Even weird kids have friends 2

By Strega

"Hello," Walt said, and stuck out his hand for a shake. "The name's Walt." The gas station owner rather nervously shook it, then agreed to pay him a few dollars to sweep the parking lot.

It was a tiny town deep in the woods, little more than a few farmhouses, a gas station, a one room school house and a diner.  It existed because two county roads crossed here, and as such it was the natural location for people to meet. Like most such communities many of the residents only lingered as long as the work lasted, and farm work is seasonal, so people came and went.  People blew in on the winds, the saying went, and blew right back out. 

All the locals knew each other but the same could not be said for the transients. People could disappear here and no one would be the wiser.  It was just the sort of town Walt liked.

If he had a name besides Walt, no local knew it.  He was just the half-crazy old man who wandered into town one day asking for handouts and soon set up a home, if you could call it that, under a tarp by the Southfork road.  From there he walked into town to do odd jobs and begged handouts from the rare cityfolk who happened by. It wasn't the first little town he'd visited.  Sooner or later the sheriff would chase him out or he'd hitch a ride to the next one-horse town.  For the moment, he was a resident.

From this shelter he could see the one room school house too, and that was the problem.  No one noticed how he watched the kids, everything from kindergartners to what would be high school age anywhere else.

There weren't many and they tended to travel in small groups, chatting and kicking cans as they walked to and from school.  Except for the one who went by himself, shunned by the others and hiding as soon as he saw one of the mean older boys.
Walt looked the boy over and was pleased.  Ragged clothes, worn-out shoes, jeered at and chased by the other kids.  He was a poor boy, probably from a broken family, maybe even homeless.

"No one will miss him when he's gone," Walt said, and laid his plans.  "No one ever misses the weird kid." It wasn't the first time he said that, and he'd been right about each of them.  He'd have to move on down the road afterward, but the pickings were scarce hereabouts anyway.

But for once Walt underestimated his prey.  As he watched the boy he didn't feel other eyes watching him. After all, who really pays attention to squirrels chattering in the trees, or a groundhog in the bushes? 

So when the kid passed by Walt's little camp and turned into the woods, and Walt crept silently after him, the boy knew it.  A starling chirped and the ten-year-old nodded. He'd seen the hobo watching him before but now the man was sneaking after him.  Philip picked up the pace.  Slim and muscular from helping his mother around their little shack of a house he slipped easily through the woods.

He knew every rock, every tree far better than his pursuer and without seeming to hurry he pushed the hobo to such a pace that Walt had to half-run to keep up.
Walt cursed under his breath.  The little bastard walked fast! But though the kid was quick he was more than a foot shorter than he was.  He just had to get his hands on the unsuspecting boy and it'd all be over but the screaming.

In the shadows of the woods the boy for silhouetted for a moment against a clearing.  For just a second he walked in a straight line and Walt darted forward, hands outstretched.  At the last possible moment the boy stepped to to the side and too late Walt saw the steep drop-off. His toe hit a rock and Walt flew forward.

It was a slippery, muddy slope and he was banged up and bruised by the time he hit the water at the bottom.  "You little rat," he gasped as he struggled back upright, just as the stick in the boy's hand slammed into his head.

Slowly the darkness cleared and Walt blinked his eyes open despite the pain. The first thing he saw was the boy sitting on a stump a few feet away and as Walt tensed he discovered his hands were tied behind him. He was also nearly naked, stripped down to his underwear and stretched out on the leafy forest floor. Glancing down, he saw his ankles were bound together with a thick leather strip.

"Hey, boy," Walt said casually.  It wasn't the first time he'd had to talk himself out of a difficult situation.  "Any par'ticlar reason you got me tied up?"

"Don't like bullies," the boy said without looking up from his whittling.  

"I'm not a bully," Walt said reasonably.  Without seeming to, he tried to the bindings on his wrists.  They were strong and tight. "I was just gonna ask you a question.  I don't know these woods and I was lost."

"Is a lie," the boy said, and cut a sliver out of the stick he was whittling with a savage motion.  He frowned.  "Dang it all, you made me mess up."  He tossed the stick aside.

Walt watched with astonishment as a red fox appeared out of the woods with a short stick in its jaws.  "Thanks Dana," the boy said as he took it.  "This looks about right."

