Hungry, Hungry Harry

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What if the Bigfoot the Henderson family hit with their car wasn't entirely friendly? And what if it wasn't father George but his young son Ernie who happened upon the towering Harry in the kitchen late that first night? And what if Harry was hungry and horny?

Ernest Henderson, "Ernie" to just about everyone except his grandfather, couldn't get to sleep, squirming fitfully in his bed. It was a hot night, so the boy was sleeping on top of his covers. Even so he was sweating a little bit. But that wasn't why he couldn't sleep. It wasn't every kid whose dad hit Bigfoot with their car!

It'd happened earlier that evening when the Hendersons were returning from a camping trip. A tall, hairy figure had stepped out into the road when Ernie's father had been momentarily blinded by an annoying beam of light from the setting sun filtering through the Washington treetops. Unable to stop in time, his father had struck the figure with the family's green station wagon. At first, they'd thought it was a bear, but after examining the body, it'd been Ernie who suggested it was "him." That is, Bigfoot.

Ernie was still amazed that his father, not usually the most open minded man in the world, had accepted this. And so they'd brought the creature back to their house in the Seattle suburbs, tied to the roof of their car like a macabre Christmas tree. It was still there, on top of the car in the family's garage, and Ernie couldn't take his mind off of it. And so he tossed and turned, imagining how famous they'd be after his dad called all the news agencies in the morning. The house would be swarming with reporters! Ernie would be on TV! He could see it now, bragging to his friends at school.

He couldn't take it anymore. He had to go downstairs and look at it. Rolling over onto his side, he grabbed his large, round-framed glasses from his bedside table.

He was of slightly below average size for his age, what other kids might call a dweeb. His hair was a little longish but not too long, falling in soft waves across his forehead. His build was on the lean side; very thin, to the point where his gray pajama shirt and matching pants hung loosely off of his sticklike frame. His mother was always after him to eat more so he could put on some pounds. Not that Ernie himself particularly minded. Underneath his pajamas, the boy wore a pair of Mickey Mouse Underoos, which, if he'd been pantless and shirtless, would've done wonders to accentuate his developing body while also leaving him modest. As it was, though, these flattering undergarments were for the moment concealed beneath his loose-fitting PJs.

Sitting up, he put his glasses on and squinted in the darkness. He slid off of the mattress and got a neon orange flashlight from his toy box, and, moving carefully and quietly so he wouldn't wake his parents or his sister, he tip-toed across the second floor landing. He hated their house at night. All those creepy animal heads. He'd never admit it for fear of seeming like a wimp, but they kinda made him nervous, especially in the dark like this.

As he arrived at the top of the staircase, he could see light dimly flooding from the open kitchen door. Someone was already up and raiding the fridge. He frowned, disappointed. It was probably his dad, who would of course tell him to go back to bed. Leaning against the banister, Ernie fumbled with the flashlight, turning it over in his hands, wondering what to do. Give up and go back to his room, or risk getting caught for a chance to examine the dead Bigfoot up and close and personal?

When whoever was in the kitchen didn't emerge, Ernie decided to risk it. He could make it if he was quick! Steeling himself up, he darted down the steps. Like most boys his age, he was capable of being both extremely quick and extremely stealthy, skills honed from many a Christmas of sneaking around to watch his parents playing Santa. In mere seconds, the slender form had descended the stairs without so much as a pitter patter. Upon reaching the bottom, he almost dropped the flashlight, but caught it in midair. Phew! If it'd fallen, the noise would've been like a gunshot on the hardwood floor. He crouched. From where he was, he couldn't see who was in the kitchen. Which meant they couldn't see him. Feeling sneaky and naughty, Ernie smiled and darted along the hall and left the house through the back door.

