The next best thing 3

By Strega

Bagheera's favorite and least favorite times of the year came back to back in the spring.

First came mating season, which led him away from Mowgli into the farther stretches of his territory.  Rival males crept in to visit with the two females his territory protected and he emerged from the resulting fights battle-scarred but victorious. That left him to visit with receptive females and when their lust (and his) was sated he returned smugly to the middle of his lands and his friends.  It was not the way of leopards for the male and female to raise the cubs together.  The female would chase away a male at any time save the mating season so other than brief encounters this was the only time he met them.

That was why he regarded Mowgli as almost a son, for he'd raised the boy in a way he could never raise his own cubs.  He'd do anything to protect Mowgli. 

Which led inevitably to his least favorite time of the year.  A week after returning from mating he was draped over a tree limb, sleepy and full after a meal of antelope, when Baloo found him.

"It is nearly time," the bear observed.  He nodded at the moon rising beyond the trees.  "First full moon after mating time."

"I know," Bagheera purred.  "I will go tomorrow."

"It is my turn," Baloo growled.  "I will go."

"No," purred Bagheera.  "You might be able to fight him off but I can outrun him. It is safer for me."  And you are not as young as you once were, he did not say.

Baloo considered.  "Are you sure?"

"I am sure," Bagheera purred.  Baloo thanked him and settled down for a nap, leaving the panther with his thoughts.  There was no help for it.  A deal is a deal.

And so the next night he padded cautiously through the night, making his way toward a lightning-struck tree that was the agreed meeting place. His whiskers bristled and his every sense was keenly alert, for he faced a superior adversary and if were not wary the night could end very badly.  There was no ambush and in the shadow of the lightning-split tree he saw a great striped form waiting.

"Bagheera," breathed Shere Khan.  "Here to make the payment, are we?"

"You know I am," purred the panther.  "A deal is a deal." He kept a wary distance, for though he was a powerful and skilled fighter Shere Khan was more than twice his size.  If the tiger got hold of him his sleek black hide would wear an overlay of stripey tiger-fur for as long as it took his enemy to digest him.

"There is a woodsman who has taken to coming into my territory.  He is young, little older than -" he began, only to be interrupted.

"No," the tiger growled.  "The price will be higher this time."

"What?  That is the deal!"

"Yessss," the tiger growled. "And I will honor it.  I will stay outside your territory and Baloo's and I will not pursue the man-cub if I meet him outside it and he retreats.  But the bargain only covers eating him.  It does not say I cannot talk to him."

"There is nothing you could say that would interest him," purred Bagheera.  "He will never trust you."

"Let me tell you a little story," the tiger growled.  "A few weeks ago I was skirting your territory and happened across a human scent.  'Dinner', I thought, and followed it.  Then suddenly, panther scent, following the human too.  A little while later the two tracks merged and then it was just panther - and careful as you were, there was the occasional pawprint, deeper than your usual ones.  I expect you gave that human a ride on your back and that explains the deeper tracks, mmm?"

"There are many sets of tracks in the jungle," Bagheera began, only to be interrupted once more.

" 'Curious', I thought," Shere Khan growled.  " 'Surely what seems to have happened here is impossible. The panther who protects the man-cub would not stalk and devour a human.'. So I set off around the edges of your territory.  There aren't many human scent trails at all there for some reason, and many of them end abruptly. What do you suppose happened to the ones making those tracks?"

Bagheera was silent, gathering his thoughts.  The tiger went on.  "When I was most of the way around your lands I found I was close to Baloo's as well.  And here was another fresh man-track.  I followed it, and then lo and behold, Baloo's tracks coming in from the side.  His tracks and the woman's merged and -"

"All right," Bagheera snapped.  "You've made your point."

"He smells so good, doesn't he," growled Shere Khan.  "It's all you can do to not gobble him up.  So you and Baloo find a substitute.  The man-cub you so cherish lives, but at the cost of how many others kicking their last inside you?"

The tiger paused to lick his chops.  "It makes me drool just to think about it, that smell.  What do you suppose will happen if I tell him what you've been doing to protect him?"

Bagheera sighed.  "Name your price."

Shere Khan tapped the jungle floor with a paw as he pretended to consider.  Of course he'd long since decided what he'd settle for.  "I could ask you to lead Baloo to me.  Together you're a match for me but by himself the bear would just make me a good meal.  A very good meal...but no, you wouldn't agree to that, would you?"

"You know I wouldn't," Bagheera growled.  "Both of us need to be alive to keep you from trying your luck."

"Well, what do you have to offer me then?"

Baloo had some secret source of good human meals, Bagheera knew. The bear never failed to come back from a hunt well fed and smugly happy with his outing.  Out of friendship he hadn't pried.  He needed a clearer target than that, though. And unfortunately he had one.

