Story: THE HUNTERS by Steve Geary

TallBlond1

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THE HUNTERS
by Steve Geary



Jimmy gazed with wonder and awe as he opened his high school graduation present. There it was--just what his father had promised him -- a Ruger Model 44 deer rifle. “This is to celebrate you becoming a man, son,” Frank McLain said proudly.

Frank knew this gift to his son would be like no other. He knew that until now Jimmy’s sole source of self-pride was his job at the pet shop sheering dogs. That was about to change. This gift wasn’t a mere watch, or some pair of shoes. No, this present would change his boy’s life, and Dad intended to be as much a part of the gift as possible.

Over the next couple of months, the two of them spent hours each week in the backyard doing target practice. Frank taught his boy everything he knew -- how to adjust the sights, and why Jimmy should take a small breath and hold it as he shoots. He taught Jimmy how to clean the rifle. The gun bonded the father and son like no other gift could. Soon they were both members of the National Rifle Association.

When the big weekend arrived, Jimmy was ready. The two of them drove to a hunting lodge in beautiful North Dakota, surrounded by many acres of exciting wilderness. Both men were certain Jimmy would bring home a trophy or two.

Over dinner, they met another father and son team. All four took an instant liking to each other. Russ was a trim “bear” type, beautifully muscled, looking much like Tom Selleck in his Magnum days. His son was named Sean and had a sexy, virile body. Sean was athletic and handsome.

“Do you work out?” Jimmy asked Sean.

“Six times a week!” Sean crowed, making a muscle with his bicep and inadvertently displaying a rich, sexy armpit.

“I notice you’re not eating meat tonight,” Frank mentioned to Russ.

“Yeah,” Russ replied, chewing on some baked potato. “My doctor told me to eat just chicken and fish -- gotta watch that cholesterol! But that doesn’t mean I can’t shoot.”

Russ explained his philosophy as a hunter. “All animals hunt,” he said. “We don’t hunt to kill. We kill to have hunted. It’s the thrill of the chase, the ecstatic peace that comes from beating some creature at his own game. The adrenaline rush is what keeps us coming back -- that’s why we hunt!”

Although Jimmy and Frank knew that not all animals were carnivores, they nodded in agreement, overcome with admiration of their new friends. “That’s exactly how we see it,” they nodded.

“A good hunter uses any means at his disposal,” Russ continued. “Camouflage, bird calls. It all depends on what you’re after -- I love to match wits with 'em.”

Frank looked at his son. “Jimmy, we could learn a lot from these guys.” His boy smiled, nodding in agreement.

The way all four men eyed each other, there was no doubt that they didn’t just go after deer. It’s a ‘guy’ thing: whatever the wives, girlfriends and church pastors didn’t know about wouldn’t hurt ‘em.

Frank watched happily as his son proudly porked the athletic Sean a new asshole. He could see the primitive hunger in Sean’s eyes, and both boys looked so good together. Jimmy’s thick fuck snake looked great surrounded as it was by the spheres of a young stranger’s muscular flesh. Seeing how Jimmy’s back muscles rippled, and how Sean’s asslips moved back and forth in rhythm to the fuck, made Frank plow the father’s mouth all the harder. All four men gnashed their teeth in agonized sexual ecstasy. It was an evening of scorchingly hot sex, a testosterone celebration with sperm flying through the air for hours. Each guy plowed the others. They all sweated like pigs.

Afterward, the men took a shower together and sipped cognac, basking in the sweet afterglow of wild man sex. “Maybe we’ll see you two tomorrow,” Frank smiled as they left.

“Hope so. We’ll be out there, that’s for sure!” Russ replied.

Back in their room, Frank and his boy fell asleep happy and content.

Jimmy was up early the next morning, surprised to see that Frank was gone. Soon, however, the door opened. “Time to hunt, boy,” Frank declared, proudly clasping his arm around his son’s shoulder. “This’ll be a day we’ll always remember.”

Jimmy grinned from ear to ear. It was finally happening! “Great, Dad! But where’d you go so early?”

“I needed to get an area ready for us,” Frank replied. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Whaddaya mean, Pop?” Jimmy queried as he hoisted his gun over his shoulder.

