Big Guys Gotta Eat

"I'm still hungry!" bellowed my massive boyfriend, Knute, as he shoveled down another burger. "Big guys gotta eat," he added in his deep, booming baritone.

He was certainly correct, as he loved to eat, and he was definitely big. 6’4”, 330 pounds, and as wide as a barn – a huge contrast from wispy little me at 5’4” and 130 pounds. He had huge muscles from his years playing football in high school and college, so his arms, pecs, and thighs were solid and strong, but it was his 55” beach-ball belly that always got the most attention…from his former football teammates, his family members, and of course, me.

One of my favorite things to do was to rub his giant stomach as he ate. I could feel it rumble with hunger and expand with all the food I cooked him. Right now, Knute was wearing a tight green shirt that didn't even pretend to cover his body, and half of his stomach and love handles were spilling out of the bottom hem and resting complacently on his thighs.

I was about to go in and trace his happy trail with my fingers when Knute let out a loud, deep belch and repeated, "Matt, I said I'm still hungry!"

Knute has already eaten a large pepperoni pizza, three large burgers, four hot dogs, and a huge bowl of pasta salad. There were still two more burgers and five hot dogs left on the table, but I knew they'd be gone within minutes.

"Hang on, the chickens are almost done!" I told him and turned away to the oven.

"Well hurry it up! I'm hungry as fuck!"

It got me so hard when my alpha lover got more demanding due to his everlasting hunger, but nevertheless, I silently urged the chickens to be done soon so I could watch him devour them. I apparently wasn’t wishing them to cook hard enough, however, because when Knute polished off the burgers and dogs, he stood up with surprising speed and grabbed me by my shoulders.

"Why isn't my food ready?" he asked angrily, letting loose a wet, rumbling, stinky belch in my face.

"I don't know, I put the chickens at the same time as yesterday,” I replied. Since his jeans were so form fitting, I could see his semi-hard dick lying to one side, forming a nice 8-inch outline.

“I’m gonna waste away if I don’t get more soon!" Knute said. He pushed me into the wall again for emphasis, and I could feel his huge hairy beast of a belly breathing heavily on top of my small chest as he waited for an answer.

"I'll check on them now, but I'm not sure if they're ready," I said.

He wiped his mouth with his hairy knuckles, and then proceeded to lick the food debris off them. "I don't care. Just give ‘em to me."

I took the chickens out of the oven and placed them on the table. Before I knew it, he was digging into them with his fingers, tearing them limb from limb. Three extra-large chickens from the supermarket, all for him, and I'd get scraps if I was lucky. And even if they were slightly raw, his stomach could handle it – I wouldn't be surprised if he could handle eating steel.

Slurping up the first of chickens and belching again to make some more room, he started digging into the second one. He was getting the bones and other pieces of it everywhere – all over his shirt, stomach, and face. He was so ravenous, and he just didn't care about making a mess. I started another batch of pasta salad and pulled out my phone to order two more pizzas via the app before he ate all three birds.

I left the kitchen for a moment to go clean up the bedroom. I hoped it would take him some time to finish, but I should've known better. Knute came up behind me, tossed me me onto the bed like I was weighed as much as a pencil, and tore my sweatpants off my legs.

"I need to distract myself,” Knute said. In seconds he was on top of me, and my legs were being pulled up on to his shoulders. I could hear him unzipping his pants, and I could've sworn I heard his now 10-inch, meaty cock plop out as well. He shoved the staff into my crack, making me yelp with pain and delight, and started thrusting in and out. All he wanted was pleasure, and I was happy to give it to him.

As he was fucking me, his stomach was pressed against my cock, going up and down with his body, jiggling each time he thrusted in. “I’m sorry for making you wait, baby. I know that big guys gotta eat. You need all that food to grow bigger, right?”

“Fuck yeah, Matt!” he replied. “Gotta keep growing! Gotta be big for my my man…make sure nobody messes with you.”

“Yeah, Knute. You gotta keep eating. We’ll get you up to 400 pounds before you know it…then 450…maybe even 500. You’ll be bigger and hotter than every guy in the state.”

“And the fuckin’ strongest, too,” he said he pounded my ass over and over.

“Yes, baby,” I said, growing hornier with each passing second. “The most massive stud around…big muscles, big belly, big ass, and gigantic cock to fuck me. My big, beefy Adonis who can have whatever he wants when he wants it.”