The fox looked Walt over out of amber eyes, then turned with a flick of its tail and disappeared back into the woods. It was then he noticed the gray lump on the ground next to the boy's knee.  It shifted as the kid went back to whittling and he realized it was a sleeping badger.

And there were two squirrels sitting silently on a branch nearby, watching him out of their dark little eyes.  One hopped down to the ground and scuttled right past the badger until it was by his feet.  It reached out its little forepaws and poked the leather binding around his ankles.  Satisfied, it ran back and sat next to the badger, who glanced at it without snapping up this obvious meal.

"My friends were watching you," the boy said.  Slowly and carefully he worked on his whittling.  "They say you smell like fear and death."

"You're a real jungle boy aren't ya boy," Walt said with a grin. "Me, I'm just a wanderer.  I don't hurt no one."

"Is a lie," the boy said.  "I went through your stuff when you were away from your tent.  You shouldn't a kept stuff from the kids you hurt."

"I don't hurt no one," Walt began, and the kid finally looked up from his whittling.  The boy's eyes were as dark and cold as the badger's.

"I don' get out much," the boy said.  "An' we don' have a TV, but I can read the newspaper.  You had a kid's library card in your tent and I went through the paper 'til I found his name.  No one knows what happened ta him.  Just disappeared, next county over.  Other stuff too.  Other things you," he paused to spit, "Collected."

"Well I don't know how that got there," Walt said.  "But I don't hurt no one."

"You won't no more," the boy said.  Walt's eyes were on the sharp little whittling knife, but the boy set it down.  Instead the kid showed him what he'd whittled.  It was a round little thing and it took Walt a moment to see it was a badger, but one so swollen its little limbs and head and tail were mere ornaments on a belly three times the size of the rest of it.

"Pete," the boy said, and the badger opened its eyes.  "Dinner."

"Now hold on," Walt said.  The badger rose up on its short little legs, sniffed, and looked him over.  Its eyes were dark and shiny as wet ink. Long flank-fur that made it look almost like a furry turtle rustled as it padded over to him.

"Shoo," Walt said, and pulled his feet back out of reach.  "Shoo!"

It was the biggest badger he'd ever seen, with claws two inches long on its forepaws, but it still wasn't even half his size. It waddled closer and Walt shot out his feet to kick it away.  But the badger was faster than it looked and he only grazed its haunch as it slipped away to the side.

"Don't worry," the boy said.  While Walt was distracted he'd walked up.  "He won't bite you." The boy knelt and put his hands on Walt's knees, pinning his legs to the ground.  

"What are you doing, boy," Walt said, but already he had his answer. The badger, safe now from being kicked away, padded over to Walt's bare feet. Walt tried to swivel his toes away from the pointed muzzle but the badger reached out a clawed forepaw to hold them still. Walt's eyes went wide as the badger yawned a jaw-cracking yawn and slid its maw over his toes.

"Wait a minute," Walt protested as fangs scraped his feet.  "You gonna let it just chew on me?"

"He won't chew," the boy said, and shot him a cold-eyed stare.  "You're goin' in whole."

"That's impossible," Walt started to say, but then he felt the slick grip around his toes. The badger gripped his heels with both forepaws and tugged as it pushed its muzzle forward and Walt went wide-eyed as it somehow managed to stuff his feet in. The narrow muzzle twisted as it got his feet entirely inside and there was the strong push of tongue as it swallowed. Cream-colored neckfur bulged as Walt's feet slid down the badger's throat.

"Crap," Walt said, and tried to pull his feet out, but the boy held his legs to the ground with surprising strength.  Walt was probably twice his weight but was tied up, plus the boy had leverage.  Walt could only watch as the badger's narrow muzzle slid up his calves, the bulge in its neck shifting as his ankles followed his feet into its gullet.

"That's right," the boy said.  "You're gonna be."

Walt cursed under his breath as his knees disappeared into the badger's maw. Down inside it his feet slid into a soft wet space that had to be its stomach.  Hot thick fluid fluid squelched between Walt's toes, coating his feet and stinging wherever it touched.  Walt had a sudden inspiration and locked his knees.  No matter how elastic the badger was there was no way it could keep swallowing him if he didn't let if fold him up in its gut.

