Jock Hunter (musc theft mc)
by Solomon
Prologue:
It was quiet. The crisp night air slithered through the trees, swaying the boughs and shivering the leaves. I stood in the darkness, the gathered night shielding me from any prying eyes. I watched Narrow Steed Community College, a boxy, rectangular bulk across the football field. The scent of my prey still lingered here, from the afternoon’s practice. I inhaled deeply, drawing the scent further into my nostrils. I paced the field, the grass and dry autumn leaves making no sound, observing the school, purveying my new territory, my fresh hunting ground. For that is after all what I am. A Hunter, a Hunter of jocks, all those who exude the heady masculinity that satiated my gnawing hunger. And Hunt them I did, for as the Lion is made to hunt the Gazelle, so I was made to Hunt them; my scent, my movement, all of it a tool to seduce and then consume their masculinity. I picked up a maple leaf, ochre red, like blood, I crushed it in my left hand, feeling the dry leaf in my hand turn to dust.
“So it begins…”
Narrow Steed was certainly your average rural college; you had your Brains, your Jocks, your Airheads, essentially the Cool Crowd, and the Not Cool Crowd. It was so explicitly ordinary that the student’s often complained that if only something ever happened then they would have good reason to show up to class on time. As it stood, the Cool Crowd was certainly outnumbered by the Not Cool, but as a whole, Narrow Steed Community College had a healthy population of jocks. Specifically the football jock, rare species he is in less rural areas. But, when in the rural areas, this particular species of jock thrives, as evidenced by their healthy population in this backwater college. So as the morning bell rang, I entered the college.
The halls were concrete faux brick, as so many of the old colleges are, the walls made in the style reminiscent of the fifties, the linoleum floor in a constant state of needing to be cleaned. The caretakers tried their best, but in this old building dirt was so ingrained it was the floor. The student’s bustled about their way, most heading to class, some not, whether or not they actually had a spare period was anybody’s guess. I walked past the milling figures, masking my presence, watching their faces. No one would suspect what I was, and the people that do are only too late. Who would suspect a scrawny guy like me, looking like he’s hardly 18, let alone how old I really am, as someone worth even a first thought, let alone a second one. I posed a fantastic amount of danger to the resident jocks, though they don’t seem to be in the halls. Going on a hunch, I head to the cafeteria.
Some may wonder how I just slip into a totally foreign college and be there, without registering or papers. I can, to some extent, direct people’s patterns of thought, if anybody asks, they find their minds glazing over the subject until it seems like the fact that I’m there just is. A useful tool indeed to stalk my prey; and now I must get to the stalking part.
As I entered the cafeteria, the poignant smell of the jocks hit me over the head like an aluminium baseball bat. Mixed in, of course, are the rotten, fetid smells of those disgusting cafeteria foods, I can hardly guess how these people manage to eat that slop. But there! Like a jewel amidst mere pebbles, there they are! My prey, the jocks, had their own table. They were all dressed in their appropriate jerseys; some were alarmingly svelte, receivers and their ilk. They weren’t my prime choice of prey, but thankfully there were more than enough of my “tenderloin” meat than I usually hope for.
Many of them had bulging muscle, their pecs stretching the front of their jerseys, while their thick, powerful arms seemed to attempt to burst from their sleeves. Some, of course, had softer, less defined muscle, where their bellies stretched their jerseys also, but I have nothing against them. They still prove to be most succulent meals, those linemen, linebackers, and fullbacks. The others of my kind have their own personal tastes, but to me nothing is wrong for a man, or jock, to have a little bit of pudge, or a gut, as long as the muscles matched. Choosing a table across the room from where my handsome prey are sitting, I close my eyes, focussing my hearing in the hopes of eavesdropping upon them. Straining, I begin to pick out their voices:
“Fuck yeah, man! Thursday’s game was totally awesome! Thirty four to three, shit we rock!” said Scott, punctuating his point by slamming the grey plastic and metal table. The steel buckled a little, as his bicep bulged. Scott was strong, his buffed frame stretching out his jersey fashionably, but he enjoyed parties too much to have a six pack. His brown curly hair and blue eyes made up for it though, at least the girls he fucked told him as much.
“But man, we should’ve had a shutout.” complained Russell. “If Chris over here hadn’t let them fucking through the defensive!” Russell was a little bit of a cry baby, despite his enormous 6 foot 4 inches, and 230 pounds. He was a linebacker, but only had a bit of a roid belly and was otherwise lean, since he was so needle-happy. But his straight, short blonde hair and baby blue eyes lent him an extremely fetching look.
