Sexual Predator

Sexual Predator by Goldfox

Pietro is copyright to X-Men: Evolution. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Pietro stood before his mirror, touching himself up. He smiled at himself with a confidence that comes from months of practice. Perfect. Handsome face and mouth slightly open, just enough for a hint of his perfect teeth. Head tilted so his blue eyes were the main focus. His hair was slicked back as it always was, silver and cool and sly. He grinned again as he got his pants on, making sure he didn’t wear a belt this time. The speed demon was back in front of the mirror, dressed, an instant later, preening himself once again. Finally satisfied and convinced that he was drop-dead gorgeous, he zipped out the door. A minute later had him outside a bar. He flashed a realistic-looking ID, was admitted and went to the bar, sitting on a stool as he ordered a glass of white wine. As he sipped it, he glanced around, looking over the variety. It was mostly older men out of work, but here and there were teens that were having a good time. He caught one staring at him, a rough-looking youth of about 18 with three empty bottles on the table in front of him. Pietro made himself blush and winked slyly at him, turning back to the bar, and fiddling with his glass, as if nervous. He reached down and scratched idly at his hip, ignoring the fact that he had just pushed the edge of his shirt up an inch, revealing smooth, pale skin. He could feel the kid staring at him again. He smiled to himself. Perfect. Pietro leaned forwards to pull a bowl of pretzels closer to him, innocently unaware of the fact that his motion had caused his jeans to kinda pull away from him. A hint of white boxers and he could practically hear the kid’s heart racing from across the room. Pietro settled back on the stool, munching on a pretzel, looking around. He saw the kid was still staring at him and he grinned at him. He then reached down and very, very subtly scratched at his crotch. He then got another pretzel, licking off the salt in a not-so-subtle gesture. Like a moth to a flame, the young man sauntered up him, slurring as he asked bluntly, “Hey, you straight?” Pietro could smell the strong beer on the other teen’s breath, but ignored it, answering smoothly, “Yes, but I can be… bent.” He nibbled lightly at the pretzel, smiling coyly. Those seemed to be the magic words. The kid practically fell onto him, one hand groping and squeezing his backside while the other fumbled to try and undo Pietro’s zipper, the beer-breath hard in his nostrils as the guy sought to capture his lips. Pietro played right along, groping back and locking lips. Cat-calls and taunts filled the air, but both boys ignored them, locked together. Pietro let out the expected gasp as the guy’s hand gave the zipper a miss and just plunged his dirty hand down into his boxers, gripping hard. Pietro frowned a little. He hated it when they were rough. But thankfully, he knew the remedy. He carefully positioned one leg and pushed slightly, giving the impression of trying to deepen the kiss. The guy leaned backwards, pressed by the speed demon’s advances, and then, just like he should have, fell over Pietro’s leg, crashing to the floor. Pietro looked down at him in amusement while the other bar-goers hooted and shouted. Pietro then kneeled and helped the kid up, whispering seductively in his ear, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