"Toward the rising sun from my territory there's a hill with jungle scarred by a fire.  A clump of dead trees at the top.  Do you know it?"

"I do," growled Shere Khan.

"A family of humans has built a house there.  Small, but big enough for four people.  I've been tempted but...a whole family.  Is that enough?"

"It is enough," growled the tiger.  "See you next year, panther."

"Not if I see you first," the panther muttered as he turned back toward his territory.  Sometimes, often even, he felt a pang of guilt as some luckless man or woman struggled in his gut.  Those pangs were nothing like this. He was beginning to have real doubts about the whole arrangement.  Maybe it was time for Mowgli to go back to his people.  Then at least they wouldn't have to feed humans to Shere Khan to keep the agreement going.

And with the man-cub gone maybe he wouldn't salivate at the merest scent of man. Maybe fewer humans would slide down a hungry panther or ursine gullet with Mowgli gone.

Bagheera didn't hate humans.  Neither did Baloo.  They merely liked to eat them very, very much.

Behind them was a cat who had hated humans since before Mowgli was born.  Shere Khan rose to all fours, stretched, and smiled a whiskery smile.  Tormenting the panther with words was great fun.  Still, if he ever got the drop on Bagheera it would all end with a belch.

He considered that the "family" awaiting his attention might be a trap, but the lure of human meat was too strong to resist.  Just the same he padded down the jungle trails on full alert. He was powerful, but not invincible. A single man with one of their death-sticks could hurt him badly or even kill him.

Two hours and many miles later he peered through the brush at a stand of dead trees. There was no sign at first of man but as he cautiously circled, a scent reached his nostrils and he crept closer.  There, at the foot of the stand of trees, was a little shack, and from it came the smell.

Shere Khan licked his chops.  There was more than one scent here, just as promised. Much as he liked the idea of Mowgli slipping helplessly into his belly, letting the boy live had its advantages.  Here was one of them, or rather four.

It was midnight when he found the shack. He had all the time he needed and he padded in a circle around the little home and its surrounding gardens, listening and sniffing. The sound of a human snore came through the open shutters of a window, the only window the little shack possessed.  He considered simply leaping in and muscles tensed beneath his striped hide for a moment before he shook his head.  No need to hurry.

As he contemplated the method he'd use to rid this little home of its human inhabitants a sound caught his attention.  Light footsteps as a small boy, clad only in a loincloth, made his way out of the house.  Sleepwalking, or off to relieve himself among the trees?

It did not matter.  'A young cub like you should be more cautious,' Shere Khan thought, but he did not say it as he stalked his prey.  A man would not know the jungle's speech. Just the same the boy heard or sensed something and turned, finding himself looking up at a tiger more than ten times his mass.

He sucked in his breath to scream, too late.  The last thing the boy saw was the flash of fangs and the glisten of wet flesh in the gullet that was to consume him.  Shere Khan's muzzle darted downward, swallowing the boy to the ankles in one quick thrust.

'Small,' the tiger thought as the little bare feet kicked from his jaws. There was a weak struggle in his throat.  'Only half the size of Mowgli, even.'

But to a tiger young prey is simply an easier to catch, more vulnerable meal.  No thought of mercy crossed Shere Khan's mind as he tossed his head back, gobbling up the little feet.  The savory taste of man-cub was on his tongue as he swallowed and saliva flowed thickly over his prey, lubricating the boy for the coming slide.

It was a small meal.  The tiger's neckfur bulged only briefly, and the arrival of the doomed boy in his belly barely made it droop.  Shere Khan licked his chops, savoring the taste.  Not even worthy of a belch, really, but the struggle from inside him offered him some amusement.  Sadly, it was short lived. The boy was too young and weak to resist the inward pressure of the stomach walls and was soon squeezed into a helpless ball. He might live for another minute or two, which was enough to feel the start of digestion as the tiger's body went to work on its little meal, but that was all.

'One,' thought Shere Khan, and turned toward the door the boy left open. It was darker inside than even the moonless night but the tiger's eyes soon adjusted. The little shack was in the shape of an L and most of its space was a single large room. Shere Khan heard breathing from a curtained doorway to his right but his attention was drawn to the two humans sleeping together on a straw mat, not a body length in front of him.

A slender dark-haired man clad only in a loincloth lay tangled with an equally dusky woman in a sarong. Husband and wife, clearly.  The dirt floor of the shack made no sound as padded paws approached the bed. Shere Khan paused, looking his meal over.  In the hot jungle night the two were stretched out, hugging even in sleep, atop the covers.

How to eat them, that was the question. One at a time, making the other watch?  In chunks or whole? Kaa had taught him how to swallow prey just as the snake had taught other local predators. In return they left the snake alone when it was gorged, and perhaps drove the occasional meal into its fangs.  