“Shut up, Russell!” shouted Chris, giving Russell a swat to the back of the head. Chris was a true blue linebacker, his muscle softened with fat and his jersey deformed in the front by his belly. “It’s the day before game day, and we don’t need your fucking attitude messing with us getting into the zone!”
“What fucking zone is that, Chris?! There is no fucking zone, except the end zone, which you let number eighty-nine into!” said Russell, raising his voice.
“Shut up, the both of you!” said Brad, team captain. He was a true prize; he was a bulked god, 300 pounds and 6 foot 2 inches at least. His dark, wavy hair was only of average length, not too long. His handsome clear green eyes looked out from beneath his dark eyebrows. His body was well proportioned, and his muscle was fantastic, but he was fond of the keg a little too much, and had a little paunch, but he was still a true man, his heady masculine scent rolled off him in waves. And if the bulging package in his jeans was any indication, he was just as fine without his clothes on too. He was smoking hot; I could feel the hunger gnaw at me more acutely, as hunger gnaws at a starving man more fiercely as he stands before a magnificent feast.
“Yeah, or I’ll bust your ass in practice, you hear?” Quipped Mike, Brad’s Lieutenant in every sense of the word. He had flaming red hair, and malachite green eyes. He on the other hand, was much more disciplined in terms of diet then his friend, and his tight, defined muscles bulged from every part of him. His traps were so huge he looked like he was on a permanent shrug. His arms looked as hard as marble, and his thighs stretched his jeans like a sausage in a too tight skin, and his package stretched out his tight jeans nicely too.
They continued their conversation for some time, nothing more relevant to my intellect then if a man were listening to the conversation of molluscs. As much as they were buff, hot, and handsome, they were still a lower life-form in comparison to me. Still watching their flexing, heaving muscles stretch and deform their jerseys was more than enough to get me hard, hot, and bothered. I smiled to myself ruefully; I always took so much interest in my food. I couldn’t wait to taste those muscles, and their thick, hot, jock cum. And watch them shrivel before my eyes.
Suddenly the group got up, breaking my concentration and startling me out of my erotic thoughts. I could hear no more of their conversation, and the other handsome morsel’s names escaped my attention. Picking themselves up, some more hulking and slow than the others, the jocks herded out the door of the cafeteria, I walked toward the orange painted steel doors, and followed. The morning progressed, as I continued to stalk the hall; following the scent of my helpless prey. The halls often meandered aimlessly, like the architect was on acid or something. Nevertheless, I followed the delectable aroma wafting through the air unerringly, and I found my prey.
I walked the halls, with the scent trail in my nostrils, my walk full of purpose and intent. People’s eyes would slide over me like my image was dark as black onyx. I arrived at my destination, the gymnasium, the reek of football jocks hung about me in the air. I loitered around the gymnasium change room in the late morning, stalking the scent of my acquired prey, Brad. Leaning against the cold concrete, I watched his nice round but stretching the back of his jeans, his muscles and gentle fat hopelessly alluring, hinting at a treasure trove of hot muscle and masculine energies. He was so ripe, so juicy for the picking I couldn’t resist going for him first. Normally, I try to pace myself, but I hadn’t fed in so long, he was just the fix I needed to take the edge off the hunger. Watching as he and some other football jocks entered the men’s change room, I entered as well. It must be time for morning practice, I thought to myself with a smirk.
The change room was well lit, and there was a bench with metal bars extending to the ceiling with hooks in the centre of the room. The bars themselves were painted, but the paint had flaked and rust had devoured the bars in some places. The football lockers were off to one side, and the other walls had benches, but the hooks were only just drilled into the concrete. The floor was, inevitably, caked with grime and the showers were less-than-pleasant. As I walked in, breathing the scent of football jock, the football jocks themselves were in various stages of undress, but most were at least down to their boxers, and one or two boxer briefs, and just one in briefs. They turned, curious at the intrusion, some not bothering to look, complacent in their perceived dominance as the top of the food chain. Oh, how so, so wrong they are.
However, as my scent filled to room, as it must, for I exude it as surely as their reek of masculinity wafts off of them, they all turned to look at me. Packages of various levels of impressiveness began to stretch their underwear. I eyed up the twin stretches of their balls, and was impressed at how well endowed this particular group of jocks were. Their strong, muscular bodies rippled as they turned and stared at me. Some were soft with fat, others hard and ripped. The others, the unappetizing scrawny ones weren’t here, so I stared casually at the smorgasbord which lay before my eyes. They all were so positively gods of muscle, of the masculine form; it would make what would come next all the more steep a fall for them. I licked my lips, nothing was more appetizing then college football jocks!