A minute later found them in an alley outside the bar; Pietro pressed to a wall by the teen who was simultaneously attempting to undo the other boy’s pants, grope his crotch and suck his face off. Pietro played along, knowing it would all be worth it in the end. As they kissed roughly, Pietro began to focus. He narrowed his world down to the guy pinning him to the rough brick wall, focused on his beer smell, focused on his dirty clothes, focused on his scarred hands. Then, with a deepening of the kiss, Pietro focused on narrowing down the guy. Pietro grinned when he felt the kid freeze against him, knowing something was wrong. Pietro quickly resumed kissing him, dipping a hand down the guy’s pants and tickling at his hair to tease him back into a lust-filled haze, to distract him for those few important seconds. It worked and the guy held Pietro tight as he kissed him strongly, forcing his tongue into the others mouth. Pietro smiled as he yielded, playing the submissive side of the kiss, pulling the guy closer, keeping him in contact with his body. Suddenly though, the guy went limp, collapsing a little onto him, moaning softly, “Oh man…” Pietro smiled and then quickly side-stepped, letting the guy fall to the floor and watching with glee as the guy suddenly began to shrink, clothes and all. Magneto’s genetic experiments hadn’t just been on other mutants. When Pietro had been a child still, he had given him a few ‘advancements’, thinking that if nothing else, the boy could be a useful test subject. But for many years after the injections, the serums seemed to have no effect on the hyper boy. Disappointed, Magneto had destroyed the plans, not wanting evidence left behind of his failure. Pietro didn’t know that his childhood shots hadn’t been vaccines and had gone on with his life as normal. Or as normal as a speed mutant could. But then about a year ago, Pietro began to have the most unusual pains. And they weren’t growing pains. It was a harsh burning in his gut and it ached constantly, aggravating him. Plus, he was always hungry. One night, as he walked the streets, he found himself looking at other guys, sizing them up. Not for sexual pleasure, but, as his body told him, for simple nutrition. These thoughts had scared Pietro, even more so when he discovered he would have them when looking at Lance, the only mutant he somewhat respected. One night, Pietro had lounged around the house, bending over a lot from the horrible burning inside him. His body was telling him to ‘feed’ but on what it was uselessly unspecific. Pietro had gone to the kitchen, and had started eating some cold-cuts right out of the package, trying to ease the burning. The meat seemed to be a good idea because the burns cooled. Only a little, but they cooled. But it wasn’t enough. Suddenly, Lance had come into the kitchen, scolding him not to eat right from the pack like that. Something had clicked in Pietro’s mind at the same time the burning had gotten unbearable. When Lance bent over to get something from a floor-level cupboard, Pietro had swiftly jumped him, pinning him to the floor and then biting his arm. Thank God Lance had been wearing a sweater or Pietro was sure he would have drawn blood. Lance was, to say the least, shocked by the attack. But then he got angry and had retaliated. Pietro had been sore for a week, but also very, very scared of himself. When he had had Lance pinned to the floor underneath him, he had had only one thing on his mind; ‘feedfeedfeed!’ The next week, after he could move without wincing, Pietro had gone for a walk, grimacing openly at the fire inside him. The pain of his beating had momentarily driven away his hungry pains, and they had

come back with a vengeance. Pietro had quickly left the house, fearing he’d attack Lance again and this time, hurt him badly. As he walked by the park, Pietro had seen a young teen out walking and without thinking, he’d used his speed to drag the kid into the bushes, pinning him down and bent his head, intending to bite. But then his lips accidentally brushed the kid’s and Pietro had found himself kissing the kid as he straddled him, pinning him to the ground, his hands beginning to roam. The kid obviously didn’t like the idea of being kissed by a stranger, and struggled, beating one hand against Pietro’s chest, trying to force him off. Pietro shifted his legs and grabbed the flailing wrists and held them to the ground above the kid’s head, still kissing deeply. He had no idea why he was doing this, but it felt natural and plus it felt good. He’d been without a girl for a while now and while he wasn’t gay, it was nice to ease some of his sexual tension. However the kid kept squirming, making him work for his pleasure and he found himself pressing down harder with both his body and his kiss, thinking that he wished the guy was smaller. It’d be easier to pin him down. Almost immediately, Pietro had fallen flat on the ground, the kid gone. Pietro was terrified for a minute that he had jumped Wagner, that blue teleporter, but then looking down, stared. It was the kid, but now he was all tiny! Hardly three or four inches tall! Pietro had stared, curious. What the heck? Pietro had bent down closer and found he could smell the kid. Surprisingly, he smelled good. Suddenly his cravings appeared again, the fires within suddenly an inferno. Obeying the flames, Pietro had grabbed the little thing and shoved it into his mouth, chewing hard a few times, feeling cracks against his tongue. He had swallowed before he was even aware of performing the action. Then, when his mind caught up with his rapid body, he realized what he had done. He was lying behind a bush in the park and he had just killed someone. But instead of feeling sorry or guilty or ashamed, he felt happy. The burning in his guts that had been building up for months was going away, replaced by a cool fuzziness. It had felt good. Pietro had quickly accepted his new talent, and whenever the burning came back, he’d go out to the bars and find himself a nice little treat. He had immediately toyed around with his talent and had discovered a few interesting things. Firstly, it only affected organic things, and anything they were touching. Thus, he could shrink a guy and his clothes, but he couldn’t shrink the clothes alone. Also, the effect wasn’t permanent. It would wear off after exactly three hours. But if the subject was killed while in the shrunk-state, no growing would occur. Ever. Pietro licked his lips as the guy at his feet moaned, trying to stand up without falling over. Pietro grinned and picked him up, pocketed him carefully, and then sped home, where they could have some real privacy. He found the other three guys in the living room. Freddy was asleep on the floor, a comic book over his face. Lance was asleep on the couch and Todd was curled up next to him, cuddling against the other mutant’s side. Pietro grinned and zipping up to his room, returned and took a picture of the two, chuckling, “Sweet, sweet blackmail.” He was about to go back upstairs to his room when he looked at Lance again. The flames, though kept at bay by the knowledge of the passenger in his pocket, rose a little at seeing Lance sleeping, vulnerable.

