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Ranger Rick had a bit of a temper.

It rarely showed up in his day to day work around the campground, but Rick was picked on in in pretty much every school he attended. Kids are mean and he was the only anthro at school. Plus, he was only a hair above five feet tall at full growth. He was all wiry muscle and stronger than he looked, as more than one bully discovered to his chagrin, but that didn't stop hulking jocks from pushing him around.

By the time he got to college the jocks had it in for him and it didn't help their mood that Rick was popular with the ladies. He was cute as a button and smart, too. That got him invited into a lot of dorm rooms to give one college girl or another some help with their homework. He was cute, and girlish curiosity as to just how raccooney he really was meant one thing often led to another.

Frequent sex has a way of brightening one's mood and Rick ignored the bullying for the most part. Only on a few occasions did he snap. Later, at the campground, he really only snapped once. It was a memorable thing when it happened, though.

One day he was doing his morning rounds of the campsites, collecting site fees and chatting with the campers. As usual he carried a shovel and he found a use for it when he got to campsite 17. That was where he found a truck with camper shell, a roaring fire, and a chubby boy feeding it.

"Hey, son. Where are your parents? That fire's way too big."

The boy, who was maybe nine years old and a head shorter than Rick, ignored him.

Rick shot an alarmed look at the fire, which was sending embers up into the trees, and knocked on the back door of the truck camper. There was no answer and he turned back to the boy.

"Son, there are rules about fires. You saw the signs on the way into the campground, right?"

The boy shook his head sullenly and Rick sighed. Maybe the kid had something a bit wrong going on upstairs, maybe he spent too much time staring at his phone, or maybe his parents neglected him. Finding him along at a camp pointed in that direction.

Smokey and Rick liked a friendly atmosphere at their campground and the last thing he wanted to do was yell at the kid. Keeping his voice gentle, he talked to the boy as he began to shovel dirt onto the fire.

"See, this is the way to put out a small fire. Don't throw water on it, you won't have enough. Don't throw a blanket on it, that'll just smoke and catch on fire. But there's always plenty of dirt!"

Despite the chilly Sierra morning, which often dropped frost on tents even in the summer, he had to keep his distance from the fire. The heat soaked into his fur as he shoveled and he began to pant.

When he felt the sudden heat at the tip of his furry tail he thought an ember landed on it and stepped away from the fire, curling his tail around to look at it. That was when he saw he was actually on fire. Rick dropped the shovel and beat the flames out, singing both his hands and the fleshy tip of his tail spine but getting it put out before his tail was too badly burnt. If he hadn't caught it in time his whole tail might have burst into flame. It was one of the drawbacks of having fur.

Cursing, he beat out the last embers, only then seeing the cigarette lighter in the smiling kid's hand. The chubby boy had been directly behind him and it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Rick gritted his teeth. In his calmest voice he told the kid what he'd done wrong.

"Playing with fire is bad, son. You can hurt people. If you did that to a human they'd be hurt worse than I was. And if my clothes had caught on fire -"

That was when the kid, who was staring vacantly at him not hearing a word, kicked him in the shin.

Rick lost his temper. He wasn't proud of it but he sometimes snapped. For a moment Rick saw red and when the boy looked up from kicking him he saw pink. Pink maw, white raccoon fangs, and the furry hands that reached out and stuffed him in.

This sort of thing never happened in school. Rick was smaller than even most women and most of his of his tormentors were far too large to eat even if he had them at his mercy. It wasn't until he met Smokey, whose diet included quite a number of human troublemakers, that he considered it. Even then, he'd only had two thinking meals. A lemur troublemaker who set a cabin on fire and a would-be drug dealer woman who tried to knife him during sex. Both encounters ended with a belch and in his moment of thoughtless rage he knew this one would too.

Later he would regret losing his temper. Later, when it was too late to matter. His nose pushed the baseball cap off the boy's head and with a downward shove of his muzzle he forced his maw over the kid's face. He already had the boy by the upper arms and he was too started to struggle as things went suddenly dark and slimy.

