Content
Max’s heart was beating at least twice as fast as his footsteps. Despite the peaceful wooded environment, he was as tense as he had ever been in his life. He was in familiar territory now, just moments away from their campsite. If Rust was on alert, he probably already knew the boy was close by.
Maybe Rust went somewhere else after I didn’t come back last night? Max thought. He tried to take comfort in the idea, but quickly found that not knowing exactly where the dragon might be was even worse. That seemed to be a pattern throughout his hike: trying to think through how things would go- what he should say- only to have his mind conjure up increasingly gruesome outcomes.
He thought back to that first day, when he had led Rust back to his slave master’s camp. He had told himself back then that if he got eaten too, it would have been worth it to see that man go down. But that was before he had seen the dragon’s writhing belly; watched him slowly melt his meals away into nothing. And now he had some very good, first-hand experience as to what it would be like if things turned out bad- and things were not looking good. After all, this was the event he had feared every day since the beginning. He was coming back empty handed, no tasty human for the dragon to consume except for himself, and what’s more, he was doing it on purpose.
And all this on the feeling- the hope- that Rust just might understand. That the hungry, probably annoyed dragon would just let him off the hook. But what if he did? Would he just turn around and leave? Maybe he would pretend to go, only to leap out of the trees and swallow the boy when he least expected? After all, it wouldn’t be like Rust to just let a delicious little treat wander off- There it went again, Max’s mind, leading him off down that dark path. He shooed the thoughts away.
That’s when he saw it, a little gleam of brownish-red, a color he could never mistake. He pushed through the brush, seeing a bit of movement from the other side. There was no turning back now.
Rust brought his head up off the ground and turned towards the rustling leaves. He seemed calm enough, that is until he recognized Max. As he took in the boy’s image, he grew a decidedly cross expression. Max gulped. The boy approached slowly, something he hadn’t felt the need to do in a while, as the dragon lazily rose to his feet to meet him.
Rust sniffed the air noticeably as he eyed his partner. Is he sniffing to see if I brought another human? Does he smell the gunk left over from Mallow? Max wondered. He took a deep breath. That wasn’t important right now, he had to focus on his task or he’d never be able to get a word out.
“Rust, I need to tell you something…” he said, trying to hide the fear in his voice. But he wasn’t doing a very good job, and he was nearly shaking from the anxiety. All things considered he was still just a little kid, facing down a hungry dragon. “I-… I-…” he looked away from the dragon’s face and squeezed his eyes shut.
“I DON’T WANT TO KILL PEOPLE ANYMORE!! I can’t take it!! Lying to them, tricking them, knowing that every person I meet is just going to end up as your food!! I just can’t-” His words were cut off by a sudden sob as tears began to stream down his face. He kept his eyes tightly shut, too terrified to see what reaction Rust might be having. “I know we made a deal, but I just can’t do it anymore! I’m sorry!”
At that point he had run out of things to say, and his body didn’t feel capable of forming words anymore anyway, so he just wept, trembling on his feet for a horribly long moment. He expected at any instant to feel the wrath of Rust’s response- the impact of his tackle, the swipe of his claws, the bite of his teeth- but instead he was shocked to hear the distinct sound of rustling leaves to his left. For a breathless second, Max wondered if Rust really had just walked away. He threw his head to the side and opened his blurry eyes, hoping to see the dragon’s rear passing dismissively into the brush.
What he saw instead, was the opposite in just about every way.
Poking through the foliage was the head of another dragon, even bigger than Rust (though nowhere near as massive as Mallow). It wore a fiercely predatory gaze, and a coat of flame-red scales. And it locked its eyes directly on Max.
The boy instinctively took a step back. He knew that look, by the gods did he know that look. He was so shocked that for a moment he forgot Rust was even there, regaining his attention only when he was reminded by the sound of the dragon taking a step of his own. Max’s gaze darted back to his former partner. He had likewise turned to observe the newcomer, taking a step in the other dragon’s direction, the angle of his head keeping his face from view.