Pietro grinned at him fondly, whispering, “Never, Lance. Don’t worry.” He then zipped upstairs, a white blur, and went into his room, shutting the door silently and locking it firmly. After taking the little guy out of his pocket, he flopped down on the bed. He licked his lips as the burning within him became stronger at seeing prey. The guy, still dazed, finally looked down at himself and realized that he was being held by giant slim fingers. He looked up at Pietro and asked in a slur, “What’s going on?” Pietro smiled and lounged comfortably on the bed, head propped up on the pillow, one leg crossed over the other, his left hand down at his pants, thumb stuck in the waistband while the four fingers were in the pocket. His right hand held the guy up to his eyes as he chuckled, “Dinner.” “Huh? But I’m not hungry.” the guy stated blearily. Pietro then looked amused that the guy hadn’t gotten the underlying threat and asked in amusement, “Jeez. Just how many beers did you drink, buddy?” The guy shrugged, slurring, “About four.” Pietro had never picked one up this smashed before, so he decided to have some fun with him before getting on with business. He opened his hand and tilted it so the guy was sitting in the smooth, pale expanse of his palm, swaying and hiccupping. Pietro then asked gently, “You know what I’m going to do to you?” The man fell over backwards and shouted loudly to the ceiling, “No fu-king clue, dude!” Pietro’s amusement faded to disgust. Whoa. This guy was drunker than he had thought. Pietro wanted to just dispose of this one and find another cleaner guy for his flame-dousing, but said-flames were insistent that he had no time to find another. Pietro then shrugged and said, “Okay, buddy, listen up. I’ll be blunt. I’m going to eat you. Try not to squirm too much.” The guy looked up at him, not understanding, but then lust filled his glazed eyes as he growled, “You gonna suck me?” Pietro’s nose wrinkled, and he answered in disgust, “Hell no! I’m not gay! And even if I were, I’d die before doing it with you!” The guy was now seriously confused, obviously remembering the blurred, distant seduction in the bar. Pietro then said coldly, “I played Casanova to get you here for one single purpose: eating you. And I mean chew, swallow and digest.” The guy pondered, as if thinking this over, and then said, “But…won’t that hurt?” Pietro, his good humor returned, shrugged and swiftly popped the man into his mouth. He would have spat him out if the burning hadn’t been so darn painful. The guy tasted terrible! A mix of beer, no showers for what tasted like a month, dirty alley and fast food. Pietro grimaced, fully intending to spit the guy out. But then Pietro felt the guy squirm in his mouth and he settled back down, smiling at the pleasant sensation. The flames grew higher, but he defied them, playing with his helpless victim, chuckling as the guy squirmed, trying to escape. But Pietro couldn’t hold out long. He wanted this as bad as the flames did. He then parted his teeth, keeping his lips shut and felt the guy, because of the angle, fall onto his molars. Pietro felt him squirming

like crazy to get off, but Pietro gave him no time and crunched down hard, feeling blood explode in his mouth. Pietro sighed and a little trickle of blood slipped out past his lips unnoticed. He suddenly frowned and opened his mouth, sticking his finger inside. Something was poking him back there and it hurt. He felt around, his fingertip brushing against the pulped flesh that had once been a whole young man, and realized that when he had bitten down, he had broken the leg bone and the sharp edge was jabbing into the soft flesh of his throat. He quickly remedied the problem, ignoring the guy’s pain-filled screams and pleas, and then removed his bloody finger, chewed a few more times, just to aid digestion, and swallowed. He smiled as a cool sleepy feeling came over him, accompanied with the usual dimming of the flames inside him. He looked at his hand and smiled. His index finger, up to the second digit, had splotches of red on it. He stuck the tip in his mouth, sucking it clean, one eye half-open lazily. The burning eased to a cool, soothing balm and he sighed happily, still sucking his finger. FIN