He was a chubby kid and Rick's fangs scraped him cruelly as the raccoon forced his maw over his shoulders. Rick had never eaten a kid before but the boy was usefully smaller than he was and wearing only a T-shirt and shorts. Nothing too troublesome to cough up after his meal was digested. Rick lifted the boy from the ground, heaved his muzzle upward and turned his gullet into a slick chute with a raccoon stomach waiting at the bottom.

As the boy began to slip into his maw Rick freed one hand and unbuttoned his ranger shirt. He was about to be very round in the middle and if he didn't undo the buttons they they'd pop right off.

The firebug recovered from the shock of being eaten by a talking raccoon and began to kick and squirm. It was much too late for it to make any difference. Rick swallowed, and gullet muscles strong out of all proportion to his size sent the boy sliding deeper. The kicking legs redoubled their efforts as the boy felt the sudden sting of stomach acids on his face but Rick swallowed again and the kicking legs grew shorter with each gulp.

With a heaving gulp a set of fat fleshy calves were sliding into his jaws. Despite his best efforts they too were scratched by his canine fangs but as his jaws closed around the boy's feet he knew his meal had much bigger problems than a few oozing scratches. Rick swallowed, his muzzle bobbing, and then again as the double bulge of feet moved through his neckfur. The boy slithered down his throat and arrived in Rick's stomach T-shirt, shorts and all, swallowed alive.

Rick had little sympathy for his meal. That would come later. The lumpy bulge in his middle changed shape as the panicked boy kicked and squirmed but unless Rick threw him up he wouldn't get out of the raccoon's stomach the way he got in.

Once a human was curled up inside him he might or might not be able to get them uncurled and started back up his throat. If he did, they'd come back up slimy and scraped but alive. If he didn't, they had only a short trip through a raccoon's bowels ahead of them. He'd never know if it would work unless he tried.

He didn't try. Rick belched, scooped up the boy's hat and lighter plus his own hat, which had fallen off when he leaned back to swallow his prey. He put his hat back on, dropped the kid's into a campsite trash can and spent a minute shoveling dirt onto the last smoldering embers of the fire. Then he waddled back to his cabin.

He knew the trails around the camp and stayed out of sight. No need for anyone to see him with a human shaped bulge, only the third one he'd ever had. As he started off a muffled voice emerged from beneath his belly fur.

"I'm gonna tell my mom!" The swallowed boy said.

"Yeah, good luck with that, kid," Rick replied. It was the first and the last words Rick ever heard him say. After that, there was nothing but the long slow gurgle of digestion.

By the time he emerged from the woods and snuck into his cabin, luckily unseen, his meal was still. More than half his weight in human was on its way through a raccoon's guts and while he could walk easily enough, he should stay out of sight until the bulge was gone. Rather than key the walkie-talkie on his belt he called Smokey on his cell.

"Hey," growled the bear's impossibly deep voice.

They had code phrases for various things, just in case someone could hear the phone. Rick could say "Something's come up," the meaning of which was obvious. Instead he said "Could you cover for me on the morning rounds? I ran into a little problem and have to stay in my cabin."

"Really? You?" Smokey sounded amused. He was usually the one who ended up with a "little problem" and had to stay out of sight until the lumpy bulge was gone.

From what he could hear through the phone Smokey had the phone pressed to his ear. Rick was pretty sure the bear wasn't alone and that probably meant he was in some lady's tent or camper with his pants around his ankles. People were just as curious about Smokey's equipment was as they were about Rick's.

"You know how it is,", Rick said, and pressed his free hand against his belly. The swallowed boy shifted inside him and a long belch bubbled out of his muzzle, just muffled enough that hopefully only Smokey heard it.

Smokey chuckled. "You can tell me about it later, I'll cover the rounds once I'm free."

"Thanks," Rick said, and ended the call.