Eventually, and with a very loud moan, he shot his load into me, and I shot mine. At that moment we looked into each other’s eyes, and I knew he loved me. Not just for the food I made him, but he really loved me.

Alas, our moment only lasted a few seconds when the doorbell rang.

"Perfect timing!" Knute exclaimed excitedly. Getting himself together into only underwear, he stomped to the front door, opened it, and snatched the pizzas out of the delivery driver's hands. Then Knute immediately ripped open the first box and started slurping the pizza up, piece by piece. I think that maybe his gullet had adapted to the amount of food he eats, so that he could just swallow food without really chewing it.

I caught up to see the driver staring at my monster boyfriend – he was shaking, seemingly frightened. I had seen it before – unless you're attracted to him, sweaty, furious, mostly-naked Knute could be a really scary guy. I had already added a tip when ordering in the app, but I handed him another $20 bill from my wallet.

"Th – thank you, sir," the pizza guy stammered as he practically ran away from the door.

Belching really deeply and loudly, Knute looked at me with eyes that said, "We better have more food.”

I scurried into the kitchen and dug through the fridge, which I did my best to always keep full. I started making ham sandwiches, each one with three layers of ham, provolone, lettuce, and tomato. I made ten altogether by the time Knute was done with his pizzas, and I also took the pasta salad I made earlier out of the fridge so he could eat that as well.

When Knute sauntered into the kitchen doorway, his eyes lit up at the number of sandwiches and extra-large bowl of pasta salad lying in wait for him on the table. He licked his lips and pushed me out of the way as he sat down to start his next meal.

In between bites, he would grunt and belch and moan from the taste of it, and how satisfying it was for him to feel it fill his stomach. He was really the sexiest man alive for me.

Instead of using utensils for the pasta, he just took the bowl up with his hands and ate with his face. After about two minutes, this bowl the size of my torso was emptied, and all the pasta was in his belly. To get all of it out, he held it upside down over himself, and I watched as his Adam’s apple went up and down as he swallowed all of the food.

"Thirsty," he garbled while eating his seventh sandwich, so I grabbed a two-liter bottle of Coke and placed it down in front of him on the table. He guzzled down the pop with no problem, and then paused. He then opened his mouth and let loose by far his loudest, longest, deepest burp of the night. I swear I felt the floor shake.

"Aaaah," he sighed. "Now for dessert!"

I knew this was coming, and so I opened the fridge to pull out two chocolate cakes, three boxes of soft cookies, a tray of cupcakes, and a plate spilling with Boston cream donuts.

I could tell dessert was his favorite as well because he tore open a box of cookies and literally poured all twenty of them into his mouth. He chewed for all of seven seconds, and then swallowed loudly. Again, he belched and then threw the empty case on the ground, grabbing at three donuts and shoving those into his mouth at once.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that his cock was once again growing in his pants. Without words, I got underneath the table, and released his dick. It was huge, meaty, and veiny and just begging to be sucked. So, as he ate like a hungry lion, I sucked his huge cock. I loved when I got to the base and my face got smothered in his hairy belly. Honestly, I couldn't get to the base because his stomach was so big and bloated, but I don't think either of us minded.

After he came while halfway through his second cake, I reached up a bit and felt his fat stomach pulsating and growing with pastries. I put my ear up to it and could hear all the food being digested. They sounded kind of like mini-earthquakes.

He polished off the last of the donuts and cake and immediately got started on the cupcakes. I stood up from underneath the table to see him leaning over it, not even using his hands anymore. He just shoved his face down to the tray, bit down on a cupcake, and used his tongue to dig it out of its cupcake mold. Maybe he was more like a pig, but all I knew is that it was incredibly hot.

After all was said and done that night, he had eaten three pizzas, five burgers, nine hot dogs, two oversized bowls of pasta salad, three whole chickens, ten three-layered ham sandwiches, 60 cookies, two cakes, and a huge amount of cupcakes and donuts. Now he was finally satiated.

He sat in his chair, leaning back and almost breaking it, and his huge bulge was especially prominent now. He sighed and closed his eyes while licking the icing off his lips, saying "Big guys gotta eat" as he fell asleep.

“Yes, thank God they do,” I said.