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