Big fish part 3 By Strega It was just after 2 AM when the cops showed up. Roy and Bill, on night shift as usual, showed up when one of the cops buzzed at the door. They shared glances as the two cops indicated the handcuffed blond man they had in tow. Ron shrugged and opened the door. They were just security guards, albeit ones with a long career at the sea life center. Cops had an unwritten but very real rank edge over them. "What can we do for you, officers," Bill said. "Do you have anywhere we can stow this guy while we talk," the taller officer, whose name tag read Sanderson, said. "We have a holding room for troublemakers. It's secure," Bill replied, and soon enough the man was handcuffed to a bolted-down chair and the thick door shut. Only then, after the cops followed them into the break room for a cup of coffee, was any explanation forthcoming. "We need your help questioning the perp," Sanderson said after blowing on his cup and taking a sip. The coffee wasn't bad; the staff pitched in for a decent blend and a good brewer was bought out of surplus funds a year back. "How can we do that? We're just rent-a-cops," Roy said, though that was a bit unfair. They both had a lot of seniority at the center and knew enough about marine life via osmosis that the staff respected them. Both had started as interns here, after all. It was as much chance as preference that they'd ended up guards instead of working staff. The two cops looked at each other, then glanced casually around. Looking for camera. "Seven perps have gone missing in the area of this park in the last year or so," Sanderson said casually. "I know where they went." "I can't imagine I know what you're talking about, officer," Bill said, falling back on the tried and true Deny Everything Defense. It normally worked. It didn't this time. "I've been a cop for a while," Sanderson said with no trace of irritation. "I've seen things. I was on beach patrol for a while and people disappeared there, too. Funny, you wouldn't think a fat old sea lion or a dolphin could make a perp disappear without a trace, so I never suspected they were responsible. Then a boat hit a sea lion and the propeller tore it almost in half. I was there for the cleanup and I saw what was in that long belly. We never told anybody, but I saw it. A partially digested woman. Swallowed whole and probably alive." "That's ridiculous, officer," Roy said with a well practiced straight face. "Sea lions can't -" The second cop, silent until now, thumped the table with his palm. "Shut up! Maybe most can't, but some can, can't they? I've seen it too. Not a body like Bill here but I've had people disappear and then I see a dolphin with a bulge shaped like...like a missing person." "Sir," Roy protested, but the first cop snapped at him. "Look, just listen, okay? We're not here to arrest you. Or even report you. People that disappeared here were perps or at least vandals. No bodies got found, so we never had to report anything. Because there aren't any bodies to find! Those perps disappeared down the gullet of one of your exhibits. Maybe more than one. We don't care. We just need your help." Bill shot are glance down the hall to the holding room door. "Are you saying you want this guy to disappear too?" "What we want," Sanderson said, and he paused to suck down a drink of coffee and calm himself. "Okay, okay. Sorry I yelled at you. We really do need your help. This is what we want..." Roy listened, and nodded. "You know what, officer? I think we can help you. We have just the thing." ***** Terry sat impassively in the chair, waiting for the cops to show back up. There was nothing else to do. The little room was concrete, with a fluorescent fixture unreachable overhead, a small table and his chair, both bolted to the floor. Even if he got loose from the handcuffs he'd heard the steel door lock and in defiance of fire regulations there was no way to undo the deadbolt from this side. It was just him and the table until he saw a flash of movement through the thick plexiglass window in the door. "Come with us," Officer Sanderson said, and marched him down the hall into a larger room. This too only had one door and no windows. The other officer and the two rent-a-cops blocked the door as Sanderson undid his cuffs. "You know the deal," Terry said. He couldn't contain his glee he had them under his thumb and as much as they wanted to lock him up they'd have to let him go to get what they wanted. "New deal," one of the security guards said. He pulled something from a locker, looked it over - it was some sort of rubbery fabric - and then threw it to him. Terry caught it instinctively and saw it was a wetsuit. He'd seen but never handled one before. "Put it on," the security