The first time I saw him do it I knew it was fate. My destiny stood before me in the form of 200 pounds of muscle. It wasnāt his shameless flexing before the mirrors, his habit of ripping off his shirt halfway through his workout, or the heavy grunts he let out as he pumped iron. It was the day I caught him in the locker room with the gym attendants feet sticking out of his mouth. Caught in the act the guy looked like a deer in the headlights. Frozen, abs stretched across his bulging gut we locked eyes. I knew it was my only chance.
As I walked over to him and wordlessly pushed the still kicking attendantās feet down his throat, we were instantly connected. Recognizing a loyal follower, he took me home and made me worship him from head to foot. The bulge of the poor guy stuck in his gut slowly disappeared behind his thick abs. I woke up next to him and he looked ten pounds heavier. Worship wasnt enough. I made it my mission to join his muscles, to be a part of his size forever.
Despite all my convincing, he wouldn't eat me. He said I was too useful on the outside, luring meals in and helping them find their way down. Night after night I went to bed with his huge gut pressed against my back, thick arms wrapped around me, and wanted only to be inside of him. As he grew bigger and bigger my desires did too. I had to come up with something.
During his bulking phase he needs at least a twink a day, sometimes more. He trusted me to find them and bring them home. So for three days in a row I pretended there was someone on the way, only for them to cancel last minute. The first day I caught him sucking on my fingers in bed, half asleep. The second day I woke up from a wet dream to see he had sleep-eaten me up to my waist. And on the third day, when I looked in his ravenous eyes and told him that another one got away, I turned around and accepted my fate. 250 pounds of muscled, hungry, man-eating fate.