Mama Bear - Part 2
Wow, this took longer than I thought it did. Life blows sometimes. Anyway, here's chapter 2. Devon is struggling to come to grips with what he... excuse me, SHE is now, but it turns out some things about this new body can come in handy... especially when you're locked in a room with an empty belly and an annoying doctor.
No actual answers to any of the questions posed on the last chapter are given, but hints are, at least. And I know sloth bears feed mainly on termites, but when they're hungry they're known to also eat carrion, so I worked off of that.
She awakens, disoriented but seemingly in one piece, in another room. It smells... sterile. Surprisingly, the doctor seems to have forgone restraints this time, and she glances down to see the only bonds holding her are a pair of cuffs carefully lined with some sort of cloth to prevent them from rubbing her wrists raw, if that was even possible now that they're covered in fur. Devon blinks dimly at the lights, which are of the white fluorescent variety and light up her confinement chamber. It seems to be not unlike the padded room of an asylum, save the odd grates on the walls towards the ceiling. The bear sighs and sniffles dejectedly. The day before, she had been an average human male. Now here she is, covered in fur, someone's lab rat. There's no telling what else might be waiting for her. Whimpering lightly, she begins to look around the room once more, and her eyes catch a grate that's lower down, on one of the walls. Rolling over, she wriggles around and inches closer to it on all fours. It's actually a screen, she realizes, narrowing her eyes. There are dim forms on the other side, but she can't quite make them out.
Her stomach growls loudly, and she rubs at her belly with both bound paws. That deranged lemur hadn't fed her since he kidnapped her, going on 24 hours ago. The bear hefts herself up to lean against one whitewashed wall and sighs, keeping watch on that screen. One of the shapes is coming closer. The new doctor perhaps? The screen obscures her view, but she gets a glimpse of gray fur, igniting a fire of rage within her. It has to be Dr. Cross. The anger coursing through her is enough to subdue even the complaints of her empty stomach. Incensed, she pushes her shoulder against the wall and uses it to climb to her feet.
The figure behind the screen notices, and suddenly another is called over to stand on the outside. If looks could kill, they would both have dropped dead on the spot. She manages a few lumbering steps forward, and then nearly falls as she attempts to walk without the aid of the wall. Growling in frustration, she slides down to the floor to allow the sedatives a few more minutes to work out of her system.
Devon's eyes never leave the screen. On one hand, she knows that Dr. Cross and his associates are the only ones who can change her back. On the other, it would be absolutely WONDERFUL to feel his bones cracking under the blows of her massive new paws and listen to him scream as she took her well-earned revenge. Dimly, she wonders if anyone will miss her at home... but she had no one, really. Her coworkers are the only ones likely to even notice she's gone until the end of the month, when the super expected rent. She's well and truly on her own here... Her eyes fall to the floor, finally. No family. No friends to speak of. No one to look for her, nor miss her, nor mourn her passing if she dies here. Did they know that? Had they watched her beforehand? A wave of paranoia makes her fur bristle slightly, and the sudden creak of hinges makes her start. She looks up to see a yellow-furred dingo tiptoeing in. An ursine growl echoes in the room as she shows off her pointy new teeth.
"Shh, calm down," he murmurs softly. His voice is lower and more smooth than the lemur's was, and under any other circumstances would have been soothing with that hint of Australian accent. "I'm just here to give you a quick check-up. That's all."
"Don't touch me," she rumbles, taken aback by how feminine her voice sounds, even in stuck in such a bulky body. As he draws nearer, she growls again, this time shuffling to get her feet underneath her.
"Easy there, girl... easy," the dingo whispers.
"I'm a FUCKING GUY," she bellows, lurching forward and overbalancing. For the second time, she falls and lands painfully on her front, compressing her sensitive new breasts beneath her weight. And once again her target has eluded her; the dingo is now standing off to the side, looking a little shaken. Before she can try to push herself up again, he's kneeling beside her, bent low over her body, one hand running slowly down her back.
"Take it easy," he mumbles in her ear, brushing aside a few locks of hair that are draped down from her head. "It's easier just to go along with it. We're really not that bad to you folks if you just learn when to check your behavior..."
You folks? Did that mean more people like her had been taken in?