"Last one tried that too," the boy said.  "Ain't gonna work.  You stay like that and he'll 'ventually digest your feet, or I'll hit ya with a rock.  Either way you'll pass out and he'll swallow ya.  Any way you look at it you're goin' in.  Be less painful if you just let it happen."

"Look boy," Walt said, feeling the growing sting of digestive juices as the badger's belly went to work on his feet.  "I didn't do nothing to you.  Why are you feedin' me to your pet monster?"

"Because you're a bully," the boy said reasonably.  "Bullies get ta meet my friends. Last couple met my friend Ray the bear. But the one before that, he wen' inta Pete here like you're goin' ta."

"I'm not going in there, boy," Walt said, his eyes not leaving the badger which had him swallowed to the knees.  The digestive juices eating at his feet were genuinely painful now but as long as he kept his knees locked that was as far as the badger would get. Maybe the acid would loosen the hide wrapped around his ankles and he could pull one foot out and kick the badger away.  He winced as the badger gnawed on his knees but the hungry little thing wasn't getting a whole man as a meal if he had anything to say about it.

"You are," the boy said, and calmly punched Walt in the balls.

It was shockingly painful and the unexpected agony on top of that of his slowly dissolving feet made him double up in pain.  For long moments gasped and would have clutched his balls were his arms not tied behind him.  Eventually he blinked tears away just as the scrape of fangs told him the badger was all the way to his waist. In that short time it had swallowed up his thighs and rump and the last sliver of his underwear slipped into its maw as a ripple moved through it swollen neckfur. Walt felt the slippery gullet clench down to suck him deeper and boggled at the already vast and still growing bulge in the badger's middle.  Sure enough it had folded his legs up in its belly.

Already its short legs barely reached the ground.  As his rump slipped down its throat, propelled by a powerful gulp, he saw how it had swallowed his legs so fast. The boy, no longer needing to hold his knees to the ground, had grabbed the thing with both hands and pushed it forward.  All the badger needed to do was yawn and gulp and in he slid.

"I wouldn't need to help Ray," the boy said conversationally.  He gave the badger a shove and it grunted and gulped. A massive bulge of butt moved through its distended neckfur, slipping down to join the unnatural bulge in its middle.  "You'd already be in his stomach.  But Pete's little.  He just needs some help ta get you down before he gets ta digest ya."

Horrified, Walt watched as his belly slipped smoothly into the badger's maw.  He was so much bigger than it was that even now it seemed the pointed muzzle making its way up his chest was a joke. It was a joke spoiled by the slick flesh wrapped around his lower body and the tingle of digestion that now worked on more than half of him.  It'd been crazy enough when only his feet were down its throat. The badger's entire body was stretching to make room for him, not just its belly.  Its torso was actually getting longer.

The grotesque bulge of his legs twitched as he tried to kick, but the stomach and muscle and hide wrapped around him was somehow too strong.  "This is impossible, boy."

"That's what the last guy Pete ate said," the boy observed as the badger blinked, reached forward with its clawed forepaws to grip Walt's elbows, and swallowed.  A great contraction of the throat stretched around him gripped him and sucked him to the armpits in the thing's maw.  "Guess he was wrong since Pete digested him just fine."

Soon now the thing's thinly stretched lips would slip up over his shoulders and then the natural tendency of its body to want to resume its usual shape would suck him right in. It couldn't reach the ground with its claws now.  His folded legs and butt and most of his chest swelled its furry pelt until the bulge lifted its feet right off the ground.

The squirrels were watching him disappear and soon now they'd be looking at a swollen badger as it settled down to digest him.   Walt didn't doubt that any more. The boy absently reached out to pet the red fox when it emerged from the trees and sat next to him.

"I think Dana here could swallow someone too," the boy said.  "Guess I'll find out next time someone bad comes by.". The fox had brought another stick and with a few quick cuts the boy whittled the start of a fox's head out of it. The big knot in the wood, Walt was sure, would end up as an enormous bulge in the fox's middle when the whittling was done.

"Oh yeah," the boy said, and picked the badger carving back up.  "Made the bulge too small.  You're bigger than the last guy.". He turned the thing in his hands and Walt was sure the bulge got bigger and changed shape. A moment later the swell of swallowed legs and hips showed and he would swear he saw it move as the badger swallowed.  "There we go."

