continued to hunt for something, though it
never connected with Johnny.

Fuck, can't this dude just go his own way? Maybe it's time for me to leave.

Quickly, Johnny abandoned the cereal aisle and made his way down the
next. Coffee grounds and tea. The coffee aisle was a unique aisle for
several reasons. It was the last aisle in the store, and furthest from the
main doors. It was the darkest aisle--given how the overhead light had been
exceptionally dim for the last two years and management's never done a
goddamned thing about it. It was filled with the smell of coffee, so
Johnny's summer scent would be better masked. And, on this hot summer day
in particular, it was completely and totally vacant.

Johnny sailed down the aisle, stopping only to browse the herbal teas. (Why
the fuck are you browsing hot tea, idiot? It's the middle of August!) He
had barely slowed his cart before the large man came strolling down the
aisle after him.

Lamenting, Johnny abandoned the tea and resumed his pace. It was like this
man was following him or something. What the hell was his deal?

Just before he rounded the corner, Johnny's shoulder caught the edge of a
stack of coffee beans and knocked several pouches off the shelf.

Shit!

Johnny glanced back at the man who seemed to be shadowing him. But to his
surprise, the man was facing the other direction, reading the label on a
bag of organic coffee. For the first time in several minutes, Johnny
breathed a sigh of relief. He had grown too paranoid over the years, that's
for sure. The large man, Johnny concluded, was harmless.

Johnny crouched down and began loading his arms with the fallen
product. Carefully, he tried restacking them on the shelf, which was a bit
more complicated than he originally thought. (The coffee bean pouches had
uneven bottoms, so they didn't stack well.) After a couple minutes of
fumbling with them, the unmistakeable click of the large man's boots on the
hard floor sounded, and Johnny knew the guy was approaching.

Calmly, Johnny continued adjusting the product on the shelf. The click of
the boots were drawing closer, closer. In his chest, Johnny's heart was a
galloping herd. He set his jaw and focused his hearing, trying to gauge how
close the large man was. Johnny didn't want to whirl around like some
scared-shitless punk, but he had seen enough horror movies to know that
trying to uphold your dignity often resulted in being gutted--mercilessly.

The clicking sound of approaching boots stopped directly behind him. Johnny
had a white-knuckled grip on the coffee product. He stared blankly ahead at
the shelving unit, not daring to turn around. He knew the large man was
looming over him. In fact, he could feel the man's hot breath sliding down
the nape of his neck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Johnny did his best to suppress a tremor that coursed through his
body. Though, it was still noticeable.

Behind him, Johnny could feel the large man lean down and sniff at his
neck. The man drew a long, deep breath, and suddenly Johnny remembered the
intense male odor rising off him like steam. He shuddered.

Just as he was about to pull away from the shelf and walk off, pretending
he hadn't noticed anything, a familiar snap pricked his ears. Johnny's
heart nearly fell out his asshole the moment he recognized the sound--the
switch of a pocket-knife.

From the corner of his eye, Johnny could see the blade glinting beneath the
flourescent lights. The large man held it firmly in his hand and gently
pressed the cool steel to Johnny's arm, as if to give him a warning.

The man said something that might have been Don't Scream or Don't
Run. Johnny felt like he was caught in headlights--the blinding kind
hunters shine to freeze deer right before they shoot them. He could smell
the man's deodorant, he could smell the day-old whiskey on his breath. He
could feel the man's body heat radiating off his chest.

Johnny had forgotten all about his earlier paranoia with smelling
bad. This, he knew, was something much more serious. Was he being mugged?
Had he messed with the wrong person somewhere along the way, and was now
paying the ultimate price? Was he merely an innocent victim caught up in
some inextricable smalltown grocery store heist?

A million thoughts raced through his mind just then, none of them good
ones. Johnny slowly raised his hands up over his head. It was the natural
result of having a knife or a gun pointed at you. But the man forced
Johnny's arms down to his side . It was clear he didn't want to draw
attention to himself.

"Very calmly, walk out of the store and to your car," the man said in a
low, ominous voice.

Johnny nodded, and carefully started for the exit. The man with the knife
trailed at his heels. For a brief moment, Johnny considered making a run
for it. He was fast, always had been. Four years on his high school track
team had honed his glutes and leg muscles kindly. If he bolted for it now,
he was ninety-five percent sure he could out-run this bastard. But did he
want to chance it? No. He was wearing flip-flops, the man might have a gun
tucked into his waistband. Anything could go wrong if he bolted--and
knowing his luck, Johnny quickly shook the idea.

Slowly, Johnny made his way past the check-out counter.

"Have a nice day!" said the store manager. Her smile, and her bright,
bubbly tone seemed contradictory to everything Johnny felt at that
moment. In fact, he hated her just then.

He gave a quick nod, but didn't say a word. The man with the knife was
practically hovering over his shoulder.

Out the automatic doors and back into the August heat. The asphalt parking
lot was roasting, and Johnny could feel his pits sprouting beads of
sweat. The bottoms of his feet were wet, everything that his shorts
concealed was growing damp. The sunlight, of course, was blinding.

He led the man with the knife out across the lake of crackling tar, all the
way to the far end of the lot where his Jeep sat beneath a large oak tree,
getting at least some shade. The paint on the hood and the driver's side
door was chipped, rust had formed along the edges, a long crack streamed
across the windshield--hell, his Jeep was in just as much distress as he
was! Johnny led the man all the way to his Jeep.

"Get out your keys," the man instructed, "and get in."

Johnny did as he was told. He unlocked the driver's door and climbed
inside.

"All the way over," the man said.

Johnny scooted over to the passenger seat, slightly confused, and watched
as the large man took the driver's seat. He adjusted the position of the
seat (he had longer legs than Johnny), regulated the mirrors and then shut
the door--sealing them inside.

The leather seats were hot, and Johnny did his best to keep his back from
touching the chair. He nervously watched the man as he started the engine
and took a quick look around the interior. His dark eyes found Johnny's for
the first time.

"This vehicle legal?" the man asked.

Johnny nodded.

"No brake lights out?"

Johnny shook his head.

The man studied Johnny a moment longer as if trying to determine whether or
not he could trust him. His eyes ran deep, and for the first time Johnny
didn't fear him--at least, not as much as before. His eyes were rough, but
not necessarily sinister. They were determined, maybe even a little
desperate.

Convinced, the man retracted the blade he had aimed at Johnny's throat. He
jammed in back in the pocket of his jeans, locked the doors, shifted gears
and in one skilled manuever sped out of the parking lot.

For several miles, neither of them spoke. Silence filled the Jeep like a
fog, and it settled there, comfortably in between them. The other thing
that filled the Jeep was the smell of men. Both Johnny and the large man
were sweating like pigs. With the windows rolled up and the AC broken, the
inside of the jeep was on a broil setting. With both their armpits exposed,
a very masculine fragrance permeated the air, almost to a choking
point. Johnny, though, was not repulsed by it. In fact, the smell was
almost soothing.

"The AC's busted," Johnny said. "Haven't got it fixed yet."

The large man didn't say a word. They continued driving in absolute quiet.

"If it's too hot, we can roll the windows down," Johnny added.

Nothing.

It was clear the man knew where he was going. They were on a two-lane
service road that ran parallel to the highway. Eventually, the road spun
off into a dense area of trees and extended further out into open country.

"Can you tell me where you're taking me?" Johnny wasn't typically an
anxious person, but being abducted didn't calm his nerves. He was a
twenty-five-year-old male, for fuck's sake! What on earth could this man
want with him?

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked.

In the driver's seat, speeding along at something close to eighty, the man
never once answered him. He continued to steer the jeep through the fading
suburbs, to where the woods were thick and the bluffs formed closer
together.

They turned down a dirt road and followed it for several miles. It wound
through large rock formations and led far out into the brush, somewhere
Johnny wasn't familiar with. The further they drove, the harder Johnny's
heart beat. He was too far away from town for anyone to hear him
scream. Even if he tried escaping at this point, he wouldn't know which
direction to run. The woods were dense, and Johnny knew his best chance for
survival was to stay with the man who abducted him.

Studying the man's hands as they gripped the wheel, Johnny could make out
the encrusted dirt clinging to the underside of his fingernails. Dirt, or
dried blood. Johnny swallowed hard, suddenly provoked by a new, agonizing
fear. Was this man going to murder him? The possibility had been in the
back of his head the whole time, and Johnny all of a sudden felt the blood
run out of his face. If he had wanted, he could've been sick right there in
his seat.

He reached up and grabbed his belly, riddled with concern that this man
might slice into his guts sooner or later. Maybe he was a cannibal. Maybe
he was bringing Johnny way out into the middle of no where in order to
feast on him without the worry that Johnny's blood-curdling cries would
rouse suspicion from neighbors.

Oh fuck, Johnny thought. Oh fuck, oh fuck...

His day had gone south so fast. All he wanted was to cool off and buy a few
things. That's all. He had planned on cooking chicken and broccoli that
night. His TV was still turned on at home, the stilled image of a Final
Fantasy game on the screen. His glass of Coke was still on the end table,
sweating. Fuck, by the time he got back--if he ever got back--it will have
left a ring.

Funny where people's minds go to when they're in distress. Johnny concluded
that he went to the glass of Coke in order to keep himself from being
sick. In fact, his used copy of The Odyssey, which he had been slowly
pecking away at since eleventh grade, but never finished, was cracked open
beside the can of Coke. What if its pages got ruined because of the build
of up condensation? Jesus.

They turned down a second dirt road, a smaller one. The road led back
through a dense archway of trees, up and over a hill, and ultimately down
to a surprisingly quaint house resting on the edge of a pond.

For being surrounded by so much forest, the house was unsually
bright. Sunlight found the clearing with ease and gave the home a
contradictory pleasantness. Contradictory in the sense that Johnny
half-expected it to something straight out of Texas Chainsaw. But the house
was kind-looking, recently refurbished by the look of it. Pale yellow
siding, brown window-shutters, an expertly crafted back porch, complete
with grill and hot tub. Parked out in front was a silver Chevy
pick-up. Recently washed, good condition.

Again, under different circumstances, Johnny might've marveled at the
scenery--the pond the house backed up to was surrounded by long, golden
cattails and purple lillies and, overall, very well-kept. But no, he was in
distress. He was not in a glass-half-full mood. He was in the beginning of
a nightmare.

The man drove them down a small rock driveway and pulled up directly behind
the Chevy. He put the Jeep in park, killed the engine, and climbed
out. Johnny stayed where he was, ass glued to his seat. He had no idea what
to expect.

Suddenly, the passenger side door swung open. The man stood sturdily on the
other side, staring down at Johnny as if waiting for something. When Johnny
found that his fear had rendered him temporarily paralyzed, it was the man
who prompted him to make a move.

"Get out," the man said. His voice sliced right through Johnny. There was
no leisure to be had, there was no compromising. Johnny would be getting
out of his Jeep. Stat.

With his legs trembling, Johnny climbed out. The air smelled of northern
woods, honey-suckle, pollen...and man. It smelled of fresh cut lumber,
moss...and man. Even in the heart of nature, the stink of both their bodies
permeated the air like the searing smoke coming off a barbeque pit. Johnny
even had the attention to detail to notice how the large man's nostrils
were flaring.

