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Good Cop, Bad Cop

By Strega

The first thing Allen noticed when he woke up was that his head hurt. The second was that his hands and feet were tied with something too tight and strong to wiggle out of, and that he was sitting in a hard and uncomfortable chair. There was a groan, and for a moment he wasn't sure whether it'd come out of him or someone else. Then a chuckle followed the groan and he opened his eyes.

Not five feet away was Glenn, also sitting in a folding metal chair. He was wearing nothing but a pair of underwear (which explained why Allen's ass and back were cold) and his wrists were bound behind his back with some sort of wrapping. As Glenn groaned again and kicked Allen realized they were both bound with strips of raw leather.

More surprising were the room's other occupants. In one corner of the office sat a bear. Not a burly man with chest hair but an actual bear, a grizzly by the look of it. Oddly enough it wore an oversized set of Forest Service green pants and a ranger hat, with clawed bear feet sticking out the bottom of the pants and a furry bear chest above his belt. Allen suddenly realized by the name on the hat that he was looking at a very literal Smokey the Bear. It scratched itself, a string of drool hanging from its chin as it looked around with dull animal eyes.

Sitting on an office chair halfway around the room from "Smokey" was a raccoon. This animal wasn't normal at all, and its oddities extended past a pair of pants and a hat. 'Rick', by his shirt nametape, was fairly humanoid despite a muzzled face and dark, short furred hand-paws. Enormous for a raccoon, he'd still be two feet shy of the bear's seven or so feet tall, were they both standing. Rick wore a full ranger's outfit down to the Forest Service patch and brown leather boots. A ringed tail stuck out through the open back of his chair and after just one look Allen was convinced that these were not men in costume. No, they were actual animals, though one was weirdly human-shaped. It wasn't a huge surprise when that one spoke.

"You're probably wondering why I've called you here," the raccoon said with a grin, and Allen found himself smiling back despite the situation. Even now it was hard not to like Rick. An oversized raccoon is still a cute raccoon.

"Smokey the Bear and Ranger Rick," Glenn mumbled, and spat dry-mouthed onto the floor. "I'm looking for the hands up your asses, but the puppeteer is pretty well hidden."

"You haven't heard of us?", Rick said with a wider grin that exposed sharp canines. "Me I can understand, but Smokey? He's famous."

The bear grunted and began to rub his crotch vigorously with a clawed paw.

"Isn't he supposed to talk too? I've seen him in commercials," Allen asked. He looked away in embarrassment from the all too obvious erection growing under Smokey's pants.

"Smokey," Rick said in a firm tone, and the bear whined and stopped rubbing himself. "Good boy."

"No, he doesn't talk, that's CGI. He's just a bear, but he's a great spokesman for all that. What we didn't expect was that women would take such a shine to him. There's always sneaking in to see him. That's fine with me. It's less cleanup than hosing off the big stuffed bear he humps."

The bear's paw snuck back toward his groin and Rick snapped at him again. That gave Allen a moment to get his bearings without distraction. Wooden walls with a few plaques and maps, a bookcase full of Forest Service regulations and cheap institutional furniture. It really was a ranger's office, presumably Rick's, since the cot in the corner was much too small for the bear. The only modern-looking thing in the office was a tablet computer on the desk.

"What about you, then?" Glenn said. "You talk."

"Moving on," the raccoon chittered in his high-pitched voice. "That's quite a drug lab you two have set up off of Gantry Trail. A couple of hikers walked into one of your traps and it's pure luck neither of them ended up in the morgue. That's why you're here, of course. We want you to tell us how to disarm them so we can clear the place out ourselves. We could call DEA but they are overworked and it took them a week to get here last time."

There was a moment of silence as they absorbed the fact that the "ranger" raccoon not only knew about the drug brewing lab but that they were the ones running it. Allen had recovered enough from what must have been a hard blow to the head to remember a hulking shape looming above him as he woke in his tent. Apparently Smokey was used for more than publicity shoots and bending kinky camper ladies over desks in the ranger quarters.

