The Living Wilds
Museums are dangerous.
Ben walked along the displays at the museum, sighing a bit to himself as he looked into the huge tanks filled with a wide variety of rare wildlife. Recent discoveries had led to the capture of countless new species that had never come into contact with human life before. There were enormous habitats of plants and animals alike that were filled with color and movement, crowds packed together to catch even a faint glimpse.
Ben was bored. A humongous butterfly zipped across an adjacent window, prompting most of the crowd to either cheer or gasp in amazement. Ben jumped at the sounds of their reaction, immediately getting frustrated at the level of noise. He considered leaving, but knew there were still more exhibits he had not seen. He pessimistically thought to himself that it would not be worth the effort, but knew he had nothing better to do.
When word had originally come that there were, to quote the headlines, "Hundreds of new species discovered." Ben had gotten his hopes up that there would be something akin to mythological creatures on display, but he had been sorely disappointed. The closest anything here came to being mythological were the sizes of the animals. All of the "new" species were really just larger or smaller versions of creatures that had already existed.
He passed by another crowded exhibit that seemed to contain nothing more than a bunch of horses that were only slightly smaller than regular horses. Shaking his head as a young woman "awwed" loudly, he picked up his pace, heading for a wing of the museum that looked far less crowded.
He could see why almost immediately. The displays that he passed did not seem to contain much of anything at all. He paused at each window long enough to read the small blurbs of information until he reached the description of what the exhibit contained, always walking away disappointed.
He paused at another display that had a bunch of strange-looking plants in a swamp-like setting. He eyes the scene briefly, looking for any sign of movement. Apart for a small patch of bubbles in the water, it did not seem like there was anything of note inside. He scanned the information provided, reading something about an ecosystem that hunts as one unit before giving up and walking away.
It was only then that he noticed he seemed to be at the end of the hall, the swamp being the final exhibit in the wing. He turned away and nearly jumped when he became face to face with one of the museum employees. He took an involuntary step back, alarmed more because he had not noticed anyone nearby before he had turned around.
"Any questions I can answer for you today?" He asked, far more cheerful than anyone at work had any right to be. "Are you enjoying the exhibits?"
"Uh, yeah." Ben answered, slowly taking a step to the side, hoping that the guy would take the hint and realize he did not want to talk to anyone. "Thanks though..."
"Are you here with anyone else today? We have a hand's on section for kids in the north wing." The man asked.
"No kids. I'm clearly here by myself..." He muttered, not trying to hide the rudeness from his voice. Why was he asking about kids?
"On your own? Would you mind coming with me for a short moment please?" The man asked, narrowing his eyes slightly and waving him over towards a door to the side of the room.
"What? Why?" Ben asked, irritated at the disruption, where was this coming from?
"Just a formality, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions. It won't take more than a minute. I'd be happy to refund half of your ticket if you'd like." He said. Ben sighed, feeling slightly less annoyed than he had just a moment before but still confused at what the man wanted.
He sighed and followed him towards the door, standing outside while he fumbled for his keys. He was about to ask for clarification when he found the key and looked up, glancing in both directions before unlocking the door. The gesture was oddly suspicious, and Ben barely had time to narrow his eyes and question him when the man grabbed his arm and shoved him into the room forcefully.
Ben shouted in alarm as he passed through the threshold into the room, only it wasn't a room, but looked to be the very display he had just been looking at. He stumbled, slipping on the ground and falling into the mud, sliding down a small slope, sputtering as swamp water splashed into his mouth. He caught himself and turned, outraged, about to yell at the employee just as he caught sight of the door slamming shut behind him.
He splashed back through the water, slipping as he crawled back up the muddy slope to the metal door. He banged on the entrance, shouting loudly for the attendant to return, anger flaring up in him. A soft abrupt rustling all around him made him freeze and turn around. It may have been his imagination, but he could have sworn the plant-life in the room had moved since he had first looked at them.
Once it became clear the man was not going to open the door again. He began looking around for the window out onto the floor of the museum. Realizing that the room was in some sort of L shape, he began making his way towards the corner that led into the other part of the room. He felt nervous, unsure if it was due to his fear of how the authorities would feel about him being in this display, or if it was the unnerving nature of the plants that surrounded him.
He reached the corner and nearly stumbled as something caught onto his pants leg. He threw his other leg forward to keep himself from falling over and looked down at his leg. His heart leaped. He had expected to see his pants snagged on something, but instead his eyes were met with the sight of a greenish-brown vine curling around his ankle. Following the path of the vine, he saw it hanging from the ceiling. Craning his neck upwards, he saw a large plant with the vine protruding from the center, slowly retracting inside.