A quick glance down to the man's pocket where the blade was concealed made
Johnny feel--slightly--safer. At least it wasn't in his hand, he thought.

They stood there, beside the Jeep, face to face. Johnny's eyes were
restless and clearly avoiding the eyes of his captor. But the large man,
his eyes were lethal and hungry. He glared down at Johnny as a carnivore
might target its prey. Johnny bowed his head slightly, unsure of what to
expect.

The man was easily three times his size, in both stature and muscle
definition. A few black hairs curled up over the collar of his wife-beater,
suggesting that beneath the cloth existed a jungle of dense chest
hair. Armpit hair sprouted out from his sides, even with his arms down flat
against his body. Judging by his beard, the man was hairy, but
well-groomed. He kept his lion's mane trimmed and clean-cut. His skin had
an exceptional sun-kissed glow to it, one that Johnny envied. Put a suit on
this man and he could model for GQ's "All Natural" edition. Again,
different circumstances and Johnny would've thought the man devilishly
handsome.

After a strained minute of staring at each other, the large man seized
Johnny's arm. His grip was firm, but not painful. He was establishing
control.

"Are you going to scream?" he asked.

Johnny stared up into the man's dark, wolf-hungry eyes. He wanted to ask
some questions. Why would I scream? What are you going to do to me? Is it
going to hurt--whatever is it? But he didn't. He couldn't even bring
himself to speak. He simply shook his head.

No, I won't scream.

That was when the man spun him around so that he was facing his Jeep. He
forcefully pressed Johnny up against the side--face up against the
passenger-side window.

This is it, Johnny thought to himself. This is how I'm going to die. This
man's going to whip out that knife and stab me in the back. He's going to
slit my throat. He's going to carve out one of my kidneys (or both!) and
sell them on the black market. He's going to saw off each of my limbs and
rip out my innards and cook my meat and melt the rest of me in an acid
bath.

Johnny was trembling so much he nearly collapsed right then and there.

But instead of the icy cold prick of steel in his back, instead of his neck
being forced violently to one side and snapped, Johnny felt the man's
fingers slide into the waistband of his shorts. Johnny's brow furrowed, and
the look of confusion must've been obvious, for the man reminded him not to
scream just before he yanked the shorts off completely.

Loosely, his shorts (along with his underwear) fell pathetically around his
ankles. Johnny's eyes widened at the realization that is ass was now
completely bare, uncovered, and exposed.

The instant his bottoms fell to the ground, the potent smell of his man
parts drifted up to his nose. Johnny could smell the briny saltiness of his
junk. He could smell the distinct male odor of his underside and his
butt. And if he could smell it, surely his captor could smell it!

Riddled with fear and embarassment, Johnny glanced down to his fallen
underwear and shorts. His underwear (boxer-briefs, to be exact) was rank
with his sweat. His shorts, by now, virtually useless.

Holy shit, Johnny thought. Is this dude going to rape me?

He had to admit, the thought hardly crossed his mind. He was a male in his
twenties. He was fully grown. Adult men don't get kidnapped and raped, do
they?

But here he was, pressed up against his own jeep, his shorts and underwear
wrapped around his ankles, and his naked butt free for the taking.

Behind him, his captor crouched down, so that he was face to butt with
Johnny's ass. Strangely, Johnny's immediate concern was how clean his butt
was. He had been sweating all afternoon, he knew. When was the last time he
took a shit? Did he wipe thoroughly?

Again, funny where the mind goes in times of distress.

Johnny recalled pretty fast that he last took a dump yesterday evening, and
then he had showered earlier this morning, so his ass should've been fairly
clean--aside from all the sweat. Another immediate concern was the
appearance of his ass. Johnny came from a genetic line of males with hairy
asses. At least, that much was obvious. He couldn't know for certain. He
grew up in foster homes--never having known his father. But he knew his
butt had a good amount of scruff on its cheeks, and it was especially hairy
down the crack and around the hole. He figured it was a direct inheritance
from dad, whoever he was.

During all of this, his captor never once made a sound.

Suddenly, both of Johnny's ass cheeks were grabbed tight. Almost violently,
they were pulled apart, revealing the moist, hairy middle. Johnny made a
soft whimper, but otherwise held himself together. With his anus entirely
exposed, their surroundings slowly began to stink. Johnny could smell his
own ass, the sweat and natural stink of male butthole. He had grown up with
a bunch of boys in the foster homes, after all. He knew, probably more than
anyone, what the buttholes of boys smell like.

The large man pulled Johnny's ass closer to him, but using his hands, he
guided Johnny to stay pressed up against the Jeep. Now, in that position,
Johnny was sticking his entire ass out in the open, and from what he
figured, it was soon to be feasted on.

With his legs spread slightly, Johnny's genitals dangled helplessly between
his legs. Johnny had always been proud of his penis (he was rather well
endowed) and his ballsack. They were a handful, even for him (Johnny had
fairly large hands) and he sported a nice, healthy patch of pubic hair. He
was a guy, and he groomed and carried himself as such. His genitals were
always very important to him, as they are with all guys, and he took care
of them.

To be fair, Johnny also took care of his ass. Whereas most heterosexual men
don't pay much attention to their butts, Johnny has always found his bottom
entirely fascinating. In fact, while he identified himself as straight, he
was not afraid to admit that he occassionally glanced at gay porn on the
internet, purely out of fascination with anal sex. Most women don't
understand anal sex, at least when it comes to men. If a man wants to put
his thing in a lady's bum, sometimes that's acceptable. But for a woman to
put anything of hers inside a guy--adios, dude! Johnny always hated the
sexism involved with anal sex. Ever since he was a young boy, he's enjoyed
touching his anus in the shower. Even now, at his home, he has a couple
dildos, purely for shower-use.

Johnny, of course, would never let his buddies know.

But now, with his hairy ass cheeks spread wide, and his brown pucker fully
exposed, Johnny couldn't help but feel a small rush of blood in his
dick. He was sincerely concerned about his butt's smell, but nothing about
it seemed to be repulsing his captor just yet.

What Johnny hadn't expected, at least not so soon, was for his captor's
tongue to slide up the gorge of his ass, from taint to tailbone. A small
noise escaped Johnny's throat--a noise that rivaled a pubescent boy, and
likewise, something Johnny's never heard come from him before.

He felt his captor push his nose into his crack, diving
headfirst--literally--into his ass. With his nose pressed up against
Johnny's anus, the man drew in a long, deep breath. In fact, the man began
sniffing Johnny's ass like a dog, as if trying to memorize his scent.

With his head still smashed against the Jeep, Johnny felt his head
spinning. This was something out of a gay rape fantasy. He was living
another man's (a gay man's) dream. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't
very well make a run for it now. Not with his shorts around his
ankles...not bare-assed and balls hanging. He couldn't scream, that was for
sure. Besides, who would hear him? All he could do was stay put and let
this beast of a man have his way with him. It was, truly, his only chance
for survival.

After several minutes of sniffing, Johnny's captor resumed tonguing his ass
crack, moistening the furry valley between his cheeks, and always paying
particular attention to the hole. Eventually, Johnny's hole became the
center of attention, and the man was shoving his tongue so deep that
another yelp escaped Johnny's throat. It was high-pitched, like a teenage
boy's cracking voice, which was odd because Johnny had always had a deeper
voice for a guy. He had never made noises like this before.

The air around the Jeep was spicy with male pheromones. As if it wasn't
already hot and humid enough, both Johnny and his captor were sexually
stimulated on top of their profuse sweating. The woods, by this time,
reeked because of them.

The large, beastly man ate out Johnny's ass for nearly ten minutes,
slurping and sucking, kissing and tonguing every bit of ass flesh. All the
while, Johnny's entire body writhed with the new, unexpected
stimulation. As a guy, he had never been sexually pleasured in this way
before. No girl would've made out with his anus. This experience was
exceptionally unique and enjoyable--albiet terrifying. Johnny still had no
idea what this man's overall intentions were. He figured the man was going
to rape him (which, to be fair, he was already raping him) and would then
eat him alive, or something else insanely Alfred Hitchcocky.

The thick bristles of his captor's beard scraped the soft, moist skin
surrounding Johnny's hole. In fact, given how much he had been sweating
that day, the scrubbing sensation was a relief. He had itches that were
largely inappropriate to scratch, and this man's beard was scratching all
of them.

Down in between his legs, Johnny's manhood hung in quiet suspension, as if
it was equally concerned about what was to come next. Aside from the
occassional brush of the hand, his captor seemed, insofar, uninterested in
his genitals. It was his ass that received all the attention.

Swirling, wiggling, writhing throughout his rectum, the man's tongue
tickled Johnny's insides and sent chills (even in the dead heat of summer)
up his spine. Johnny reached up and grabbed the Jeep's roof. With his
underarms now fully exposed, there was an increase in male smells. All of
Johnny's most intimate parts were catching wind, and his pheromones were
being carried throughout the trees.

Behind him, the large man finished up. He pulled out of Johnny's ass crack
with a face smeared in slop. Johnny only caught a glimpse of the man's
reflection in the Jeep's window, but from the look of it, the man appeared
hungry still.

That was when Johnny heard the unmistakeable sound of a fly being unzipped.

Johnny's heart boomed inside of him. His stomach twisted into a knot only a
skilled sailor could forge. His puckered, tongue-licked anus pinched tight
shut, and his testicles just about jumped up into his belly.

In the reflection of the Jeep's window, Johnny watched as his lumberjack
captor undid the rest of his belt. With his fly no longer containing him, a
massive bulge spilled out at his groin. To put it simply, it was more than
a handful--whatever it was. The man let his pants fall down to his knees,
and Johnny felt his heart shudder.

The only thing preventing a full-on visual of the man's package was his
underwear, which from the looks of it used to be white, but now resembled a
splotchy tan color, clearly marked by years of groin sweat, pee stains, and
the natural leakage of precum and semen. Men, Johnny had learned growing
up, were messy. Not necessarily environmentally, but biologically. It was
hard to keep white underwear white, Johnny knew (again, he grew up with
boys), so he couldn't fault this guy for it.

Without realizing it, Johnny's mouth had fallen wide open in awe. His
captor's endowment was, well, enormous. Hell, that didn't cut it--it was
monstrous! It was easily the most impressive thing Johnny's ever
seen. Impressive, and horrifying.

Was he about to get fucked by that thing?

Johnny felt his heart skip two beats. Three.

And he hadn't even seen the real thing yet. He was merely looking at the
outline. The real beast was still coiled up inside the confines of
cloth. It had yet to be unleashed!

Digging his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, the man unfolded it
over his package. Once the restrains were lifted, the fleshy organ tumbled
out with incredible weight, and fell against his thigh with a sticky, wet
slap.

Through the window's reflection, Johnny stared in stupid amazement at the
size and weight of the man's junk. Had his genitals been a meal, they
would've fed a small village.