guard said. "Can't make you. It's hard enough to put on yourself, just about impossible to put it on someone else. Where you're going you're going to want it, trust me." "What is this," Terry hissed. "Trying to squeeze it out of me? I won't talk. You want that girl back, you let me go." He flung the suit to the floor where it landed with a slap. Sanderson's eyes narrowed. Terry saw the hate there, the need to beat him senseless. But the cop held his temper. "Yes, we want her back, while she's still alive. One of two things is going to happen here. You put that on, we question you, maybe get you to talk. Then the judge will throw the case out because we forced you and maybe I'll get kicked off the force. But that little girl will live. Or, you can refuse to put it on. Then you go in a cell for the rest of your life. I guarantee we're the only people who will bargain. Policy is to not negotiate with kidnappers. You want a chance to walk, you put that on." Terry thought about it. They were going to throw him in cold water or something, water board him, whatever. But Sanderson was right. Coercing a confession out of him with get the case thrown right out and his other crimes were so well hidden he was confident they'd find nothing else. He didn't even have a parking ticket. Worst case, he'd have to move and start over somewhere else. "Let's get this over with," he growled. The wetsuit was slippery on the outside but clingy inside and one of the rent-a-cops had to help him put it on. It covered him from wrists to ankles and the next thing on the agenda was gloves that zippered on, leave only his head and neck uncovered. Naturally a hood followed and five minutes after walking into the room only his face was exposed. He was already sweating, but didn't say anything. Worse was to come, he was sure. "Fine," he growled as they marched him back down the corridor. “I have your stupid suit on. Now what?” They'd even handcuffed his hands behind his back again, not that he was going to be able to run far in the sweaty thing. "You'll see," one of the security guards said. He went ahead and opened a door, disappearing for a minute as they waited. Eventually he reappeared and waved them forward. The concrete room smelled of animal. Half was a pool that looked like it extended under a wall into another space. Terry only got a glimpse as the two security guards grabbed his elbows and forced him face down on the concrete. "What the hell," Terry protested. There was a splash and a heavy shuffling behind him and he looked over his should to see a seal or sea lion - same thing, right? Emerge dripping from the pool. Whiskers twitched and brightly alert eyes looked him over. "Hey Charlie," the taller guard said. "Fish!" The sea beast grunted happily and slapped its chest with its flippers, sending waves through the fat, then yawned. Terry got a good look past yellowed teeth into a slimy purple gullet and then to his horror it lowered its maw and engulfed both his feet. "Jesus!" He tried to yank his feet away, but he was stretched out on the concrete floor, held down by a guard. Just as it occurred to him to kick the thing away he felt a muscular tongue bunch up beneath his insteps and with a wet gulp the sea lion swallowed his feet. There was a sucking sensation as strong throat muscles gripped his ankles and pushed them into the waiting gullet. Terry was wide-eyed with horror. One gulp and he was in the thing to his knees! "Get it off!" Terry squirmed about on the concrete floor like a landed fish, and "Charlie" treated him like one. A great contraction of the sea lion's throat muscles pulled his knees out of sight and an indescribable sinking sensation came over him as the thing's swallowing muscles took hold of his legs. The fat sea lion's throat was stronger than he was and it was working itself up his thighs like a snake, twisting its muzzle from side to side. The slippery gullet he'd seen into was tight and wet and slippery around the suit and the vacuum-like sucking grip made it impossible to pull back out. Maybe if his hands were free he could get enough leverage to escape, but not with them handcuffed behind his back! "Hey." Terry looked up at the voice and the taller security guard - Ron - slipped a mask over his exposed face. They strapped the thing tightly in place and Terry peered out through the glass faceplate at the hose connected to the outside. The other guard nodded and flipped a switch on a small compressor and at once air began to whisper in. It was actually two hoses side by side, one pushing air in and the other out. And Terry realized what was happening. They had somehow constructed an apparatus to allow him to breathe even after he as swallowed whole. The hose would run up