The Tom Newhouse Story

By Fritz Haarmann [Email]

Fritz was hungry. Ravenously hungry. In order to fulfill his need, he would require strength, capacity, and, most importantly, elasticity. He could feel the changes happening in his body, that had been elicited in response to his craving. He could feel his muscles stretch in eager anticipation. However, the necessary increase in his physical capabilities was consuming energy, thereby further stimulating the hunger for whose assuaging they'd been invoked in the first place. He felt an imperious longing for a particular kind of food. It had to be soft, warm, and filling. And he knew just where to go to find what he needed to fill up the emptiness growing inside him.

It was St Patrick's day and people were crowded shoulder to shoulder in O'Toole's Pub, observing the holiday by guzzling down keggers of green colored beer. A substantial percentage of the revelers were students from the catholic university down the street. Even though the majority of them were under the legal age, the school authorities tended to overlook a little alcohol consumption on this particular occasion, even going to the extent of not holding classes the following day, so the students could sleep off the hangovers they'd acquired in honor of the saint. Consequently, the bar was filled with undergraduates drinking and watching the state high school hockey tournament on the overhead televisions. Among the spectator sport fans from the school that night were Tom and his best friend, Damon. One of the teams playing in the match being held at the moment was the hockey team from Tom's high school alma mater, and he and Damon were watching the televised game with an enthusiasm fueled by alcohol, as well as by partisan spirit. Damon was sitting on a stool, while Tom stood leaning against the bar next to him, both staring up at the screen and cheering when Tom's team scored and groaning when the opposing team scored. They were too involved in the game an d their beers to notice that they were being observed hungrily by another patron of the bar.

Fritz was seated in a nearby booth, speculatively eyeing the two undergraduates. Although there were any number of potential meal candidates in the crowd at O'Toole's who would do very nicely at appeasing his hunger, his appraising eyes kept on returning to Tom. Dressed in a dark blue henley, jeans and a baseball cap, Tom was leaning with his elbows on the bar, his ass sticking out for Fritz's appreciative, gourmand inspection. The sight only caused Fritz's hunger to become all the more intense, for Tom was ideally suited for stilling that hunger. At six feet in height, he was trim and in shape, yet well fleshed out. Although he wasn't overweight, the tightness of his jeans around his thighs and butt, where the seam had edged up a little into the crack and separated each cheek in its own cup of denim, indicated that he'd gained at least some weight since first buying that particular pair. He was reasonably muscular, but with muscles that were soft from a sedentary lifestyle. Fritz noticed with approval that the boy's belly sagged a little, a guarantee of his tenderness, most likely acquired from the beers he'd obviously been indulging in more often than this one night of the year. All in all, with his delectably rounded arms and legs, along with the plump ass, Tom would make a luscious and filling mouthful. Fritz's mouth watered in anticipation. Unfortunately, it was obvious that Tom was going to spend the entire evening with that other boy, which could complicate matters unpleasantly. Fritz's normal strategy was to home in on some young man who was by himself, as being easier to lure off to some isolated spot. In addition, Fritz wasn't sure he could quite manage two of them.

With a sigh of resignation, Fritz tore his famished gaze from Tom's appetite stimulating ass, trying to ignore the rumbling in his stomach, and took another look around the room. The pub held a crowd of weekend jocks, similar to Tom, but, as much as he might try to find someone else to select, he only had an appetite for Tom. Maybe he should reconsider the possibility of taking them both on. He decided to give Tom's friend a closer look. Damon was a couple inches shorter than Tom and evidently had a slighter build, although it was hard to tell, since the contours of his body were hidden beneath an oversize forest green polo hanging down over baggy khaki pants. As Fritz was trying to figure out how good a dinner candidate the boy would make, Damon got off his barstool to go take a piss. For a few seconds after he'd stood up, his polo remained hitched up in the small of his back, draping down over his hips and suggesting the fullness of the curves made by the buttocks underneath. Yes, Damon had potential as well. Fritz made his decision. He'd just have to find room for the both of them. The way the gnawing hunger was growing inside him, he was beginning to feel he could handle the entire pubful of young sports fans. While Damon was away, Fritz sat and watched Tom. With a gulp, he swallowed the saliva built up at the thought that the young man innocently going about his life before him was totally unsuspecting that he was about to embark on a chain of events that would end up with him digesting in someone's stomach.

After Damon had returned to his stool, Fritz got up and went to the bar to order another drink, edging himself in just behind Tom. While waiting for the bar tender to get the drink, he peered over Tom's shoulder at the tv screen, trying to catch the names of the schools that were competing. As he was taking the first sip from his vodka and tonic, one of the teams scored. The two boys clenched their fists and broke into broad grins.

