The Hulk crouched near the bolted heavy oak door, eyeing the small, fourteen-year-old boy, Erick, ready to pounce, trying to anticipate where the boy might try to scurry next. The stone-walled chamber wasn’t small, but it wasn’t so large that Erick had much of a chance evading the Hulk much longer. Both of them—the older man and the smaller boy, were panting, having played this cat-and-mouse game for several minutes, but Erick was more winded than the Hulk was. No one in his right mind would have bet on the slight, slender boy in these circumstances.

The hulk couldn’t have looked any more fierce. His loincloth only accentuated the jungle primeval nature of him. He was more than six and a half feet tall, with a massive, heavily worked musculature, the development of which must have taken up most of his adulthood. Bald and bullet-headed with bushy, reddish-blond eyebrows nearly hiding jet-black, intelligent eyes that darted about, seeing everything at once, measuring the angles and the distances, he was a man to easily strike terror into the heart of a young, small teenager like Erick. Though beautifully proportioned and handsome of features, Erick was less than three-quarters the size of the man stalking him in the windowless chamber, silent as death other than the heavy breathing of the hunting man and the hunted boy.

To the man, this represented the hunting and conquering of innocence. He would have his cock inside this virginal boy. He would rip the innocence out of the lad.

The man’s chest was massive, set between arms with biceps larger than Erick’s waist. Although considering the aspect of hair on the giant brought the observer’s attention immediately to the bald head, bushy eyebrows, and the Fu Manchu mustache and extra-long goatee, closer examination revealed that his arms and chest were covered in reddish-blond hair as well, so long and fine that when the light was set behind him his body took on a haloed effect. Blue, green, and red tattoos peeked out through the pelting: oval designs on the forearms and a dragon on the left shoulder and bicep. The nubs on the man’s chest were prominent, begging for rings, but, other than the tattoos, the Hulk sported no body adornment. The most dominant tattoo, at least at this moment, was the word “Respect” carved in a Gothic-letter arc following the diaphragm curve below the bulging pecs.

Erick was, at the moment, giving the Hulk all of the respect he could muster by trying to stay out of his grip.

The boy, covered only in a gauzy white cotton tunic of sorts, was moving in a semicircle as far on the other side of the stone-walled chamber as he could. The two were eyeing each other warily. The Hulk, grunting, would make a feint in one direction and Erick would quickly dart in another. Then the action would be played out in another direction. Erick knew what the Hulk was looking for in the boy’s evasion, why the man was toying with him like this. He could see the intelligence in the Hulk’s eyes. He knew the man was mapping Erick’s pattern of trying to maintain the distance between them. He knew that the man enjoyed this game, also knowing how it inevitably would end. Erick was trying to change his movement pattern, but he could see by a flash in the Hulk’s eyes and a growling laugh that rumbled deep inside the man that his moments of freedom were nearly at an end.

The Hulk crouched on his beefy haunches, ready to spring in whatever direction he decided. A broad, calloused hand went to the string holding up his loincloth. He tugged on the string, snapping it, and the loincloth fell to the floor. He gave Erick a sneery “this is all going to be inside you” smile. The monster took his time slitting a gold-foil condom packet. The Trojan Magnum brand said it all. The Hulk’s eyes followed Erick around the chamber as he rolled the condom on. Erick’s eyes were focused on the sheathing of the huge cock and what that portended.

Erick’s eyes opened wide and he sobbed. The big cock was now sheathed in erection, leaving no doubt of intent, not that there ever had been doubt of intent from the moment he was thrown into the dungeon with the giant.

The boy wasn’t here to lose his life to this monster—or not just that. He was here to lose his innocence—the innocence of all young teenagers on the brink of manhood—to the primeval forces of power and total possession. The man was here to debauch and to fuck the boy to hell.

The Hulk’s groin was hairless to accommodate the most intimidating tattoo of all, the triangle above the cock being taken up with the wings of a bat centered by a hound’s head, oversized fangs flashing. Talons reached down from both sides of the wings, perpetually trying to dig into the root of the man’s cock. The cock itself, wrapped at the root by a tight leather band was massive in its erection. Not overly long, but thick, cut, and bending menacingly to the right just beyond the glans. And it was sheathed and greased, ready for immediate action.

Erick’s entrance had been greased too before he was tossed into the room. There would be no foreplay, no time to adjust.

Erick’s hand went to his mouth to stifle the scream of recognition of what the Hulk intended to do with that cock—and how sure they both were that the Hulk would do as he liked. The moment of shock was just what the Hulk had been waiting for. He feinted right but pounced left, springing off the spongy tatami matting of the floor, and was almost upon Erick before the young man could react. When Erick did move, it was in the wrong direction.