the sea lion's throat to the compressor and feed him air as he lay in Charlie's stomach. "Good boy," the other guard said, and Terry realized Charlie had stopped swallowing long enough for them to get the mask on. "All yours, Charlie." "You fucks!" Terry wriggled with all his might, but it didn't stop Charlie from working his unhinged jaws over his butt from below. His legs were stretched out in the sucking tightness of the thing's throat and it showed no sign it wanted to stop eating. It wasn't going to stop until it burped and settled down to digest him. "Not too late to talk," Officer Sanderson said conversationally. "You don't have to end up as a big bulge in a hungry sea lion's belly.” "Fuck you," Terry snapped. His voice had a hollow quality due to the mask. "You kill me and that girl's dead. Only a few more hours of air in that -" he saw the other cop taking notes. "Screw that. You know the deal, you let me go and I'll tell you where she is." "Sure, sure," Ron said. He leaned against the wall and watched as Charlie ratcheted his jaws up over Terry's shoulders. The tough material of the suit kept the sharp fangs out of his skin. "We'll see if you want to talk when Charlie's done." "Fuck you." Terry repeated as his face came to rest in the sea lion's mouth. Canine fangs framed his view of the room as he lay mostly wrapped in slick hot gullet. His chin rested on a thick fleshy tongue and he felt the ridges of palate pressing down on his head. There was a sense of instability, of an unnatural position as the throat squeezed in around his entire body. The only loose spot was in front of his face and where his feel lay in the waiting stomach. The least shift in the sea lion's posture and he'd slide neatly down its throat. "I'm not talking." Ron shrugged. "Okay Charlie. He's all yours." Terry gritted his teeth as the sea lion's gullet tensed. His feet and calves already lay in Charlie's stomach, judging by the sloshing heat he felt. The rest of him was about to join them. It took all his willpower to not shout for them to stop as Charlie lifted his muzzle to create a steep, slippery slope of gullet. Then the jaws squeezed down, a fleshy muscular tongue pushed against the faceplate and Charlie swallowed. What he's expected to happen, happened. The long chute of throat squeezed down in a rippling contraction and like a wet bar of soap gripped in a hand his body squirted free. Unfortunately he didn't come hurtling back out of the sea lion's maw. The fangs in front of his face kept that from happening and the muscular grip of the throat had a very different idea too. One heavy, wet gulp and he slithered down the slimy chute of throat, feetfirst into the waiting belly. Terry kicked as he came to rest, he he could already feel that any struggle was futile. The long stomach was surrounded by the ribcage at the top end and thick layers of inward pressing muscle and fat everywhere. It squeezed in on him like a form fitting coffin, like being buried alive in meat. A layer of slime lubricated the sides of the stomach just as it had the throat but it didn't matter. It was simply impossible to do much besides lie there and listen to the sea lion's pulse thumping through the meat. And the gurgle. Even as he arrived it started and he felt the thick liquid flow around him as the sea lion's stomach produced acids to digest its meal. Only the suit kept it from eating into his skin but the stomach didn't know about that protection and the walls to the stomach rippled, kneading the acids into every crevice of his body. The sea lion shifted, grunted, and let out a long belch that vented the air that went down with him. Then there was just the pulse, the gurgling, the darkness. And then light. He'd barely gotten used to the dark and sweltering heat when LED lights came on around the edges of the his faceplate and suddenly he could see the soft pink folds of stomach pressed against the glass. And the sloshing bile, and the undulation of the folds as they pushed it against him and kept it moving. Terry grunted and tried to squirm. Useless. Charlie let out another burp and lay there like a speed bump, letting his belly work. It it weren't for the suit.... "Tight, isn't it?" He blinked at the voice. Then he realized the hose leading from his mask through the nearby sphincter must have a wire for speakers built into the ear covers. He bet there was a microphone too. "I know it is," said the voice. "That's a modified wet suit. It's got a coating to resist acid. Took some work and some money but we couldn't use an off the shelf model, normal wet suits work for a while but they give poor Charlie an upset stomach as some of the coating dissolves." "Fuck you." It was becoming his default reply. Terry tried