The night was hot and humid, so Ernie took his shirt off. He set the flashlight down on the patio, and then struggled free of the stifling shirt, tossing it aside, where it caught on one of his mother's bushes. He stood bare-chested, his upper body smooth and devoid of blemishes, so slim you could count his ribs each time he inhaled, his little brown nipples soft and dark against his pale skin, and then he stooped down, picking up the flashlight, and turned it on. The beam didn't illuminate much, but it would serve his purposes well enough. Besides, he didn't feel like digging around for his father's larger, more heavy-duty Black & Decker flashlight.

His bare feet making soft slapping sounds along the cement, Ernie walked to the detached garage where his father kept their car. The door was open. He stopped, puzzled. That was weird. His dad was usually good about keeping the garage shut. An uncanny feeling crept up the boy's spine. What if Bigfoot wasn't dead? After all, they were supposed to be pretty tough. Suddenly Ernie genuinely was left wondering if an average family station wagon was capable of killing such a beast. For the second time that night, the boy considered aborting the mission and returning to bed.

No, he thought. This was his one chance to be alone with the creature and examine it for himself in private, before hundreds of reporters and scientists descended upon the neighborhood to look at it for themselves. Tonight was Ernie's night. Swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing gingerly, Ernie continued, easing the partially open door all the way open, whereupon he again stopped short, blinking at what he saw illuminated in the weak beam of the flashlight.

The Hendersons' Ford station wagon was in there, all right, dented bumper and all.

But there was nothing on the roof.

Ernie Henderson swallowed audibly, making a "gulp" sound. Bigfoot was gone. He'd been right! The boy spun, shining his light this way and that. Gone, yeah, but gone where? he wondered. His first instinct was to check the backyard. He stepped off into the grass, feeling the dew moistening his bare feet, as he inspected the backyard for footprints or any other signs that the beast had come that way. But there was nothing. Just the vast expanse of the Hendersons' well-manicured lawn and the impenetrable night that his feeble flashlight could not hope to illuminate.

As much as he wanted to keep searching, Ernie decided it was best to go and inform his father. He wouldn't need to wake him, after all, since he was already up and in the kitchen getting a snack. Flicking off his light, Ernie turned and ran back to the house as fast as his thin little legs could carrying him, which, considering his build, youth and stamina, was pretty fast! As he flew by the bush his shirt hung snagged on, he grabbed it, but didn't bother to stop and put it on, instead continuing to run back to the house. He flung the back door open and hurried into the kitchen, which was still flooded with the light from the open fridge.

"Dad--" he began, and stopped short in the doorway.

Seven feet of hairy Bigfoot stood in front of the open fridge, guzzling a carton of milk. All around him on the floor lay various discarded, half-eaten food. Crumpled Tupperware. Crushed eggs. Open tins and meat packets. Ernie's father wasn't raiding the fridge... Bigfoot was! Ernie stood staring at him. He went on slobbering and drinking the milk, ignoring the boy, who he hadn't noticed yet. Ernie's breath came in quick, reedy gasps too low for the creature to hear over the gurgling chugs as it drank from the carton. His eyes were wide behind the lenses of his glasses as he beheld a living, breathing Bigfoot in his kitchen. Wow!

He marveled at its size. Its head brushed the ceiling and it was taller than the fridge it was eating out of. Covered in thick, coarse, unkempt fur, the beast was broadly built. It had wide shoulders and an enormous, muscular, powerful-looking chest, its torso tapering down to a narrow waist and thick legs. It was built like a pro-wrestler. Muscles of unimaginable power rippled beneath the furry skin, arms as thick as tree trunks flexing as it lifted the milk carton up to its huge mouth which was filled with broad, flat, pearly white teeth. As it drank, the milk ran out around the corners of his mouth and dribbled slowly down its thick best and flat, washboard stomach. And, of course, there were its feet, which, as its name implied, were enormous. Ernie could hardly contain himself!

"Ohhh...!" he cried.

At this, Bigfoot stopped drinking, and turned to regard him, uttering forth a guttural growl.

"Ohhhh boy!" cried Ernie. "I knew you weren't dead!"