A second after he realized the source of the vine, his leg was tugged upwards, toppling him over to splash face-first into the water. He coughed, shouting as his body was hefted into the air. It looked like he was just out of sight of the display window. He flailed as he was pulled farther upwards, trying to swing into view and barely breaching the corner, only to be met with the sight of no one watching the display.
He yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping to get the attention of the employee or visitor, but no one came. The vine continued to snake around his body as he was pulled up against the surprisingly soft body of the plant that hung from the ceiling. Two jaw-like halves of leaves closed gently around him as he was pulled tight against them. He turned his head to see brightly colored leaves splaying out to this sides, a stark contrast to the dark green and brown that covered the chamber.
He writhed against the bonds, shocked at his inability to free himself from the grip of the plant. He stopped and hung there limp, catching his breath and trying to get a sense of his surroundings. He gulped, slowly testing the strength of the vines around him, unable to make them budge. He calmed just slightly, realizing that nothing bad seemed to be happening to him. He figured he must be must larger than whatever else these plants were used to eating.
His heart started to race as his eyes were once again drawn to the soft bubbling in the water he had noticed before. He watched as the surface of the swamp shifted, something slimy and brown emerging from the water. His eyes widened, suddenly recalling what he had read on the information outside the display. It was a display of an ecosystem that works together to hunt prey. The plant was nothing more than a snare. A snare for whatever was coming out of the water below him.
The slimy shape rose from the swamp, it's body lumpy and slick, moving in a bit of a lurching motion out of the water. Only when it turned did he recognize it as an enormous frog. Its beady eyes darted around the room, landing on him and stopping, drawn by the bright colors of the plant. Panic set in. All he could think of were nature shows he had seen in the past of slow motion shots of frogs snatching flies out of the air.
The slimy brown frog stared up at him, its body still half submerged in the water, meaning the thing was much larger than he had originally gauged. It opened its mouth briefly, a deep croaking sound echoing through the display as he caught a short glimpse of the frog's tongue before it shut its mouth again. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, suddenly praying that the plant's grip on him was tight enough to prevent the frog from pulling his body from it. He wasn't sure if he was more uneasy with the thought of his body being dismembered from the force, or of the frog swallowing him whole.
He didn't want to think about, but became unable to think of anything else as the grip on his body lessened, the vines lowering him down and the leaves around him parting. He resumed his struggling as the plant lowered him down, presenting him to the massive frog below him. He saw its mouth open in slow motion.
Its tongue was a blur. A zipping bullet of pink flesh slamming into his upper chest and forcing him backwards, the vines loosening their grip on him and sliding off of his arms and legs. He flew back away from the frog, his breath knocked out of him, for a short moment before he felt the force change direction. The tongue pulled taut, stuck to his body with an incredible suction, launching his screaming form towards the wide open mouth.
It all happened in the span of a blink. He remembered that last scene of light, the frog's gaping maw covering nearly all of his line of sight, a thin pink member protruding out from the darkness and into his chest. He plunged into the hot darkness, lurching hard against the slick flesh and sliding against he back of the frog's mouth, landing on the sticky coiled tongue that snaked around below him. The frog was easily large enough for his whole body to fit completely within its mouth.
It took him a few moments before his dazed form came to its senses and he began flailing and struggling for his life. The lurching motion had disoriented him, leaving him unsure which direction in the darkness was his only chance of escape. He kicked at the coils of slimy tongue beneath him, his legs getting tangled, the saliva that coated the entire chamber soaking through his shorts and underpants after only moments, leaving his body slick with the juices as he flailed against the warm flesh. He had not noticed before now that his shirt had gotten lost somewhere along the way.
He felt around frantically, his hands sliding against any surface that they met without learning anything new about his surroundings. After more squelching of his chest against the soft tongue that seemed to take up ninety percent of the frog's mouth, he had accomplished nothing. The tongue occasionally coiled a little tighter around him, forcing him in one particular direction. It suddenly became clear that the mouth seemed to by trying to work his soaked body backwards, meaning it must be where the throat was.
He lurched forward, trying to fight to motions that worked against him, and failing horribly. He slipped back, small hard points closing in around him, the frog's teeth clamping gently over his body, doing nothing more than holding him in place. He felt flesh clamp in around his toes, prompting more panicked attempts to force himself forward to no avail. Ben screamed, knowing it was for nothing, as he was barely able to hear his own voice as it was dampened by the muscle that surrounded him.