to pull his knee up and kick Charlie from the inside, but the form-fitting coffin of sea lion was pressing in on him. It was like trying to kick with his leg buried in sand. Slippery as the slime and digestive fluids made it, the weight of fat sea lion made it almost impossible to move. "I''m not talking," he snarled into the mike. "Right now there's a little girl in a box. I know where she is, you don't. Go ahead and turn off my air, I'll die a lot faster than she will alone in the dark." He didn't mention the miserable, sweltering heat. The suit was hot enough before he ended up in a sea lion's stomach. Sweat was a second skin between his and the suit and then outside it, another layer of hot fluid as the gurgling belly tried its very best to digest him. It gurgled and churned and shifted its juices, but he was safe. Hot, but safe. "Someone had to test that suit," Ron said casually. "We know Charlie can digest a whole human. We found out when he accidentally swallowed an intern. Funny thing to say, that, but it really was an accident. So we wondered, if he can swallow a man whole, is it possible to make a suit to stay alive in there? Turns out it is. I found out. I was right where you are last week, listening to the gurgle as Charlie's body tried to digest me. If it weren't for that suit I'd be fat and sea lion shit now." "That's great." Terry couldn't lie still, but he couldn't move either. All he could do was squirm, move in tiny increments among the inward pressing meat. He wasn't claustrophobic, but the wet flesh outside the mask and the total helplessness sparked a growing fear. Stay calm. Don't let it show in his voice. "Hey," Ron said. "Be back in a little while. Gonna go grab a coffee." There was a click and the lights went out. There was just the heat, the dark, the gurgling, the tight inward press of flesh... "Hello?" Shut up, shut up, Terry thought. They're playing mind games. They're still out there. Or were they? How long had he been in here? Minutes, already? There was nothing to see, nothing to hear but the sea lion's pulse and the gurgle as its gut kept the acid moving over the surface of its meal. It was so miserably hot he didn't notice the tingling at first. There was an itch at his wrists, ankles, around his faceplate, and slowly more spots of it developed. They were spaced along his thighs, butt, back and belly, with one on his left shoulder too. Slowly the itch developed in each spot and with nothing to look at but his mind's eye he remembered the sea lion's canine fangs pressing into the suit as it swallowed him. Desperate to relieve the itching he tried to scratch each spot with his gloved fingers, but the handcuffs and tight stomach meant it could only reach a couple. Slippery as the walls were they still clung tight to his body and made it impossible to bend down to reach the spots on his legs or slide his hands around to get the ones on his back. He managed to slide his hands upward along and rub the itchy spot beneath his chin but that just made it hurt more. Maybe he shifted the mask a fraction and let the acid in? In growing fear and despite the almost uncontrollable need to itch Terry forced himself to lie still. If he wriggled too much the chest zipper might start to leak too. There was just the dark, the thump of the sea lion's pulse, the gurgle. And the itch. "Hey," Ron said as the lights came back on. Terry winced at the sudden glare. He'd gotten used to the dark. Bile yellow acid oozed past the glass as he tried to flinch away from the sudden light. "We're getting lots of great data from the suit. I only stayed in there for a few minutes. The PH of the stomach acids is still dropping even after half an hour. Charlie is really doing his darndest to digest you. If it weren't for that suit your skin would already have dissolved and we wouldn't be having this conversation." Terry opened his mouth to say something but Ron went on. "He can digest bones too. When he digests a whole man his poop turns while. A whole human skeleton gets powered and mixed in with the rest. He really does have impressively powerful digestive juices." "Shut up," Terry said. "Listen." He stopped talking for a second and concentrated on the tingly spots. They were getting worse. The ones at the wrists, ankles and around his face were painful now. "The suit leaks." "It doesn't," the confident voice in his ears said. "You've only been in there half an hour. The coating is rated for six at that strength of acid." "Fuck you! I can feel it at my wrists and ankles, around the seal of the mask, and a bunch of other spots! The thing's teeth must have punctured the coating and the seals are leaking!" There was a conversation at the far end. He only picked up a few