“Oh my, I guess I must have gotten turned around.” I said, turning toward the door. I smirked, as I readied myself against the onslaught of noise sure to come. Instantly, the jocks leapt into action, their thick, muscular bodies moving to try and direct me, to get closer to me, anything to be near me. Their heaving, bulky bodies jostled each other, but of course, the strongest of them would elbow his way to me first. I turned toward Brad, his thick, but slightly fat softened muscles heaved the crowd apart, and he reached me. He had muscled the other jocks out of the way and was leaning close to me; I could see him start to sweat with nervousness. I could also see his bull balls were too large for the pair of briefs he had on, for I could see their sides as they stretched the white fabric briefs. His thick cock, now at least 14 inches hard, was peeking out of the top of his briefs as well. The whole of the fabric of his briefs strained to contain the immensity of his godlike cock and balls, so full and thick they were. He shook his hair and smiled, flexing his shirtless muscles slightly.
“Hey, man. Are you new here? What’s your name?” he asked, with a smile, as his cock throbbed harder and harder, no doubt my presence was going to make him cum without even touching his thick cock. “John Smith.” I answered; my “official” name was always that incredibly generic, so no one could trace me, not that they’d succeed in harming me if they did. “No, problem, I’ll help you. I know the school and I can show you around.” said Brad, leaning against the wall, close enough that our respective scents were flooding the nostrils of the other, mine making him horny and his making me hungry. He pulled ever closer to me, as I got the full view of his strong traps, thick, meaty pecs, and little paunch of a belly.
“No, it’s alright; I’ll just get a map from the office.” I said, wanting to make him squirm a little. I reached for the door handle.
“No! Wait!” shouted Brad, his voice laced with the tone of panic, slamming the door shut. The other jocks too, shouted their protest. “No man, don’t go!” “We’ll be your pals!” “Please, stay!”
Brad couldn’t understand what was happening to him. This scrawny little guy was making him so horny, he wanted to touch him, kiss him, and fuck him. “I’m not a fag” was Brad’s surest thought, but he was so turned on, he could barely care about that. His cock however, told no lies to me, even though I could hear his thoughts clearly, it strained and bulged and pulsed, aching for release. Brad panted, and rubbed his monster cock though the fabric of his tight briefs. He loved wearing pairs of briefs that was too tight for him; it accentuated his monster cock even more. He was especially proud his was the biggest cock on the team, and he flaunted it mercilessly. The other jocks shifted on their feet restlessly, I could feel they wanted me, badly, but I used my telepathy to make sure they took no action just now; I’d get to them later.
I smiled, and lay a hand on his bulging bicep, feeling the curvature, admiring the power and thickness of the muscle. Brad’s cock leapt again, his breath quickened, and he looked like he was about to cum right then and there. I leaned in close against his body, looking at its thickness, admiring the buff, juicy muscle; his pecs were just so nice, two full, round domes of muscle. His thick cock had started to ooze precum, and the scent was difficult to resist, I wanted to feed right then and there, but I steeled myself. I placed my hand on his chest, and stroked downward, enjoying the feeling of his smooth skin, before reaching his soft bellybutton. His little paunch, but now that I see it up closer, in my scrutiny I realise it’s more like a baby gut than anything else. I push into the soft warmness of it with my index finger, and instantly Brad shot his thick jock load. His thick muscular body wracked with the spasms of his orgasm, and his thick creamy cum soaked onto his belly and into his underwear, till they were both dripping with jizz.
His heavy body leans on me for support as the thrusting of his hips made him weak at the knees as he shot wad after wad of cum. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of bliss to Brad, his orgasm let up, and he staggered, struggling to lift his heavy body to his own two feet. He blushed as he realised what had just happened, the still-hot cum dripping from his underwear and belly. The other jocks were silent, my power still influencing their minds to remain inactive, both my scent, and my telepathy. My left hand is covered with his cum, I raise it to my mouth, and lick slowly, savouring the delectable taste, but the meal is hollow. It is not the cum of jocks that truly will sate my hunger. He shudders, at the sight of my tongue slipping across my fingers, scooping up his thick jock jizz, obviously imagining my tongue at work doing other things.