He'd been right about the badger's jaws.  With a grunt it got them up over his shoulders and the slippery throat and stomach wrapped around him shifted as he sank into its maw. He had a fine view of the ever expanding bulge he made in the critter as its lower jaw slipped up behind his head. Its narrow muzzle worked its way up over his face until his mouth was inside its jaws and his eyes stared out on either side of its nose. 

It was tensing itself to swallow when Walt spoke for the last time, his voice muffled by the throat he was slipping into.  "You ain't natural, boy."

With a sudden slide his face slipped into the badger's gullet. Its little jaws began to close, squeezing his bulky head down toward its stomach. He could still hear the boy, though.

"You're a bad man, mister," said the boy.  "No one will miss ya when yer gone."

With a creak the badger's jaws shut and it swallowed with all its might.  Walt didn't have far to go, sliding downward maybe a foot until the valve at the bottom of the throat - he'd felt it moving over him this whole time - sealed itself shut atop his head. He was compressed into a ball inside the thing, wrapped in stretched muscle and fur little thicker than a sweater.  Somehow the badger had swallowed a man at least three times its size.

There was no way it could do that, Walt thought.  And no way it could digest this much food all at once.  Yet the slime coating the walls burned his skin and he was convinced that if he could see his feet they'd have holes burned in them already. A strong pulse throbbed through the flesh surrounding him and there were little creaks as the thing's swollen body somehow got used to being wrapped around a man like a fur coat.  More of the thick digestive bile trickled down the sides of its gut to join the pool eating away at him.

Where he was pressed against himself he felt how greasy his skin felt. It was the start of digestion and he tugged at the bindings around his wrists, hoping they'd softened.  If they had, it wasn't enough.  He had to try, though. If he got his hands free maybe he could climb back out of this furry trap before he was turned into badger shit.

Struggling made the badger twitch and groan and he felt the boy's hands press against him through the fur. It was hard to get any leverage against the slippery stomach wall to begin with and the pressure  from outside didn't help. 

Then he realized what the boy was doing. The strong hands on the other side of the fur found the voids where air remained and pushed, and from inside it Walt heard the badger let out a long, long burp. Acid rushed into his mouth and nostrils as all the air fled and in the hot dark Walt knew he wasn't getting back out.  Not the way he got in anyway, and not looking like Walt any more.

That boy ain't natural, were his last thoughts as he sank into gurgling dark.

Phillip smiled as the great bulge in Pete's middle kicked a last time and was still.  The badger was much too full to move but with his help Pete sprawled out on his side, little legs unable to do much more than wrap around the vast bulge of swallowed man.  Philip almost felt bad for asking Pete to eat the hobo, but that regret passed as Pete licked his chops and burped.  It was a difficult meal but the badger was perfectly happily to lie there and digest the man now.

Swollen to the size of a big hassock Pete made a fine pillow and Philip leaned back against his friend as he went through the hobo's belongings. There was a monogrammed wallet with a few dollars and some cards, both business and credit. He buried the cards under a rock, pocketed the money and dropped the leather wallet into Pete's jaws as the badger yawned.  It would dissolve like its owner. The underwear wouldn't but the last time Pete ate a guy those went through just fine so Philip wasn't worried.

The hobo's shoes were the wrong size and the clothing he'd stripped off while the man was unconscious was in even worse shape than his own.  Philip shrugged.  He'd bring them back to the hobo's lean-to and leave them where when he searched it for anything else salvageable.  He didn't need them and the hobo sure didn't any more.

All in all he'd gotten little out of today's activities but that was fine.  Pete got a good meal out of it and the bad man stewing in the badger's gut was well gotten rid of. Dana the fox curled up next to him for a nap and Philip stretched out with his head resting on Pete's flank. The badger was asleep now, its swollen belly demanding all of its body's resources as it worked on this huge meal.

"Sometimes I feel bad 'bout letting my friends play with people," Philip observed to no one in particular.  "But folks like you are better off inside one than outside." He reached up to stroke the badger's pointed muzzle, then like his friends he settled down for a nap. The gurgle from Pete's swollen belly soon lulled him to sleep.