"Whooooooo.....EE!", they yelled excitedly.

Fritz looked up to see the score as it flashed on the screen.

"Excuse me," he said, "isn't that the team from St. John's Academy?"

"Yeah. That's my old school," Tom said proudly.

"What a coincidence. I'm an alumnus myself, but a bit before your time. How are they doing?"

"We're kicking butt! Whooooey!"

"Well, that calls for a celebration. Can I stand you boys a round of drinks?"

"Sure! Thanks!"

Fritz signalled the barman to give the boys another of what they were already drinking. After they'd introduced themselves, Fritz stayed at the bar, following the game with his intended dinner guests. Although not a hockey fan himself, he had no difficulty counterfeiting the enthusiasm displayed by Tom and Damon, especially since each goal scored by St. John's gave him an opportunity to share in the palmslapping and manly embraces that are permitted to even the most masculine of armchair athletes when affected by the passion engendered by watching their team win. The boys were a little too much under the influence to notice that Fritz lingered a second or two longer with the hugs than strictly necessary, unsuspecting that he was taking advantage of the brief moment of physical contact to confirm by feel his visual appraisal of their softness and meatiness. His enthusiasm soon ceased to be counterfeit, although it had nothing to do with the hockey game. The match finally ended in victory for St. John's, causing another round of bearhugs between the three spectators. As was appropriate for celebrating a tournament victory, these hugs were tighter than the previous ones, allowing Fritz to move his face close up so he could take a quick whiff of each boy's aroma, from which he could form an idea of how they'd be likely to taste. With his nose practically touching the boy's close-cropped blond hair, he inhaled for a second the odor from the nape of Damon's neck, a harbinger of the flavorful meal ahead.

"What was that?"

"Oh, that was just my stomach growling."

Fritz was actually thinking, "That was just my body calling for you, my little boy dumpling."

He added, "I haven't eaten all day."

"Wow, it sounds like you could really eat a horse."

Fritz smiled at the two students.

"As a matter of fact, what I had in mind isn't quite that large. I expect to have a filling meal later on tonight and I'd be pleased to have you both there for it."

"No thanks," said Tom. "We've been stuffing ourselves all night here at the bar."

Fritz glanced down at Tom's belly, imagining it stuffed with still partially digested pizza and chicken wings. He wasn't fond of junk food, but figured Tom and Damon would have finished digesting their own meals, by the time he could get started on digesting them in their turn. So the flavor wasn't likely to be impaired.

"However I insist you let me give you a lift home. You've been drinking a lot more than me and I don't think it would be wise for either of you to be driving in your present condition."

Tom laughed.

"Don't worry, Fritz. I can hold my drink. I've drunk more than this without it having any...any effect on my reflexes."


"Sure. Uh....I remember at the fraternity homecoming party last fall I was drinking all night long. The next morning I was as mentally....uh, alert as most people are sober."

Damon snickered.

"Get real, Tom. You don't expect Fritz to swallow that story, do you?"

"If you boys only realized just how much I'm capable of swallowing ...."

Tom and Damon laughed while Fritz looked at them, mentally estimating the number of pounds of meat they represented.

"It would be an unforgiveable waste if two young men of your potential were to get into an accident. Now no arguing. I'll be your chauffeur tonight."

Actually, Tom really just felt like lying down and taking a nap, so, without further discussion, he followed Fritz and Damon outside to Fritz's car. Fritz motioned them into the back seat, telling them to make themselves comfortable. Once behind the wheel, he started the ignition and pulled out into the traffic.

"I don't think you'll want to go staggering back into your dormitory in your present condition. I should take you for a little spin first, to give your minds a chance to clear up first."


"Since you're not driving, I suppose it'd be all right if you had one last drink. There's a six-pack of beer in the cooler on the floor."

Both Tom and Damon decided to have a beer. Fritz had previously added a mild sedative to the beers, so as to dull the senses of whoever he came home with tonight, so they wouldn't be able to struggle so well. However he hadn't put in enough to knock them out completely. Like the connoisseur of oysters, he felt that an important part of the dining experience was the sensation of your dinner wriggling futilely as it slid down your throat. Nevertheless, when added to all that they'd been drinking previously, the sedative was too much for the boys, and both fell asleep shortly thereafter. As Fritz drove out through the suburbs to his out-of-the-way place in the country, the sound of his stomach growling was harmonized by snores coming from this evening's catch in the back seat.