My smile is sanguine as I begin to act out the next part of my plan. “Brad, why don’t you come with me, and I can take you out to lunch?” I say with a winning smile. “What do you say?” I conclude. Brad’s face light’s up like the morning sky. “Yeah…sure…totally!” Brad said, shaking with excitement, his cock giving another stretch of his briefs, desperate for freedom. His slight gut jiggling, I say: “How about you get cleaned up, I’ll take you outside, to the college parking lot? We can get in my car, and I’ll drive you.” I say, now not bothering to hide the seductive tone in my voice. I reach out my right hand and fondle his bull balls through his underwear, admiring their great weight. “Oh god, I’ll be right there!” said Brad, flinging off his soaked underwear, letting his enormous cock flop free. The scale of the thing was truly enormous, his 14 inch cock was too thick for even his own meaty paws to get around, and his balls were each as big as a softball. The other jocks were eyeing Brad enviously I noticed, not just for the fact he was gaining my attention, but I think he must have flaunted that dick every chance he got.
Rapidly Brad put on another too-tight pair of briefs, although this one quite dry. Quickly Brad followed with the rest of his clothes, but this time wearing a tight blue tee-shirt rather than his jersey, which he threw into his football locker, Brad came up next to me. Smiling briskly, he wrapped one thick, muscular arm around my shoulder, as his cock throbbed and stretched through his tight jeans. “Let’s go.” I say with a smile, as I wrap my arm around his slightly pudgy waist, and lead him out the change room door, while the other jocks kneaded their own thick cocks through their boxers, looking at my retreating form forlornly. I gave them a wink, and mouth “I’ll be back later”; leaving with my meal safely in tow. Giving Brad a quick squeeze, we departed.
As we walked down the hallways leading toward the front of the building, I gently knead and massage Brad’s body, all the muscles and fat, and he relaxed in my embrace. My pheromones also help as well, drawing this hapless hunk deeper under my spell. The longer he’s around me, the more his mind is affected, and soon he’ll be unable to resist me at all. I’m sure he could hardly think straight as I thrust open the door to the building into the bright sun on a beautiful cloudless day. I lead him out across the parking lot to my car, heading into the back forty. The silver paint of my gleaming Prius shines in the midmorning sunlight, and I opened the car door for my prize, and helped him into the car, for by now his motor skills are beginning to be impaired, as any drunk would. I think to myself with a smile: “Except he’s now drunk with my presence rather than alcohol, the hapless stud.” I get in myself, in the driver’s seat and close the door, locking the car. I can see his massive meat throb in his jeans, and I grasp his upper arm, squeezing that thick bicep of his. His panting, laboured breathing is cut off as I draw him into a passionate kiss. I can feel a slight blip in his thoughts that this is wrong, that he’s not homosexual, but it is swiftly crushed under the tsunami of pleasure my scent and proximity invoke.
He leans into me, now, and we kiss long and hard, his soft lips against mine, and my blood runs hot as my own cock gets even harder. All too soon, I pull away, grinning like a madman. “How about that lunch, Brad?” I say, as I start the car and start driving. Quickly turning out of the parking lot and begin to drive down the main road before quickly following the back road. We drive for about half and hour, all the while Brad’s huge chest heaving with his heavy breathing, as he kneads his titanic dick through his tight jeans. We make it to my house, in this part of the country at least; the open, modern design shining in boxy chrome, glass, and white concrete. “This is your house?” asked Brad breathlessly. Quite astute for his horny state, I think to myself. “Yep, it’s all mine, inheritance, billions of dollars. Come inside, I’ll give you a time to remember.” I say, slyly. I squeeze his cock through his jeans, and get out of the car, and walk over to the passenger door and help my stud out of my car; leading my prey into the lion’s den, as it were. I watch his tight shirt, his muscles and slight pudge stretching the fabric, and I’m even starting to become impatient, my heart beating faster, anticipating what is to come.
“Wow, you must be rich!” exclaims Brad, as he peruses the plush interior. Expensive paintings and furniture adorned the walls and floors, respectively, with an overall modern style. I lean over as we enter the spacious modern kitchen and give Brad’s slight love handle a squeeze. “You bet. You look a little decadent as well, Brad.” I say with a wink. Brad blushed profusely, trying to pull down his tight shirt which was riding up his gut slightly. “Uh, yeah I’m totally planning on hitting the gym and losing it!” he said, fumbling, his blush getting even redder as he began to look uncomfortable. “That’s not a problem, Brad; I like them with a bit of meat.” I said, with emphasis. My touch has Brad breathing like a marathon runner again, and his thick cock is straining to be free of its denim prison. “You know, we may as well forget about lunch, Brad. We know what we both want, don’t we?” I say, smiling, leaning even closer, only a kiss distance away. “I’m n-not que-…” Brad begins, but I cut him off with another kiss, my pheromones flooding his system now, dissolving even the faintest hint of resistance. I could feel the chemical consume his conscious resistance like a school of ravenous piranha. I was all Brad wanted now, nothing mattered except me.
