POV vore - you and a bear 1
The hike goes very badly for you. It goes much better for the bear.
A hike in the woods. Always a good way to work off the stress of a long week's work. Drive to the trail head up the hill from Big Pine, grab your rattan walking stick out of the back. You've done it a hundred times. It's a five mile hike and sometimes you get to see cool wildlife. Today you run into a bear. Unfortunately.
You come around a corner on the rocky trail and there it is, coming the other way up the trail. It's only fifty feet away and it's a big, heavy bear, pitch black of fur save for its brown muzzle. Its legs are as thick as a fat man's thighs and its paws are each bigger than your head. It must weigh at least five hundred pounds.
You pull up short with a gasp. What to do? It doesn't turn and run the way wildlife usually does at the sight of you. Even bears usually run. Not this time.
Your walking stick is no help. You picked it for lightness and the bear would use it as a toothpick after eating you.
The bear takes a step forward. With no time to think you decide to play dead. You flop down on your belly and cover your head with your hands.
You try to breathe as quietly as possible as the bear shambles up to you. Heavy paws scrape the ground and its long claws click as they hit the rocks. It's too late to run, not that you can outrun a bear, or climb a tree. All you can do it hope it doesn't see you as a threat and leaves.
You can smell the thing. Bear funk, a heavy unwashed smell. Bears don't sweat, but dirt and dried saliva on its fur, a whiff of angry skunk and who knows what else. You can smell it ten feet away. You feel its rubbery nose as it sniffs at you. It's a lot closer than ten feet now.
The bear pokes you with a paw. You tighten your hands across the back of your neck and resolutely refuse to move. The bear sees the movement and pads over to your head. Now you can smell its breath. Also not the best smell in the world.
You hear a creak and a pop. Years of living around dogs tell you that the bear is yawning. You don't think anything of it until the bear pushes its gaping jaws over your head.
You blink in confusion as the bear's lower jaw slips beneath your face. A thick wet salivating tongue and yellowed fangs are in view for a moment, then everything goes dark and wet. The bear steps forward and pushes its maw over your shoulders. Blunt upper fangs scrape your hands and neck on the way by, then it's just the rubbery wet grip of bear throat.
Slimy gullet slithers past your hands and over your face and you actually feel the big bear's thick neck swell as it shovels you up off the ground with its lower jaw. It simply steps forward and eats you, your weight holding you in place as long yellowed canines glide down your back.
It's instantly obvious that playing dead was a bad idea and that "dead human" equates to "lunch" in this bear's mind but you froze for a moment as it swallowed your head. By the time you recover its jaws are over you to the waist. You're halfway into a slimy wet chute of bear gullet and you don't want to go any deeper. You start to kick and struggle.
It's already too late. You had your hands wrapped over your head and the bear's throat presses in, keeping you from doing anything useful with them. As soon as you try to straighten your arms to fight they go straight down the bear's throat and are pinned there, trapped by hundreds of pounds of bear squeezing in from all directions.
You try to kick, but the bear's jaws are around your hips and your knees just scrape painfully along the gravelly trail. Your foot hits your walking stick and you imagine it clattering down the slope below the trail. You have to imagine because all you can hear are your own panicked gasping, the slither of wet flesh past your face and the slow thump of the bear's pulse. A mouthful of thick throat mucus there to slick you down for easy swallowing makes you gag.
The bear gets its jaws over your butt and tosses its muzzle upward, bolting your thighs down in two easy tosses of its head. You're kicking and squirming now. It doesn't save you. Live human also equals lunch, as far as it is concerned. Your opportunity to protest was before you were most of the way down its throat.
Your hands push through a muscular sphincter in its gullet and into a looser space, all fleshy folds and thick slime. You feel your hands start to tingle and know at once where they are, not that you needed that clue. You're on your way down a bear's throat. There's only one place to end up.
Only a minute ago you flopped down to play dead. The bear stretches out his muzzle, gathers up your kicking feet with casual ease, and swallows. No one hears your muffled scream as you slide heavily down its throat.
The contraction of the bear's gullet squeezes you into its stomach and you feel its broad middle swell. A pressure from below as the new droop of its gut scrapes the ground. The bear grunts and hoists its belly clear of the trail. It was a big, fat bear before. It's bigger and fatter now.
It's horrible in here. You thought it smelled bad outside the bear. Here it's a fleshy sauna that stinks of bile and the bear's previous meals. Wads of wet hair, grass and partially digested bones lodge in the folds of its gut and press in against you. Your clothing, shorts and t-shirt, soak through instantly and the hot digestive slime starts to eat away at you. Only your hiking shoes provide a little protection, but even they are leather. It'll digest them as easily as it does you.
Your cotton shirt and shorts are so thin they should by all rights dissolve at once, but they seem to be immune to the stomach acids. Maybe they will survive, but even if they make it through the bear intact, you sure won't. Your skin already has a slimy, partly digested feel to it. You're just a big lump of food to the bear's stomach and it knows exactly what to do about that. The smelly wet hair and softened bones in here tell you that.
The credit cards in your leather wallet will almost certainly survive. The wallet won't. You remember the woven plastic sheath your sister gave you for your Leatherman multitool. That sheath would survive too, and for that matter the tool and its knife blade would be super useful right now. Shame you never got into the habit if carrying it. All you have is a tiny flashlight on your keychain. You turn it on and immediately back off. It's bad enough in here without seeing the sloshing pink hell.
Squeezed into a ball by thick bear flesh and fur, all you can do it wait for the end. At least you learned one useful lesson. Playing dead doesn't work. You'll know better next time.
A crazed laugh bubbles up out of you as the gurgling stomach juices start to work. Next time?
The bear shambles a few dozen steps off the trail, and flops down on its side. The movement forces a long belch up out of it and the fleshy walls press in tight. The bear walked only as far as it needed to today. Just far enough for find its lunch. The last thing you hear is its calm, relaxed breathing as it settles down to sleep off its meal.