The young man slid across the matting toward the far corner of the room. He went down in a heap and was just a second too late in springing back up. There was no place to go but the corner. Which meant there was no place to go at all. Erick cowered in the corner, drawing his knees up into his chest and trying to cover his head with his arms, not wanting to see what was coming. His pursuer hovered over him for a moment, grunting and growling.

The monster smiled, obviously pleased that the new phase of this game was now opening. Reaching down, he grabbed onto the back neckline of Erick’s tunic and easily lifted the boy up in the air. He shook his prey, looking at it as if contemplating where to begin. Erick was babbling and pleading, but the Hulk took no notice. With a sweep of his arm, he tossed Erick into the center of the empty, stone-cold dungeon. Erick landed hard on the tatami floor and, with a whimper and shudder, folded himself into a fetal position.

But in three strides the Hulk was standing over the boy again. He reached down and grabbed the neck of the tunic once more with both claws and just ripped it away, off the boy’s body, and tossed it aside. Erick lay on the matting below him, trembling and whimpering. His body was alabaster white. He was beautifully formed. Rather than the exaggerated bulk of the Hulk in every dimension, his was a very young, well-muscled, but pampered body, perfect in every proportion for a boy of barely five and a half feet. He was smooth-skinned, and had been unblemished before he had been thrown in the room but would show bruises after whatever happened to him here. His head hair was auburn, with golden highlights, and curled in a thick mop around his head. His eyes were hazel and wide open now in terror.

The Hulk reached down, put a beefy arm around the boy’s waist, and lifted his body, bent over, up into the air. Erick struggled, flailing out with both his arms and legs, resisting as best he could the assault on his body. The Hulk turned him facing up and, with his other hand, backhanded Erick twice across the face. Erick wailed and lost a bit of the fight, but not much. He was stunned long enough, though, for the Hulk to work his hips between Erick’s thighs and to position his cock so that he could start repeatedly brushing the top of his shaft across the rim of Erick’s hole.

Recovered a bit, Erick started struggling harder again, but the Hulk just laughed, retaining his strong embrace with the arm under Erick’s waist and holding his pelvis in to where Erick’s cock rested against the hounds head of the bat tattoo. With his free hand, the Hulk slapped Erick’s buttocks several times, eliciting little cries from the struggling boy. The hulk went down on his knees on the tatami mat and slammed Erick down on his back in front of him.

As they reached the flooring, he pushed his knees under Erick’s buttocks so that the boy’s pelvis was elevated above his torso, his legs were spread on the outside of the Hulk’s meaty thighs, and his channel offered a straight shot for the Hulk’s thick, curved cock. Winded, Erick didn’t struggle as the Hulk pulled the smaller man’s torso into his, jerking Erick’s legs up on his thighs. And then, pressing down on Erick’s sternum with one hand and grabbing his own cock with his other hand, he started to stuff the head of his cock into Erick’s hole. This produced louder cries and increased flailing of Erick’s arms and shaking of his head.

It was done. The cock was homed. All innocence had fled. One way or the other, Erick was fucked. But the fuck had just begun.

The Hulk lowered his mouth to Erick’s nipples and sucked and bit those as he pressed his Trojan Magnum-sheathed cock slowly deeper inside the boy, stretching Erick’s channel to accommodate him ever so slowly as there had been no preparation other than that Erick had been greased up before being tossed into the chamber.

Erick was still struggling, trying, without success, to move his legs into some position from where he either could attack the Hulk or push away from him. He was beating with his fists, again without effect, all over the Hulk’s torso, trying to push him away. His head arched back and he cried out at the rough treatment the Hulk was giving his nipples. He also was giving a babbling commentary of the movement of the cock down his channel.

None of this changed anything. The boy was fucked. The Hulk’s victory was won.

Bottomed, the Hulk raised his head off Erick’s chest and gave the boy a grin of victory. He reached for and imprisoned the wrists of the flailing arms with his fists and forced them down on the tatami flooring out wide on either side of Erick’s head. Chest heaving, Erick stared back up into the giant’s face with an expression of wonder at all that was inside him, throbbing, stretching. They held there for a few seconds of recognition that they now were one, unified, connected in some primeval way and that the reality was that there was no going back to a moment when Erick was not fully possessed by this man—and one, slight moment of acceptance on Erick’s part of what was and would not ever again be otherwise.

Miraculously, Erick’s channel walls had stretched to accommodate the pulsating shaft. For no more than a slight second Erick was struck with the thought that the victory wasn’t all the Hulk’s. The man was panting for him, deep inside him, his cock throbbing, beyond his control in wanting him. In some way this was Erick’s victory too.