Surrounded by a thick tuft of black pubic hair, the man's dick swung low
and heavy between his legs. It was easily seven inches--limp. Johnny didn't
even want to know the size it could achieve once filled hot with
blood. Beneath it were two massive testicles, perfectly concealed in a
thick, meaty sack. It was immediately clear that this man's genitals were
his center of gravity--they had to be, they were so heavy they probably
started weighing him down once he hit puberty.

It didn't take long for the hot, male-scented air to rise up off the man's
all-day-concealed manhood and find its way into Johnny's nose.

Johnny's nostrils flared as he breathed in his captors natural scent. It
was, if possible, stronger than his own. The salty musk surrounded them
like black smoke--the thickest kind. Johnny nearly choked on the manly
stink, it was so powerful.

In the window, Johnny watched in sheer terror as his captor reached down
and gave his massive cock a few strokes, helping the blood to flow through
with ease.

Slowly, steadily, the man's cock inflated to nearly twice its original
size. It was, without exaggeration, ten inches once fully erect, thick, and
stiff with sexual energy. At his naked butt, Johnny could feel the heat
radiating off the man's groin. It was astounding, actually, how one human
could produce so much heat.

He must have a lot of blood, Johnny thought to himself. He's a big guy, and
his body requires a lot of hot, thick blood.

Johnny flinched as the man grabbed his waist and pulled his ass cheeks
aside once again. His anus, open and vulnerable, twitched with terrified
anticipation. His stomach twisted into a tighter knot. His heart
thundered. And suddenly, he could feel the hot tip of the man's penis
position itself at the base of his hole.

Johnny swallowed hard, unsure of what to expect. Oh, he knew he was going
to be fucked. There was no doubt in his mind. But how much would it hurt?
Was this man going to be gentle, or rough? What if he was violent? What if
he injured Johnny by fucking him? Puncture his colon and let him bleed to
death?

A million different thoughts tore through Johnny's head--which was nothing
new. But they were all new and equally terrifying.

The man placed a large, sturdy hand on Johnny's shoulder. The other, he
used to hold Johnny's ass cheek to the side, giving him easy access to his
anus. And then, in one fluid, slick motion, he gradually slid his ten-inch
cock into Johnny's rectum.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, OOOOHHHHH--FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

Johnny knew the sensation of having a dildo up his ass. But his dildos
were, at best, the equivalent of a six-inch dick. He also used plenty of
lube, and it was always in the shower, after his body had been given an
appropriate amount of time to relax under the hot water and steam. This
sensation, right now, was beyond anything he's ever experienced. It was too
much, this guy was too big, his anus was going to tear! Holy fucking shit,
this was more pressure than the time he ate an entire ribeye steak while
drinking nothing but beer. Jesus, when he had to shit that out it was like
waiting for his sphincter to loosen up enough to pass a brick! And this,
right now, was worse than that.

So there he was, a full-grown guy, kidnapped, helpless, out in the middle
of nowhere, pressed up against his own Jeep while being butt-fucked by Paul
Bunyan. Great.

Johnny winced as the man's thick shaft of meat slipped up to the end of his
rectum and breached his colon.

"Oh God!" Johnny cried out, stunned. "Oh FUCK!"

At that, the man wrapped his arms securely around Johnny and pulled him in
tight so that their hot bodies were pressed together. After several minutes
of allowing Johnny's anus to adjust to the size of his cock, he slowly,
gradually, began to pump in and out. He didn't go fast, at least not at
first. He let his hips work to the pace Johnny's body allowed.

This fucking, however, should not be confused with being tender. It
certainly was not. It was purely animalistic, and the man held Johnny in a
powerful vice that established his dominance, along with Johnny's
helplessness.

Over the course of several minutes, the fucking went from slow and gentle
to the theme-park equivalent of a roller-coaster. The moment Johnny's
sphincter widened enough, the moment his body relaxed a little, the man
took the reigns and began to, in the true meaning of the phrase, fuck the
shit out of him. He was piston-fucking Johnny's ass, his massive sweaty
ballsack slapping noisily against Johnny's taint, his hips bucking like a
rotary engine, his brow intense and concentrated.

On the other end of the man's engorged penis, Johnny did everything in his
power not to cry out. He was a skewered boy. Helpless. Had the man been
smaller in stature, a little less athletic and muscular, he might have
tried to fight him off. But he knew he would be killed if he tried. All he
could do, and all Johnny did do, was let the man fuck him.

And fuck him the man did.

Johnny looked down to his own cock and balls, which flapped chaotically
between his legs. To his surprise, he was semi-hard and leaking a healthy
amount of precum (Johnny had always been a leaker). The man was stimulating
him deep from within, his cock grinding up against Johnny's
prostate. Jesus, it felt--good!

Johnny's eyes moved up from his guy parts, up from his patch of pubic hair,
and to his belly. He half-expected to see a protruding lump in his lower
abdomen, where his rapist's cock continued to peck at from the inside.

With his ass cheeks pulled wide apart, and a massive piece of flesh
tunneling into his bowels, Johnny felt that at any moment he might rip in
half--butthole to head. But suddenly, the man tightened his grip around
Johnny's body. His muscles flexed--bulged, even. His entire body shuddered.

For a second, Johnny didn't understand what was happening, and then without
warning, the man rammed his cock up into the depths of Johnny's
guts--charting unexplored territory. The tip of his dick pushed up into
Johnny's colon, deep inside his body, and it was there that Johnny could
feel the all-too-familiar twitching of the shaft, the increase in blood
flow, the unbearable stiffening.

Behind him, Johnny heard the man stifle a moan. Instead, it came out as a
growl. His cock was drilled so far up inside Johnny, that Johnny's anus was
practically clamped around the man's pelvic bone--there was no more cock to
take in.

A few more seconds of quiet suspension, and finally Johnny could feel the
unmistakeable spasming of muscle deep in his belly. The man was
orgasming--big time.  By then, the man had pulled Johnny in so close to
him, and so tight, that Johnny could hardly breathe. Any tighter, and he
would've been crushed in the man's powerful vice.

Spurt after spurt, Johnny could feel the man's hot, thick semen dousing his
insides. His rectum, his colon, all of it was being slathered in the
copious amount of male fluid. For a moment, Johnny genuinely feared that
the man was dumping too much into him, and that his abdomen would begin to
swell--or that his colon would rupture.

Within a minute, it was over. The man had emptied himself completely, and
Johnny had taken every last drop.

Slowly, the man released his suffocating hold on Johnny's body. Slowly, the
man regained his composure. He stayed plugged into Johnny's butt for
another few minutes, giving himself the time to cool off and wind down. He
sniffed Johnny's shoulder and neck--like an animal. He rested his forehead
on the back of Johnny's scalp.

The man gave Johnny's belly a firm pat just before he pulled out of
him. When his dick popped out of the sphincter, it did so with a noisy, wet
suction sound. Johnny gasped at the immediate void of his bowels, shocked
that so much had been stuffed up inside them. He worked to catch his
breath--they both did.

When the man had completely released his hold on Johnny, Johnny turned
around, meeting his captor's face. The man returned the stare, only his was
unhindered by fear. Several seconds passed with neither of them saying a
word. For now, they could only meet the others' gaze. Johnny's eyes lowered
to the substantial piece of man flesh dangling in between his captor's
legs. It was his first time seeing it with his own eyes. A thick canopy of
pubic hair formed around the blubbery gold shaft--greasy with Johnny's anal
juices--and the swollen pink tip. Beneath it lay a heavy pair of testicles,
which hung like a hairy pendelum of flesh, swaying coolly back and forth.

Johnny gulped and forced himself to pull his eyes away from the massive
penis that had been inside him less than a minute ago. He looked up at his
captor.

"Go inside," the man said. He pointed to the front door. "Kitchen's on your
right. I'll be there in a minute."

He pulled up his jeans and zipped up his fly--never bothering with the belt
buckle. He walked around Johnny's Jeep and made sure the vehicle was
securely locked. He then made his way to the silver Chevy pick-up and began
rummaging around with something in the back seat.

When Johnny only stood there, shorts still wrapped around his ankles, dick
hanging, the man reinforced his instructions.

"Inside," he said, this time with a little more insistance. "Go."

--

The kitchen was something out of a 1950's housewife's catalogue. Granite
countertops and tiled floors. Even a vase of sunflowers rested on the
window sill above the sink. It was mostly clean--a few dishes in the sink,
a cooking pan still on the burner.

The house, in general, smelled of the man who had raped him. It was a
combination of Old Spice, salt, and natural male musk. There may have been
a hint of whiskey in there somewhere, but Johnny wasn't sure.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the carving knife laid out on the
cutting board. A rack above the island hoisted a variety of pots and pans,
ladels and iron pokers. The island was large enough to fit a grown man, and
based on a few red stains on its surface, Johnny figured it was where his
captor cut up and prepared his men--before eating them.

By now, he had pulled up his basketball shorts so that he wasn't naked from
the waist down. But his ass throbbed with soreness, and deep in his belly
he could feel the man's semen swirling around, intermixing with his own
digestive juices. Johnny had never before felt so...marked.

The house had central air conditioning, so at least he wasn't still burning
up. But his heart was still racing, and his stomach was still churning. It
was entirely possible he would be sweating profusely well up until this man
decided to kill him.

Johnny made his way to one of the barstools at the island. He didn't take a
seat. He wasn't comfortable enough to relax. Instead, he just stood there,
frozen, trying to decide whether or not he should grab a knife to defend
himself. It seemed like a bad move. Clearly his captor knew there were
knives in the kitchen. So why would he send Johnny in there alone, where he
could arm himself?

Johnny drew a long, deep breath. Inside his colon, semen was ebbing in
great tides. His stomach made a loud gurgling sound, and not necessarily
because he was hungry, and there was an unexpected stirring in his
penis--which, unbeknownst to him, was still leaking a small amount of
precum. He stood there in silence a moment longer before he heard his
captor stomping into the house behind him.

Johnny turned to face the man. He expected more information would be given
to him, but the man didn't say a word.  He carried the silence with him as
he brushed past Johnny, dropping his large lizard-skin boots in the small
laundry room and dumping a large bag of glass bottles on the
counter. Silence filled the house much like the unique smell the man
brought in with him. Johnny felt his nostrils flare as he sniffed the air,
secretly delighting in the manly stench.

From out of the large bag, the man began unloading several bottles of wine
and a bottle of whiskey--Johnny was right! He placed them all on a wine
rack built over the wood stove.

A tidy killer, Johnny thought. Well, at least he's that.

"You hungry?" the man didn't look at him. He carried on organizing the
bottles on the wine rack, and only paused when it became evident that
Johnny was not going to respond. He glanced back at him. "Hey," he
said. The sheer weight of his voice rattled Johnny's insides. "Are you
hungry?"

Johnny stared at him, confused. "I, er, I thought..."

The man was now looking at him, full on.

"I thought you were going to kill me."

The man's eyes were like hot iron, burning Johnny the longer they
stared. Eventually, the man returned to his task of unloading the
bag. Johnny watched his hand; they were manly hands, large, calloused, and
sculpted--builder's hands. Killer's hands?

"Here," the man turned back to him, handing him a bottle of water. "Keep
yourself hydrated."