The two dragon’s locked eyes for a moment, and a wordless exchange seemed to pass between them. Max, now actively shaking, watched in horror as the new dragon then proceeded to enter their clearing, seemingly by Rust’s permission, and Rust slowly and decisively turned his attention back on Max. For a timeless moment, the boy stared into the dragon’s eyes. His expression seemed busy, yet unreadable, like a hundred frenzied thoughts were racing by behind a layer of frosted glass. And then all of that changed.
Rust’s eyes narrowed, his head slunk down, and the quietest of growls leaked from his throat. Slow, sickeningly slow, both dragons began to advance on him, one methodical step after another, hunger and death in their eyes. Max took a few clumsy steps backward, but he couldn’t run- he couldn’t even turn away- and he knew all too well that he could never outrun them.
He felt his back hit against the unyielding bark of a tree. He hadn’t been looking where he was going, and they had been pushing him right up against a wall. The pair approached together, with Rust clearly out in front, until they were only a few feet away. Max saw something in Rust’s eyes click, his life flashed before his eyes, and he screamed. “Rust, no!!”
And then the world went black.
With the flash of Rust’s gaping maw burned like an afterimage into his mind, Max felt the wetness of the dragon’s gullet engulf him. Enveloped up to his chest, he began thrashing about, just as hard as any other of Rust’s previous meals. He felt his face pushed up against the tight opening of the dragon’s throat as he was slowly forced through it, the powerful muscles stretching open like elastic to eagerly welcome the boy inside. The slimy, pulsing flesh swept over his body and squelched against his skin, rendering him nice and slick for his impending trip down into the dragon’s hungry belly.
Before he knew it, Rust was lifting him off his feet, his body already halfway inside, as the dragon’s tongue lapped at his waist and slipped in under his shirt to caress the skin beneath. He’s tasting me! Savoring his newest meal! How long has he been waiting for this? How many times has he thought about breaking the deal, just so he could get a taste of me? Max thought in despair. He felt another wave of peristalsis grab him, pulling him in up to his legs. I’m already so far inside. I have no chance of getting out. Who am I kidding, I never had a chance!
He wanted to flail his arms, but he knew how insignificant those little bulges in Rust’s neck looked from the outside- even with men three times his size. He wanted to kick violently, as hard as he could, but he had seen others cut themselves badly on Rust’s teeth, only to pass out all the more quickly once they inevitably settled inside- and he no longer had enough wits about him to wonder if that would be better or worse.
So the best Max could do was try and contain himself as he felt the dragon’s tongue pass deftly over his knees. The walls of Rust’s throat enveloped him like nothing else he had ever experienced, stretching at his struggles yet always squeezing him, holding his limbs in place and constantly pushing him deeper. Soon the waves of slimy flesh began passing even faster, and as Max felt himself tipping further forward, he realized Rust was entering his endgame: the final swallow.
Fighting for room to breathe, he felt the warmth of the dragon’s body slide up to his ankles as the tops of his shoes scraped lightly against Rust’s bottom jaw. This was it, that final moment where another one of the dragon’s meals passed seamlessly into the abyss beyond those red and white gates, never again to see the light of day. This would be his last second of contact with the outside world before becoming nothing more than a bulge in his ex-partners insatiable belly. He tried to scream, but there was no room- no air.
And then it came. Max heard it- he felt it- that last, satisfied swallow as Rust sealed him away inside, slowly closing his jaws as the boy’s tiny feet disappeared behind the drop of his tongue. Max was so small, that for a moment he was contained entirely in the embrace of the dragon’s throat, already gone from Rust’s mouth and yet not quite received at his belly. It wasn’t until the last of Max’s tears were thoroughly washed away by the slick walls of the esophagus, that he felt his head begin to press against the mass of muscle that marked the entrance to his final destination.
With a firm push, Max felt his head forced past the protective sphincter, and he gasped as his face felt open air. There wasn’t much of it, and it smelled foul- but it was something. He coughed and sputtered as the rest of his body was callously shoved in behind him, squeezing him up against the far wall of the stomach as it stretched to accommodate him.