There was nothing for it now than to settle down and digest his meal. Rick dropped the lighter into the bowl he kept his keys in and stretched out on the bed. The camp had internet via WiFi but he wasn't much for browsing endlessly. He did have a book from the "leave a book, take a book" shelf in the main ranger's office and that kept him occupied. He'd read and nap until his meal was digested.

Rick's cabin was small, with room for little more than a bed, dresser and desk. The bed was far larger than he needed because something he wasn't the only one in it, but that was really pretty spartan unless you counted the fact that he had running water and an indoor bathroom.

Smokey and Rick had toilets in their cabins for a reason. It was an awkward thing to waddle to the outhouse and have a camper gawk at the human-shaped bulged in your middle. That was more a problem for Smokey than Rick but Rick only had to eat one person, the lemur he turned into a coughed-up hairball, to share Smokey's firm opinion that they needed their own bathrooms.

It took a lot of arguing but they got them. The forest service allowed them to eat people under certain circumstances and agreed that it was best for all concerned if it was kept out of sight as much as possible. "I can't eat all the lawyers," Smokey growled at the time. "I can try if you like, though."

A water tank was put up between the two ranger cabins and they got their bathrooms. They each now had the unheard-of campground luxury of hot water thanks to a small electric water heater, a shower that got used for more things than showering, and most importantly a flushing toilet connected to a septic tank.

A few hours after eating the firebug kid Rick made use of his, and after a long nap he used it again. He had no idea why he could swallow people, but he could and he did. Digesting a whole human took a while but this human at least was smaller than he was. A series of naps and bowel movements later the bulge in his middle was much smaller and probably consisted mostly of the larger bones.

A lady ranger Rick slept with from time to time said that digesting a whole human in just one day probably wasted a huge number of calories. There just wasn't time to absorb them all when your body is trying to process that much food all at once. Rick knew he'd put on a few pounds from the meal but probably not as many as he should.

Rick started to feel bad about eating the kid shortly after he got to the cabin. Eating an asshole adult was one thing, but a kid?

He did his best not to think about it. The guilt would eventually pass, it would just take a little longer to do so than the kid did. He told himself it was much too late to agonize over it. That didn't stop him from doing just that.

Around sundown the nagging guilt brought him out of the cabin even though the bulge wouldn't be fully gone until the next morning. He managed to tuck his ranger shirt in past the bulge and headed back to campsite 17.

This time there was an adult there. A woman sat in a folding lawn chair next to the fire pit. She had the opposite problem the boy had and had barely managed to get it to smolder.

"Excuse me ma'am. Ranger Rick," he said, gesturing toward the name plate on his shirt. "It's about your son."

Rick's sense of smell wasn't as keen as Smokey's but it was much better than a human's and he knew this was the boy's mother. He also knew she was very drunk without seeing the beer bottles around her chair and the one in her hand. She wobbled to her feet and turned toward him. He was ready to grab her if she fell toward the fire but she staggered toward him.

"Oh, that's a great suit," she slurred. She dropped the beer bottle and reached out.

"I told you not to bother the rangers, you little shit," she slurred. Her hand was on the soft bulge that used to be her son. "Now I'm gonna have to wash the hell out of you when he coughs you up."

"Um, ma'am," Rick said. She must think he was a human in a mascot suit and that the boy was inside him. Which he was, the part that hadn't been digested and passed anyway. She made the first connection that the bulge was the body but was too drunk to realize that her son wasn't coming back.

Rick was trying to work out how to break it to her gently when it happened. The woman grabbed him by the shirt and leaned in close.

"You come out of there, you little bastard!" She said, and stuffed her head in Rick's mouth.

"Awk," Rick said, startled by the sudden event, and lost his balance as she leaned in. His legs buckled at the unexpected force of her push and he collapsed to his knees. That didn't stop her from worming her way deeper into his maw.

"I know you're down there somewhere, young man!" She proclaimed, even as she forced her shoulders into Rick's mouth. His jaws had disjointed around her head already and his soft maw accommodated her upper body. Two buttons he unfastened earlier but hadn't touched this time popped from his shirt as the bulge of her face moved down into his chest.