Johnny accepted the water and immediately drank half the bottle. He hadn't
realized how thirsty he was.

At the counter, the man folded up the bag and placed it in one of the
cabinets underneath. He next reached down, grabbed the end of his
wife-beater, and peeled it off his body by pulling it up over his
head. Johnny marveled at the man's figure. His cut upper body glistened in
a thin film of sweat, his dark chest hair covered his pecs and narrowed
into a fine path that ran down the middle of his stomach, all the way to
his belly button. The trail continued south, disappearing into the
waistband of his jeans. He did not have a six-pack. His belly was not
chiseled, but it still suggested 'beastly.' His shoulders were like globes,
giving him almost a four-foot shoulder-span, and his back was sturdy--like
lumber.

In the height of paranoia and fear, Johnny could not tear his eyes away
from his captor's body. It was enormous and godly.

The man tossed his sweat-soaked shirt into a laundry hamper and then moved
in on Johnny.

This is it, Johnny thought. Here it comes!

He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for stabbing pain to meet his gut, or for
his neck to be brutally snapped, or his heart to be plucked straight from
his chest. When none of those happend, and instead he felt his clothes
being pulled off him, he opened his eyes again.

The man was pulling Johnny's shirt up over his head. He chucked the shirt
in the laundry hamper once he managed to get it off. Next, he placed his
giant hands in Johnny's armpits and lifted him up onto the kitchen
island. He removed Johnny's flip-flops, his shorts, and finally his
underwear.

Johnny sat bare-assed on the counter while the man dumped the rest of his
clothes into the laundry hamper. Now more than ever, Johnny could feel the
semen dripping down the length of his rectum with the consistency of
honey. Slowly, it was heading for his anus.

"Shower's down the hall, to your right," the man said, busying himself with
stuff in the pantry.

Johnny just stared at him.

"I can smell your sweaty ballsack from here," the man said, having moved
clear to the other end of the kitchen. "Go on, wash up."

With that, Johnny hopped off the counter and bare-footed it down the
hall. When he reached the bathroom, his mouthed dropped open in something
close to astonishment. It was a spacious, marble-floored bathroom, complete
with a glass shower and jacuzzi tub.

What is this, the five-star hotel for kidnapped victims? Johnny almost
laughed.

He shut and locked the door, which was strange, considering his captor had
already stripped him naked and bred him--not really any reason to continue
with modesty. Ah well, it was out of habit.

Johnny started the shower, found his preferred temperature, and with a
great sigh of relief, dunked his head under the spout. There was shampoo
and conditioner, body soap, face soap. Everything he needed was there, and
he used it. In fact, he treated himself. He let himself shower longer than
usual. He let the hot water soften the muscles in his neck and
shoulders. He scrubbed his butt crack furiously, taking care when coming in
contact with his sphincter--it was still a little sore to the touch. He
lathered up his entire body, paying particular attention to his armpits and
his ballsack, to his ass and his feet. If he was going to be raped anymore,
he could at least smell good for the man.

A few more minutes of luxury in the shower, and finally Johnny climbed
out. The room was like a sauna, filled to the brim with steam. The
mirror--completely fogged. He toweled himself off as best he could before
stepping back out into the rest of the house. The cool AC put goosebumps
all over him.

With the towel wrapped loosely around his waist, Johnny reentered the
kitchen. On the stove was a large pan of greens--brussel sprouts and
broccoli, all in a sizzle. Next to it was another pan cooking two pork
loins.

Johnny's eyes found the kitchen table where two plates had been set, along
with forks and knives, two wine glasses, and a candle.

The man finished adding some spices and then loaded both plates with the
food, which, Johnny hated to admit, smelled delicious. He was hungrier than
he remembered.

"Sit," the man said.

In nothing but his towel, Johnny took a seat at the table. Combined with
the pleasant aroma of the well-cooked meal, he could still smell the
potency of the man's underarms. The masculine stink wafted through the
kitchen with the strength of a skunk, leaving Johnny nearly teary-eyed. Or
was that the smoke coming off the frying vegetables?

Across from him, the man claimed his throne.

"Eat," he said.

With the fervor of a lion, yet with a strange sort of grace, the man began
devouring his pork. Though he was starving, Johnny only looked at his plate
of food with a wary eye.

"I take it you're not going to gut me and eat me," he said.

The man glanced up at him and swallowed a large bite of pork. His eyes were
deep and calculating, almost sinister. Johnny expected him to give a
monosyllabic response, which would have maintained a certain level of
consistency, but instead he got something else.

"Not yet, at least," the man cut off another slice of pork. "Although, I've
considered it."

Johnny felt his heart skip a beat. He looked down at his plate.

"Is that why you're feeding me? To fatten me up?"

The man shook his head. "No. I'm feeding you to keep you healthy. From here
on out, you'll require a high fiber and high protein diet. Plenty of water,
too."

Johnny screwed up his face--or at least screwed it up more than it already
was. "What do you mean?"

"In order to prevent bowel obstruction and unpleasant digestion, you're
going to need a lot of fiber and water. Protein for your muscles."

"So basically you're going to keep me here and use me as a fuck toy?"

The man didn't respond. He just shoveled a forkful of vegetables into his
mouth and chased it with a gulp of wine.

"Who are you?" Johnny asked. He was getting bolder.

Nothing.

"Look, you might as well tell me," Johnny said. "I mean, you fucking
abducted me already. You raped me, for fuck's sake. I have a right to know
who you are, if you plan on keeping me alive. I have a right to know who
the man is who fucking inseminated me, don't I? Fuck. Abducted from a
grocery store. No, a GROWN MAN abducted from a grocery store--in broad
daylight! Jesus. It's probaby a good thing I'll never be free from this
place. If I go back, I'd be the laughing-stock of the adult-male world!"

With no reservations, Johnny cut into his slab of pork and took a lofty
bite. It was juicy and sweet, seasoned with something tangy, like barbeque
sauce mixed with cranberry sauce. It was great, actually. Johnny just
wished he could've had the peace of mind to slow down and savor the
meal. He shoveled in some greens. Jesus, they were good! Fresh brussel
sprouts and broccoli, fried in oil and white vinegar and something
else--Johnny couldn't exactly put his finger on it. He sipped the wine,
which was also good.

"So where will I be kept?" Johnny asked, point-blank. "You got a dungeon in
the basement or something? Chain me to a wall or handcuff me to a
waterpipe? Leave me naked and drugged for the rest of my life? Come on,
spill."

The man didn't even look up at him.

"You do realize people are going to be looking for me, right?" Johnny
said. "I mean, eventually the trail is going to lead police here--"

"Are you going to keep talking?" the man said. "Or will I have to gag you?"

Johnny took the hint and resumed eating. Several minutes later, he had
cleaned his plate, and the man cleared the table. He set the dishes in the
sink, filled the sink with hot, soapy water, and then returned to the table
to finish his glass of wine. Johnny still sat in his seat, his nakedness
covered only by the small white towel.

"My name's Will," the man said, almost to no one but himself. "I'm wanted
in four states for the rape of a thirty-year-old man in south Pitt, the
rape of a twenty-four-year-old in downtown, and the rape of a college kid
at Penn State. Police have been searching for me for two months."

"Did you do it?"

"What? Rape those guys? Yeah."

"How come they haven't found you?"

"Because I'm smart."

Johnny almost laughed. "So when the cops bust down the door and find me
chained to the water heater downstairs, naked, with cum oozing from my
butt, your alibi will be...?"

"I'll cross that bridge when the time comes," Will said evenly. "In the
mean time, no one will be looking for you for at least a couple months. I
figure we have that long before suspicions are raised, and if I haven't
gutted you and eaten you yet, we'll be elsewhere by then."

"How the fuck do you figure people won't be searching for me right away?"

A knowing look drew itself on Will's face.

"You only just moved to Newberry," he said matter-of-factly. "You work from
home. You haven't made a single friend in town yet. In fact, most of your
friends are online war buddies, who live very far away and who you've never
actually met. You haven't been able to keep a girl interested in you for
longer than your dick can stay erect, so no one will be missing you in that
department. And for me, the cherry on top is that you grew up in foster
homes, never knowing your family or where you came from. You have no one to
check up on you, except maybe a few college buddies who will shoot you a
text or give you a ring from time to time. There, did I hit the nail on the
head?"

Johnny was stunned. The man knew every intimate detail about his
life. Fuck, how long has this guy been stalking him?

"How--how do you, er, know--"

"Because I'm smart," Will said. He stood up, achieving 6'4" with
ease. Already shirtless, he undid his pants, stripped butt-naked, tossed
his bottoms in the laundry hamper and stomped down the hall toward the
shower.

Johnny sat there in disbelief. He was a prisoner, a sex-slave, a
captive. There was no telling how much longer Will intended to keep him
alive.

His restless gaze found the front door. Behind him, in the bathroom, Will
had turned on the shower. The sound of running water filled the
house. Johnny's eyes bolted around the kitchen. Where did Will put his
keys? If he could just find them, he could make a run for it! But where
were they?

Johnny scanned the vicinity for several seconds before a stirring in his
groin and an unusual twitch in his rear redirected his focus. Was he
intrigued to find out what would happen next? Was he curious to stay?
No. Hell no! He needed to get the fuck out of there.

But the shower water turned off, and Johnny knew his window of opportunity
had gone. He collapsed back into the chair, his heart thumping with a
strange sense of excitement. The stirring in his groin was more than
interesting--it was dangerously intoxicating. Even the lingering smell of
Will's summer-hot, freshly-sexed body continued to drift in the
air. Another twitch from somewhere in his butt--his rectum, maybe--made
Johnny's penis fill with a little more blood.

Will stepped out of the bathroom, fully naked. His massive body glistened
with beads of water, which ran down the V-shape of his torso in little
rivulets, trickling through his pubic hair and down the length of his
shaft. He was a hairy man, that was for sure. But Johnny was not repulsed
by it. In fact, he was drawn to it. Never in his life had he given a man
such a look as he was giving Will at that moment--okay, maybe there've been
a few times where men have turned his head. Fuck it, maybe he was bisexual,
who the hell knew? But all Johnny could focus on at that moment was Will's
statuesque male form.

Johnny adjusted his towel as Will stepped back into the kitchen. The man's
dark eyes looked down at the noticeable lump now at Johnny's crotch. Will
glanced over to the unlocked front door, then to Johnny's Jeep through the
window, then back to Johnny, who stared up at him with eager anticipation.

"I thought so," Will said.

He lifted Johnny straight out of his chair and carried him down the hall,
to the master bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind them.

--

If there had been a fly on the wall, all it would've been able to discern
of the master bedroom was the earthquaking bedframe, a bunch of ruffled
sheets, two pairs of feet and two male asses, one on top of the other, a
plump scrotum and a deeply buried cock connecting the two bodies.

Will had mounted Johnny and was thrusting in and out of the kid's
ass. Doggy-style. The shaft of his penis was swollen with blood and glazed
in the organic lubricant of precum, saliva, sweat, and Johnny's anal
juices.