Before long, he was pulling up in front of a house isolated in the middle of the fields. He got out and opened the back door of the car, letting in the cold March nighttime air. He leaned in and shook both of them by the shoulders.

"We're here. Come on, get out."

The combination of the shaking and the sudden cold was sufficient to partially clear the boys' minds. They groggily got out of the car and looked around.

"Where are hell are we?"

"Welcome to my humble home, boys."

"Weren't going to take us back to the dorm?"

"I changed my mind. I decided to take you home for dinner after all."

"Listen, Fritz. I already told you we were both stuffed."

"Yes," Fritz replied with a malicious grin. "Your being stuffed already only makes you all the more ready for this meal."

Damon was shivering with the cold.

"This guy's getting pretty creepy, Tom."

"Yeah, I'm outta here."

"Uh, Tom... we're out in the middle of nowhere. We can't walk back."

Tom was beginning to get angry. He walked up to Fritz and grabbed him by the arm.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, but you'd better drive us back to town or..."

Tom noticed with surprise that Fritz seemed to be bigger than he had been back at the pub. He was sure that Fritz had been a little shorter than himself, but now he appeared to be taller. And stronger. Fritz negligently shook his arm free and grabbed both of Tom's wrists, forcing him down on his knees on the compacted snow of the driveway. Then he pushed Tom onto his back, ignoring Damon's ineffective attempts at pulling him away, and sat on Tom's stomach, pinning him to the ground. All Tom could do was flail helplessly around with his arms and legs.

Now that his arms were free again, Fritz turned to Damon. Damon realized that he'd be no match for Fritz and tried to escape, but too late. Already while he was lifting his foot for the first step, Fritz had grabbed him by his oversize polo and pulled him close. Before Damon knew what was happening, Fritz was holding his wrists pinned at his waist. Continuing to grip the boy around the waist with both hands, he lifted him up into the air, with his legs dangling down and his torso in a horizontal position.

"Let me go!" Damon pleaded, looking up at Fritz's face.

What he saw gave him more goosebumps than the night air had. Fritz seemed to have gotten even larger, and was licking his lips in gourmet anticipation while holding Damon with his head aimed directly at his mouth. In the haze from the alcohol and the sedative, Damon had thought Fritz was going to rob them, or that he was planning on sexually molesting them. Now the horrible, incredible truth dawned on him as he stared at Fritz's mouth right in front of his face, as it stretched wider than he would have thought possible.


Fritz laughed.

"Now, Damon, you've already had a chance to stuff yourself with chicken wings. Now it's my turn to fill myself with chicken.... although admittedly a different kind of chicken."

Damon was too stunned to struggle and just stared passively as Fritz's gaping mouth moved closer. Tom had also stopped his flailing and could only watch in shocked disbelief as Damon's head disappeared inside the gaping mouth. Fritz stretched his lips as wide as he could and sucked the hapless boy's shoulders in. Tom could hear Damon's voice crying "Help me!" coming out of Fritz's mouth. Then he saw Fritz take a gulp, drawing Damon in up to his waist. Tom couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Fritz's throat expand to accomodate his classmate's torso as it was pulled into the esophagus. Belatedly, Damon started to struggle frantically, but his arms and upper body were held fast and he could only kick about with his legs. Fritz tilted his head back and, grabbing the the boy's thighs, held the legs up vertically in front of him. Pushing down on the ass and thighs, he took another big gulp, drawing Damon yet further inside, relishing the sensation of the bulge of the boy's tender butt rubbing against the back of his throat as he vainly twisted about while being pulled down. Fritz's stomach stretched to hold the helping of boy he'd just swallowed. All that remained visible of Damon were a pair of wriggling tennis shoes sticking out of Fritz's lips. With a slurp these also disappeared and Damon's entire body had been sucked into the stomach. As the stomach retracted a bit to match the shape of the body, it forced the legs down into a bent position, so Damon ended up upside down in a fetal position. There wasn't room for him to do anything other than uselessly flex his arms and legs and twist slightly back and forth.

"Yum, that was delicious."

