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Behind the farm, two boys were playing catch. They were rural boys and anything but rich; between them they had one nearly worn out baseball mitt and one softball. They had two softballs until yesterday.

On one side was a soybean field, on two other sides woods, and to the west more farms. A profusion of streams and the occasional rolling hill broke the countryside up, with a strip of woods along each creek and ridge. The farmland was in pockets between the trees and wildlife was plentiful. They were used to seeing deer, raccoons, foxes, and the occasional coyote, but nothing too dangerous if they kept their eyes out for snakes. Step on a copperhead or rattler and it could ruin your whole day.

They had a bat too, and when they weren't throwing the ball they took turns trying to hit it as the other acted as pitcher. This was a good way to lose it in the woods. They'd lost their other ball that way. The only reason they still had this one was that someone kept their chase it down when it was hit. That someone was Bobby.

"Get that, Bobby," Walt said, and the kid ran after it. Walt and Randy were twins, twelve years old, Bobby almost nine. With the farms as spread out as they tended to be, friends were hard to come by. Bobby was from the run-down farm next door. The brothers tolerated him because he was useful.

Bobby came running back, panting, and tossed the ball to Randy. There was nothing much to dislike about Bobby, really. The brothers just found him annoying because he was so eager to be around them.

"Can I hit?" Bobby said.

"In a bit," said Walt, aware that it probably wouldn't happen. There was a thunderstorm building up to the south and pretty soon they'd have to head indoors.

Randy threw the ball to Walt and Bobby backed up to serve as an outfielder. They really needed a fourth to play catcher but they were lucky to have three. Walt would have to fetch it himself if he missed.

He didn't miss. With a dull crack the bat connected and the ball looped over Bobby to disappear in the tall grass.

"Dang it all," Randy said, and he and Bobby ran after it before they lost track of where it had gone. He was almost sure - "Dang!"

He'd kept his eye on it until it disappeared, and where where it landed was a dug-out dirt mound and a hole big enough for a groundhog. Randy was sure the ball had gone in.

It was no groundhog burrow. Or rather, it had been. Five feet under the grass and ten feet from the burrow entrance was a badger. It was peacefully asleep when the softball came bouncing down the tunnel and whacked it in the eye.

That put the badger in a very bad mood and it growled and glared up the tunnel towards the light. After it cornered and ate the groundhog in its den it excavated out a series of tunnels. It could easily slip away into the depths of the earth or escape through one of the several entrances. This was its den now, though, and it would put up a fight before it abandoned it.

"Dang it, that's our only ball!" Walt said as he walked up.

"Hey, I see it," Randy said as he reached into the tunnel. "Got it. Wait...dang it, it was a rock. Must be further in." He tossed the softball-sized rock back into the tunnel.

"Bobby, get your skinny ass over here!"

Down in the den the badger looked at the tunnel entrance, then at the rock Randy tossed in. It heard the lighter footsteps of the boy running up outside. The humans were looking for something like the rock, but not the rock.

It looked at the entrance, wide enough for a small human but not a large one, and then down at the ball. In its narrow badgery head thoughts circulated. It had been some time since it ate the groundhog and it was very hungry. It had planned to hunt once the sun set.

"Sure, I been in tighter spots," said Bobby, after Walt explained that someone had to go get the ball out of the burrow and that someone was him. He'd chased plenty of balls for them. This one was just underground.

They'd have to let him play with them if he got back their only ball. He went down on all fours and peered into the damp earth.

"See anything?"

"Hold yer horses," Bobby said as he stuck his head into the burrow. "It's dark down here."

The brothers watched as he crawled in. "I'll keep looking," came a hollow voice from the tunnel mouth.

The brothers looked at each other, silently congratulating themselves at getting someone else to do it. The tunnel mouth was barely wide enough even for Bobby. They have to get shovels and dig for who knows how long to get the ball back.

"Hey," came a faint voice from the tunnel. "There it is!"

The tunnel was so narrow even Bobby barely fit, with rocks poking in from the sides and roots dangling from above. As he squeezed his way along his body blocked almost all the light from behind him. Just enough got by to see a dim shape ahead. It was perfectly round and stood out from the dark-colored walls. It had to be the ball!

Bobby squirmed through a particularly narrow spot in the earthy tunnel and reached out. He ignored the other light-colored spots near the ball, above and below it, even though some came sharply to points. Just roots and rocks, he'd have thought if he took the time to think about it at all. He didn't, and reached out.

The badger with the ball in its mouth remained perfectly still as the boy crawled closer. The human was at least twice its size but it was very gifted as badgers go and had swallowed a groundhog bigger than itself whole to take ownership of this burrow.

The badger should not have even considered that it was planning to do now, but it was ambitious and very, very hungry. Bobby reached for the ball and the badger eased its jaws forward at the same moment.