As for Johnny, well, he could only sit there on his hands and knees, ass in
the air, while Will tunneled deep inside of him.

For the second time that day, and with only an hour between occurrences,
Johnny was being fucked. His asshole was a wide, cavernous mouth, hungry
for male flesh. It hurt, being fucked by a cock so big, but the intensity
of Will's member generating friction on his prostate was irresistable.

Johnny, in part terror, in part pleasure, moaned as Will burrowed deeper
and deeper into him. Slapping heavy against his taint were Will's
testicles. They came down on Johnny so hard that eventually his taint began
to hurt.

Down between his legs, Johnny's cock was fully erect. A large pearl of
precum was sprouted at the tip of his dick, every so often dripping down
onto the bedspread and puddling beneath him. His balls dangled there
helplessly.

Will's powerful hands heiled control over Johnny. One hand gripped the back
of his neck, pinning him face first into the mattress. The other hand was
wrapped underneath, holding Johnny's belly tight as if to keep his innards
from tumbling out. Johnny was effectively pinned beneath two hundred and
fifty pounds of man, his butthole speared deep by penis.

Fuck, this was never what he imagined his sex life would come to--what
little he had of it, at least. But Johnny couldn't deny how gratifying it
was to be dominated, mounted, FUCKED! He was still unsure about this whole
thing. He knew he couldn't trust Will. In fact, Johnny could still be
murdered. There was no safety involved in this. But even so. Call it
thrill, call it insight, call it adrenaline rush, whatever. Johnny was
shamelessly turned on by it.

It was a scene of two male butts flying in the air, anuses exposed, one
deeply penetrated. Ballsacks, plump as peaches, flapped back and forth
between massive legs. Raw armpits, bare feet, uncovered taints. It goes
without saying, the room stank. It smelled of men and sex, and for both
Johnny and Will, it was intoxicating.

The roar of a lion, and Will wrapped both his arms around Johnny's slender
frame and pulled the kid up into his body. At the same time, his beastly
cock sank a few inches deeper into Johnny's gut, sliding up somewhere into
his colon, and that's where Will released his seed. His entire body tensed
as all of his energy rushed into his cock. His massive balls pulled in
close, and his cock grew ten percent harder in that last millisecond of
orgasm before finally he spewed like a volcano; a violent, killer eruption.

In his bowels, Johnny could feel Will dousing his insides with cum. The man
spewed thick loads, Johnny knew, and he winced as he felt the lining of his
colon expand in order to accomodate the incoming deluge.

Surprisingly, wagging like a dog's tail underneath him, Johnny could feel
the intense stiffness of his own cock giving way to torture. He was
suddenly caught up in an orgasm of his own, his blood rushing, and his
seminal fluids making a mad dash for the finish line. His cock grew so
stiff, so quickly, that it nearly went numb before it made one final twitch
and jettisoned a two-day-old build up of cum.

Pump after pump, Johnny splashed the bed. Pump after pump, Will flooded
Johnny's insides. Together, they emptied their male seed, wherein Will
collapsed on top of Johnny, and lay there for several long, exhausted
minutes while still inside of him.

Johnny felt his body sinking into the mattress springs as the weight of
Will pressed down on him. Even so, he did not mind it. His sphincter ring
slowly began to return to its normal size as Will's cock
softened. Gradually, Johnny's insides curtailed as Will's thickness went
down. It took several minutes, but eventually Will was completely flaccid
(his cock still inside of Johnny) and the two of them just rested there on
the bed, both of them finally able to relax.

In fact, it didn't take long for Johnny's eyes to grow heavy with
exhaustion and relief, and there, lying beneath the weight of his captor,
and with his anus still harboring a sirloin-sized penis, Johnny drifted off
to sleep.

--

When he woke, he was alone in the room.

Johnny sat up and looked around. For a brief moment, he had to remember
where he was. He had been in such a deep sleep that by the time he came out
of it, he didn't recognize his surroundings. It all seemed like a dream.

Gradually, reality came swimming into focus, and he climbed out of the
semen-stained bed sheets.

Johnny made his way down the hallway to the kitchen. The whole house was
quiet and undisturbed. There was no sign of Will anywhere--even his scent
wasn't as strong as it had been before. Puzzled, Johnny gave himself a
small tour of the house. He crept past the laundry room and into the living
room, where there was a couch, a large flat-screen TV, and a makeshift
office. It was cozy without being cluttered or untidy. From there, the
house ran in a circle. From the living room he was able to follow another
hall that also led to the master bedroom. Although there was one additional
room, which was tightly locked, that Johnny hadn't noticed earlier.

Will was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, from outside, Johnny heard the very familiar sound of an axe
splitting wood. He made his way back into the kitchen and caught a glimpse
of the broad-backed lumberjack hard at work in the yard, butt-naked. Johnny
stepped outside.

"You stocking up for winter?"

Will threw him a glance from over his shoulder, wiped his brow, and resumed
chopping.

"Can never have enough firewood," Will said in between chops. He tossed the
logs into a preexisting pile near the side of the house. "You sleep well?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah," he said with a trace of surprise. "How long was I
out?"

"Couple hours."

"Did you sleep?"

Will shrugged. "Only a few minutes."

He carried on chopping. His beast of a cock dangled smugly out in front of
him, his testicles swayed coolly beneath. Every time he raised the axe,
Johnny admired the muscle trimming of Will's chest and arms, the valley of
hair that made up his pits, the boulder-esque strength of his
shoulders. The man was a true woodsman, bred and built for a life in the
country.

"So you've bred me twice now," said Johnny, "and you evidently have a habit
of raping men. I guess the obvious question for me to ask is what kind of
STD's you've given me."

Will shot him a look. "You're fine."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you have nothing to worry about," he said. "Now hand me that log
there."

Johnny reached down and brought the cut of wood to him. Will plucked the
wood right from Johnny's arms, set it on the stump, and split it clear in
half with one swing. Boy, if that wasn't symbolic of the way he fucked,
then Johnny didn't know what was.

Johnny took a few steps back, so not to get in the man's way.

"Is it healthy to have a bunch of cum sitting in your belly?" Johnny asked,
rubbing his tummy.

"Never hurt me any." Another swing, another clean cut. "Don't worry, you'll
shit it out eventually."

Will dropped the axe and began strategically piling the chopped wood into a
lumber cache on the side of the house. Johnny just stood there, watching
him.

"So what now?" Johnny asked. "Do I just wait around until you're horny
again? Is that how this works?"

Will released a labored sigh.

"Jesus, do you always ask this many questions?"

"It's just that I've never been abducted by a rapist before," Johnny
said. "You didn't exactly give me an orientation seminar."

Will stacked the last piece of lumber on the pile, clapped his hands
together and strolled over to Johnny, his cock swaying back and forth with
undeniable swagger. When he reached him, he slapped him heartily on the
shoulder and gave a disingenuous smile.

"Do whatever you want, kid," he said. "Just expect to give up your ass when
I come sniffing for it. Got it?"

He sailed right by Johnny and walked inside. Johnny stayed on the front
lawn, bare-assed, balls-hanging. The world was hot and bright and smelled,
faintly, of honeysuckle.

Despairingly, Johnny returned to the house, found the TV in the living
room, and tried to relax while watching South Park--which funny enough
turned out to be the episode where older men try to lure young boys into
their sexual clutches.

Once again, Johnny slept.

--

A troubling shift of fluids in his lower gut forced his eyes open. Johnny
was stretched out on the living room sofa, naked. He could feel his bowels
loosening, he could feel something heading straight for his exit.

Johnny bolted up and made way for the bathroom. He shut and locked the
door, and barely managed to get the toilet seat up before his sphincter
released a river of cum. It took only a couple minutes for Johnny to
completely empty his colon of Will's semen. Afterward, he wiped his ass,
hopped in the shower, scrubbed, and returned to the living room once he was
cleaned up. The TV was still on--some stand-up comic who Johnny wasn't
familiar with. The rest of the house remained eerily quiet.

Johnny went from room to room, searching for Will. When there was no sign
of the man, Johnny looked outside, but still nothing. In fact, both his
Jeep and Will's truck were gone.

Where the fuck does he keep slipping off to?

Curious, Johnny returned to the living room. He turned a full circle, his
dangling manhood drooped over his sack, almost in despair. Was he lonely?
Was he actually hoping to find Will?

Down the hall, there was that locked door. Perhaps Will was in there!

Johnny crept down the hall, taking care to avoid the sections in the floor
that creaked. He tried the door handle, and even gave the door a solid
shove when it wouldn't budge. Still nothing. It was tightly locked from the
inside.

He did the next best thing.

Two firm knocks on the door. "Will?"

He immediately took a couple steps back in case the man appeared in the
doorway, suddenly, with a dagger or something.

When nothing happened, Johnny knocked again.

"Will? Are you in there?"

Silence.

He crouched down on his hands and knees, and softly pressed his cheek to
the floor. The gap beneath the door was narrow, but at least he could see
inside.

It was a dimily lit room, probably because of heavily draped windows to
keep the sunlight out. There was some heavy furniture--Johnny couldn't make
out what specifically. But the room appeared completely vacant.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice boomed behind him like
a cannon.

Johnny sprang to his feet at once and whirled around--his loose-hanging
cock and balls whipping around fast with him.

"Will!" he gasped. "I was just--I was just looking for you."

The man towered over him like a goliath. He was wearing an ordinary shirt
and jeans, his feet were booted, his head was crowned with a worn
ballcap. Beneath the visor, a pair of challenging dark eyes pierced through
Johnny's soul. They studied Johnny for a long while, then shifted to the
locked door.

"I went for a drive," Will grumbled.

Johnny could only stare up at the man, his entire body rendered useless by
fear.

"Oh," he managed to say. "Where--where did you, er, drive?"

Will peered down at him with his soul-spearing gaze. He took a malevolent
step in to Johnny, hunched over to meet him at eye level, and said, "Come
with me to the car. I'll show you."

Now fearing for his life more than ever, Johnny followed Will into the
kitchen and out the front door. There was something degrading in it all. He
was naked, and Will was fully clothed. If he was to be gutted, his entrails
would spill while his dick and nuts were hanging in the open, while his ass
was completely uncovered. How demeaning, how humiliating--to be slain
butt-naked.

Will led Johnny to the silver pick-up, opened the back door, and reached
for something inside. Standing five feet away--barefoot, bare-assed,
balls-dangling--Johnny felt his stomach muscles clench. His testicles
shivered and pulled up in close to his body, even his anus pinched tight,
just as he imagined Will revealing a giant hacksaw, or chainsaw, or machete
from the backseat of the truck. But the only thing Will pulled out was an
ordinary, albiet familiar, desktop computer and computer monitor.

"Here you go," he handed the heavy burden to Johnny, who scooped up the
machinery and marveled at it with a gawping expression.

"What--what's this?"

"What the hell do you think?" Will said. "It's your computer."

In his arms, Johnny held the computer. It was the one from his house, the
exact one from his desk! Hell, it was just as dusty as he'd left it
yesterday.

"You brought this from my home?"

Will shot him a condescending look that read, more or less, 'Good work,
Sherlock!'