Which was not to say that the snake was a friend.  Though Kaa had refused to turn Mowgli into a boy-shaped bulge despite obvious opportunities the python once nearly ate both Baloo and Bagheera. If Shere Khan weren't imposingly large he was sure the snake would consider him as a meal as well.  

However much one might or might not trust the python the ability was very useful and so Shere Khan hid his predatory habits from humans by the simple expedient of leaving no trace of his victims behind.  These two would go whole into his belly after their child.

But one at a time, or together?  It was the sound of breathing in the next room that decided it.  He wouldn't be able to savor his meal if he had to hurry and so the one in the next room must not be alerted by screams. Shere Khan's smug grin spread into a yawn as he lowered his muzzle.

Ever so carefully he worked his jaws over two human heads, stretching his maw wide so no fang scraped and woke them. A carpet of thick, salivating tongue cushioned them from the sharp teeth of his lower jaw and the two barely stirred as slick gulletflesh slid over and around them.  They must be exhausted from whatever daily labors kept them so slender, and from tending their children.

That was all right.  They could relax now, at least until they woke and realized what was happening. Bit by bit the tiger slipped his jaws along the straw mat, allowing the occupants to slide smoothly into his throat. Their weight held them on the mat as head and shoulders they slid jointly into his maw and Shere Khan's long white whiskers twitched in amusement. He had swallowed sleeping humans before but they usually woke up well before this point.

Much as liked the screams and the struggle there was also a cruel amusement to seeing how far he could get them into his gullet before the woke up and Shere Khan pushed his lower jaw into the straw mat and inched his muzzle forward. He was all the way to their hips!  Would he get them entirely swallowed before they even woke?

Not quite.  Just as he stepped forward, his maw engulfing their thighs in one long slide, the woman rolled over in her sleep.  Or rather, the tried to.  Slippery throat trapped her against her husband and she was suddenly, shockingly awake as she realized the smooth material pressed so tightly against her was not a soft blanket but the walls of a throat. Her feet kicked from Shere Khan's jaws and the man woke as well. Together the two started humans went rigid with fear as they jointly realized that something, they knew not what predator, was swallowing them whole.

Despite their slender builds they were strong and a panicked struggle made the long bulge in Shere Khan's neck and body change shape.  It just made the tiger grin all the more as it was far too late for escape.  Lazily he lifted his head, tilting his muzzle upward, and the thick coating of lubricating drool that coated them let two sets of naked feet slide slowly into his jaws. The struggle inside him intensified as he smugly closed his mouth. Kicking feet filled his jaws and the bulge in his striped neckfur twitched due to the frantic inner struggle.

Shere Khan took his time, tasting the kicking feet and sucking the delicious scent of panicked human into his nostrils. The two put up a remarkable struggle, trapped though they were in the long slick chute of his gullet. They pushed against each other so violently to gain leverage they must be bruising each other badly, all in a desperate effort to escape. They even managed to expand his throat enough at one point to make him a bit uncomfortable.

But the strong tiger body wrapped around them was too much. After a minute's adrenaline-fueled struggle the weight of inward pressing muscle and fur was too much and they were squeezed back together, just a long bulge of meat ready to be swallowed.  Shere Khan did not keep them waiting.  Soon he would need to breathe and with a strong push of his tongue he sent the four dirty feet into his throat after the rest. He tensed, arched, and swallowed, and the tiger grinned as he felt the two slide down his throat.

A great contraction of his gullet muscles  sent the two into his belly despite a renewed struggle and this time a ponderous droop developed in his middle as two full-grown humans became tiger food.  'Three,' he thought.

This meal was not yet done.  Just as the long slide concluded and Shere Khan licked his chops the curtain in the doorway parted and a yawning teenage boy stumbled forth, perhaps attracted by some noise he'd made as he swallowed the parents.  This boy was almost precisely Mowgli's size and it was with great pleasure that Khan swept a padded paw along the floor to topple him. The tiger stepped up over his prey, grinning at the horrified expression of a boy who was about to follow his family down a tiger's gullet. 

Like his parents the boy was slim and strong and he kneed Shere Khan's fat belly as he tried to squirm free.  His already wide eyes went even wider as he felt the struggle beneath the striped pelt.  Instantly he knew where his parents were and where he was about to go.

There was plenty of horror to go around. Deep inside Shere Khan, wrapped in tightly stretched stomach, the parents discovered the slimy, already partly digested body of their young son.  The tiger's body had no more pity for the parents than it had for their child and their newly enraged struggle did not stop the flow of acids that would consume them.  Shere Khan pinned the second boy to the dirt floor with his fat belly and grinned.

"My, how delicious you smell," he growled, but of course the boy just heard a tiger's snarl. Sadly, he'd only have a conversation with this with someone like Mowgli who understood the jungle tongue.  That was all right.  Wild or civilized the boy would taste the same.