Rick didn't lose his temper this time. He was simply too astonished. The woman's face was in his throat and if she pushed herself any deeper she'd encounter her mostly digested son in his stomach.

And then she did. Rick didn't lose his temper. What ran out was his patience. As the woman showed no sign of realizing she was pushing herself down a gullet his hands reached out, hoisted her hips upward, and once more turned his throat into a slippery chute with a raccoon stomach waiting at the bottom. Rick swallowed with all his might and her hips slipped into his jaws as neatly as an envelope disappears into a mailbox.

Finally realizing something strange was happening, the woman squirmed and kicked. It was much too late for it to make a difference. Her head and upper body were in Rick's stomach and the great contraction of his swallowing muscles sent the rest of her sliding in after. His experience eating first the lemur and then a woman almost this size stretched his jaws to new limits and this meal slithered down his throat easily. It was a hurried meal, but it was still a meal, and Rick braced himself against a nearby tree as the woman's calves slipped into his maw and were gone.

The remaining buttons on his shirt went flying, snapped from their moorings, and his furry gut swelled huge and lumpy. Unlike the boy the mother was heavier than he was and he staggered where he stood. That didn't stop him from closing his muzzle around her toes and swallowing again.

Rick leaned back against the tree as the great bulge in his middle changed shape. Suddenly aware that something was horribly wrong the swallowed woman kicked and squirmed. She slipped and slid along the slimy inner walls of his stomach, unable to get any purchase to fight back, and found herself pressed against a mass of clothing, softened bone and the last, nearly liquefied flesh of her son. She knew what had happened to him now and the state he was in showed her what was about to happen to her as well.

There was nothing to grip, no way to get leverage, just slimy walls and the sting of acid that had consumed her son and would consume her too. Suddenly cold sober, she wriggled in the dark, but all she succeeded in doing was displacing the air swallowed with her. Rick leaned against the tree and the last thing she heard was the long wet belch he let out. All that lay in her future was to accompany the last bits of her son on his way through a raccoon's bowels.

Rick let himself sag down next to the tree, the bulky human-shaped lump in his middle weighing him down. She hadn't lasted even as long as her son but she was twice his size and that meant another long lay-up at his cabin. Only now did he notice the set of flip-flops in front of him. They must have popped off her feet as they slid into his jaws. One less thing to throw up later. He'd drop them in the trash can with the boy's hat when he went back to his cabin, a small family get together to with the larger one happening in his stomach.

"You know, lady, I was trying to apologize when this all started. I do feel bad about eating your kid."

Rick burped. "You on the other hand...."

It was a struggle getting back to his feet. He'd never had a meal this large, and that was on top of the last bits of her son still digesting away in there. He used the shovel he always carried as a walking stick to steady himself.

Luckily it was almost fully dark and even though he saw a camper or two, his much better night vision let him avoid them before they spotted the ponderous bulge in his middle. He arrived back at the cabin and his first act was to once again visit the toilet. The sudden arrival of the mother in his stomach left less room for what was left of her sun and the parts farthest down demanded an immediate exit from his body.

With that accomplished he sighed and flopped down on the bed. "I just doubled my kill count in one day," he muttered. "And I didn't plan to eat either of you."

Half an hour later his stomach was churning busily and he was considering yet another visit to the bathroom when there was the click of claws on the door. That could only be Smokey and he called out "It's locked, but come in."

Smokey of course had a set of keys, just as Rick had them for Smokey's cabin. The bear raised his eyebrows as he came in and saw the state Rick was in. He carefully shut the door and locked it before he said a word.

"You said you ran into a little problem this morning," Smokey growled. "That looks like a bigger problem you just ran into."

Rick sighed. "It happened like this." He spelled out the firebug kid, the drunk mother, and the family reunion taking place thanks to his digestive juices. Smokey just chuckled.

"You're starting to sound like me, buddy."