We should have slept in the lab instead of the tent, he thought to himself, though the chemical fumes made that a bad idea. Setting up a tent a couple of hundred yards away seemed like a reasonable compromise but obviously that hadn't worked out.

"Fuck you," Glenn said before he could open his mouth. "I want a lawyer."

"Guarding that lab so hikers don't get blown up by whatever traps you set up farther in is sucking up a lot of ranger time," the raccoon chirred. He picked up the tablet from the desk and Allen recognized the cover of his own IPad. "The traps we've spotted so far are so elaborate that I bet you don't try to get through by memory. No, I'm thinking you have notes and maps right here on Mr. IPad. Give us the passwords and I'll put in a good word for you with the law. Heck, you could probably get your lawyer to argue that the evidence should be thrown out because it's not a ranger's job to question suspects. It's win-win, you get a shot at getting set loose and we get that lab out of our hair faster."

That seemed like the best deal they were going to get, but once again Glenn opened his mouth first. "And I said fuck off. Lawyer. Now."

"Glenn--", Allen began.

"I don't see a reason we should give these freaks sweet fuck-all," Glenn snapped. "I want to talk to real people, cops, whatever."

"Smokey," the raccoon said, and the bear looked up alertly. The tone of the bandit's voice caused an instant alteration in the bear's demeanor. It stood up on its hindpaws looking neither stupid nor clumsy, but rather like the huge and dangerous animal it was. Allen couldn't help but notice claws at least three inches long on each of its paws.

"Let's play a game of good cop, bad cop," Ranger Rick said with a smile, and looked from Smokey to Glenn. Before Glenn could draw breath to swear at them again the bear bent over and wrapped his muzzle around the man's head.

And not just his head. Huge forepaws lifted Glenn from the metal chair and as Allen watched in stunned horror the bear thrust his jaws against and then past Glenn's shoulders. A powerful shove of the bear's paws forced his friend into the ready maw almost to the waist and there was nothing left of Glenn but a bulge in the bear's neck, a pair of briefs and two frantically kicking legs.

Smokey heaved his muzzle upward and the briefs were gone. One big paw went against the wall to balance him and with a series of gulps his friend was devoured. First the thighs slid in, one gulp and then two to reach the knees. A third gulp to send those past the fangs and into the waiting gullet and with a last bob of his nose there was just a pair of bare, twitching feet hanging from the corners of Smokey's mouth.

"As you see, Smokey has another function besides looking nice on TV and telling you to be careful with fires," Rick said. Allen flinched as with a final gulp even Glenn's toes disappeared. The massive bulge in the bear's furry neck shrank as the last bits of Glenn went down his throat. Even on a creature as big as Smokey the result was an enormous bulge in his middle and he swayed on his paws as Glenn kicked visibly beneath the fur. "Disposing of undesirables."

"Bears don't swallow people whole," Allen said. He just couldn't think of anything else to say. Smokey punctuated that thought with a lengthy belch and then immediately and loudly began to gulp.

"Are you sure that's what you want to talk about, Allen? Smokey is trained to swallow air as fast as he burps it up but a little air won't keep your friend from being digested. I could still tell Smokey to cough him back up before he gets too acid-burned...."

The bear looked very uncomfortable. Between his squirming middle - he looked as though he had some hideous parasite trying to chew its way out - and the burping and gulping, Allen could believe it'd be easy to get him to barf Glenn back up.

"How do I know you--", he started.

"Time's a-wasting," the raccoon said cheerfully, and the bear belched again, then spat out Glenn's underwear. They must have gotten snagged on a fang and been dragged from his body as he was eaten. "People don't usually last more than a couple of minutes in there before the heat gets to them, and if he inhales stomach juices we might as well just let nature take its course."