“I’ll explain,” Frank replied. “Every hunter works differently. Some move through the forest constantly in search of prey. Not us. I don’t want to give away my surprise, but we’re gonna hit up a quiet area of the forest and just sit there. Trust me, we’ll get action.”

Jimmy was intrigued. He knew his Dad was a good hunter. He liked surprises.

Frank’s eyes took on a mischievous quality. “Jimmy, in your knapsack -- are you bringing all the little extras I told you about?”

Jimmy smiled, “Don’t worry, Pop, I didn’t forget! I’ll be ready.”

“Great. We’re all set.” Quietly, they made their way through the forest. Lots of little creatures were scurrying about their business. “Don’t sweat the small ones, son,” Frank said quietly. “We’re after much bigger game. Look, son -- deer tracks.” They nodded silently to each other.

They came to a dense, dark part of the forest. “Here’s the spot, boy,” Frank explained. “Now we sit and wait -- take it easy.”

Jimmy held his breath. Several minutes passed, seeming like hours. Frank gave his son a reassuring, confident smile. “The party will come to us, boy,” he whispered. “Patience.”

An hour went by. Suddenly, Frank quietly grabbed his son’s knee. “There!” he hissed. “Look.”

Sixty yards away, a beautiful male deer slowly made its way through the forest. It was as beautiful a creature as either man had ever seen, absolutely breathtaking. They stared at it in loving admiration.

Several yards behind it, a hunter crept along, moving into position to take out the deer. “Get ready, boy,” Frank said, winking. “We wanna beat this guy to the punch.” He waited and few seconds and then chuckled. “Go ahead, Jimmy -- all yours. Time to be a man.”

Jimmy nodded. Slowly, he raised his gun to his shoulder, docking it in the sling wrapped around his left arm. “Take your time, son,” Frank cautioned. “Remember what I taught you -- don’t pull the trigger, squeeze it gently. It’ll happen.”

Jimmy aimed carefully at his target. Lightly, his finger put more and more pressure on the trigger. With a loud noise, the gun went off.

The deer was startled. It knew that sound. Quickly as it could, it leapt through the forest, scampering out of sight unharmed.

“BULLSEYE, son!” Frank yelled. “Excellent shot!” They ran up to their prey. The hunter was on his knees, his face in incredulous disbelief. He swayed left and right, then fell on his side.

“Hey, Dad!” Jimmy yelled, running up as fast as he could. “It’s Russ from last night!”

“Perfect!” Frank answered. He remembered how fine a body Russ had. “And you got ‘im, boy! Way to go, son!” Russ lay on the ground, his rifle knocked out of his arm, his body paralyzed from the neck down with blood spurting from his spine. “Good shooting, boy!” Frank cried. “Ya shot 'im right where I always told you to!”

Russ looked up. Barely able to speak, he croaked, “You -- you shot me!”

“Damn right we did,” Jimmy replied. “Now, where’s your son?”

“He -- he’s…” Russ started to say, floundering for words.

“Patience, Jimmy,” Frank interjected. “I’m guessing he won’t tell us. We’ll just wait for Sean. Where there's smoke, there’s fire -- the kid won’t be far behind.”

Russ’s head was the only part of his body that he could move, and he shook it in disbelief. “Goddamn it! Why the FUCK did you do this?!” he finally blurted.

“I’ll tell you,” Frank explained, leaning on his gun. “All animals hunt. It’s the thrill of the chase, the ecstatic peace that comes from beating some creature at his own game. The adrenaline rush is what keeps us coming back -- that’s why we hunt!”

Russ could barely speak. He recognized the words. “You’re crazy! Crazy as a loon!”

“Well, I wouldn't know how crazy loons are,” Frank replied thoughtfully. “Cuz I’ve never caught one and studied it. But I know people, my friend. My son and I, we think that guys who shoot just for the sport of it might get some insight being on the other side of the barrel.” He put down his rifle. “OK, let’s strip him, boy.”

Russ could do nothing but lie there helplessly as father and son took out their knives. With wicked smiles, they cut off all his clothes.