Breaking away from his muscular embrace, I pulled Brad’s tight shirt over his head, and admired the soft muscularity of his chest, and the slight treasure trail curving down his paunch. Soon I’m all over him, kissing his pecs, his arms, all over his chest, and working my way down his body, feeling the warm flesh with my lips. The kisses of course were fucking hot, but that wasn’t the only reason why. Each kiss was an injection of my venom, which was now coursing through Brad’s body, preparing it for my feeding on his masculinity, on the totality of his testosterone reserves. He didn’t notice, as I did, that his bull balls were swelling in the fabric of his jeans even more now, and the weakness of his muscles as already they began to liquefy and flow to his balls. As I whipped the belt away and undid his jeans, Brad began to moan: “Do it, John, I want you, do it…” And I was happy to oblige. His already large package had swelled even more ridiculously with the venom, and his briefs were starting to tear from their sheer size and weight.
I pulled his briefs swfitly down, but I didn’t remove his pants yet, I loved the way the clothes hung on these hapless jocks after I was done feeding on them. Grasping his now 16 inch cock, feeling it pulse in my grip in time with Brad’s heartbeat. His log of a dick oozing precum, I wrap my lips around its warm, sensuous surface. Pushing it as deep into my mouth as it could go, I start to suck and slurp Brad’s monster dick. “Oh…god…fuck…FUCK!” muttered and moaned, and even occasionally shouted, Brad, as all my pheromones and venom coursed through his body, producing lust and sexual desire unlike any he had before experienced, and wouldn’t wear off till I had drained him for every last drop.
The thick, creamy precum was already sliding down my throat as I sucked his thick dick even harder, drawing my tongue up and down the thick shaft, and sometimes making swallowing motions with it in my throat. The warm pulsing cock was one of the best I had ever sucked, and I especially appreciated its size, and I was rock hard knowing what was going to start happening next. I knew that Brad wasn’t going to last long after all the things I was doing to his cock. Finally, he shot his first load, his thick cock convulsing with each wad of cum shot, and he leaned against the kitchen counter for support, as he suddenly felt much weaker, but much hornier than ever. As the hot cum belted down my throat, Brad began to change, slowly, gradually, at first. I watched as his huge pecs started to deflate, like two spherical balloons with the air let out of them. His massive biceps deflated, losing inch after inch as he cummed his own muscles away, shrinking and collapsing. His thick thighs and calves started losing their tree trunk look, shrinking and losing muscularity and strength. Most noticeably of all, inch after inch of height was being lost by my manly stud, as his system was drained of testosterone and masculinity.
His once massive chest was surely, steadily losing size and thickness, his whole body shrinking down like he was an inflatable with a sizeable leak. Not exempted was his godly cock, which was now also steadily shrinking, as I could fit more and more of its diminishing length and thickness in my mouth, I sucked even harder, as I felt my hunger beginning to lose its edge. “John, I…feel…funny…” Brad gasped, but he didn’t try to pull away, not that he would have succeeded anyway. His mighty cock, 16 full thick inches when we started was now diminished to only 9, even shorter than when it was before the venom was given. I watched with complete satisfaction as his softball balls contract with each blast of hot cum, but failing to expand to their previous volume, soon they were diminished to tennis ball size. His package was still manly, but he was definitely nowhere near the biggest guy on the team, in both senses of the word. His frame was not significantly diminished; he was no longer the man he once was.
I on the other hand, my body finally nourished after so long a fast, was growing. I was getting taller and my clothes tighter as my flat chest expanded, new muscles coursing into my arms and legs as they thicken and strengthen. My pecs now domed outward, and my arms are now shredding my shirtsleeves. My butt and thighs shredded my jeans, and soon I was quite naked, minus a very tight pair of briefs. Finally, after Brad is done on his high, panting while leaning back on the counter. I stand up and we now face eye to eye. He still retained quite a build, but nothing like the godly one he had before. “Holy shit, what did you do to me John!” screamed Brad, now clearly panicking, backing away from me slowly. “I had my first course, Brad. Don’t worry; you still look like you have a second one in you.” I said, grinning sinisterly. Brad at once leapt for the door, but I grabbed him and tossed him like a rag doll onto the couch in the adjoining living room. Of course, I looked bigger and more muscular, my shredded clothes were absolute testament to that, but I’m always much stronger than any normal human being anyway, no matter my build.