The teeth shifted a bit, slipping up his body and holding in at a new spot, slowly forcing him deeper. He felt the slant behind him arcing downwards and closing in, creating a funnel of flesh that he attempted to avoid with all of his effort. He flailed forward, trying to free himself from the tiny teeth that dug into him. They weren't sharp, but they prevented him from getting any farther away from the frog's throat. He sobbed audibly, still barely able to register his own sounds over the nightmarish cacophony of squelching that endlessly filled his head.
Light bathed him as a slit opened up far in front of him, the frog's mouth bathed him in cool fresh air for a brief moment before vertigo overtook him, the teeth parting, and the tight passage below him widened violently. His breath caught, the sudden movement making him unable to breathe or even comprehend what was going on. Flesh caressed him forcefully on all sides, pushing in on him hard from his toes to his head, squeezing him with immense force, making his slicked body slide hard against the constricting warmth. His descent was short, his fate sealed with one single powerful swallow.
He stopped, dazed, opening his eyes into the same darkness that he saw through his eyelids. The heat was multiplied tenfold, along with a strange forceful pressure all around him. He refused to believe what had just happened. He reached out in front of him, his arm colliding with a slick, hard wall coated with caustic slime, making his fingernails tingle.
He was inside the frog's stomach, completely inside the frog, the wide mouth that had previously housed him now felt like it was feet and feet above his head. He tried to stretch out his body, the stomach walls catching his head and feet before he could uncurl himself all the way. It had felt like ages since his body was deposited into the dank chamber. He took his first attempted breath of air and immediately began coughing painfully. The acidic air irritated his throat, providing next to no oxygen and leaving him dizzy.
Tear matted his eyes, wiped away by the churning of the frog's belly. Tight flesh sliding forcefully across his body, smearing his body with the acids the pooled around the waist of his curled up form. He kicked forcefully, yelling with each powerful spasm, hoping beyond hope that something would happen, something to force the monster to throw him up, to free him from this acrid sack of meat.
All of Ben's attempts yielded no more results than tiring him out. He inhaled shuddered gasps of air, every attempt to fill his lungs plunging him in more agony. Fear flooded him, replacing the panic-fueled adrenaline that had kept him going up to this point. He sobbed pathetic whimpers as he was systematically squeezed and squished by the folds upon folds of slippery hot muscle, his body soaked to the skin and tingling with the feeling of pins and needles all over his entire form.
He curled his body up, the rippling flesh caressing him from every direction, the small tight chamber was constantly in motion, never allowing him a single moment of peace. He tried to shut out the horrific sensations that overcame him, but could not. His mind could do nothing but register the putrid stench, the slick churning, and rumbling din of the frog's internal workings. A soft endless thumping could be detected when Ben's ears were encased in the flesh of the stomach walls. The rhythmic beating of the beast's heart eased him out of his consciousness, prompting one final sob before he left his body to shift and churn among the fluids, nothing more than simple nutrients for the enormous frog.
The cameras focused on the swamp, keeping the whole scene in frame. The Snareleaf plants had caught the man as expected, holding his body out as one of the frogs emerged, drawn to the color that the plant only exposed when it held prey.
The guard watched, transfixed with excitement as the frog's eyes stared at the captured man. His heart beat powerfully, knowing what was coming but being unable to contain his excitement. He waited with anticipation, nearly jumping when he saw the tongue. It snapped against the captive, tugging him effortlessly into the frog's mouth.
He paused the video, re-watching the scene in slow motion. He watched it again, then again. He sped the video forward, watching for interesting points in the footage, catching the moment the frog swallowed. He zoomed into the frog's mouth, able to see a brief frame of the screaming man within the darkness slide down out of view, a ripple in the frog's neck bulge outward as his body slipped into the bulk of the frog's stomach.
It opened its mouth again afterward, showing the empty chamber, as it flicked its tongue out briefly into the air. The footage caught a few moments where the frog's belly seemed to lurch, but other than that, there was not much more to look at before the frog submerged itself in the swamp once again, bringing its meal with it.
The guard exhaled, exhilarated. Part of him felt bad. He ignored that part. Thinking of what the man must be going through was not important. Animals ate other animals all the time, and people rarely stop to consider the feelings of those that became meals. The discovery of these new species proved once and for all that humans were no longer on top of the food chain.
The guard grinned, leaning back. He rewound the video.