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I guess when you stop to think about it, being a Hunter is really weird. And kinda evil. But it feels like such a natural part of you that you don't ever really stop to think about it.

Besides, I'm a Dark-type, being slightly evil comes naturally.

For a LONG time, I don't even really know "Hunter" was the correct term for someone like me; heck, before that Granbull girl got to me, I didn't even wonder if there should have been a term. It was all rather new to me, then, to tell the truth. Senior year in high school had been going well, nothing unexpected, until one day when some friends and I were at a lacrosse game. Our star player, a junior Zangoose, scored the winning shot moments before the end of the game, against our rival team no less, and literally tore his jersey off in celebration. I heard a girl a row behind me in the stands whistle and say "Oh Arceus, he's hot... Perfect abs and everything. Man do I wanna eat that beefcake up..."

Now, I knew it was just sexually-charged slang, but that's when something clicked for me; that was the first time I looked at someone as a potential meal. It probably didn't help that I had missed lunch that day either, but I knew this was different. And I knew it was different that a sexual "hunger" as well; I had known I was gay for a while then - heck, the Zangoose in question had been my first lay, about a year before that game - but my stomach was speaking to me more than my crotch was after hearing what that girl said.

I didn't actually eat anyone until college, though, about six months later. Even though I'd been know to pack away huge meals before, causing a bit of a belly bulge, I just thought it was being a teenage guy. I certainly didn't think I (or anyone else, for that matter) could swallow someone my size at once. But in my first party at a frat house, I got quite drunk (I knew "the punch" would have alcohol, but I guess I vastly underestimated how much) and drug this twinky Furret freshman out back with me, initially intended to just fuck him silly. While we were going at it, though, my stomach gave this thunderous growl, and without really thinking I clamped my jaws down over his head and started swallowing. He was even more plastered than I was, so I think he really had no clue what I was doing aside from going crazy on his ass; at least that's the best explanation I've got as to why he didn't struggle at all (and I think even giggled) as I ate him. I staggered back to my apartment after that, though not because I didn't want someone to see me with a gigantic gut: I had already basically left the party with someone, and in my muddled state I was more worried about looking like a scrub by returning to the party without the partner I had left with. But yeah, that was the first time my Hunting instinct kicked in and I listened.

Now, I don't Hunt every time my hunger rears up, nor do I only Hunt when my stomach says to. For example, my second Hunt: for the two or three weeks after the aforementioned party, I really had trouble believing my memories of that Furret were nothing more than a fabrication of my alcohol-laden mind of the time, despite the large gut the next day and the Furret-tail mark that appeared on (and disappeared from) my abs. I finally decided that, to convince myself whether it had actually happened or not, I had to attempt doing it again. So I went to the next frat party I could and lured this antisocial Machop guy back to my apartment and... well, I'm sure you can guess.

And you know, I really don't understand those Hunting marks that I get. I did ultimately find out they're normal for Hunters, but it's still weird that your body somehow recognizes the species of the person you eat. I mean, how does it tell the person you've ate is more than just a big bundle of nutrition? I guess it's related to the fact that your body also hungers for (and is satisfied by) food that goes down still alive as opposed to normal food. Whatever it is, those marks are completely out of my control. I mean, sometimes it makes for a pretty sweet tattoo-like thing - an Absol or a Charmeleon makes me look pretty badass and can even act as a lure* - but then there are the times where I eat someone who's not great to look at (like a Machop) or or just doesn't match my style (like a Gardevoir).

*There was this one time I managed to Hunt down a Mewtwo, and I was a little careless a few days later out at the bars in the sense that I let my midriff and Mewtwo mark show. There was this Suicune guy who saw, though, and (presumably thinking it was just a tattoo) thought I was the coolest thing ever. We didn't even get back to my place before he was worshiping my body with a focus on my "tattoo", licking all over my abs in a back alley. I don't normally have two Hunts in a week, or even in a month, but again I was a little careless that night, getting him behind those abs before having at his ass, which was poor sequencing on my part.

I think it's a really good thing that I learned early on to block my Hunting instinct from controlling when I Hunt. I don't know how common Hunters are among the general population, but there are two things to think about: connections and replenishment. Let's assume Hunters are 0.1% of the population - 1 in 1,000 - and hunt about once a month. If you think that the average person has about 100 "friends", then in a year that Hunter has likely affected the entire 1,000 other people either by directly eating them or by eating someone they knew fairly well - which isn't good. Also, if you guess that population growth happens at about 1% a year, then that one Hunter completely negates that - which is also not good. That's why I think that Hunters must be quite rare - supported by the fact that the Granbull girl was the only other Hunter I ever knew for ten or twelve years - and that I shouldn't Hunt much more than once a month; keyword "much". I think in college I averaged 12-15 Hunts a year, though that's dropped to 7-10 by now.