With a grunt, Bigfoot upended the carton again, but found it empty. With a grumble, it threw it aside and turned to regard the boy. Looking down its front, Ernie could finally see what gender it was, as an enormous cock hung flaccidly between the hard furry thighs. Behind it dangled huge balls that looked as big and as firm as ripe grapefruits. Ernie swallowed nervously, feeling a little uncomfortable seeing the naked genitals of another male, even if it was a Bigfoot. There was an unfamiliar stirring in his pants, but he decided to ignore it.

"Are... are you hungry?" he asked hopefully. He wasn't afraid. On the contrary, he was excited! He felt like this was his discovery and no one else's. Sure, his dad had hit him with the car, but he, Ernie, had found him alive! "You need a name!" he offered. "How about 'Harry?'"

"Harry" neither seemed to approve or disapprove. He just grunted and resumed rummaging through the fridge. Ernie winced, glancing out the door towards the stairs, thinking any second now he'd see his groggy parents coming down wondering what all the racket was. He had to get Harry outside! Setting the flashlight aside and keeping hold of his shirt, Ernie went over to where the Bigfoot was and grabbed his wrist. He tugged and started leading Harry outside to where they could play and be together without the adults interrupting just yet. He still wanted his night alone with the legendary Bigfoot.

Harry grunted and looked down at the nearly hairless young primate that was pestering him, still aching and dully angry from being struck down by the humans' vehicle earlier that evening. He glowered and didn't resist as the boy tugged on his arm and began leading him out of the kitchen towards the back door, his huge feet making the floorboards creak, but the young human was beginning to get on his nerves a little. Ordinarily, Harry was a gentle creature, as all Bigfeet were, but like all of his kind, he could be roused to great fury and anger, and after being knocked unconscious and awakening in a strange environment, the boy was trying his patience.

Nevertheless, he allowed himself to be led outside to an eager, excited chorus of "Come on, come on!" In addition to being angry, Harry was still hungry. And horny. It was mating season, and he'd actually been following the scent of a particularly ripe female when he was struck down crossing the road. He could feel his cock beginning to stiffen, and his stomach was growling, too, aching to be fed and filled, and so once they were outside, Harry, unable to control himself, wrenched his wrist free from Ernie's grasp. Ernie turned, blinking, and then the enormous, humanlike hand was pressed against his chest, and he was shoved, stumbling backwards to fall on his butt in the grass, his shirt fluttering from his grasp.

"Hey!" yelped Ernie, his glasses sliding down his nose. He pushed them back up.

Harry crossed over to him in two huge steps, and Ernie noticed with some growing concern that as the Bigfoot moved, his formerly limp cock was stiffening. Before Ernie's eyes it grew and rose up to a proud ten inches, as big and as thick around as his own arm! He uttered a strangled little gasp, feeling his own young cock tent his pants, and then Harry was upon him. Ernie's mouth worked but no sound except a hoarse rattle came out. Big, thick fingers dug underneath the waistband of his pajama pants. Harry was confused by the strange thing his new friend and soon to be meal was wearing, and so he promptly relieved Ernie of both the PJ pants and underwear, leaving the confused, frightened and aroused boy lying naked, and then with effortless ease he scooped him up, lifting him high into the air, lowering himself down into a sitting position, getting comfortable in preparation for a leisurely nighttime meal. He opened his mouth wide and lowered Ernie towards it.

A thick, broad tongue slid out to slap Ernie in the face, knocking his glasses off. They went flying away and he never saw them again. Ernie glurped and splurted as thick stinky saliva washed over his face, bathing him, and then he was lowered in, his chin slipping along the tongue, feeling Harry's huge teeth scraping harmlessly along the top of his head. It was too late to scream now. The powerful but gentle jaws closed around the human's skinny neck, and Harry gulped, effortlessly swallowing the boy's head down into his dark throat. Ernie gasped and coughed as he was taken down head-first into a world of stinking hot darkness. Harry drooled as Ernie sank down inside of him easily, slowly working him down. Ernie's thin, lithe form was swallowed easily, lewd, disgusting schlurking sounds filling the night air as the hungry Bigfoot sucked the little boy in. His form writhed and kicked, but there was no escape.