Throughout the process, best as he could, Russ strained his neck, looking for his son. His heart beat faster and faster. Maybe Sean would see his dilemma and shoot his dad’s captors. God, the pain from his bullet wound was unbearable! And how much blood had he already lost?!

Soon, Russ’s body was naked. Even incapacitated, it was a stunning example of the male form. “OK, Jimmy, now you’ll see why I got up early,” Frank smiled. He walked a few feet over to a pile of dirt. Just beyond the pile were two shovels and two narrow holes about six feet deep. He eyeballed one of the holes, then walked over to Russ’s body to compare the hole width to Russ’s shoulders. “Perfect! Just the right size. OK, let’s lower him down.”

Jimmy was awestruck by his father’s ingenuity. Picking up the seething man’s body, they carried him to the hole and slowly allowed the naked form to go in feet first. Russ was beside himself. “ARE YOU FUCKING BURYING ME NOW?” he exclaimed.

Frank laughed. “Not quite.” Soon, only Russ’s head appeared above the surface. “OK, boy, now we’ll shovel in as much dirt as we can. And keep your eye out for Sean!”

Within moments, they were patting the soil firmly around Russ’s neck. Only the head was exposed. “Son,” Frank said, “Russ has lots of hair on his body, so we just caught us a ‘bear’!” He grinned knowingly. “Now, what would you say bears like?”

Jimmy knew his cue. Grinning from ear to ear, he pulled the huge jar out of his knapsack. “Um, honey?”

Frank smirked. “Damn right, son. Why don’t you give this bear his treat?”

Jimmy smiled as he opened the jar and poured the contents over Russ’s head. Soon it was draining down all sides of his face. Jimmy carefully smeared the mixture into every pore and eye socket. “I brought the fur from my dog grooming,” he mentioned. “Are we ready for it yet?”

“Not quite, son,” Frank replied. “Gotta make a few adjustments to the face first.” From his own pack, he pulled out the furry facsimile of a wolf’s nose. It would have been a perfect fit on Russ’s face if the back of the nose weren’t so flat. Obviously, Russ’s facial features needed to be evened out. “Hammer, boy.”

Russ’s face couldn’t have been more sticky. But with honey dripping from his eyes he could see the hammer being passed from son to father.

Jimmy held Russ’s head in place as Frank aimed the hammer. POW! With sharp, penetrating force, the hammer collided with the hunter’s nose, flattening it. Blood sprayed from the face center, right through the honey. Russ screamed in agony, sounding more animalistic than human. “Perfect,” Frank said. “Now, just a few minor adjustments.” With a few careful, well-applied whaps of the hammer, the entire nose became even with the rest of the face.

It’s amazing how different a face appears after a nosejob. Between the bullet wound to his spine, the destroyed nose and the dripping honey, Russ was contorted with pain.

“OK, son, you brought the ants, right?”

“Sure did, Pop!” Out came the huge jar of ants. Carefully, Jimmy poured the ants on the ground all around the head. Slowly, the swarm of ants climbed up into the man’s neck, some of them getting stuck on his face. Russ’s revulsion was palpable, his face a true study of terror -- ‘What fun thoughts are racing through his head now?’ Frank mused.

Russ applied the wolf’s nose, wrapping the elastic bands tightly to the back of Russ’s head. “Russ, you mentioned that you liked camouflage. Jimmy, time for the fur.” His son gleefully poured dog hair all over Russ’s head, patting large tufts of it into every crevice, the honey allowing it to stick into place.

In the distance, Frank could see Sean coming. The boy was taking a hunter’s stance, watching for anything that moved. Surely the boy would like to impress his father with a good catch. “Jimmy,” Frank whispered hoarsely so only his son could hear, “there's Sean! You know what to do!”

Jimmy nodded. Frank looked at Russ and said, "OK, man -- howl like an animal! Make it sound real! If you don’t, I’ll pump your brain full of bullets! If you do it for three minutes, we’ll let you go.”