"192837465," he said, and the raccoon tapped on the tablet with a padded finger. "Picture folder, directory Family Tahoe Vacation and Mapmaker App, folder Beachhouse--"

"Whoops," Smokey suddenly said. Allen stared at the bear in astonishment but before he could decide he'd heard what he thought he heard, the great lump in Smokey's middle gave a kick and was still. Smokey pushed at the various curves and bulges that spelled out Glenn's shape through the fur and fat, but there was no response. "Too late," the bear growled.

"Well, that one didn't last long at all," Rick chittered. He looked at his wristwatch. "He should still be fine. Bad luck, that."

"You said he was just a bear!", Allen snapped. Smokey let out a long, weak-sounding burp, but this time he didn't start swallowing air afterward. There was no point.

"I lied," Rick said. "Hm, maps and notes, floorplan, diagrams of traps. Matches up to what we already know about the setup. Looks legit."

"That doesn't help! Glenn is dead! What happens now?"

"Now I don't cough him back up," Smokey growled. He pushed a forepaw - more like a pawlike hand, now that Allen looked - into the lumpy bulge in his belly. There was a gurgle as fluids, presumably digestive juices, shifted around the big lump of meat that used to be his friend. "Kind of useless at this point."

"You pricks," Allen spat. Ranger Rick looked up from the IPad and Smokey put a paw on Allen's shoulder as he tried to rise from his chair despite the bindings. "You said you just wanted information and you'd turn us into the cops. Not eat us."

"If you had any idea how much trouble you homegrown drug lab types cause us you'd understand why we don't have much patience," the raccoon said. "It'd be even better if we'd caught you so we could turn you in, but at least we found your lab and enough information to get through the traps."

"So you're going to let me go," Allen said. "I can live with that."

"I didn't say that," the raccoon said just as the first drop of saliva splashed onto Allen's forehead. He looked up into a yawning bear maw and flinched aside, but the heavy paw on his shoulder held him still as jaws pushed over his head. There was a creak as bones in the bear's skull shifted and the crown of his head slipped into a soft wet tube of gullet almost to his eyes. Smokey's strong tongue pushed his cheek and this time he heard the wet gulp through flesh to flesh contact as his head was swallowed.

Fangs scraped his skin as the big bear's jaws somehow disjointed and slid over his shoulders. Padded paws gripped his upper arms and tugged him upwards as a series of powerful contractions in the gullet sucked him in inches at a time. Even if he'd been untied the bear was a foot taller and at least three times as heavy as he was even before Glenn became a bulge. It wasnt just fat, either. Smokey naturally big and burly and strong as an ox - or more properly, strong as a bear. Despite all his efforts to squirm or kick loose the bear got its muzzle turned upward and even gravity began to work against him.

He'd seen it happen to Glenn and now it was happening to him, only now he could hear and feel all the tiny details. Wet smooth flesh slid over his body not as a single sleeve, but as many muscular folds and bands that slipped and pulsed in sequence to ease him down the bear's throat. Muscle and bone creaked and popped as the bear's ribcase expanded to let his face slip through and into the sweltering wetness and acid stink of the waiting stomach.

His cheek pressed against the wet, already softening skin of his departed friend. It didn't seem possible that the already taut stomach walls could expand to accommodate them both, yet the jaws that reached his waist didn't not cease their advance. Flesh creaked and a wet gulp was felt as much as heard as Smokey's throat muscles pushed him to the sternum in the fleshy confines of the belly.

He kicked and protested but his best efforts didn't stop the bear from swallowing him whole. It took more gulps and an equal number of upward heaves of Smokey's muzzle, each of which sucked half a dozen more inches of him into the clinging confines of the bear's throat and propelled an equal amount of him into the stomach.

He would never have imagined the bear, big as he was, could fit an entire human into his stomach, much less swallow one alive. Now he followed his friend into the slick muscular gullet as the bear unhestitatingly gulped him down. The acidic slime on the walls of the belly was so slippery that Glenn's curled-up body revolved like an oiled bearing, letting him slide in between it and the thick muscular walls. He ended up wrapped around his friend like a lover, both enclosed in meaty walls and coated with a sheen of caustic juices.