words. "Dislodged," "Corroded," and "...enough tests to be..." Then Ron came back on the mike. "Well, maybe you're right. If there's the least gap in the coverage some acid will get in. Don't worry, its just a few drops." There was a sudden silence at the far end and then another flurry of conversation. This time they were less careful with the mike and he heard more. "...only the outer coating is rated for..." and again, "corrosion." "What happens if..." followed, then something he couldn't hear, then Ron was back once more. "Okay, maybe worry," the man at the far end of the air hose said. "Bill reminded me that only the outer surface of the suit is acid rated. It's still fairly indigestible but if any acid gets in it might just slowly eat the gap wiper. Then more acid will get in, eat the gap wider still, and..." "And?" Terry squirmed, knowing it was futile but unable to stop himself. He was trapped in a slippery pocket of stomach and very much wanted to get out the way he came in, not the way that started with "And." "And in about a day maybe, the holes will be big enough to let a lot in. Then it'll really start. A few days after that Charlie will cough up a damaged suit that used to have you in it. I told you, we only tested the suit once. There's still work to do but we're getting some terrific data from the sensors. We've got some great ideas for improving the suit. Thanks for your help by the way." The rage bubbled up in Terry as the itch of acid at a dozen points on his body got even worse. "I want out of this thing! Get your pet monster to spit me up!" There was a shuffling noise and he recognized Officer Sanderson's voice. "Tell us where the girl is, and you come back up. Otherwise you can stew in there, even if it takes Charlie a week to digest you." "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" Terry thrashed, throwing all has strength into it. All that happened was he exhausted himself in moments and Charlie belched again. When he was limp and panting with effort he managed to speak again. "You get me out. I'll talk. I swear to God." There was another brief discussion at the far end of the hose, then, "Okay. We're bringing you up. You get one chance to tell us where she is. If it's a lie you go back in without the suit and you're sea lion shit." Terry didn't know what they did. Was Charlie trained to cough up prey on command, or did they give it some purgative? All he knew was that the sea lion grunted, shuddered and coughed. The flesh around him undulated in a way nauseatingly familiar. Charlie was about to throw up. There was a wet, sickening sound as the stomach heaved around him and suddenly it clenched, squeezing him upward. Terry had thrown up before. He'd been around people who threw up. He didn't like either occasion but he was absolutely overjoyed to be throw up himself. Sudden blinding light smote his eyes through the glass and he squirted out of the sea lion's fanged maw and onto the cold concrete floor. Charlie was still coughing and heaving as he pulled his legs from a throat that previously sucked him in like quicksand. The sea lion grunted unhappily and shuffled away, drooling profusely. They must have given it some purgative after all. "Hey Charlie," Bill said, and the sea lion obediently opened its maw wide as the man turned a hose on it. Only when Charlie's mouth was washed out did Bill turn the sprayer on Terry as well and it wasn't until they's blasted him with gallons and gallons of water that they touched him. The water was trickling away into a nearby drain when Ron pulled the mask off him. Terry gasped in the blessedly cool air as Sanderson unlocked the cuffs, leaving him free to take the suit off. He was so sweaty the suit, which went on only with the greatest reluctance, slid off as though oiled. In seconds he was down to his underwear and Terry let out a shout as they turned the sprayer on his naked skin. Bill was examining the reddened areas at his wrists and ankles almost before the water stopped. "Look at that," Bill said. "Sure enough." Terry wrapped a blanket around himself and shivered, suddenly cold. Nearby the horrible speed bump of sea lion let out a long belch and blinked at him. "Fuck you," Terry told the sea lion, and Ron chuckled and patted Charlie. "Sorry Charlie," the security guard said, and fed the thing a foot-long fish from a bucket. It disappeared into the sea lion like a letter into a mail slot. Charlie didn't even gulp. It just slipped into his maw and was gone. "Charlie's fangs must have damaged the suit. And we need to work on the seals before someone can be in there for more than a few minutes safely," Ron said. He was still looking Terry over. The reddened spots were evidence that acid had gotten in