Russ was confused and could barely control his anger. He had only a moment to decide what to do. As he saw it, he had no choice. He howled like a wounded animal. Jimmy and Frank needn’t have been concerned as to how well Russ could scream. Even without prompting, Russ’s sounds were downright unworldly. Frank positioned himself behind a tree.

Jimmy ran to Sean, waving his arms. “Sean! Thank God you’re here, I don’t have my ammo! A wolf just attacked your dad! It’s way over there, do you see it? Your dad was able to wound it, but the fucker is still alive! Maybe it’ll kill him! Shoot it, shoot it!”

“Holy shit!” Sean exclaimed. He squinted and in the distance was able to see a wolf’s head near the ground howling its ears off. He grabbed his rifle and aimed directly at the creature’s face.

Sean was an excellent marksman. The gun went off with a loud bang, and the noise from the wolf immediately stopped. A fountain of blood poured from behind the eyes, past the strapped-on nose, the honey, and the ants. All was silent except for the wet, gurgled bubblings of blood.

Quickly, Sean ran up to his catch, Jimmy right behind him. Suddenly, Sean stopped. He stared. He blinked, frozen in his tracks. “That -- that was my -- fathe…” he said softly.

“Yep! It sure was -- and you killed him,” Jimmy said matter-of-factly as he slammed his hunting knife into his friend’s muscular back. It was a shame to mess up such an athletic, unmarked body -- but what the hell, Jimmy was now a hunter.

Sean’s jaw dropped. The rifle fell out of his hand, clattering to the ground. He turned around and looked at Jimmy, horrified. He vomited his breakfast over the ground. Frank rushed him from behind, breaking a couple of ribs with the butt of his gun. Sean’s body crumpled to the ground and he passed out.

When he came to, Sean was naked. Lying on his back, he saw both Jimmy and Frank working on him. He stared down the length of his torso as honey was poured up and down his muscular, hairy thighs. Jimmy applied generous amounts to Sean’s cock and pubic hair, then ran a line of the mixture up the abs into the light chest hairs and the deeply thicketed armpits. Sean coughed and spluttered as Frank turned his young body over. Soon Sean felt honey being poured into his perfectly sculpted ass. Unlike the father, Sean was getting honeyed up everywhere but his head.

Slowly, they lowered the young man into the second hole, his head facing what was left of his dead father. It was another perfect fit. Sean was horrified as he looked close-up at his dad with half his father’s face shot off. “You -- you can’t do this,” he said. “All the creatures of the forest -- all the bugs in the ground -- will feed on me.”

“Yep, funny how it works,” Jimmy replied.

“You’ve murdered us,” Sean said softly. “No,” Frank replied, “We’ve hunted you -- and you lost.”

“It’s -- it’s murder,” Sean stammered.

Jimmy shrugged. “You’re a prize, Sean -- one of the most beautiful guys we’ve ever seen. We coulda let you live, but this way, we’ll always know that we got us something beautiful that no other man will have. It’s our compliment to you as hunters that we like you this much. You’re really special.”

“Hunters are supposed to hunt animals! Just animals!” Sean wailed.

Frank smiled as he thought about it. “‘Just’ animals. Did you hear that, son? Sean, think of how wondrous animals truly are. Think about how birds all take flight at the same time, how salmon fight to get upstream to lay their eggs. Animals are marvelous creatures -- our friends, cohabiting this world with us. We’re not better than them -- we just have better science and can kill more efficiently. Besides, in case you haven’t heard, humans are animals, too.”

“You’re MURDERERS!” Sean seethed.

“One person’s a murderer, but an army is a glorious gathering of noblemen,” Frank smiled. “See what happens when you get a whole bunch of killers together? Numbers sanctify. The killers become heroes. In comparison, Jimmy and I are mere amateurs. It all depends on how you look at it, Sean.”

Jimmy nodded as Frank continued. “Some kill for land, some for oil, some -- like the four of us -- for sport. By the way, Sean, in case you didn’t notice from last night, we’re vegetarians. If it makes you feel any better, we have no intention of eating you.” Jimmy smiled. “He really does have a great face, doesn’t he, Dad?”

“Yes, son. It was good of you to want to save it.” Frank pulled out his knife. “Ready for your trophy, boy?”