Harry groaned out, lewd, disgusting swallowing sounds coming out of him. He shifted his grip, holding his prey by just his left ankle, the leg twisting uselessly, leaving Ernie's right leg to flail desperately in the air as he reached down with his free hand and wrapped his thick fingers around his even thicker cock. He slowly started stroking himself, squeezing over the massive cock causing it to buck and begin spurting forth pre as Ernie sank deeper into him, the powerful body sucking the Henderson boy in with thick, rolling gulps that dragged the delicious naked boy in bit by bit.

Ernie slid in to the waist. Between the wriggling boy's legs, his own tiny cock stood stiffly, his balls firm and bobbing slightly with each jerking movement he made the deeper into his predator's body he went. Harry swallowed and Ernie's waist, hips and cute little ass disappeared past his lips, along with his undeveloped genitals, leaving just his legs protruding from the ravenous Bigfoot's mouth. Harry gently gnawed on them, but didn't bite down hard enough to break the skin, just enjoying the legs' firmness and deliciousness as his tongue slathered over Ernie's cock, making the boy's trapped nude form buck and wriggle, coaxing from Ernie Henderson his first conscious orgasm, sending pulses of pleasure through the child's boy as he slowly descended down the dark tube of hungry flesh.

Harry threw back his huge head and swallowed Ernie the rest of the way down, releasing his ankle. His kicking legs slowly sank down into the drooling maw which sucked them up and tucks them away down the hungry gullet. Harry let the little feet slide over his tongue, sealing his lips around the human's toes and then sucking them out of sight. A final swallow and Ernie was gone. Down Harry's throat Ernie went, the hot, slick walls crushing powerfully around him, the boy's thin, puny form slowly inching and slipping down into the smelly depths until the Bigfoot's big belly bloated out with its meal. Mmm, now he was finally full! Harry's cock curved up as the squirming bulge nestled against it, and he resumed furiously masturbating, pumping his fist along his length until with a piercing roar, he came, his cock fountaining forth bucket loads of potent Bigfoot semen to splatter all over his enormously swollen gut, matting his fur.

Harry groaned and sat back on his hands, sighing happily, and belched loudly and lewdly. He felt a little bad at having eaten Ernie. The boy had seem nice, if a little overeager and aggravating, but sometimes such primal urges couldn't be helped. And his new friend had been such a delicious meal, so in the end, Harry decided it'd all been worthwhile! He stroked his bulging stomach as his spent, drooling cock lay curved against it, the two perfectly complimenting one another. That had been so intensely satisfying, he thought to himself. The only thing that could've made it better is if there'd been a female of his own kind on hand for him to take and to breed. How lovely it would've felt to take her from behind as his bulging, boy-filled gut smushed against the small of her back as the load currently dribbling down said gut was emptied into her feminine depths to impregnate her. But one couldn't have everything, he supposed.

He yawned, contemplating spreading himself out on the lawn and going to sleep. The humidity and the fullness of his belly was making him tired. But he heard activity inside of the humans' dwelling and decided he should make himself scarce. He thought the humans might be dangerous because, after all, they had knocked him unconscious with their vehicle and abducted him, and now they'd be doubly a threat now that he'd consumed what he took to have been their offspring. Grunting, he picked himself up, and in great, long strides began walking across the lawn towards the woods which abutted the Henderson property, his cock slowly softening, still dribbling his potent seed, his stomach hanging heavy and full, fitfully squirming every so often as the meal within fought pitifully for life.

Harry could sense the coming of dawn. He'd walk as far as he could until the sun came up, and then lie low during the day. When night fell once more, he'd try and make his way back to more familiar woods and home. As he trudged through the nighttime woods, gingerly pushing past small trees and shrubs, the struggles in his belly gradually became weaker and weaker, and by the time he found somewhere to hide come daylight, he anticipated they'd have stopped altogether.

The End.

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