somehow. "Another hour and enough acid would get in to do real damage," Ron said. He examined the reddened area where the mask had covered the hood. "Slowly though. You'd probably survive for hours as he ever so slowly began to digest you. Eventually nature would take its course, though. It'd just take you four, maybe five days to make your way through instead of the usual one or two." Terry shuddered. Charlie looked so innocent lying there. You'd never think an animal that size could swallow you whole. He knew differently. If it weren't for the suit he'd be on his way through Charlie's digestive tract now, on his way to making a fat sea lion even fatter. "All right." Sanderson loomed over him. "Where's the girl?" Terry grunted as his hands were handcuffed behind him once again. "67 north fourth street. Newport. Trunk in the basement." Sanderson turned away, digging out his phone. For half an hour Terry listened to a disturbingly detailed description of Charlie and how his guts worked. He wasn't the first person to end up inside the sea lion, he knew. He could have lived without hearing about Charlie coughing up shoes or how the staff picked through his droppings for clothing, bits of mostly digested bone, clothing, watches or other detritus. "What checks in has to check out," Ron observed sagely. "A meal that big isn't efficiently processed. Hundred and fifty pounds of meat makes maybe twenty new pounds of sea lion fat and a hundred thirty pounds of poop." In the background the two cops talked, made calls. Waited. All Terry could do was huddle under a blanket and shiver. He'd been so hot before, but without a four-inch-thick layer of sea lion for insulation the concrete room was chilly. One of the guards brought him a cup of coffee but they all stayed in the room with the speed bump of sleeping sea lion. Terry was pretty sure he knew why. He was right. Bill was holding forth about how Charlie's stomach had somehow stretched to the point that a whole man could lie stretched out in his body cavity like a corpse in a coffin when Sanderson grimaced and waved the two security guards over. They talked quietly, shooting looks at him. Terry didn't like the way they looked at him one bit. "Okay," Ron said. "Let me help you get those cuffs off him, Jerry." Apparently that was Sanderson's first name. They drifted over and worked behind him, but when they were done he was as restrained as before. Terry tugged at the binding around his wrists as Sanderson stowed the cuffs. The cop let him stew for a minute before he spoke up. "She's dead, Terry. When you stick someone in a trunk you want to make sure they've got a way for air to get in and out. Nice little girl. Nice family. That's what you did." Without another word he reached out and pushed Terry out of the chair. Sanderson watched him with a flat expression, only his eyes showing the hate. Terry heard the shuffle of flippers and tried to pull his feet up against his chest. It didn't help. Charlie just wormed his way closer, extended his thick neck and closed his jaws around Terry's feet. Terry swore. Ron, standing behind the sea lion, muttered "Good boy" and patted the thing's head. "Good fish, Charlie." When the muscular tongue gathered itself beneath his insteps Terry knew what was about to happen. He tried to tug his feet clear before the sea lion swallowed but it was already too late. Charlie gulped and his feet slithered into a hot, slimy chute of flesh. The muscular grip of the sea lion's gullet was already too strong to fight. The undulations of its swallowing muscles sucked him deeper, just like last time. This time he felt the scrape of fangs and the ooze of lubricating drool as it slicked him down for easy swallowing. Charlie was already to his knees, working his way up Terry's legs like a snake. The wider his jaws had to gape to swallow his meal the worse the scrape of fangs grew but the real horror was the slimy grip of gullet. Each gulp dragged him deeper and the mucus squelching hotly between his toes reminded him that soon it wouldn't just be slime. It'd be hot digestive juices flowing over him as he slid into the sea lion's stomach. He was going down Charlie's throat again. This time he wouldn't come back up. "You can't do this!" He thrashed on the concrete, trying to drag his legs from the sucking grip of Charlie's gullet. Useless. The sea lion swallowed him as easily this time as last. "That's rawhide around your wrists, by the way," Ron said conversationally. "You know. Digestible." Terry let out a wordless shriek as fangs dug into his hips. Charlie's muzzle was halfway over him and he knew that pretty soon the undulating grip of the sea lion's gullet would suck him in. Soon Charlie would belch again, only this time he'd