Rick had to smile. He'd only known Smokey a few years but while his current meal count was four, Smokey's was many more humans plus a black bear and who knows what else before they met. Previous Smokeys were just as predatory. The last one retired after a hijacker parachuted down near the campground and found a gaping bear maw waiting beneath him.

The hijacker didn't need his briefcase full of money on his trip through that Smokey's bowels so the bear used the money to buy a ranch and last they heard was enjoying frequent visitors who were just as curious about his equipment as their campground visitors were about the current Smokey's. Rumor had it he even featured in certain porn films, often pretending to be a normal, non-talking, very horny bear.

A bubble of air loosened somewhere inside Rick and he burped. "I didn't plan to eat them. Especially the kid."

"This, too, shall pass," growled Smokey. He was, after all, an actual bear. Rick was born and raised by a human family, he had human morals. Smokey was a bear. To a bear, young prey only means it's easier to catch.

"Just don't get into the habit," Smokey growled. "Easy habit to get into, but not good for anyone." The first Smokey, or the first one they knew about anyway, was fired after swallowing a ranger woman during sex. They were allowed to eat people, but not to be indiscriminate.

"I'll leave you to it," he growled. "And I'll cover for you tomorrow morning. I should check out the camper at site 17 and see about getting it towed. Funny how people abandon the things here sometimes."

That was the last he said about that, but the next time Rick saw him, a day later, there was a suspicious bulge in the bear's middle and a smug look on his face. Maybe he ran into the understandably angry husband?

Rick didn't ask. On a five hundred pound bear the bulge wasn't nearly as noticeable as the bulge of a woman was on Rick and by the time he saw Smokey it was clear the meal was mostly digested. The camper was gone when he did his morning rounds two days after eating the boy, too. Nothing at all remained to show that the family had been there.

Almost nothing. On the second day after eating the boy, and a day and a half after swallowing the mother, the duo had completed their trip through his bowels and left him a little present by which to remember them. Always slim and wiry, and kept in shape by his hobbies of climbing trees and hiking, Rick was alarmed to find himself with a new set of love handles. He didn't mind hacking up the slimy mass of clothing and hair the day before, that was fair, but love handles?

"I felt bad enough about eating these two before this happened," Rick grumbled. He kneaded his new pot belly through his shirt. He only weighed a hundred pounds normally, but here was what must be at least ten pounds of new fat.

"Well, at least you didn't get a shoe stuck in your large intestine," Smokey said. "Twice." That was a thing. That really happened. Smokey had since learned to peel that banana before he ate it. You needed less castor oil that way.

Rick sighed and sat on the edge of Smokey's bed. It was bigger than his, which stood to reason. Rick with two women in bed still weighed less than Smokey with none, and Smokey had company in his bed as often as Rick did. They tried to restrict their sex to the cabins after an unfortunate series of incidents involving cameras. The beds saw plenty of use for more than sleeping, just like the showers.

"I still feel bad about the kid," Rick said. "I lost my temper. He was an asshole, he set my tail on fire and kicked he in the shin,but he was a kid." The mom he didn't mention. She as much as volunteered for her trip through his digestive tract.

"You lost your temper and ate someone," Smokey growled. "Do you still have the lighter?"

Rick nodded and dug it out of his pocket. It was a cheap plastic thing, opaque, but he could feel the propane slosh when he shook it.

"Keeping it as a souvenir to remind you of him?" Rick nodded.

Smokey turned and opened a dresser drawer. There was a clatter and he turned, his huge hands cupped. As least be fifty lighters of varying sorts occupied them. Clear plastic ones, flip top stainless steel, a couple engraved with initials, even two or three Rick only realized were lighters because of all the ones around them.

"I'm a bear," Smokey growled. "It takes a lot less to make me lose my temper than it does with you, and when I do, this happens."

Rick smiled and dropped his lighter into the pile. "Keeping all these is a fire hazard."

"Having a lighter around me is a digestion hazard," Smokey said with a grin. "It turns out, having one around you is, too."