He flailed around for a moment as the passage closed behind him, sealing him inside. The sac was filled with a noticeable amount of fluid. An assortment of solid objects littered its bottom, but seemed to break effortlessly or even dissolve completely when he pressed against them. Max was somewhat lucky in that this particular belly was used to holding food much larger than his adolescent form, and so stretched quite easily as he tried to adjust himself- undoubtably producing a series of eerily familiar bulges in Rust’s underbelly.
Eventually, Max ended up on his back in a semi-fetal position, and slowly began to catch his breath. He pressed his hands up against the stomach walls, trying to stabilize himself as Rust began to move around, only to find them sliding down off the slick flesh to land in the insidious puddle of digestive juices that surrounded him.
Feeling something hard move into an uncomfortable spot against his back, he did his best to reach underneath himself and pull the object out. At first he couldn’t figure out what it was, holding it in front of his face as if he’d be able to see it through the suffocating blackness. Then he abruptly screamed as he recognized the object’s shape, dropping it between his legs. That’s a bone, he thought, utterly petrified. Quickly following was the realization that all the little objects he had been feeling were the remains of the dragon’s last meal, so thoroughly digested that they could barely hold their shape.
He felt everything jostle back and forth as Rust started moving again, and his instincts screamed at him to struggle, to fight, but he resisted. He knew better. The more he fought, the quicker the digestion would set in. He’d seen it before.
Then, suddenly, a strong force hammered him from above, pinning him to the stomach floor. But it hadn’t come from the stomach itself, no, it felt more like he had been thrown, or… A peculiar rhythmic sound, separate from the dragon’s ever-present heartbeat, made him realize what had happened. He’s flying… Max realized. For a moment he thought that was a bit strange, Rust always laid down after a big meal, but then maybe he wasn’t that big a meal and the dragon certainly had no reason to stay around their campsite now that their partnership was over.
As Rust leveled out in flight and stopped tossing him around, Max began to feel the movements of the stomach itself: gently kneading him and squeezing his body lightly between its walls with deceptive tenderness, covering him thoroughly in fresh acid. Max could feel the warm fluids on his skin. It didn’t hurt yet, but he knew it would soon. Most of Rust’s meals didn’t really start screaming until after the first few minutes…
So this is it, it finally happened… he ate me… Max thought. There was no doubt about it now, the dragon had made his choice, he’d made his position painfully clear: he had stuck around for their deal and now that the boy wasn’t going to feed him anymore, Max was only useful as food himself. The stomach gurgled emphatically around him as if in agreement to his thoughts. No guilt, no hesitation, no special treatment. Just gulped me down like another piece of meat.
Max heard himself sob and felt a fresh tear roll down his cheek, only to land in the digestive soup below. He tried his best to contain himself, knowing that if he started to cry again he would only waste air, but he didn’t have much self-control left, and now that the struggle was over with, the hopelessness of the situation was hitting home. A few moments later and he was bawling outright, an apathetic wail answered only by the uncaring gurgles of the dragon’s belly, already working diligently to break him down.
I must be the dumbest boy alive to think we had become friends… Well, I guess I won’t have that title for much longer…
Another sudden shift in pressure refocused his attention: a brief weightlessness followed by a hard impact and a muffled thud, sending the stomach’s contents splashing violently. Once everything settled again, Max could tell that Rust had stopped moving. I guess he landed…There was a long moment of pause, and then Max felt the walls of the stomach squeeze in on him abruptly. Laying down, just like always… he thought.
But that wasn’t the end of it. The stomach began squeezing him harder and harder, picking up a rhythm that squelched in his ears as Max tried to endure the onslaught. This is it! Digestion… here it comes. He braced himself as best he could for the burn of the acids, the crushing force of the dragon’s gut, but then he felt himself start to slide. He thought at first that it was just the stomach sloshing him around, but then he noticed that he was only sliding in one direction, not back and forth.
He began to feel his feet pressing up firmly against the far wall, forcing his knees to bend as far as they could, until Max couldn’t take it any more and he pushed back in desperation. He fully expected at that moment for the powerful digestive muscles to break his legs, but to his astonishment, he felt the barrier at his feet give way and his legs stretched out completely.