"I don't--understand," Johnny was at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Will was digging deeper into the backseat of his truck,
retrieving more of Johnny's paraphernalia. A small book and Blu-Ray
collection.

"You went to my house," Johnny said under his breath.

"That's right," Will grunted, as he led the way back inside,
arms-loaded. "I figured having your own stuff would make this place feel
more like home."

Johnny slowly followed him back into the house, where he set his dusty
computer and monitor on the kitchen counter and watched Will make a second
trip to the truck, only to haul in a laundry basket filled with Johnny's
clothes and shoes.

"You're really expecting me to stay, aren't you?" Johnny said.

Will thought of saying something, but instead he made a third trip out to
the truck. A moment later, he returned to the kitchen with another box of
Johnny's clothes, along with a handful of action figures. He set them
beside Johnny's computer software and gave Johnny a curious look.

"Here are your, er, toys."

At that Johnny scoffed. "Toys? Those are collectibles! Never to be played
with, only displayed."

Johnny carefully removed each figurine from the box and set them upright on
the countertop. Characters from Lord of the Rings, Watchmen, Bob's BUrgers,
Final Fantasy, Inuyasha, Metal Gear Solid, and other various video game and
television series' were erected left and right.

Will stared, impressed in spite of himself, at the dozens of wizards and
warlords and hellish creatures that now populated his kitchen. Will even
heard himself laugh, which caught him by surprise, and he quickly mastered
the break in his character.

"Well, perhaps your 'collectibles' will make you more comfortable here," he
said.

"What did you do with my Jeep?" Johnn asked.

"I took care of it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," Will said, resolutely, "that I took care of it."

Johnny made a loud, disingenuous laugh. "So I'm officially your prisoner,
huh?"

Will stopped. "Yes," he said, to clarify. "You're my prisoner."

It was devestating news, but Johnny dealt with it quickly. His future
seemed bleak, but then again, there was something inexplicably alluring
about what this man desired of him. Sure, it was dangerous and
unpredictable. But still, adventure ran deep in Johnny's blood!

A previously forgotten thought came screaming back to him. His eyes widened
and he looked up to Will with brimming curiosity.

"What do you keep in that room?" Johnny asked straight out. "Why is it
locked?"

The inquiry didn't seem to deter Will, although the man was a master of
composure, Johnny knew.

"That room does not concern you," he said flatly. He turned away from
Johnny and began cleaning dishes piled in the sink.

"Well, if I'm to be kept in this house forever, I think I have a right--"

"There's nothing--"

"Are you keeping other men in there?"

The confrontation gave Will pause. He looked over at Johnny with eyes of
hot iron. Menacingly, he shook his head. No.

Johnny didn't believe him.

"Fine," said Johnny. "Just tell me one thing. Will I end up in that room?"

Will's eyes were burning into Johnny's. They were fierce, almost
deadly. Johnny felt that at any moment the man might reach for one of his
carving knives and disembowel him. He tensed. His dangling boy parts hung,
suspended in time, waiting for what could happen next.

But what Johnny hadn't expected was for Will to draw a breath, a breath
that held the weight of the world, and smile at him. It was the first time
Johnny had ever seen the man's hard exterior break.

"I promise," he said, "that you will never end up locked in that room,
kid."

Though he hadn't answered Johnny fully, his response was, somehow,
enough. Johnny glanced down the hallway from where he stood, his eyes
falling over that locked door which held a secret. But even so, it stopped
being so formidable in that moment.

Johnny was suddenly aware of a potent meaty smell. It was not altogether
unpleasant. In fact, it was familiarly intoxicating. He looked over at
Will, and realized that the smell was coming from him. He found himself
looking away, not from embarassment, but from a strange desire to conceal
his sexuality. Blood was flowing into his penis, and he didn't want his
body to give him away. He busied himself organizing his possessions.

What he didn't realize, up to that point at least, were Will's hungry eyes
targeting his ass. Johnny was bent over to pick up one of the boxes Will
had brought in from the truck, when suddenly his bare ass was seized by
mighty hands.

Johnny let out an unexpected cry as his entire lower body was lifted up
into the air and a set of strong teeth clamped down on his fuzzy cheek.

Jesus, was this man trying to eat his ass?!

As Will bit down, Johnny nearly screamed. The pain was sharp and
intense. It wouldn't have surprised either of them if Will had actually
broken the flesh and Johnny's ass started bleeding. In fact, Johnny did
bleed a little, and Will sucked up the blood as if it were the very nectar
of life.

Fuck, here it comes, Johnny thought. He's going to eat me alive, starting
with my ass!

But just before the pain became unbearable, Will released his bite on
Johnny's butt cheek, licked up the few remaining drops of blood, and dove
in face-first for the gaping treat in the middle. Suddenly, Johnny's eyes
were wide and bulging as Will's tongue bore two inches inside him. His ass
cheeks were being spread wide apart, his hole now in full bloom, ready for
the taking.

"Will, please," Johnny begged. "I don't think--I can't take it--"

Suddenly, Will's lips released their airtight seal around Johnny's
anus. Johnny was lowered back to the floor, where he collapsed onto his
knees, his ass still high in the air, his anus a large, brown yawning
chasm.

The sound of a loosening buckle and unzipping denim sent Johnny's stomach
churning. Without delicacy, without restraint, without any reservations,
Will positioned himself over Johnny's vulnerable butt and let his blood-hot
penis sink into the inside of his belly.

Johnny released a loud, drawn-out groan as his body was unmistakeably
penetrated for the third time in twenty-four hours. He was on his hands and
knees, on the cool tiled kitchen floor, with a two-hundred-and-twenty pound
man mounting him.

The heat of Will's cock raised Johnny's body temperature. It was warming
him from the inside.

Heavy, beastly growls escaped Will's throat as he pumped in and out of
Johnny, his large hairy man sack slapping noisily against Johnny's exposed
taint.

"Your ass is mine," Will instructed him. "Everyday, from here on out, my
cock will claim your ass. Got that?"

Beneath the man's werewolf-like body, Johnny nodded and made a confirming
grunt.

"Everyday, I will empty my seed in your stomach," Will went on. "And over
the course of time, my DNA will begin to replace yours."

His massive spear of flesh drilled up past the curve of Johnny's rectum and
breeched his colon.

"You will come to eat like me, you will come to smell like me, you will
come to live like me," said Will, almost viciously. Underneath him,
skewered by him, was Johnny's slender naked body. All Johnny could do was
nod in understanding. "You will never have sex with a woman again," he
continued. "From now on, your body belongs to me. I will take care of all
your sexual needs. Understand?"

Johnny nodded and moaned. His back was arched, his butt was pushing up
higher, pushing up against Will's enormous figure, as if his anus was
literally slurping up more and more of Will's massive piece of manhood.

"I am claiming you, I am marking you with my scent, with my male
essence. And if you ever try to leave," said Will, "I will gut you and eat
you. Got that, boy?"

Johnny's voice cracked as he made a loud, confirming moan, and suddenly,
Will pulled the kid's naked body up off the floor and dumped a massive load
of cum deep into his gut. Simultaneously, Johnny's dick, which had been
hard and pulsing with blood this whole time, spewed glob after glob of cum
all over the kitchen floor. Never once did Johnny or Will touch it.

When both guys were well drained, and when each had time to recover, Will
pulled out of Johnny's butt and helped him off the floor. He picked Johnny
up in his powerful arms, carried him down the hall, to the bathroom, and
together, they showered--Will scrubbing Johnny head to toe, the way a
father might wash his young son.

And though Johnny was exhausted and barely able to stay on his feet, he
would never forget the tenderness with which Will washed him.

--

Weeks went by, and indeed Will sought out Johnny's ass everyday--sometimes
twice a day, depending. Within a month, Johnny's house was put up for sale,
and his bank account was closed. He quit his job--for Will promised he
would be Johnny's sole provider--and eliminated all paper trails.

It was scary how knowledgable Will was about the process of erasing a man's
identity. Apparently, he's had experience with it in the past, and so by
October, Johnny was virtually off the map.

Everyday, Will prepared the meals. Johnny was pleased to find that he was
actually gaining some weight. He looked good, he thought. His slender frame
was filling out a little--all in a healthy way, given how much protein Will
fed him. His arms were a little more muscular, a little more toned. His
belly was a little thicker, his legs a little plumper, and his ass a little
fuller. Finally, he had some meat on his bones! Even Will seemed pleased
with Johnny's small bodyily change. He had more of an ass to grab while
fucking him. Boyhood to manhood, all in a day's meal.

Will ran the necessary errands whenver they were needed. And he and Johnny
slept in the same bed. For the first month, Johnny slept curled up against
the edge of the bed, like a cat, far away from Will. But as time went on,
and as Johnny and Will began to coexist with gradual ease, Johnny found
himself drawn, almost unconsciously, to Will's scent. The man, who before
reeked of sweat and salt and semen (and even a trace of whiskey), now
smelled familiar and pleasant to Johnny. And as the summer winds blew away,
making room for autumn, Johnny found that a nighttime fire in the bedroom
fireplace was simply not enough to keep him warm. Naturally, Will acted as
his personal furnace, through which he found total comfort.

It was a definite adjustment for Johnny--being bred by an enormously
fertile man each night...sometimes twice a night! His body had to get used
to the consistent loosening of his bowels. Every time he pooped, it was
always sudden, forcing him to rush to the bathroom. But what he found was
that his shits were much easier to pass now that Will was in charge of his
diet, and now that Will's cock was stretching his sphincter on a daily
basis. Overall, Johnny felt that his digestion was a thousand times
improved from what it was prior to his abduction.

Day in and day out, Johnny busied himself by helping around the house with
laundry and cleaning the dishes. He set up his computer (which was more of
a gaming system than anything else) and lost himself in online gaming
(which had never been difficult for him to do). He finally finished The
Odyssey, and whenever Will drove into town, sometimes he would take Johnny
with him and drop him off at the old book store so Johnny could buy a new
volume. And sure enough, when Will was away, Johnny would occassionally
give in to curiosity and peer under the door that remained, always,
securely locked. A penetrating manly smell continued to seep out without
any explanation.

Slowly but surely, as the days passed, Johnny found that Will was beginning
to open up to him, even laugh some. Several times a week, they would take
hikes in the woods. They would always shower together afterwards, though
those showers were rarely sexual, always silent and, oddly, paternal. Will
had a protective, fatherly role when in the shower with Johnny. He took
care to clean Johnny thoroughly, and never once did they have a romantic
moment doing so. In fact, their relationship was hardly romantic at
all. Johnny quickly realized that Will viewed Johnny as something similar
to a younger brother, someone who he had to care for, feed and bathe, and
protect. It was never sensual. It was never love. Whenever Will needed to
breed Johnny, he turned into a ravishing beast, an animal looking to
dominate. And sure, Johnny even grew to enjoy being fucked by Will. It was
carnal, primal man-on-man sex; something Johnny never in his wildest dreams
believed he would be into. Lo and behold! But the sex was never
love-making. Only fucking.

But as time went on, their kinship strengthened, and it was evident that
they both respected, and even cared for each other.