"Nn... get your hands off me," she hisses, "I'm not a fucking lab rat."
"Don't think of it that way, mate. You're part of a helluva study we're doing right now. Think of yourself as a... pioneer," two of his fingers have worked into the fur of her neck, and he keeps an eye on his watch to take her pulse.
"Some damn study," she rolls over, away from him, and manages to sit up again. "The HELL you freaks think you're doing..."
"I'm not allowed to tell you that," he explains dully, straightening up and sauntering back over to her.
"If this is a fucking study, where's the paperwork? The consent forms? This is TOTALLY illegal, and when I get out of here I'm going to sue the asses of every one of you they don't fry for this sick shit," she snarls, tugging at her cuffs again.
"Don't really need it the way we're doing this," he shrugs. "Listen, I'm sure someone higher up in this thing can explain it to you better than me, so just let me do my job and we'll worry about getting you through processing and on to the next step quickly, alright?"
She glares at him once again, still working on the cuffs. Now, though, it seems there's a little bit of give in the metal... they're bending, slowly but surely. From the corners of her eyes she glances to the door, and Dr. Cross is no longer visible there. Good. Maybe the bastard is at lunch and will choke on his food.
Food... that reminds her... she still hasn't eaten. She swallows lightly, clearing out the saliva built up in her mouth at the thought. If she'd made it home she could be sitting down right now to breakfast... lunch... what time IS it anyway? Her body doesn't seem to care; it simply wants fed. Her stomach lets out another growl, this one so loud she feels her insides clench lightly. That stupid dingo is still talking, but her ears are no longer registering any of the words. Instead, she notices with a slightly worried pang that she can smell him from here... a vague smell of the outdoors masked behind all of the antiseptic of this environment. Why does that make saliva pool under her tongue? She tries to think of what manner of bear she was turned into, and can't place it... but don't bears eat some meat at the very least? Her mind is horrified by the idea, but her stomach voices its approval in the form of a loud, demanding gurgle.
The dingo has walked closer now, apparently intent on finishing the check-up, and Devon blinks a few times as she realizes what she's actually trying to decide upon. What's more strange? That she's considering it? Or that potentially doing it seems less of a struggle than holding out?
Then again... there are other benefits if she does this... If she's truly serious, then...
The doctor places a hand where he honestly shouldn't have: right between her legs to inspect her new labia. It sets her off like a light switch. Her wrists come apart and the little chain she has been working to break snaps like a twig, and she seizes him by the shoulders. He cries out, but she's much larger than he is now, and easily pins him beneath her, glowering down at his terrified face.
"Get OFF of me you crazy sheila," he barks, thrashing wildly.
"I FUCKING TOLD YOU. I'm a GUY," Devon roars back, making him flinch. This is the last straw. She finds herself in a blind rage, and without thinking reaches down with her teeth and tears away his lab coat. He yelps openly, no longer sure of what she's doing until her wide-open mouth descends over his muzzle.
He tries to kick at her, but her thick fur prevents his short claws from getting through, and his arms are still pinned by her hands. He squirms and tries to cry out, but her mouth muffles every sound he can issue. He closes his eyes in time for her to push his head in deeper, and he feels the tip of his nose enter the constricting tunnel of her esophagus. Her teeth ticking the back of his neck, and he yips lowly, now unable to open his mouth as a light swallow sends his entire muzzle into her pulsing throat. On the outside, Devon has disconnected with all sentience. Her hatred and frustration are all focused on one task now, making the doctor below her suffer, and what better way to do it than to fill her belly while she was at it? Of course, this isn't a thought that crossed her mind. She's consumed by animal instinct now.
The dingo whines as his head is shoved in next, the opening to her throat pinching around his neck as peristalsis finally seizes him and begins to aid his trip downward. With his shoulders in her mouth now, his arms are released, and he feels her take hold of his legs to keep him from kicking anymore. He cries out again as another shove and swallow send him into her mouth up past his chest, her fangs ghosting over his belly. He goes still, afraid of being disemboweled by too frantic a motion, and clenches his jaw against the heavy thudding of her heart that's beginning to grow louder as he slides down further within the slimy passage.
Devon growls around him, feeling her belly turn and grumble in anticipation as wet gurgles echo up from lower in her gut. With a huff, she times her next shove with a hard swallow, and pushes the canine down her throat up to his waist.