Tom was still unable to believe his own senses. He could faintly hear Damon's muffled voice pleading for help from within Fritz's stomach, but it still seemed impossible that his buddy could be trapped inside that bloated belly only a couple feet from his face. At the sound of a burp of contented repletion, his gaze was drawn back up to Fritz's face. He felt a chill in the pit of his stomach when he realized that he was the inspiration of the look of ravenous gluttony with which Fritz was staring down at him. Fritz patted his stomach with satisfaction, feeling the motions of the feebly struggling first course from tonight's dinner. Remembering how Luke Skywalker had once gotten out of a similar predicament, Tom groped around desperately hoping to find a big stick or anything else that could be used for the same purpose. It wouldn't have done him any good if he had found something, since, as soon as Fritz had let Tom loose, he'd grabbed him by the arms and quickly had him dangling in the same position as Damon had been a few moments before. While holding Tom's wrists pinned to his waist, Fritz could still press his thumbs into the student's flabby stomach and his fingertips into the fatty mounds of the ass cheeks through the worn denim. He licked his lips again with a sense of satisfaction that could only be appreciated by a true connoisseur of young male flesh, when they have a guy as juicy and succulent as Tom in their grip, ready to be made a meal of.

"At first I was afraid that your friend might spoil my appetite, but now that I feel how soft and meaty you are, I find that he was nothing more than the appetizer, whetting my appetite for the main course."

Fritz grinned hungrily.

"Which is you."

"Please don't eat me. Please!"

"It's time for you to join your buddy, Tom."

Tom jerked his torso around vigorously, trying vainly to put off the inevitable, which made him more difficult to aim into the mouth than Damon had been. However, Fritz was an old hand at this and had soon succeeded in sticking Tom's head fully inside the oral cavity, baseball cap and all. Tom could feel the warm, moist breath blowing up out of the windpipe as his face rubbed against the tongue, knocking his cap off, while he was being pushed further in. The roof of Fritz's mouth tickled from the feel of Tom's short, curly, black hair. His tongue lingeringly caressed Tom's cheek one last time, before he continued pushing him into the mouth. Next he used his tongue to savor the boy's smooth throat, before opening wide to encompass the shoulders. Tom felt his head knock against the back of the throat when he was forced further in. When Fritz shoved his shoulders all the way inside, the strength of the push against the back of the throat forced his head to bend downward into the esophagus, pushing his baseball cap down ahead of him.

Suddenly, at the same time as he heard a loud gulp, he felt the throat muscles constrict around his head and suck him further down towards Fritz's stomach with a speed that made his own stomach turn. Within a second he was in up to his waist, and his shoulders were already bent down into the throat. Although the muscles of Fritz's mouth and throat had expanded so he could be squeezed inside, they wrapped around him tightly, keeping him in a grip like a straight jacket. Hardly being able to move his upper body, Tom flailed about wildly with his legs. In his struggles he kicked Fritz's swollen belly. The kick didn't phase Fritz, but Tom heard a faint, half conscious grunt from Damon further down in the darkness of Fritz's stomach. To think that only a few hours ago, they were just a couple of regular guys having a few beers and rooting for their hockey team and now he was in the process of being swallowed down someone's throat, as though he was just some kind of food.

This was always Fritz's favorite part of the meal, when he would pause to savor his dinner, before swallowing it. He never tired of the sensation of his mouth being filled with the warmth generated by the body heat of a still living, tender young guy. With Damon already curled up in his stomach, in addition to Tom's torso in his mouth and his shoulders and head sticking down into his throat, Fritz was feeling particularly replete tonight. His lips stretched around Toms's waist held the boy in place as he rubbed against the sides of Fritz's mouth. Tom's henley had been pulled up while he was being dragged in, exposing his slightly pudgy beer belly. Fritz ran his tongue back and forth along the smooth skin sheathing the soft abdominal muscles, relishing Tom's vaguely pork-like flavor, seasoned with salt from the sweat generated in his struggles. When Tom felt the tongue moistly caressing his stomach, then poking up on the side to wrap around his flank and squeeze his oblique muscles, at first he didn't understand what was going on. However, when he heard an "Mmmmmmm" of delectation, he realized that he was being tasted. The mental incongruity of finding himself, a young man who was going into law school after graduation, being treated like an epicurean delight reinvigorated his instinctive drive to continue struggling to get free, despite the fact that he was held fast. His renewed attempts at twisting and bucking in Fritz's mouth only served to increase Fritz's pleasure. He would have been willing to put off the end of his meal for some time, in order to enjoy the sensation of Tom's biceps flexing against the sides of his mouth, or the flesh of the boy's sides and back pushing against his palate.

However, it was time to finish this off. He lifted Tom's legs up vertically, just as he had with Damon, and leaned his head backwards again. Being mostly stuck in the heat of Fritz's esophagus, Tom shivered with cold when his bare belly felt the chilly March air that rushed in when Fritz opened his mouth wide to take in the ass. Feeling Fritz pushing down on his ass cheeks, once again Tom heard a loud gulp at the same time as he felt himself being sucked further down into the stomach. However, he hadn't descended very far before he bumped into Damon. With his face pressed up against the soft pillow formed by the backs of his upside-down friend's thighs, he was blocked from going any further. Fritz had only succeeded in getting the ass inside his mouth. The legs were still dangling outside. Fritz tried once more to cram Tom's body down into his stomach, but to no avail.

