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Don't wander away from the campsite, the Scoutmaster used to say. Don't go anywhere alone. If you see a bear, stay well away. All good advice you used to heed, but you're older now. You're not afraid of the dark.

Nine o'clock at night and you're bored. You decide an evening walk is what you're after and head away from the campfire. It's either that or turn in. You should have. Wandering alone at night, you find an altogether different place to sleep.

In the cool night air you explore the woods a bit. And what do you happen upon but a black bear coming the other way. It's out exploring too and blinks at you quizzically.

It's hardly more than a cub, oversized of head and paw and long-limbed in the way of young animals. A more mature bear would run or attack at the sight of a human but it just stares as you walk up. It's as curious about you as you are about it.

You've never seen a bear up close and when it sits down facing you the urge to get a better look is irresistible. It's about your size, even. A hundred and fifty pounds or so. Both of you are young and foolish or you'd each have run at the sight of the other.

It's late, and you're tired. You yawn, and those are contagious. The bear's muzzle opens in a jaw-creaking gape no human could mimic and a thick pink tongue unrolls like a carpet. Fascinated, you lean in for a closer look. At that moment the little bear's eyes open and it jumps to see you so close. One padded hindpaw kicks out reflexively and hits you hard in the ankle, knocking you off balance. Already leaning forward, you fall.

There is a flash of pink and ivory white, then a wet thump as everything goes dark. For a moment you blink in confusion. Something slippery is pressing in around your face. Rivulets of hot fluid trickle over you from the ears forward, for you are head down into whatever the slippery place is. Your shoulders are gripped by what feels like a spikey trap, with points digging into your upper arms. It's all very confusing. What just happened?

Then the 'trap' moves, its points scraping your skin, and you realize what happened. You fell facefirst into the young bear's maw and your head rammed right down its throat.

The bear is as confused as you are. Padded forepaws with long curved claws feel your chest as it tries to work out what to do. As you recover from your shock you get your fingers into its fur so you can pull yourself out of this squelching wetness. Just as you do, the little bear gags, coughs, and swallows.

It's instinctual, just an effort to clear the bear's throat. It also sucks you in all the way to the waist. The broad salivating tongue gives you a strong push and a great contraction of the throat muscles grips your head like a fleshy vice, pulling your shoulders in after. You lean forward uncontrollably as you slide into the little bear's maw and your own weight pushes you deeper. By the time the slither of slimy flesh over your cheeks stops your head has popped past a muscular valve and into a place half full of sloshing, caustic juices.

It took just a few seconds for you to get yourself into this mess. Only now do you recover from your shock. Digestive enzymes sting your lips and burn your eyes as the bear's belly goes to work on this unexpected but not unwelcome meal.

You begin to struggle. It's already too late. You're leaned all the way forward and your head, shoulders, arms and chest are sunken into the bear's maw. You try to get your footing and pull back out but the sucking grip of the bear's expanded gullet is too much. You stare into the stinking heat and caustic stink of the little bear's gut and the little bear stares just as wide-eyed at the human rump and clutching hands just past its nose.

It doesn't know what to do. You squirm and try to kick, and it gags and swallows once more. Suddenly there's nothing but a set of kicking legs outside its lips. With gravity already pushing you down its throat it lifts its muzzle and swallows you t-shirt, shorts, belt, hiking boots and all.

You slide heavily down the bear's throat, propelled by a series of gulps. You try to kick and squirm free. Useless. By the time you realized how much trouble you were in its throat had too good a grip. Flesh groans and bones creak as the little bear's body expands to hold a meal as big as it is.

Two minutes ago you were in the cool night air. Now its fangs close around your boots and a last gulp sends you into its gullet. You're wrapped in sweltering heat and wetness as fleshy stomach walls trap you in the bear's gut.

"Hey!" You squirm and kick, trying to find a way out. The only reply you get is a grunt as you make the little bear a bit queasy. Not queasy enough to throw you up, unfortunately. The bear's distended belly is stretched thin, but the inward pressure is still enough to force you to curl up.

You try to find a handhold, maybe to crawl back up its throat, but the stomach walls are so slippery it's impossible to get a grip. Instinctively the little bear wraps its forepaws around its swollen belly to stifle your struggle. It's little, but it's very strong, and just because it didn't mean to eat you doesn't mean it isn't happy to have you in there. There's nothing in here but you, and it is hungry. Was hungry, rather.

"Help!" Even you realize how muffled your voice must be to someone outside the bear. Someone would have to be just a few feet away to hear your complaint. No one is. Two hundred feet away your friends sit around a fire, ignorant of the fact that you've just started a trip through a bear.

The little bear groans, trying to get used to its suddenly full belly, and rolls forward onto all fours. With a grunt of effort it manages to hoist its swollen gut clear of the ground. The effort of standing up clenches the stomach around you and the bear lets out a long, surprised-sounding belch. Hot, slimy flesh squeezes in tight and you take what may be your last breath.

You feel along your belt for your pocketknife and remember you left it by the fire where you were whittling a new marshmallow stick. You could use it now. You really could.

Your clothing provides some protection from the acid, at least until it soaks through. You're pretty sure it will survive. You imagine the bear gagging and heaving in a day or two, and a slimy mass of wet clothing coming back up. By then you won't be wearing it. Unless a miracle happens, you'll be getting out of the bear the other way.

The little bear waddles heavily away from the campground, its swollen belly swaying pendulously with each step. You can tell from its uncertain movements that it is still confused. It didn't start out the day meaning to eat a human. It just sort of happened.

As you kick and squirm, burning the few breaths of air it hasn't burped up, you feel the acid flowing in to join you and hear the growing gurgle of digestion. The little bear is confused. Its stomach isn't. It knows exactly what to do now.

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