With a final gulp even his feet were forced in past the stomach valve. The quarters were far too tight to so much as elbow the walls, much less punch them, and without even a pocketknife there was no way to do any damage even if his hands were free. The leather bindings on his wrists and ankles suddenly made sense. There was nothing on his person the bear's belly couldn't process except his underwear, which would probably go all the way through intact.

With the bear's stomach acids stinging his skin and a powerful ursine pulse throbbing through his body he could only wiggle feebly. Powerful paws gripped the massive bulge the bear's double meal made in its midsection, and he felt the panting beast sit down once more. As the air that'd gone down with him departed the belly in a belch there was nothing at all to be done but wait for the end.

*****

"Hose off my stuffed bear," Smokey growled. "Really."

"Oh, like you weren't hamming it up," Rick chirred. "And I've seen that bear, Smokey. If you aren't playing with it I'd like to know how it gets all sticky."

"You know damn well it's like that because it gets used as a toy when I have a visitor. There's bound to be some spillage but you can smell human women on it as easily as I can." The raccoon didn't need to know that there'd been a time before Smokey was so popular that the stuffed bear, and a much-patched inflatable woman, had seen just the sort of use Rick suggested.

Smokey burped again, and Rick gave him a look that was half concern and half amusement.

"You all right, big bear? That was a pretty hefty meal."

"This, too, shall pass," Smokey growled, and patted the still faintly twitching bulge in his midsection. The lump had been big when the first man went down, and with two in there it was a vast swell of lumpy pot-belly wrapped in thinly stretched fur. Two-thirds of the bear's unfed weight lay in there now, some still barely alive and all waiting for his powerful digestive system to do its work.

"I think you enjoy talking about my ladyfriends more than you should," he continued. "Jealous?"

Rick let out a chitter of a laugh. "You get the size queens, I get the ones after the cute little coonie. You just don't notice it because when I get invited into a trailer you don't hear the thing bouncing and creaking from across the campground like I do when you do it." He touched another control on the pad. "I should get this to the guys. We can start working our way through the traps while you sleep off our Breaking Bad extras."

"Mm," Smokey growled as Allen gave a last twitch beneath his pelt and stilled. "I was just thinking I could stand to put on some winter fat, too. Nice of them to be so obliging."

"Me, I'd always wanted one of these things," Rick said as he played with the pad. "It's a shame the owners never turned up to claim it."

"Seriously though," Smokey said as he rubbed the enormous swell of his belly with both handpaws. "Kathleen, that ranger from Pumice Flats, is stopping by tomorrow. I'll still be working on these idiots and I might be able to use a hand with her."

"Fur sandwich with a woman filling," said Rick, who had been the smaller slice of bread in such a sandwich more than once. "I'll bring the wine."

Smokey yawned and sprawled on his side as Rick headed out the door. He didn't have much tolerance for ne'er-do-wells and Allen and Glenn - if the IDs they had found were real - weren't the first and probably wouldn't be the last troublemakers to cause no more trouble by dint of being digested by a bear. They were supposed to turn them in to the cops, but as long as they weren't too blatant about it, the disappearance of poachers and the like into his gut was overlooked. His habits were actually pretty common knowledge these days and more than a few fellow rangers wouldn't be unhappy if he ate even more assholes like these two.

You had to be a pretty bad egg to get a tour of Smokey's gastrointestinal tract, but he had little patience for people who created hazards that could injure innocent passers-by.

"If you guys had been a little more helpful you wouldn't be in this situation," the bear said to his belly. "At least I've learned my lesson so there's no bulky clothing to stop up the plumbing. I'd say it worked out well for everyone."

Digesting such an enormous dinner took a lot of his body's resources and once again Smokey yawned. "Well, except you two, obviously."

With a thick furry pelt and heavy muscle to pad him he needed no bed and Smokey settled down to sleep off his meal, lulled by the long slow gurgles emerging from his gut.