"Well," he thought, "it looks like I might have bitten off more than I can chew."

He sat there with his cheeks distended from a mouthful of fat, undergraduate butt, trying to think what to do. In the meantime, Tom still continued his useless floundering. He was too confined to be able to do more than buck his hips up and down, his hip bones squishing the spongy flesh of his ass cheeks against Fritz's palate. Where the seat of his jeans had been ripped by Fritz's teeth, the sections of the skin on Tom's ass that had been exposed were rubbed against the taste buds as he rocked his hips back and forth. His appetite piqued by the taste of Tom's butt and his excitement stimulated by the sensation of Tom's ass squirming in his mouth, Fritz's gluttonous desire for Tom's flesh flamed up anew. He wouldn't be satisfied until he had every little bit of the succulent young man inside him. He took a deep breath and tried to expand himself further than he'd ever done before. Once again grabbing the well-rounded, meaty thighs, he vigorously pushed the legs into his mouth and gulped the rest of Tom down. When the stomach around him suddenly expanded from Fritz's big inhalation, Tom felt himself slip down between Damon's back and the wall of the stomach. In an instant, he had been sucked entirely inside and the stomach lining had contracted around him. His legs had also been bent into a fetal position in order to fit inside, leaving him wrapped around his smaller friend, his cheek pressed against the nape of Damon's neck. Damon appeared to be unconscious.

Within a short time, Tom started to feel a wet, burning sensation on the exposed parts of his skin. Although somewhat fuzzyheaded from lack of air, Tom realized that it was gastric acid. He was being digested alive! Before the burning could become too intense, however, he blacked out from oxygen deprivation, while still numbly thinking, "This can't be real..."

After a short while, Fritz couldn't feel the slightest stirring any more from the young male food in his stomach. Groaning from the effort, as well as from satisfaction, he laboriously made his way into the house, weighed down by all the extra pounds he was carrying. Once inside, he lowered himself gently onto the bed with a sigh of repleted content. Lying on his back, he affectionately stroked the forms of the two boys whose shapes he could discern through the barrier of his stomach. He ran his hands down the bulges created by Tom's calves, thighs, hips, back and head. The he moved his hand to caress the convexity in his stomach where Damon's head and shoulders were pressing against the skin.

Fritz chuckled and said to himself, "I can't believe I ate the whooo...oooole thing." (Fritz was beginning to get a bit tipsy as a result of all the alcohol he'd been absorbing from the two beer-saturated college boys being dissolved in his gut).

As time passed, it became more difficult to identify the different parts of Tom's body. Then he couldn't tell any more where Damon left off and Tom began. As the digestive process did its work, the contents of his stomach eventually merged into one big lump of food being consumed.

Over the next several days, Fritz's volume was gradually reduced as the flesh from the digesting boys was absorbed into his body and burned into the energy required to fuel his metablic processes. After a week, he was over half way back to an average human size again. At this point, he leaned over the side of the bed and start to cough. After a moment, he coughed up two pairs of tennis shoes, frayed and stained by stomach acid. These were followed by a dark blue henley, a forest green polo, some earrings, a pair of khaki pants, a neckchain, a pair of jeans, two class rings, some keys, a wallet and a baseball cap. All of them showed the signs of prolonged exposure to digestive juices. Finally, he coughed up two pairs of jockey shorts, damp from a week inside his stomach and still redolent with an earthy, young male aroma. As they brushed against his palate and tongue, they excited his taste buds with gustatory fond memories of the pair of students who'd passed through in the opposite direction a week previously. As he lay back on the bed again, his salivary glands watered nostalgically as he continued digesting what was left in his belly of Tom and Damon's coalesced remains.

After a few more days, there was nothing left of the boys and he was back to his normal physical proportions. Refreshed after his double helping of undergraduate, he got up and went to wash up and brush his teeth. When he was finished, he came back and picked up the pile of discarded clothing lying on the floor, next to the bed. He carried them over to the closet door and kicked it open, revealing a cardboard box filled with an assortment of articles of male clothing in the same weathered condition, and dumped the new additions on top. As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of a frayed and acid-stained swimsuit. That reminded him that spring break would soon be upon him, and it was time to get ready for his annual hunting vacation to Daytona Beach, when all the boys would be in their peak state of tenderness after a week of continuous partying. By the time he got there, he was bound to be real hungry again.

Back to stories directory