He wriggles lightly, groaning as he feels the ripples of her muscles dragging him downward. After he feels his waist enter, the space suddenly shifts. She's tilting her head back... another swallow, and his feet sink in behind him. His fate within her is sealed.
The doctor whimpers as loud as he can, nearly strangled by the tightness of the space as he's slowly forced downward. He can hear her belly's eager growls below, until they're drowned out for a moment by the pounding of her heart. The wet heat is making his trip that much more uncomfortable, slime clinging to his fur and slicking him down so that he slides more smoothly. He can't even see in the pitch blackness, and tenses as his nose suddenly hits something.
The valve to her stomach. Devon smiles dimly as she feels him hit it, stroking at the bulge his hind paws formed as they slowly slipped down her throat. A murr escapes her, her rage quelled, body lulled to a state of blissful sleepiness still devoid of real sentient thought. She feels the first part of him spill into her belly, and the sensation is so relieving she leans back and moans. One hand goes to her rounded gut(which is getting rounder by the moment) and gently begins to massage over it languidly.
Inside, the dingo gasps in the heat. She hadn't eaten in quite some time, so the organ was devoid of acids when he first pushed in, but the heat is rising rapidly, and the walls are twitching and kneading slowly. More of him slips into her stomach, and the valve pinches around his knees. No, no, this isn't happening to him. His arms fly out to shove at the chamber, but the give they have snaps back as soon as the pressure is released. He moans tearfully as he feels her rubbing over him. He's going to be food. That's the end of it. His feet slip inside next, and the valve closes behind him for the last time. He squirms, gasping as her intestines gurgle loudly below him. He can't tell which way he's facing, but the walls suddenly contract and squeeze him painfully. He continues to feel around for a few minutes as these become more frequent, and then he feels the first trickle of acid.
It makes his legs tingle, running up through his fur. The smell of it makes his stomach clench. Soon, his legs begin to itch, and he dares not scratch at them. More acids are starting to ooze in from every inch of the walls, something that Devon feels as a light rush of heat, and he can only whimper as the digestive juices begin to pool beneath him. Then her stomach clenches again, and he cries out in pain as those same fluids are forced into his anus and urethral opening, beginning to prickle immediately. Her intestines are becoming deafening, and he squirms and thrashes in her belly as more acid begins to pool in, raising the level above her knees. Now the pain is real as they begin to eat away at him, and he cries out. A mistake, as at that moment her stomach tightens again, and forced some of the thick goo now containing bits of himself right down his throat. The pain becomes so intense he can barely breathe, but he's saved the horror of asphyxiation by the sudden evacuation of the air in her belly. The walls tighten against him, forming to his body, and the next clench forces the last of the air from his lungs. Pieces of his breaking-down body are mashed together along with him, the stomach beginning to actively churn around him.
Devon sighs drowsily as she massages over her stuffed gut, the pleasant gurgles from within serving to lull her toward sleep. As she drifts in and out, her belly continues to work over the former dingo, his bones collapsing all at once, making a smile form on her face. He filled her gut so nicely... she sighs and curls up, for a moment too lost in the pleasant feeling of fullness to remember where and what she is.
It's almost an hour before anything else occurs. She's nearly asleep, and her stomach's pyloric valve finally opens up and begins to move the doctor's digested body into her intestines. They bulge with the sheer amount of soup that leaves her stomach at once, and her tongue lulls out as the feeling of being filled begins to spread.
Then the pleasantries are cut short by a voice in the doorway that makes a pang of rage shoot through her heart.
"Well, damn, I guess I can't leave you alone with anyone, can I?" Dr. Cross asks, one brow raised in the doorway.
Devon snarls, but her stuffed belly prevents her from getting up. The lemur simply shakes his head an laughs at her.
"Whatever, then. Dr. Bourne was a peon anyway. I guess we can cross you off the list for lunch today... I'll be by later to finish your physical myself.
Before she can open her mouth to respond, he's turned and pulled the door shut behind him, sealing her in the room once more. The happy feeling that had flooded her body previously is long gone, replaced with a sense of isolation, hopelessness... doom. In the corner of the room, she wraps her arms around herself and begins to cry.