get to digest his meal. Four people knew what was happening to him. He was sure none of them would ever talk. No one would know that Terry Richards ended up as a new layer of fat on a sea lion. All because he greedy, kidnapped a little girl for ransom and fucked it up. Some people got to learn from their mistakes. Some people went to jail. His briefly occupied cell would be a sea lion's roomy stomach. Sanderson was watching him squirm with no pity in his eyes at all. "Ron," he said suddenly. "I don't suppose..." "Yeah. Hold on, Charlie." Just like that, the sea lion paused in mid-gulp. To Terry's horror the security guard picked the breathing mask up off the compressor. "You wouldn't!" But he did. Ron strapped the mask onto him with well practiced efficiency, and Bill flipped the switch on the compressor. Cool air whispered into the mask as Ron stepped back. Charlie took that as a signal and there was a scrape of fangs as the sea lion swallowed. The sucking pull of the beast's gullet pulled him in to the elbows. Three or four more gulps and he'd be gone. Down the slick chute of gullet Terry's toes squeezed through a muscular valve and there was an immediate tingle as Charlie's stomach juices went to work. Terry cursed, squirmed. It didn't stop Charlie from lifting his nose, turning his throat into a slick slope. Even between gulps, Terry could feel himself sliding deeper. The tingle of acid was up to his knees. Officer Sanderson stepped closer and looked at him as he sank into the hungry sea lion. There was no pity in his eyes, and no real hate. Just satisfaction. "I wish I could tell the family what happened to you," he said. "Maybe they'd get some closure. All I'll be able to say is that you were killed in an effort to apprehend you and you won't be able to hurt anyone else. Goodbye, Terry. You won't be missed." "Fuck yo-" Terry froze in mid-word as Charlie tensed. He knew what was about to happen. The sea lion's fangs were cruelly dug into his shoulders and the next gulp would send him sliding down its throat. Enjoy your fish, Charlie," Bill said cheerfully as the sea lion swallowed. Terry shrieked as the fangs appeared in front of his mask and he slithered feetfirst down the sea lion's throat. For an instant it seemed the fangs might catch on the mask and pull it off, but he was not so lucky. Through the closing jaws he saw Bill feeding the hose in after him. He would have air to breathe. Terry screamed as the sea lion's jaws closed, shutting off the last light, and Charlie tensed and swallowed heavily. He felt the bulge drain out of the sea lion's thick neck and into its long body where the stomach waited. That bulge was him. Terry slithered into the long slimy stomach, that coffin of flesh. He'd been in here before. Last time the gurgle only caused irritation as a few drops of acid seeped into the suit. It was different this time. Terry came to a stop in a long pocket of flesh heavy with bile-green fluid. They'd helpfully turned on the mask light again as he was swallowed. Now he could see it slosh around once more, see it flowing between the folds of belly wall. And feel it. Feel the heat, the slime, the instant burn as the gurgling stomach went to work. Charlie let out a long, satisfied belch as his belly squeezed tight around his "fish." In a merciful world that burp would vent the air and Terry would die almost instantly. There was to be no mercy. Thanks to the mask, he had all the air he needed. For as long as he lasted. Terry screamed and squirmed, trying to dislodge the mask. It was too well fastened and he was trapped in the gurgling dark, arms tied behind his back in the heat and sloshing acid. It was almost impossible to move enough to knee the sea lion from the inside. He managed it anyway. Outside, the cops and the security guards watched with great interest as the long bulge in Charlie twitched. Terry put up quite a fight. The "fish" very much didn't want to be in there but Charlie didn't care. He just lay there and dozed as his stomach treated this meal as it had all the big, warm-blooded fish he'd swallowed. Ron took detailed notes. The last of them read "Forty minutes post-ingestion. Struggle appears to have ceased. Exhaustion, heat and acid have done their work. Digestion noises quite loud now. Suspect fish's flesh will have softened enough to pull sensors off and out of Charlie." He hadn't told the cops why they made the suit. How Bill knew some people who'd pay for the chance to lie for a few minutes safely in a sea lion's stomach, and pay well. But that was with the suit. Without it... On the next page, a continuation of that last note: "Guest researcher requests we wait five more minutes before pulling sensors back up. Will wait ten. Just in case."