If the light were better it would never have happened, but it was so dark in the tunnel Bobby could barely make out the shape of the ball. His fingers slipped past it and squelched into a warm, wet place. For just a moment he paused, confused, even as his forearm slid into the badger's throat.

"What the -" he muttered, his eyes on the ball as it rolled to the side, and before he could work out what was happening the badger reached out its forepaws. Curved claws hooked behind his ears and dragged him forward. The badger was little but it was very strong.

"Hey -" Bobby said, but it was too late to protest. By the time the word left his lips his face was in the badger's mouth. Bobby's chin squelched into the badger's tongue and sharp little fangs jabbed beneath his chin, just as the badger's upper canines scraped past the crown of his head and dropped down behind. The two sets of fangs locked his face in the badger's jaws.

Hot breath gusted over Bobby's face and he recoiled instinctively, sensing the wet fleshy gullet dead ahead. He just dragged the smaller badger with him and the tunnel was so tight there was little room to struggle. His arm was already down its throat and before he worked out a way to wriggle loose the badger wrapped both sets of foreclaws behind his neck and pulled with all its might.

It was a little thing, less than half his weight, but it was very strong and very stubborn. With a heroic effort it forced its jaws over his head and swallowed. Bobby went wide-eyed in the suddenly slimy tightness as his face slid down the badger's throat.

A massive bulge swelled out of the badger's neckfur as it began its meal, and Bobby began to thrash in earnest. He didn't know what was eating him but it was unpleasant enough in the tunnel without it suddenly turning into a gullet. Wet throatskin slid past his face as the same powerful swallowing muscles that sent a whole groundhog into the badger's stomach did their best to do the same to him.

If he'd more room to fight, Bobby would have pulled himself free. Strong as the badger was it was little, and he could have bent double to kick it away. Stretched out in a tunnel only a hands-breadth wider than himself and with one arm already down its throat it was much harder. He squirmed and thrashed, tried to kick, and got nowhere. All he accomplished with the flailing of his free arm was to knock the softball back up the tunnel toward the entrance.

His friends, or acquaintances rather, could have saved him. If they realized something horrible was happening one would worm as far as he could into the burrow, grab his feet and pull him out. The badger would surely let go at some point, even if they had to beat it with the baseball bat. Bobby would get a few scratches from its teeth and claws but would escape.

But neither Walt nor Randy looked into the tunnel. Bobby squirmed, his hip hit the ball, and then his foot as he kicked. The two boys at the tunnel mouth perked up as the ball popped into view. A hand darted down and grabbed it. A little ways further into the tunnel were Bobby's frantically kicking feet, but the brothers were too focused on getting the ball back to notice the sound of toes hitting dirt.

"Thanks bobby!" Randy yelled as they ran off with the ball. The thunderstorm was getting closer and they wanted to get in a few more minutes of play before it got here. "You can play with us anytime!"

A few minutes later the first fat raindrops fell and they sprinted back to their house. If they gave it any thought at all they'd say that Bobby must have come out of the hole, seen the rain and run for his own house. He'd gone down the hole easily enough, he hadn't said there was a problem. Everything was fine.

It wasn't, not for Bobby anyway. The badger grunted, pushing at the dirt floor of the tunnel with all four paws, and dragged Bobby deeper. There was no way to fold a meal this size up inside it in the narrowness of the entrance. It dragged Bobby in until he began to emerge into the wider part of its den, and only then did it swallow again.

The heavy bulge of Bobby's face moved down through the badger's neckfur into its body and the boy grabbed blindly at the badger with his free hand to stop the slide. His fingers slipped past its lips as he tried to get a grip and in a moment of inspiration the badger grabbed his elbow with both sets of foreclaws and shoved the free arm in after the other. With a side to side wriggle of its jaws it got them over Bobby's shoulders, helped by both his arms being up over his head and down its throat.

With his legs still in the tunnel there was even now no room to put up a real fight, but Bobby tried. He squirmed to and fro, trying to back out of the set of jaws wrapped around his upper body. Fangs scratched him cruelly as the little beast worked its maw still further over him, and then claws dug in as well. The badger reached its foreclaws down, got the best grip it could on Bobby's waist, and pulled.

It was a strong little beast and between its powerful forelegs pulling and its equally strong hind legs pushing it slowly forced its way over its meal. Already its fur was stretched thin. The part of Bobby it had swallowed was bigger than it was but half its meal was still outside and it didn't plan to stop now.

As Bobby's face slipped into the badger's gut he found that just his head was a tight fit. Soft folds of stomach wall flattened until he was wrapped in a layer of flesh with fur on the opposite side. The few sips of air he managed to suck in stank of wet hair and bile and wads of fur lodged in the folds were all the remained of an entire groundhog swallowed alive.