But the squeezing still continued, pushing at his head and shoulders, causing him to slide along the slick, mucus-coated flesh of the stomach walls. He felt himself move further and further, the contractions picking up speed as he went. He felt his feet rise above his head, then his legs. He tried to slide his arms up to shield his face from the pounding muscles but the hold was too tight, so he just held his eyes shut and focused on not grunting and losing what little breath he had left.
It couldn’t be… No, I must be crazy. This must just be part of the digestion, Max thought, but he couldn’t deny that what was happening now bore a striking resemblance to something he had experienced earlier that morning. Still, he refused to believe it. He was not about to get his hopes up just so Rust’s belly could break them down again.
That’s when he realized: he could move his ankle.
Max’s eyes would have shot open wider than ever had it not been for the constant pressure on his face. He wiggled his foot around, reveling in the tiny taste of freedom. Suddenly he felt his other foot come free, and his mind burst into a fray of rushing thoughts and wild emotions: desperation, tension, hope and joy. He felt his weight shift as Rust moved, seemingly to put his feet down underneath him again. Before long he could swing his legs, which he did frantically out of a mixture of elation and panic for lack of air.
Finally, he felt his momentum come to a peak, now sliding even faster than the slimy muscles were pushing him with gravity working in his favor. He felt his waist, belly and then chest slip free until suddenly he felt himself falling and landing with a thud on something unforgivingly hard. Hard; not squishy.
Max collapsed on his side, gasping for breath and let himself sprawl out on the ground. It took almost a full minute before he could breathe calmly enough and keep himself from trembling long enough to wipe some of the slime from his face, allowing himself to finally open his eyes and take in the light. Eventually, he forced himself to sit up and look around, gazing in wide-eyed disbelief at his surroundings, until his gaze finally settled on Rust.
He stared at the dragon with a somewhat blank expression, mouth slightly agape. Max couldn’t decide which of his cacophony of emotions he should act on. Should he be terrified? Furious? Thankful? Relieved? Suspicious? Rust just stood there, looking down at him, silent as always, but he seemed… concerned. Max stammered for a moment, trying to steady his voice enough to speak. He managed to get out one word: “Why?”
Rust leaned in a bit closer, staring into Max’s eyes. At first, he didn’t understand, but then for some reason he felt drawn to one particular detail out of everything that had just happened: the other dragon. The wheels in Max’s head started turning and suddenly everything just started to click.
Because what Max hadn’t seen, was that small look of guilt on Rust’s face when he had broken down crying in the clearing. What he hadn’t realized, was that Rust’s brother- the other dragon who had found them- had still been nearby, hunting humans, and had heard Max’s cries. What he hadn’t quite been able to pick up on, was the internal conflict blazing in Rust’s head as he slowly backed Max into that tree, knowing that his brother would do terrible things- but that he wouldn’t steal his sibling’s kill.
But what Max did realize, is that Rust had had every reason- the perfect opportunity- to claim him as his next meal, and instead he had set him free.
The child climbed shakily to his feet, stared Rust straight in his eyes, and then threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around the base of the dragon’s neck. Fresh tears began to stream down his face, leaving trails in the slime. But they weren’t tears of fear, and they weren’t tears of grief. He stayed like that for a long moment. It was the first time the two of them had ever really touched.
When Max did finally release, he was surprised to find himself giggling- despite everything he had just been through- at the layer of gunk that he had left across the dragon’s chest and neck. Rusted noticed it too and snorted indignantly, but with a clear smile sneaking onto his face. Looking back at Max, he motioned with his snout to the left, indicating that they should start walking. Though Max wasn’t sure where they were off to, he had a hunch it was the closest source of running water, so they could both get cleaned up.
As they started their trek through the trees and bushes, sun shining brightly overhead, Max breathed a sigh of relief. While he was sure he would have to clarify the details of their relationship at some point, for the first time he could remember, at least he didn’t feel like a slave anymore.