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You're drunk. You were drunk before you came into this bar and you're drunker now. The half-orc bouncer woman at the door glared at you when you came in and something that could easily be mistaken for a shaggy rug is glaring at you too.

The Cracked Flask, the bar is called. Outside there's a magically animated sign with an alchemical flask leaking an arc of glowing liquid into a mug. Properly it's an inn, with rooms for rent, but the real point of interest is the bar. The Flask has a bit of a reputation.

Verbobonc is a largely human city, with some of the friendlier sorts of humanoids mixed in. Halflings, gnomes, elves, that sort of thing. Not many monsters.

But monsters who behave themselves are allowed, and a lot of them come to the Flask. A minotaur sits in a shadowy corner, sipping his drink and watching the stage. A couple of indifferently skilled musicians are holding forth there. Several other creatures of a furry or scaly nature are here including at least two types of cat people. One of the cat ladies has spent the last hour trying to get the rug's attention.

But the rug is on duty. Bart the badger lifts his head from his forepaws, glares briefly at a boisterously drunk gnoll, then turns his ink-dark eyes on you. You came in still armored from the road and still armed.

You've been arguing with the half-elf one table over since you sat down to drink. You've stoked the argument with care and it reaches a peak just as Bart turns his gaze on your direction. The half-elf leaps to his feet and goes for an elaborately decorated dagger. Your own chair goes flying as you grab the hilt of your sword.

Before you can draw more than a finger-width of blade from the scabbard something clamps down on your wrist. Bart the badger rose to all fours the second you stood up and the short-legged beast is a lot faster than he looks. Five hundred pounds of badger rears up, grips your wrist in his jaws and pulls you off your feet.

"Get off!" Drunk and angry you slam your free hand into Bart's ear. It's instructive how he twists his head the instant you move, causing the blow to skip off his neck. Bart knows how to fight.

You're lying on your back and Bart still has your wrist. His forepaws straddle your hips as he steps forward and with skill borne of much practice he hooks claws as long as your hand into your baldric and tears it away, taking your sword with it. He never gave you a chance to draw it.

"Calm down," he mutters around a mouthful of wrist. Your armored vambrace protects you from his fangs only because he doesn't bite down full force. Five hundred pounds of badger has you at his mercy but you're too angry to back down. No sane adventurer carries just one weapon and you go for your dagger.

Every eye in the bar is on the fight and people in the back seats yell for the ones in front to not block the view. Everyone likes a good bar fight.

Bart's thick hide would resist even the sharp edge of your dagger but you never get the chance to use it. The badger has years of experience fighting people at close quarters and he takes your dagger away as easily as he did the sword. Then he starts pulling your armor off a piece at a time.

From a distance Bart looks like a mere animal, just a very big badger. Pointed muzzle, long flank fur that makes him look like a rug lying down, shaggy tail, sharp claws, the works. And once he was just an animal, but Bart is more than that now. He's smart, he talks, and one of the clawed toes on each forepaw is opposable. He is more than strong enough to pin you beneath his chest and strip you with his forepaws.

With your weapons and most of your armor gone he lets go your wrist and tries to reason once more. "Cut it out, you know the -"

Bart is being nice. That gives you your chance. You struggle theatrically, forcing him to move further atop you to quiet you down, and for just a moment you're completely under him. That gives you the chance to kick him in the balls.

There's not much room under the short legged badger and your kick doesn't carry much force. In addition, he senses your intent at the last instant and twists partly out of the way. Just the same your booted toe grazes a furry badger scrotum and Bart flinches, hissing in anguish. The excited crowd groans too, unable to see what happened past the badger's long fur but pretty clear on what just happened.

One of the cat people is leaned in close, almost close enough to touch Bart as he subdues you. Khardaki, this kind of cat is called, sleek and strong lion people. This lioness has been after Bart all night. That's the other reputation the Flask has, as a place to meet interesting and maybe even feral-shaped lovers.

She probably came here tonight expressly to meet Bart. So did you. As the badger pins you beneath his bulk, leaving you no room to fight, you see the pain and anger in his eyes. Bart's finally losing his temper. He has you almost fully pinned when you head butt his nose with all your remaining strength.

You know what will happen if you try that. In fact you're counting on it. Your hard skull would hurt a lot if it smashed into his tender nose but that's not what you hit. Bart reflexively snaps his maw wide open as you move and instead of smashing into his nose your whole head disappears into his mouth.

Drops of saliva go flying as your face squelches into his tongue and fangs clamp down around your skull as he closes his jaws as fast as he opened it.

For one critical moment he just holds you there, smothering your struggle beneath his bulk and probably thinking about letting you go once you quiet down. You'll have none of that. With all your strength you force your boot free of a hindpaws grip and try to kick him in the balls again.

That does it. Bart lurches where he stands, pinning your foot beneath his haunch before your kick connects, and you've succeeded in getting him mad. Instead of coughing you up he pushes his narrow muzzle farther over you and you hear a creak and pop as his jaws unhinge.

Bart used to be just a big badger, what some people call a "dire" animal. He was raised and trained as an exotic riding beast, but he had other functions. Like body disposal.

Bart yawns, working his maw over your shoulders while keeping your arms pinned with his forepaws. Slimy gullet slides past your face, then clutches down and pulses as he swallows. Powerful and well practiced throat muscles roll over you, easing you deeper. Bart knows how to fight. He also knows how to eat people quickly and easily. With a lurch of his jaws his nose to to your navel. Your arms are firmly pinned to your sides by his jaws, not that they were much use when they weren't.

Somewhere outside the thick layer of throatflesh and badger pelt the crowd watches. All you know is darkness, the slither of wet gullet past your eyes and the thump of badger pulse. Bart can't breathe with you blocking his throat but that's all right. Pretty soon his throat will be clear again.