“Hell, YEAH!” Jimmy cried.

Sean didn’t notice the knife. He was still busy trying to register what was happening to him. He looked at his captors. “You men don’t deserve guns.”

“You may be right,” Frank agreed. “Why don’t you write a letter to the NRA?” With that, he pulled the boy’s head up by the hair and placed the serrated knife edge against Sean’s Adam’s apple. Sean had the most curious expression on his beautiful face. He tried to look down to see his neck, but couldn’t because Jimmy was holding the head in position.

Frank started carving into the neck while Jimmy watched. Sean started to yell but the gasp quickly became a gurgle. Blood poured into the ground. The neck hole got bigger and bigger and started to wheeze. The lungs attempted to expand to pull in oxygen, but they couldn’t. The earth pressed tightly into his chest. Soon, most of the head had been loosened from the neck muscle.

“Son, I’ll let you finish this one off,” Frank said. Jimmy eagerly took up the knife.

Jimmy carefully eyed the head of his young friend. The stud’s lips were trembling. The nose and mouth no longer took breaths, but the neck whistled as air navigated the gaping hole. There seemed to be a distant light behind Sean’s eyes. Jimmy wondered if Sean was still aware of what was happening to him. He continued to cut Sean’s neck in half.

Frank sat on the ground and started making the two of them a little peanut butter and cracker snack. “Broader strokes, son. Try a little more pressure.” Jimmy nodded. He twisted Sean’s head to the left and right. The head faced backwards as Jimmy severed the spine. Eventually, the head came off the body entirely.

Sean’s eyes gradually receded into the dim appearance of glazed-over nothingness. When he was alive, Sean had seen that familiar expression on everything he’d killed. Now he was dead, too. Jimmy smiled as he held up the head by the hair and displayed it for his father. Sean’s head was neatly tossed into the boy’s knapsack. Frank grinned and threw his son a snack.

Nothing of Sean stuck up out of the ground now except a stump of red meat. Blood still oozed from his arteries. Finally, the blood slowed to a stop. Jimmy raised his foot and stomped on the neck, forcing it to disappear under the ground surface.

Russ’s head met the same fate from the blade. They crushed it with their boots, though, and tossed the bits into the forest for animals to pick at. Then, Jimmy and Frank planted some brush over the narrow holes. “See, son? Nobody would ever guess there are two decapitated studs standing beneath us. How do ya feel?”

“Good, Dad,” Jimmy smiled. Jimmy took a deep, happy breath. “I’d say I feel great.”

“Beautiful. Just think about it. We’ve made two hot men take premature dirt naps. They were full of life before they met us, and now, right underneath us, nature is reclaiming them. Where do you feel your pride, boy? In your gut? Your heart...?”

Jimmy considered. Sean’s beautiful head would soon be mounted on a plaque in his new sports den. This was a big moment -- a rite of passage. Sean was his first kill, and the first is always something special.

“Where do you feel it, son?“”

Slyly, Jimmy looked at his father and grinned. “My dick,” he said, reaching into his pants. “Dad, I feel it in my dick.”

Frank knelt in front of his son. Like a giant, the strapping young man stood over his father with a wide, confident stance. Frank pulled down his son’s zipper and caressed the cock hair. He pulled out the huge throbbing boner and fondled it. “Son, I’ll never call you Jimmy again. I’ll never call you boy, either.”

Just before clamping his mouth halfway down the hefty cylinder of man meat, Frank looked up and said, “Tim, you’re a fine hunter. Welcome to the pack.”
 

lindier

Forum Veteran
Joined
Sep 10, 2012
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united kingdom
Great story. Nice and erotic with lots of gore. More please
 

darkestblond

darkestblond
Joined
Sep 2, 2012
Messages
113
Location
NEW YORK
Ha, thanks madriver! I liked writing it. No matter how unconscionably sadistic both father and son are, it was fun giving them the twisted logic which they used to justify being such unrepetant sociopaths.
Hunting animals for sport is inexcusable. & inhumane. Russ & Jimmy are obviously pervs but it's impossible to condemn their regard of creatures in the wild.
Sexy too!
 
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