Leaping onto him I grab his smaller but still pretty thick cock, still hard and quivering, ready to be milked again. I latched onto it like a lamprey eel, and began to suck again, holding down his struggling body with one hand. I once again played up and down the surface of his cock with expertise, brining him closer to the doomed orgasm. “God no! Please, stop this, let me go, John! I don’t want to be a weakling! I’m made to be a muscle stud!” Brad begged, and pleaded, with many variations of those phrases. But I would not relent, I wanted it, needed it. I could feel him try to deny the coming orgasm, but my venom was just too potent an aphrodisiac to be denied. “NOOOOO!!!” screamed Brad, as he blasted his jockdom-fatal load. He began collapsing again as his hot, thick jock cum streamed down my throat, and I missed not a single drop. His average jock physique quickly became just average, as his pecs and biceps melted away. And not even a hint of traps above his shoulders, and his legs shrivelled. He had lost over a foot in height now, and his cock was shrinking even in my mouth, losing inch after inch becoming less of a man-cock and more a boycock. Soon, his average physique transformed into the scrawny, as his muscle rapidly diminished to almost nothing, but his fat was still the same, however.
Without the balancing effect of his muscles, now he was just a short flabby weakling. I could feel his now 6 inch cock was the last to complete its change, as it continued to shrink in my mouth, and his balls pull up. While his body was shrinking, mine was expanding, my chest grew ever more voluminous and my arms were like howitzers! My own body, devoid of fat, was tight and ripped, my abs deeply chiselled along my abdomen. My own cock, once a mere 6 inches, was now the 16 inch monster Brad once possessed, and my balls feeling engorged and enormous, the unaccustomed weight turning me on like nothing else. I was a beast, now. I had Brad’s build, but without the fat. My muscle now bulging, rippling and heaving, as I flexed for the frightened little rabbit that was all that was left of a once mighty jock. “So, Brad, how do you like me now?” I asked, in my deeper more manly voice, pulling a most muscular at him. He made a ghastly little strangled noise in his throat, too frightened to speak, but his hard 1 inch cock and quivering peanut balls told me all I needed to know. Grasping his shoulders, and marvelling at his now tiny frame was now in comparison to mine, I rammed my log of a cock deep as it would go into his throat.
Brad struggled vainly against me, as I made him deepthroat my now enormous cock, enjoying the tightness of his throat, and now only 5 foot 4 inch body. As we fucked, his struggling ceased as he surrendered to our sex, and his little dick and balls shot a little dribble of cum of their own as I continued to screw him. Finally the tightness was just too much, and I couldn’t hold it. “FUCK!” I shouted, as I blasted thick ribbons of heavy cum into him, he squirmed a little again, but he ceased as his body rapidly swelled with new fat as my bull balls unloaded an endless current of cum into his body, his flabby frame swelling with each shot. I just kept cumming and cumming, Brad’s flabby body expanding in all directions, now no hint of his former self remained. Finally spent, I pull out of him and I collapse to the floor with a heavy thud, wheeling with the orgasm of our intense fuck. Resting for a few minutes, I got up and surveyed the gently jiggling tub of lard I’ve created out of a once muscular, thick football jock. His swollen formed rested on the sleek couch, a perfect juxtaposition if there ever was one. If I had to guess, Brad was about 300 lbs of pure flab, quite a lot for his frame. I smiled, and dressed in Brad’s old clothes, and quickly going to my room and fishing out some spare huge ones I had for whenever I was done feeding.
Epilogue:
After clothing Brad’s unconscious form and myself too, and carrying him effortlessly to my car, I drove Brad home to his dorm in silence, for he wouldn’t wake for a few more hours still. He wouldn’t remember what had happened, and I’d use my powers to make sure no one else would notice anything unusual either. I flexed my newly stolen muscle through my stolen shirt, admiring my pecs. I rub my hands along my abs, and begin to formulate the next item I think I should have on my grocery list. Heavy rain beat down onto the back road as I drove the sound mixing with the gentle noise of the Prius’s engine. I watch the wet autumn country road pass by, ochre red leaves swirling in the storm.
“So it begins…”
To be continued