He sits back on his haunches and tosses his muzzle upward, bolting your rump into his jaws. Sharp fangs leave cruel welts on your skin as you slide out of sight inches at a time and it hurts quite a lot. That's fine. You expected he'd rip your clothes and armor off and it's not the first time you've sunk into a toothy maw. A few scratches are just part of the fun.

You squirm in the form-fitting sheath of gullet and kick with all your might, as though there were any chance of freeing yourself. There isn't and you know it. Bart is too strong and too good at this sort of thing. The second he had you pinned under him it was all over but the belching, if he decided to have this meal.

And now he has. Bart stretches out his nose and a gulp rolls over you, pulling you into has maw to the knees. Your face squeezes through a muscular valve into soft folds of badger stomach and only magics cast on you in preparation for this very occasion keep the hot digestive juices from going instantly to work.

If someone grabbed your feet, Bart would probably let them pull you back out. No one does. Bouncers do have the right to kill in defense of their bar and he's an off duty guard officer too. He's eaten people in the bar before. That is, after all, why you are here.

The irritated badger tosses his muzzle one last time and your booted feet slip past his lips. He even pauses to paw at them for a moment to make sure you had no weapons hidden there. Only then does he snap up your feet, stretch out his muzzle and swallow. Helpless to save yourself - as though you'd really want to! - you slide heavily down his throat.

Bart swallows, relaxes, and swallows again, squeezing the last of you into his stomach. Even through wet folds of badger gut and a thick layer of muscle and pelt you hear the bar crowd cheer. You've just provided them their evening's entertainment and Bart with his dinner.

Wrapped in wet folds of stomach and able to breathe thanks to another previously cast spell you can only grin. You were rock hard by the time he had you half swallowed and its not hard to slide your hand past folds of gut until your find your cock. The hot thick juices which aren't quite able to digest you yet make fine lube but you hold off for now. All you do it tease, for you have hopes your evening will get even better.

It does. Your carefully planned visit included showing up "drunk" at the Flask right before it closed for the night. Now the bar is closing at that means Bart is off duty. The other bouncers will cover for him so he can settle down and digest his meal rather than shepherd the last few customers out.

You know a lot about Bart. You research your predators before you provoke them and his habits are not secret. He sleeps in a storage room at the bar and that's on the first floor. He only goes up the stairs if he's needed to chase some troublemaker out...or if someone invites him to their room.

As the short legged badger mounts the stairs you feel every step squeezing into his fat belly and sloshing you to and fro. So much acid has flowed in since he swallowed you that only your spells keep the skin on your body, and even so you feel the tingle. The spells can only do so much and they only last so long. In the not too distant future he will have his meal.

But not just yet. He waddles down a hall, fat belly dragging, turns, and presumably enters a room. He grunts as he rolls onto his back, then lets out a long, pleased growl.

Even from inside you'd hear him if he talked. He doesn't. There's no conversation, just action. You feel the weight as someone - almost certainly the lion woman - climbs into his lap and impales herself.

The Cracked Flask has a reputation. So does Bart. You hear him growl and move as he thrusts up into his lover and it's time to start.

As you pump your cock the lion-woman sinks her fingers into Bart's belly fur and pushes. Soft hot folds of stomach squeeze in tight and the pressure forces out most of the air. Bart lets out a long belch and the lioness yowls. Amusement? Passion? It's hard to tell from inside a badger.

Whether it arouses her or not it sure arouses you. You shudder and groan, spraying the walls of Bart's belly with your cum. Nothing gets you as hard as getting eaten. It is, after all, why you're here.

Outside the protection of your spells your seed dissolves instantly. It's mostly water, just a few calories for Bart. He'll have a more fulfilling meal once your spells wear off. Bart burps again, offhandedly, focused on the more pressing matter of fucking the khardaki. They'll probably be at it all night. You were nice enough to show up when he had the next day off, after all. It was all planned from the start. By you, anyway. The lovers have no idea you're still alive in here and that's part of the fun.

You hear another long yowl and, amusingly, even hear a neighbor pounding on the wall of the lover's room. Just then Bart shudders and growls. He's not as noisy as the khardaki but it's clear he just came, too. Squeezed into his gut and pressed down into his abdomen you actually feel his balls pulse. It just makes things better for you as you're not far from another orgasm yourself.

You grin in the dark, skin tingling, hand pumping, as Bart rolls partly onto his side and drapes a huge forepaw over the lioness. Hearing both lovers growl as he mounts her again is really something. You wish you could stay here all night and live it with them.

But you can't. The tingle is growing as your spells wear down and pretty soon the one that lets you breathe will fail too. Then you will start the trip through a badger's guts he already thinks you're on. Your feet will go last, given some protection by your boots, but leather is no more immune to stomach acids than you are. Of your entire body, the only recognizable bits left will be your hair and maybe the steel fittings of your soon to be digested boots.

All the gear you wore to the bar was cheap, disposable. Crap, really. Pretty soon the same will be true of your body too. You're badger food now, just as planned.

You manage a second and even a third orgasm before the spells fail. The last one is something special, as you shudder and kick just as Bart does. It took some work to get what you wanted this evening, but you did. Now the hot flesh squeezes in, the digestive juices flow and the last sips of air vanish. It's time for your other pre-cast spell to take effect. Death doesn't have to be permanent if you have the resources, not even if the previous you ended up as badger fat.

It took a lot of provocation to get Bart to swallow you. He'll probably feel guilty about it in the morning and of course he'll have to explain to the Guard why he sent you on a tour of his bowels.

That's why it's going to be such great fun to see the expression on his face when you walk into the bar again tomorrow night.