Desperate hands pushed at his cheeks as he lowered his muzzle and yawned, but a boy a fifth his weight had no more chance of escape than the three already sent to his stomach.  Shere Khan wrapped a padded paw behind the boy's shoulders and stuffed him to the armpits into his maw.

He'd had to be quiet with the child and the parents.  Not so now.  With an amused growl he pushed his nose toward to the floor,feeling the terrified struggle from within as head and neck and shoulders and most of a human body disappeared down his throat.  His strong salivating tongue went to work, scraping the boy's tender belly roughly as the tiger tasted his meal.  Strings of saliva dripped over delicious human skin as Shere Khan's jaws engulfed waist and hips.

He could take his time now, but he didn't. He'd lazily swallowed the parents but now he was in a mood to finish his meal.  Shere Khan sat back on his haunches and tossed his head, bolting the boy's rump past his fangs and immediately swallowing. The human's loincloth caught on his lower fangs and stuck in his mouth, briefly arresting the slide before Shere Khan hooked the cloth away with his claws. The parents had taken their clothing with them to a tigery stomach whereas the boy went down naked, but that simply spared the tiger the inconvenience of passing or coughing up hard to digest clothing. Naked or clothed, the fate of humans who went down his throat was the same.

His powerful throat muscles kept his meal moving and with a toss of his muzzle even the feet were gone. There was a last taste of human skin as the toes slid over his salivating tongue and then Shere Khan swallowed.  A double bulge of human feet moved through his thick neckfur and was gone as the boy slid helplessly down to join the rest of his family. 'And four.'

Shere Khan rose to his paws and stretched, his belly drooping massively.  Though the humans were not large there were four of them and that was two more than he'd ever had in one meal.  The struggle inside him amused him greatly and he held back the burp as long as he could, but eventually he had to let out a mighty belch as the air that went down with his meals finally escaped.  Four-fifths his weight in man squirmed its last inside him, some already dead, some weak, one still struggling vigorously but all doomed to the same fate as any other meat that ends up in a tiger's stomach.  A tiger's belly knows what to do with meat, even if it is in the form of entire living humans.

Shere Khan grinned, let out another long burp, and poked his nose through the curtains blocking the doorway.  Here was a small room and another straw mat that stank of the teenager newly arrived in his guts.

He hadn't expected to find a fifth human and he didn't.  What he did find was a lit candle in a pottery jar.  Shere Khan wrinkled his chops as he contemplated the red flower.  He truly feared this tool of man, but this flower was very small.

Humans used the thing as a tool but he only knew it from wildfires, campfires and torches, all of which he respected to the point of fear. Fire kept many a man or woman safe who he'd otherwise happily grant a temporary tiger-skin coat.

But it was just a little flower.  A thought occurred to Shere Khan and he poked the jar with a padded forepaw, tipping it onto a pile of books and bedclothes. The fire took at once and he backed away.

He watched from the edge of the jungle as fire consumed the shack. The fire might attract other humans, he knew, but any trace of his presence would be covered by ashes and rubble.  Barring a pawprint or two, not a single piece of evidence remained to show what had happened to the family.

Well, that wasn't strictly true, was it.  Khan let out a burp as the teenage boy spasmed inside him and was still. The reunited family, wrapped in tight gurgling darkness, shared their last moments together before the remorseless process of digestion took them all. Four less humans in the world, and to his thinking that was a good thing.  It was not as though there was a shortage, not even with Baloo, Bagheera, himself and occasionally Kaa culling the local population.

There was one piece of evidence, in the form of his heavy, swaying belly. Shere Khan padded back into the jungle in search of a quiet place to sleep off his meal.

There were times he regretted his deal with Bagheera and Baloo. He wanted nothing more than to send that annoying man-cub sliding down his throat as he had the boy just now.

Tonight he did not regret the deal. In fact he resolved to keep it going as long as he could. Bagheera had fed him not one but four humans tonight and the thought of it must torture the panther. More to the point, it got him the best meal of humans he'd ever had. Next year he'd ask for even more.

Back in his familiar lands Shere Khan stretched out on his side, giving his fat belly room to spread out. Even the boy had long since ceased to move and that was a shame. He'd keep them alive longer if he could, but a human could only survive the cauldron of his belly for so long. Eventually the heat, lack of air and digestive juices had their say.

"That's all right," Shere Khan murmured as he settled down to sleep off his meal. "There's always next time." Because whether it was Mowgli in there or not, there was nothing he cherished more than the taste of human and after that, the doomed struggle of one in his gut. He'd lost track of how many he'd eaten.  All he knew what that no matter how many he swallowed, he always wanted more.

With a last little burp he vented the traces of air that somehow lasted this long in his belly and lay down his head to rest. The warm gurgles from his middle soon lulled him to sleep.