Mario Senzale

Consumption II

I’d spend all day at Les Mills, building my ass into pure thickness from endless squats and deadlifts. I’d post on Grindr around noon, when the lunch crowd was horny and desperate, 

‘Cake at Les. Steam room. Now.’

They’d show up within minutes. Personal trainers between clients, married guys sneaking away from Midtown offices, finance bros still in their suits. I’d lead them to the steam room, bend over on the tiled bench, and let them feast. Always the same routine. They’d drop to their knees, grab my cheeks, and bury their faces in. For months, it was normal stuff. Moaning, grabbing, the usual. Five minutes max, they’d leave satisfied, and I’d hit the weights. 

Then something changed. 

Bruce first. He pressed his face in and couldn’t pull away. At first I thought he was just really into it, but then he started making these muffled sounds, trying to lift his head but somehow stuck to my ass like glue. I tried pushing him away, grabbing his shoulders and shoving, but it was as if he were being pulled deeper. Then, I felt it. More than a tongue. Like my body was expanding from the inside. 

His struggles got weaker, more distant, his whole form seemed to compress and slide inside. I looked over my shoulder and watched in horror as his feet lifted off the ground, his entire body fading into me like I was swallowing him whole. The sensation was indescribable. Incredible. Then I realized what just happened. My ass ate Bruce. And it was still hungry. As fuck.

Every hookup became feeding time. Locker rooms, steam rooms, showers. Anywhere I went, the hunger followed. My ass started changing. Getting bigger and rounder with every guy that disappeared inside. My shorts got tighter, my bench press weaker, as if I was carrying all these dudes around. So I started hitting the weights harder. Told myself I could work it off. But the thicker it got, the stronger its pull. Guys followed it around the floor like zombies, eyes glazed, walking closer without knowing why. They were hungry for my ass, and my ass was starving.

Every workout drew fresh meat. Crowds gathered around when I squatted, pretending to check it out while fighting the urge to drop down and bury their faces in it. Derek lasted maybe thirty seconds before he got sucked in, his protein shake spilling everywhere as his whole body got swallowed. The Russian guy just plunged inside, Olympic-style. Dozens of dudes got swallowed. That’s when Brad started noticing. 

“Where the fuck is everyone?” he asked, looking around the empty weight floor. Bruce wasn’t at his usual 6 AM slot. Derek’s locker stayed empty. Way fewer dudes than normal. 

Brad kept walking the floor, confused why our regulars just weren’t showing up anymore. And I just couldn’t tell him the truth. He would never understand. My ass eats men whole.