Even a kid like Bobby knew this was no place he wanted to be but a great contraction of the badger's throat muscles sent more of him sliding down its throat.

The sphincter between throat and stomach stretched around his upper body like a rubber band and the mass of Bobby meat kept it from making a tight seal. The badger sucked in a rasping breath as it struggled to finish its meal, and enough air reached its gut that the boy was able to breathe as well. It would have been better if he could not.

Swallowed to the waist and with both arms in the little beast's stomach it was impossible to put up any effective resistance. He could kick, but it didn't stop the badger from gulping, pushing itself along the floor toward his feet, and gulping again. Bobby slipped and slid against the slick walls of the stomach, coated as they were with a thick layer of greasy slime, and was unable to stop it from bending him at the waist. It was the only way it could possibly fit him inside itself.

If he had realized it earlier he could have stiffened his spine and kept it from swallowing all of him. As soon as he realized that, though, he knew it wouldn't have helped. Sooner or later either the lack of air would get him or the badger's stomach juices would. The slime coating its gut wasn't harmless like the stuff that lubricated him for swallowing. It stung wherever it touched his skin and more was oozing in from somewhere. All the badger need do is lie there and digest him until he was too weak to keep it from swallowing his legs.

A muffled scream emerged from the badger's distended middle as it badger shifted its swollen bulk. Nothing was left of Bobby outside but his feet and the badger pushed them against the earthen wall of its den. Almost too gorged to move it waddled forward, pushing with whichever paw happened to touch the ground. As it heaved itself forward, with Bobby's shoes wedged against the wall, there was nowhere for his legs to go but down its throat.

The badger's forepaws reached out one last time, hooking their claws beneath the soles of Bobby's shoes. It pulled with all its might, shoving the shoes into its maw, and with a last straining effort it swallowed Bobby whole.

The boy felt the thinly stretched badger pelt around his shift as his feet joined him in its stomach. Curled up in a ball, with slimy flesh pressing in from all around, there was finally something to push against. Up until now there was only slippery throat and belly wall, but now he could push against himself. Bobby did his best to brace his arms against his legs and heave his way out of the slimy digestive trap.

It didn't work. When he pushed down there was the dirt floor of the badger's den, to the sides were the walls, and above was the roof. The only way he made progress was to push forward, trying to worm his way back up the badger's throat, and it quickly wrapped its strong forepaws over the bulge of his face to block that escape route.

The struggle was violent and brief. The badger groaned as its swollen body changed shape, but between its strong pelt and the walls pressing in all Bobby did was exhaust the small supply of air the badger swallowed along with him. With its upper stomach sphincter finally closed that was all the air there was.

The badger pushed with its forepaws, keeping him as still as it could, and let out a long belch as the inward pressure of its pelt squeezed the air out of its gut.

Stung all over by stomach acids and weakened by lack of air, Bobby finally gave up. The last thing he heard was the gurgle as the little beast's gut went to work on its enormous meal.

Finally the badger could relax. Exhausted by the effort needed to shove a protesting human more than twice its size down its throat, it collapsed atop the vast swell of its gut. There was a long shiver inside it as Bobby gave up the ghost and the badger had its meal.

It grunted, burped again, and settled down atop its prey. There was nothing else to do. Even if its little legs could reach the floor, it had swallowed Bobby in the one spot in its burrow where there was room for a bulge this big. It was stuck in the wide spot like a cork in a bottle. Luckily it was deep underground, safe from attack. All it needed now was time to digest its meal.

By the time Walt and Randy made it home, Bobby had suffocated in the hot fleshy folds of the badger's stomach. Even so, it should not have been left in peace. By all rights someone should have realized the boy was missing. Within a few hours, men with shovels should have arrived.

The best case for the badger should have been to regurgitate Bobby's partially digested body and escape through its tunnels before the men dug their way in. Instead it dozed as its swollen gut gurgled and churned.

Bobby's mother, neglectful at the best of times, saw the storm roll in, shrugged, and opened another another can of beer. "He's probably at those boys' house," she said, and later, as she ate a solitary dinner, "He'll stay there tonight, it's still raining." And when she woke up hungover the next morning, "He's probably off playing somewhere." It wasn't the first time her son was away for a whole weekend.

On Saturday, Walt and Randy were back in the field with ball and bat. There was no Bobby around to chase it. "I told that kid he could play with us," Walt said. "I guess he has got better things to do."

He threw to Randy, unaware that Bobby was a scant few feet away, straight down. The part of him the badger hadn't digested yet, anyway. Bobby's better thing to do turned out to be exploring the digestive tract of a greedy badger.