So one evening, as Johnny clicked away at an RPG on his PS3, and as Will
plucked gently at his guitar (with prodigy level skill, Johnny was
surprised to find out), Johnny finally found the courage to ask a prodding
question.

"Will," he said. "Why me?"

The gruff man's strumming slackened.

"It sounds like you had planned to kidnap me all along," Johnny
continued. "Obviously you were stalking me for a time, studying me,
plotting. So what made me a viable target?"

Will peered at him from beneath a tapered brow. He shrugged.

"Come on, I think I proved to be an obedient captive up till now," Johnny
parried. "What made me so special?"

This annoyed Will, visibly. Or perhaps it only flustered him. Either way,
the man set his guitar aside and got to his feet. He started to walk away,
but at the last second turned and took a seat beside Johnny on the
sofa. Johnny paused his game.

Will opened his mouth to speak, though it was clear he didn't quite have
the words yet. His dark eyes zeroed in on Johnny--a serious stare.

"I've never smelled a boy quite like you," he said in a low, rumbling
voice.

Johnny felt his heart quicken.

"What do you mean?"

"At the beginning of the summer," Will began, "I passed by you in a
Walmart. It was a hot, muggy day. You had been sweating. You were wearing
your usual tank top, shorts, sandals. You bent over to grab something on a
lower shelf, and that's when it hit me. I could smell your anus through
your shorts. I could smell the heated pheromones coming off your
underside." He almost laughed. "I never smelled anything like it before."

Johnny swallowed hard. He couldn't find the words to speak, so he just
waited for Will to go on.

"It drove me crazy," he said. "Your smell did. It was like a drug,
something I wanted unlimited access to. Besides, you were cute. A healthy
and handsome young buck needing to be bred. In short, you became my
obsession. I wanted you all for myself. I'm incredibly greedy when it comes
to boys, if you haven't figured out."

"So why not just ask me on a date?" Johnny asked.

"You would have said no."

"Not necess--"

"Trust me, you would have," said Will. "Besides, I enjoy the hunt."

"The hunt?"

Will nodded, slowly. "I'm a lion at heart, kid. I take what I want, what I
need. And I devour it when I catch it."

It was true, Johnny thought. The man was a natural predator, a hunter...a
killer. A chill crept up his back as he realized what that made him--prey.

Johnny shifted in his seat. "So you don't date the men you like, you just
capture them and hold them hostage as your personal sex slaves. Well done."

Will threw him a look. "It's more interesting that way."

"And what happens once you're through with these captives?" Johnny
asked. "Say you get bored of me one day. What then? Hack me up into little
pieces? Toss me in the lake out back? Cook me in a stew? What?"

Will shrugged. "Probably a variation of those things."

"Awesome," Johnny said. "You know, I can never read you. I can't tell if
you're just being dry, or if you really are some crazy, lunatic psychopath
who means to actually kill me in the end. Just put me out of my misery
already! Have one fucking moment of sincerity! Jesus!"

"No," said Will, flatly. "I don't plan on killing you."

Silence settled over them like a fog.

"So what do you plan on doing with me after all this?" Johnny asked
straight out.

Will looked at him, but no answer was given. He dodged the question with a
shrug and reached for his guitar. A few notes were plucked, but the tune
fell short when Will slapped a heavy hand on the strings. He appeared
troubled.

"What is it?" Johnny asked.

Nothing happened.

"Will?"

Will looked over to Johnny rather sadly, like a dog who sensed a great deal
of pain in its master. He set his guitar aside and scooted over to Johnny
in one smooth movement. Not once did Johnny expect Will to lean in (to
literally come down on top of him) and kiss him, but Will did just that.

Suddenly, Johnny found himself enveloped in Will's massive arms, their lips
interlocked, their chests melded as one. The beast of a man who held him
captive was pouring on top of him like hot wax. Johnny couldn't believe
it. He and Will were making out--like hormonal boyfriends! They were
colliding in a way they've never done before.

Will's tongue was halfway down Johnny's throat and both their penises were
swelling at the rate of helium balloons. Cut to Will's cock buried deep
inside Johnny's anus, precum and sweat and anal juice stains all over the
sofa cushions. Cut to Will's low voice cracking as he climaxes and unloads
a ladel's-worth of semen into Johnny's belly. Cut to Johnny's dick, sprung
and twitching, spews glob after glob of pearly white cum all over his and
Will's stomach.

Cut to deep sighs of relief and falling asleep in each other's arms on the
living room sofa.

--

"Hey."

The morning sun dappled the walls of the living room, the kitchen. Johnny's
eyes fluttered open, fresh with sleep.

Though he wasn't used to it, the heavy weight that pressed him into the
sofa cushions was nice. Will was nearly twice his size and weight, and
Johnny never felt more secure, more guarded, in his sleep.

"Hey," he said back.

The naked man beast on top of him was a pleasant sight. A fleeting rush of
blood teased his deflated cock, and Johnny smiled.

A flame burned in his chest. It was hot and well-fueled. He could feel
Will's blubbery piece of flesh resting heavily on his thigh. The man's
hairy sack was warm to the touch. In fact, Will's entire body was
scalding. The man radiated heat, especially from his genitals.

Beneath him, Johnny was nice and toasty--and outside, the early morning
forest glistened in frost.

"I, uh, don't even remember falling asleep," Johnny said.

Looking down on him, Will made a small grin. "Sleep well?"

Johnny nodded. "You?"

Will nodded, though his expression remained hard and calculating. He
lowered his head so that it rested in the crook of Johnny's neck, and then
in one quick motion, he got to his feet.

The naked giant stood in all his glory, his broad back steeped in golden
sunlight, his butt hair aglow, his fleshy penis hanging before him with
confidence--traces of Johnny's ass on the head and shaft as a reminder of
their recent sex.

"I'll make breakfast," Will said coolly, and he swaggered into the kitchen.

Johnny stayed on the sofa, half sunk, and couldn't keep from smiling. It
was one of those smiles that ran from ear to ear, as if his face had an
enormous tear in it.

Did that really just happen? He thought quietly to himself. Did we really
make love last night?

Jesus Christ, man! (Johnny's mind goes on a race and sets new record.) What
the hell are you doing? You're straight! You're this dude's PRISONER!
Hello! Red flag, red flag, red flag! What the fuck is wrong with you?
Dumbass, IDIOT!

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn't hear Will when he came into
the room.

"I'm sorry, what?" Johnny sat bolt upright, a deer in headlights.

"I just asked how many eggs you wanted for breakfast," Will said.

"Oh," Johnny drew a deeper breath. "Two. Yeah, two would be good."

Will's stare lingered a bit, but then he returned to the kitchen. The sound
of egg shells cracking against a frying pan followed by a hot
sizzle. Johnny collapsed back into the cushions with a huff.

--

Breakfast was evidence of their night of sex.

Eggs and sausage and fried ham, fresh brewed coffee, orange juice, sliced
avacado, half a grapefruit. Johnny and Will ate ravenously. They were
starving.

Cut to Johnny on the kitchen table, on his back, legs in the air, while
Will established camp deep within the boy's colon. The half-drunk cups of
coffee splashed with the quaking table, the utensils clinked, the plates
rattled.

--

The following weeks were some of the best of Johnny's life--and presumably
Will's. Somewhere, somehow, a flame burst to life in between them, and
Johnny and Will were raptly, passionately, ambitiously fucking.

Will made it a point to kiss Johnny...a lot. And Johnny was surprised that
he didn't mind. This, in turn, brought them to a particular night where
Johnny found himself in a particular position he hadn't particularly
envisioned for himself, ever--particuarly.

With his feet strapped up in a harness, Johnny laid back and tried to
relax. Will hovered over him like a beast, and Johnny was the victim the
beast was preparing to devour. Johnny's penis and testicles rested warmly
atop his belly. His anus, however, was fully exposed.

"Relax," Will reminded him. The man's voice was soothing and gentle wihtout
losing its gruffness. "Breathe."

Johnny did his best to follow Will's instructions by focusing on the steady
rise and fall of his tummy, where his genitals lay. On his back, he was
nearly in the fetal position, with his ass pointed up. His hole was a well,
a deep, cavernous well that Will was about to explore.

Gradually, over an hour, Will had managed to work Johnny's anus loose with
just his fingers. Gentle massaging of the sphincter, the rectum. Slowly
easing Johnny into accepting more and more of his fingers as time went on.

Their bedroom stank. Johnny's anus was wide open, Will was making his way
deeper and deeper inside. Their hearts were quickened, their testicles were
pumping testosterone into their bloodstream. Johnny had smelled his own
farts before, but never in his life did he think he would be able to smell
his own insides. It was beyond strange, but somehow he delighted in it. He
could tell that Will was delighting in it, too. Perhaps even more so.

Finally, with one loud, wet pop, Johnny's anus took the whole of Will's
fist. Will drove his entire hand and wrist into Johnny's depths and, in
pure pleasure, began feeling around.

Never in his life did Johnny feel more owned. Never in his life did Johnny
feel more vulnerable. Never in his life did Johnny feel more...protected.

Inside him, Will's hand gently mapped the new, uncharted
territory. Johnny's rectum was like an oven, soft and hot, and wet. Further
up, breeching his colon, Will could feel the kid's organs widening to
accomodate his fist. He was surprised at how far he was able to dig, how
much of his arm was fitting inside. Before either of them new it, Will was
nearly elbow deep inside Johnny's ass.

Johnny gave a small yelp--not of pain, but of pure, unrestricted
pleasure. His voice cracked.

Feeling Johnny's various organs, moving through his colon, stroking his
large intestine and grazing, briefly, what he believed to be Johnny's small
intestine, Will followed the boy's digestive tract, navigating,
exploring. He unfolded his fist and allowed his hand to open up inside
Johnny's body. He grabbed Johnny's colon, his large intestine, and held
them each in his grip--gently, softly.

"Oh shit," Johnny said, focusing on his breathing. "Are you grabbing my
guts?"

A smirk cracked Will's stoic expression. "I am," he said.

Nothing more needed to be said between them. It was clear, now more than
ever, who was in charge. Will held Johnny's organs in the palm of his
hand. If he had wanted to, he could rip them out of Johnny's ass right then
and there, killing him instantly. It was pure trust that floated between
them, as Will was sunk elbow-deep into Johnny's vulnerable anus.

With a careful playfulness, Will gave Johnny's innards a firm jiggle, and
Johnny could see his entire belly of guts sloshing around inside of him. He
could even see the noticeable protrusion of Will's massive hand working
around his intestines. Partly terrified, partly sexually-thrilled, Johnny
gazed down at his distended abdomen, mesmerized by the prominent bulge in
his belly.

"You okay?" Will asked, checking in.

"Yeah," Johnny heard himself say. "It's just--you're really in control of
me, you know?"

Will nodded. "And I always will be."

He gave Johnny's intestine a gentle squeeze, and Johnny laughed.

After an hour of fisting, Will finally pulled out of Johnny, only to shove
his pre-cum leaking cock up inside the boy's gaping, over-stretched
butthole and emptying his nutsack of everything it had. Johnny, finally,
came too.

