Without bothering to strip him (hey, you're a murderous predator, not a pedophile), you open wide, and stuff his head in, muffling his screams. Your tongue wipes over his face, tasting the sweat and tears upon the young flesh. Your lips stretch over his shoulders, the taste of boyflesh is replaced by cotton, mixed with a bit of grassy taste. It's not really unpleasant; just dry. You shrug, and swallow his chest, grunting and moaning as your throat stretches, your hands removing his shoes and socks as your gulp his round belly in, your teeth gripping his flesh just beneath the shirt. Another gulp, and his wiggling butt vanishes, replacing the flavor of cotton with denim. You wrinkle your nose, and swallow quickly down his legs, then eagerly shove his feet in, tasting sweet boyflesh once again. But your throat cannot resist finishing your meal for long, and soon, you are once again cradling a round, full belly.
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