They assumed he was home. His mother assumed he was at their house. And five feet underground, a badger dozed as its swollen middle gurgled.

Then the weekend was gone, and all that while Bobby was making his way peacefully through the smug little badger's guts. Digesting a meal bigger than you are is a lot of work, but the badger had all the time it needed.

It was Friday after school when Bobby crawled into the badger's burrow. It was not until Monday afternoon that anyone came looking for him.

"When did you see him last," the truant man said, and Bobby's mom shook her head blearily. Everyone knew she was a drunk. The farm was run down for a reason. She'd sold half of it to keep going after her husband left.

"Friday," she said, "He's probably with the Porter boys."

"We saw him Friday," Walt confirmed when the truant man arrived. "He was running home last we saw, there was a storm coming in." And so the truant man went back to Bobby's mother and there was much shouting, because they had an eyewitness regarding his return and the Porter boy was more reliable than she was.

But when the truant man left Walt looked at Randy and each felt a chill. They hadn't seen seen Bobby run home, had they?

"We better check," Walt said, careful that only his brother heard. He dug a flashlight out of a drawer and got a shovel from the barn.

No one paid the least attention; as long as they got back in time for sundown chores no one cared and their parents were chewing the rag about that drunk Warnow woman and her run-down farm. Why, she'd managed to lose her son now!

They made their way to the field next to the soybean acres, and Randy scanned the ground as he walked.

"I think it's this one," he said, and Walt nodded. He flopped down on his belly and shone the flashlight into the burrow.

"Nothin'," he said. "I think this is the one, though. It's wider than the other ones. I think he could fit in here." The storm washed away any footprints they might have left. They could only hope it was the right groundhog den.

Walt wrinkled his nose at the foul smell coming from deeper in, but just the same he accepted the shovel Randy handed him. He didn't want to think what they'd find when they dug in, but they had to know.

The badger's burrow was in an embankment and the easiest way in was to widen the tunnel rather than dig in from above. That was what they did.

"Aw, jeez," Randy said, it being his turn to dig. They had finally broken through into the wide part of the badger's den. There was no Bobby, and no badger. There was a lot of poop, though.

"Must be where whatever it is craps," Walt said reasonably. They shone the flashlight around the hollow, which was barely large enough for one of them to fit in even without the poop. There were two other tunnels leading out, but neither was big enough for Bobby.

One was enough for a badger, though, even one wide in the middle with a sloshing mass of mostly digested boy. The badger hadn't liked using its main den for a midden any more than the brothers liked finding all the poop, and when its feet could reach the floor again it squeezed through a tunnel into a less smelly part of its warren. It even took Bobby's regurgitated shirt with it, as it wasn't going to give up such a good bit of bedding material. So far, that was all it had coughed up.

"Okay, he's not here," Walt said. There was a profound relief in his voice. "I guess he did run away."

Randy nodded, and they collapsed the smelly den mouth with the shovel and left.

There was a search, eventually. The cops even brought out the dogs. Nothing was found. By then another thunderstorm had rolled through and there was no smell of Bobby to be found. Maybe if Walt and Randy hadn't collapsed the den mouth the faint scent of Bobby would reach the sensitive nose of a bloodhound. Not from his coughed-up shoes or the shirt and shorts the badger carried off, as digestive juices do a marvelous job of covering up a boy's smell. The walls of the tunnel, though, there some scent might linger.

Bobby's mother, the target of much chiding, sold the farm and moved away. Walt and Randy did their best to forget Bobby. So did most of his friends. But there was one person who didn't forget him.

The badger secreted itself away in the depths of its tunnels until it was finally hungry again. All that remained of its huge meal was some coughed-up clothing, a pair of half digested shoes, droppings in several midden tunnels, and a thick layer of fat on an ambitious little badger.

It had enough fat on it from its one huge meal to den up for weeks longer, but it hadn't gotten this fat by being lazy. It hadn't forgotten how it got this plump and it wanted more.

It was just a badger. It didn't know how incredibly lucky it had been to swallow an entire human and get away with it. All it knew was that it wanted more meals like this one. And in its simple animal way it arrived at a plan. After all, the last time it arrived at a plan the result was a swollen belly and a long, satisfied belch.

It would find rocks shaped like the one Randy threw back into the burrow, and leave them as bait. Maybe it could lure another small human into its tunnels and demonstrate once more than a burrow and a digestive tract, both a series of tubes, could be connected more readily than you'd think.

It was just a badger, and didn't realize how lucky it was to score even one human meal. It was just a badger, but it was an ambitious one and very, very hungry. If the rock trick didn't work, why, it was already developing other ideas. It settled down on its bed of clothes, shirt and shorts and the half dissolved shoes that used to belong to Bobby, and considered how it might score its next big meal.