They lit a fire that night and curled up in the bed. Johnny, head resting
in Will's armpit, fell asleep quick. Exhaustion had taken him, and that
night, in particular, he slept more than soundly. He had put his body
through a lot that day, and more than ever, his anus needed to rest.

Will stayed awake for a while after Johnny passed out, watching low-volume
reruns of sitcoms on the bedroom flatscreen. He stayed awake, because the
room reeked of Johnny's anus, and he breathed in the hot, boyish stink as
if it were a drug.

--

Two solid knocks at the door stirred the two of them awake.

Squinting at the early morning sunlight, Johnny sat up after Will. They had
both been in a deep sleep, so neither of them knew for certain if the
door-knocking had been real.

Another set of knuckle-raps and Will swung his naked legs over the side of
the bed.

"Wait here," he said to Johnny, and he threw on his boxers and left the
room.

Obeying Will's instruction, Johnny made sure to stay in the bedroom. But
the house was a small house, and when the fan wasn't running, and the fire
wasn't burning, and the TV wasn't talking, it was easy to hear what was
happening on the other side.

Johnny held his breath, listened.

He heard Will undo the deadbolt and open the door.

"Morning," came the voice of another man.

Will didn't respond.

"I'm Officer Sharp, Thorson County P.D. You the owner of this house?" the
man said. He had an upbeat, friendly tone to his voice. But it was fake,
Johnny could tell. It was a guise.

"I am," he heard Will say; a low, early-morning grumble.

"Welp, we're looking for this young man." Johnny could hear a piece of
paper unfolding. "His name's John Tanner. Twenty-seven-year-old male,
Caucasian. Our investigation's led us here."

A pause.

Will said, "I haven't seen him."

"No?" The officer refolded the paper. "That's a cryin' shame. He looked to
be kidnapped several months ago from a grocer's in Newberry. Intersection
cameras picked up his Jeep being driven way out to this area. He was in the
passenger seat, and another man, a much larger man, was driving."

Another pause. A calculating pause.

"Oh yeah?" Will played it cool. "Got an ID on the kidnapper?"

Jack held his breath, listened intently.

"Nah, the sun was glaring too much on the driver's side windshield. No
positive ID could be made out," Officer Sharp said. A lingering pause. "But
we noticed some tire tracks coming down your driveway here," he went
on. "They, uh, match the tires this boy had on his Jeep, to be frank." A
dangerous pause. "Any idea why you would have a match in those tire tracks
on your property, sir?"

By the sound of it, Will shrugged. Shook his head. "No clue."

There was a tender moment of silence, where Johnny seriously contemplated
running out and explaining that he was never abducted, he was just staying
at a friend's, disowning his civilian life. He truly considered it, almost
acted on it. BUt then,

"Well, thanks for you time, sir. You have a nice day." Officer Sharp was
heard backing down the stone porch and returning to his car.

Will shut and locked the door.

Seconds later, he was back in the bedroom with Johnny. He moved passed him,
shirtless, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. HIs masculine scent
drifted into the room with him, and he carried it to the far end, to the
window, where he peered out from the curtains, watching as Officer Sharp
drove his car up the gravel road and into the trees.

"What now?" Johnny asked after several long, careful minutes of silence.

Will waited a few more seconds before responding.

"We leave," he said with a heavy sigh. "We can never come back."

Johnny felt his heart sink.

"Really?"

Will turned and began rummaging through the drawers, digging for something
specific.

"Really," he said in his commanding, booming tone. "They'll be back with a
search warrant, and I can't keep you a secret if that happens."

"Why did I need to be a secret at all?" Johnny asked, irritated. "Why
couldn't you just have let me explain that I moved in here? That I gave up
on the life I had, needed some help or something? Why couldn't you have
explained that you were taking care of me? You know I'd back you up on
that!"

"It has nothing to do with you," Will said flatly. "I'm a convict on the
run, remember? Now they know I'm here, they'll be back. If they find you,
double trouble. Get it?"

Johnny opened his mouth to argue, but he new Will was right. There was
nothing they could do that would allow them to stay there, in that house.

From out of one of the drawers, Will recovered a hefty stack of
bills. Emergency cash. He tossed the rolled up bills to Johnny.

"Hang on to this, we'll need it," he said. "And get dressed. I can't have
you in the car, balls out."

"Wait," Johnny said, clutching the cash with both hands. "What about all my
stuff?"

Will brought out two large suitcases from the closet. Clearly, the man was
prepared for a quick escape.

"Pack anything you want," he ordered. "But choose carefully. We can't take
everything."

Although he was distressed, Will was not panicked. He was not a man who
lost control of himself. In fact, Johnny was the one who was, perhaps,
slightly frantic. For him, Will was a calming, reminding presence, and
Johnny took his protector's lead.

With his anus not quite back to normal size, Johnny quickly pulled his
underwear up and over his ballsack and his fuzzy ass. He threw on some
pants, a shirt, some shoes, and hastily selected his most valued
keepsakes. A few good books, his PS3, some games, his favorite
collectibles, his computer, and some of his best clothes.

Within an hour, they had loaded everything up in the back of Will's
truck. They hopped in and drove off, heading north, never to return to the
house.

"It's weird," Johnny said, watching the house shrink in the sideview
mirror. "I had just started to think of it as home."

He gave a heavy, lamenting sigh.

In the driver's seat, Will reached over and gave Johnny's leg a good, firm
squeeze. He patted the kid's thigh, and kept his anvil-sized hands there,
as if claiming Johnny as his.

"Your home," he said, resolutely, "is with me."

Johnny felt a stirring tease in his groin.

"I'm sorry to put you through this," Will continued. "But you're my
property now. And there's no way in hell I'm losing you."

They drove on and on, making their way out of the north woods and veering
onto the highway, Canada-bound.

--

The door-latch snapped clean as it was kicked in by a heavy-booted police
officer the next day. Officer Sharp, and his team of police entered the
house with caution. The home looked to be ransacked, as if someone was in a
hurry to flee.

"Check every room," Sharp gave the orders, and immediately moved from the
kitchen into the living room and into the hallway, covering all corners,
Glock loaded, cocked, and ready to fire.

It took all but ten minutes to do a full sweep of the perimeter. The only
room that hadn't been swept--the locked door at the end of the hall.

"Stand clear!" Sharp ordered, and he made a single shot to the lock, and
the wooden door blasted open.

Moving briskly, and with heavy footfall, the team of police entered the
room, guns aimed, eyes alert. One of the officers switched on the light,
the dust settled, and the view became quite clear.

"Jesus," Sharp said under his breath.

Displayed on the wall in front of them was a collage of newspaper
clippings, all of them a catalogued nightmare of black and white.

Lion Strikes Philadephlia; Young Philly Men In Danger of Lion; The Lion
Sniffs Out Young Male Prey in Local Town; Another Male Gone Missing--Lion
Is Suspect. These were a variation of the many headlines masking the wall
in the form of a shrine.

"There's nobody here, sir," called one of the other policemen from the
other end of the house. "Whoever was here yesterday is long gone by now."

Sharp drew a long, weary breath. Closed his eyes. "Fuck," he said. "We're
too late."

"Too late?" asked nearby Officer George Petty. He glanced up at the series
of headlines. It was clear he was a rookie, new-on-the-scene. "Sir, why do
they call him The Lion?"

Sharp shot the officer a knowing glance. "He's called The Lion," said
Sharp, "because when a lion catches its prey, what does it do with it?"

The rookie officer considered Sharp's answer for a moment, then his eyes
widened and he swallowed, hard.

He glanced up at the newspaper shrine one last time, where a large photo of
Johnny Tanner was printed below a headline that read: New Prey Falls Into
Clutches of Philadephlia Lion.

--

It was December, and a thick snow blanketed the hills of the Montreal
suburbs.

Through the scattered alpine woods that lay just outside the city, and down
a winding path, was a small, quaint cottage that looked to be something out
of a Hallmark greeting card. A chalky smoke stack showed sign of a fire,
warming the home from the inside. And the strategically placed Christmas
lights adorning the front porch twinkled and glistened as dusk drew into
the night.

The moon shined down over the peaceful community, and if you listened
carefully, you could hear the soft music of carolers down the street.

Inside, the smell of a juicy, roasted meal--a honey-cured ham, by the smell
of it--permeated the cottage. Although, there was also a trace of something
else in that oh so pleasant aroma, something oddly familiar. Indeed, it was
the smell of boy ass, bursting open with the spearing of male flesh.

As the meat cured in the oven, and as 'White Christmas' trickled out of the
low-volume radio speakers in the den, Johnny was bent over the sofa as Will
mounted him from behind.

Pumping in and out of his anus, Will claimed Johnny for the third time that
day. His large, veiny phallus slipped in deep, excavating Johnny's darkest,
smelliest trenches. Thrown over the sofa, bare-assed and reeking of boy
pheromones, Johnny moaned deep and loud as his beast-of-a-man domianted
him.

Dangling from between their spread legs, Johnny and Will's fuzzy sacks of
flesh slapped against each other with each, powerful thrust. Johnny groaned
in unrestrained pleasure as Will stuffed him full of manhood, filling him
up to the brim, making him feel fuller than he's ever felt before.

And then, as is natural with all males, Will bred Johnny right there in the
living room. He dumped a large, potent load deep inside Johnny's colon,
splattering the boy's guts with his seed and marking his territory. Johnny,
meanwhile, was lost in a heavenly bliss.

Once Johnny was good and bred, and once Will's meaty penis grew soft and
limp, he pulled out of the boy with a loud, familiar pop. Considering they
were both naked, with ballsack and assholes and armpits exposed, the house
stank of men. It was, according to Johnny, a sexual stimulant. Both he and
Will were hot, sweaty, and producing a lot of testosterone as they fucked
long and hard. Finally, with his cock fully milked, Will knelt down,
holding Johnny firmly in place, and continued to pleasure the boy by
tonguing his hole repeatedly, nibbling on his cheeks and sniffing his
underside. Draped over the arm of the sofa, Johnny's body tingled with
pleasure as his owner, his master, teased his gaping anus. It wasn't long
before Johnny's dick grew stiffer than ever and blew a massive load all
over the furniture. Will took no time in lapping it up, like a thirsty dog.

In the kitchen, the oven dinged. Dinner was ready. Johnny took a second to
catch his breath. His cock was returning to normal size, his fuzzy ballsack
dangled in exhaustion--mission accomplished--and his gaping brown anus was
starting to relax.

A low, rumbling sound erupted from Johnny's stomach and he giggled.

"Dinner smells good, man," he said as Will continued to sniff and nibble
his ass. "What are we eating?"

Johnny glanced over his shoulder and caught Will's eye as the man nosed
through the hair in his ass crack. He relished in the man's hot breath on
his anus, on his taint, on his sack. He was Will's property, he knew. And
he wanted nothing more than for Will to own him. To absorb him. And he was
willing to do anything for his new master.

But as he looked back and watched Will sniffing his underside, Johnny saw
something new in Will's eyes, something intriguing. It was the look of a
man who was voraciously hungry.

Johnny's anus pinched tight shut.


END