I did finally meet another Hunter - two in fact - about a year or two ago. I was at the pool late and heard these two musclegut guys with thick country accents - a Tauros and a Boufflant - talking in low voices about finding a couple the could "lure" in. I later found out they would only Hunt in tandem, and only when they were on vacation as their home town was both small (Hunts would be easily noticed) and conservative (missing people were closely investigated and Hunters were not accepted as just a small, hidden part of society). They had their eyes on these two university stallions - a Rapidash and a Zebstrika - but there was this Ponyta teen hanging out with them. I started off a bit wary of the two bulls, as the last Hunter I had encountered had tried to eat me, but as I eavesdropped on them I got more and more confident that I might have an opportunity. Soon, I even eased up to them and started with casual conversation but started dropping hints until they asked if I was a Hunter too, at which point we quickly moved to deciding our plan of action. Soon we were the only six guys left in the pool, and when saw the horsey guys winding down, we went to go into the locker room. That way, we were naked and about ready to hit the showers when the other three males came in. My bovine friends gave friendly "hello"s and started some causal conversation with the stallions, while I started with some subtle - and then not-so-subtle - advances on the Ponyta, making blood rush to his face and his crotch rather quickly while the older guys shot the breeze. The sexual tension I was creating in the locker room got to everyone quickly, and we went to the showers together, getting a bit handsy.

Barely after the water stared did the Tauros guy lay in to the Zebstrika while the Boufflant was on his back for the Rapidash, but the Ponyta mumbled asking if I could go slow since it was his first time - in fact, his older brother and the brother's boyfriend had only recently started taking him to the gym with them to help him get buffer and more 'marketable'. He was just so cute about it that I felt generous the whole night and decided to be slow for him, not progressing to penetration until the others were well into their ruts and not hilting inside the pony until the Tauros was near finishing and the Rapidash bellowed his climax, collapsing on the Boufflant - who promptly took the opportunity to begin his meal. Now, I was face-to-face with the pony, his back facing the action so I could watch - and he couldn't - as his brother and buddy started disappearing into the bulls. Not that he would have seen anyway, though - his eyes were closed and mouth open in a moan of bliss the whole while I had him bouncing on my hips. With it being his first time, especially in a steamy room full of man musk and sex sounds, I wasn't surprised when he came quickly over our chins and chests. I didn't mind; with how amazing it was to watch the bulls at work and with how heavenly tight they pony was, I came pretty quickly, too. I mean, holy hell it was hot to watch other people being consumed! I could see why the two always made their vacation dates as Hunts. Anyway, the pony and I just stood there panting for a while, catching our breath, until the not-quite-sex sounds from the others caught the young colt's attention. His afterglow was understandably shattered when he saw that only his brother's calves and feet and his friend's lower half remained visible to the outside world. He turned back to me with a look of terror, but instead of struggling he just kinda gave up, going semi-limp in my arms and starting to cry strongly but quietly. I felt kinda bad for him then, and despite the fact I like feeling prey struggle as it goes down, I decided to spare him the sensation of being eaten and knocked him out cold with a point-blank Dark Pulse to the face. It also gave me time to reeeeaaaally enjoy watching two bovine mouths close over two set of foothooves and give two loud final swallows; I damn near came a second time at the sensuality of those sights and sounds as my body sympathized. Then I got to enjoy my meal at a relaxed pace as the big, beefy couple jacked each other off.

Oh, and that Zangoose guy from High School? I met him five or so years ago at our ten-year reunion. He was just as ripped as I remembered, which he later told me (under the influence of a few drinks) was so he could have the best possible chance of picking up young guys as he could. He was actually married, though, but unhappily - hence why his wife wasn't at the reunion with him. He had gotten married under the impression that she would be happy being platonicly in love, but he found out rather quickly that she would not let go of the hope of "correcting" his orientation, which only served to undo his love for her and to push him more to other guys. After some more drinks at the reunion, I got him to come back with me to my apartment. I mean, I think he would've come home with me anyway based on his situation, he sounded like he needed it anyway, but I guessed he was still much stronger than me so I wanted him loopy (while I, as usual, kept myself to one drink). We were going crazy on my bed when I whispered to him "I hope you're okay with me doing something I've always wanted to do with you..." He just smiled seductively up at me and slurred "Go ahead, Carson..." So I stuffed his face into my mouth.

He went down just as easily as that Furret boy had. If that's not full circle, I don't know what is. I slept quite well that night, heheh.