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Prey animals evolve to avoid detection and predation. Predators evolve to hunt prey. The outcome of this evolution is that a prey animal knows a predator when he sees one, and vice versa. Any encounter that one picks with the other is voluntary, even if it's destructive.

He knew I was a predator. I met him for the first time on my 54th birthday. I wasn't normally a birthday guy, but this one felt special for some reason. He was a new intern at the firm on summer break. It was the boy's second day, but he'd already looked up all the higher-ups' birthdays on Facebook. Boy wanted to make authority figures feel respected. He came too late to get to know me very well, so his gift was shitty. He looked up at me with his big, brown doe eyes and said, "Happy birthday, sir! I got you this fancy pen. I'm sorry my present wasn't better. Let me know if I can make it up to you!"

I looked down at him and let my eyes speak my mind. The boy never followed dress code: his pants were too tight and his shirts were too large. He had long, soft hair and near-perfect complexion. He was about a foot shorter than me. His smile was beautiful, but it seemed to hide a certain wickedness.

"I'm not a pen guy," I said. "Make it up to me."

His face, which looked hurt at first, suddenly contorted into an empty, lustful gaze. He looked down at the bulge I'd never made an effort to hide.

"Look at me, new boy. Can't misbehave on your second day." I put my hand on his cheek and stroked it. He was soft as butter.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whispered.

"You're gonna make it up to me, right?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy. You'll do just fine here. I'm gonna take you out to a drink tonight, okay? I like to get to know my new interns intimately."

He blushed. Adorable.

"Sir, I'm not 21..."

"You have a fake?"

He nodded his head.

"I'm picking you up at your parents' place tonight after dark. Stay up til 1. I'm taking you straight to the bar."

I did. I spent that Friday evening at the bathhouse. I got a lot of mileage out of it being birthday. Nobody was scared to take my loads that night. I'd lied and told them I was back on my meds.

I got back to my place at 12:30. I rifled through my dirty laundry. I wanted to smell overpowering. I settled on a sweaty wife-beater I put on for the gym, the undies I'd had on at the bathhouse, and a pair of Levi's. I drove over to his place and texted him. The house lights were off, so his parents were asleep. He walked out nervously and sat in my passenger seat. He looked tired. 

"You're gonna love this place," I said. 

I took him to the Brothers' in Broadripple and poured long island iced teas into him until I could tell he wasn't gonna be coy anymore. I knew he was prey since I laid eyes on him, but it shocked me how willing he was to be hunted. After his second, he looked down on my arm until his eyes reached the biohazard tattoo on my forearm. He smiled shamelessly. He reached out and touched it, saying, "I heard men with tattoos like this were dangerous."

I grinned. I don't know how, but the boy had already been corrupted. It felt pointless to go through the process of breaking him. He'd already been corrupted. But if he thought other doms pushed him before, he had no idea what was in store for him tonight.

"That's right, baby. Where'd you learn that?"

He hesitated and stuttered.

"Um... on Twitter, I think."

"You know what this tattoo means, don't you?" The waitress brought him a tequila shot I ordered while he was distracted.

"I know what your tattoo means." he was stroking my tattoo, now.

"Good boy. Tell Daddy what it means."

"It means you're poz."

"Good boy," I said. "Does that intimidate you?"

He shook his head. 

"How old are you, boy?"

He leaned forward and whispered, "I'm 18, sir. You weren't the only one with a birthday today."

I pulled his hand away from my tattoo and onto my thigh. My cock was getting hard very slowly.

"That means I'm legal, sir. I want a birthday gift, too."

He reached his hand onto my cock. I could tell by his face that he was surprised—pleasantly—by how big it was. 

"A gift I can keep with me forever."

He was drunk. I bet he was watching poz play videos all afternoon, and the liquor brought it out of him. He clearly hadn't thought this through. He was horny and trying to live out a dangerous, self-destructive fantasy. I let him.

"I don't have any condoms," I said. He looked worried, like he was having a crisis of conscience. I bought him another tequila shot and his mood improved.

"But you're mature enough to pull out. Aren't you?" he was still worried, but if he was offering himself an out, I wouldn't accept it. He needed to know what I had planned for him.

"I'm not gonna pull out," I said. He moaned. I couldn't believe this kid. "You know I'm poz. You know I'm twice as big as you. I bet you stumbled on poz porn for the first time a little bit ago. You have a voice inside your head urging you to have sleazy, illicit, dangerous sex. You're addicted to the thought of your guts being flooded by a diseased pervert. Is that right?"

He brought my tattoo up to his mouth and kissed it, letting a little spit linger between his tongue and my arm.

"That's right."

"It'll never go away. Never. You're gonna watch dozens of verbal poz play videos every day until you give in. Tease guys into raping you. Soon the idea of a guy being neg is gonna turn you off, make him seem like he's not a man." I stood up. "This is forever. Once you're poz, you're poz. If my dick is in your guts, it's because I'm gonna flood them. I'm not pulling out. There's no guarantee I'll infect you, so if this is what you really want, you need to know it's a commitment I won't stop breeding you until you're mine. You're drunk, and you'll hate yourself in the morning for choosing this, so think it over. But once I breed you, I own you."

I knew what he was gonna choose, but he might never be able to forgive himself. Fine by me. I walked to the bathroom to piss. I had a lot of beer. 10 seconds in, the boy had made up his mind.

He walked into the bathroom, dropped to his knees between me and the toilet, and aimed my piss into his mouth. He drank it for maybe 45 whole seconds, tapping the tip of my cock against his tongue and sucking the rest out of the slit. I was hard as a rock. His hand looked so tiny cupped around my balls. He licked as much piss off the urinal as he could.

In that moment, I realized why I loved being 54. 

I was exactly three times as old as my preferred prey.

I picked him up to his feet by the throat and carried him to the window. I forced it open, dumped him outside, and hopped out. I carried him over my shoulder, my big, strong hand on his soft ass the whole time. I put him in the back seat of the Cadillac and locked the doors. He looked scared, but his dick was stiff in his shorts.

"No going back now, boy," I said. He almost looked like he regretted it, but he didn't fight back at all.

I started to drive us to the nearest motel. If he knew what I had in store for him, he would've avoided me like so many other employees tried to. But this young piece of meat acted like he craved to be turned into a whore, and I was going to do it whether he really wanted to or not. 

"You got fifteen minutes until I turn that boypussy inside out for hours with my fat poz cock. Any last words, meat?"

He looked like he was falling in love with me.

"I wish I joined your firm two years ago..."

"Happy birthday, boy," I said as I parked the car in front of a Red Roof Inn. "Get ready for your gift."

TBC

 

 

 

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