It was Godsday, which happened to be Bartleby's day off from two of his jobs, when Clara showed up.
He was eating breakfast in the inn's common room when she walked in. Without so much as a by-your-leave she slid herself onto the bench seat opposite him in the booth.
He looked up from his bowl of porridge and smiled a toothy smile. She smiled back. They were a mismatched pair, the seven-feet-tall-on-his-hindpaws feral badger and the little human woman, who might reach five feet if she stood on her tiptoes. He was at least five times her mass and even were they the same species you'd never suspect they were lovers. Yet they were, and had been since the day they met.
She grinned back at him, passing a hand in front of her face. Like a conjurer's trick her face was human before the hand went by and rat when it had passed. Soft pale skin went all furry and a tail appeared next to her leg on the bench as she shifted from human to were-rat in a twinkling. Clara was an experienced Were and in full control of her powers. She had, of course, stayed humanoid enough that her dress still fit, if over two pairs of breasts now instead of just one.
Most places in town, people would recoil in alarm from a transformation like that. This was the Cracked Flask, though, an inn that catered to Verbobonc's less humanoid visitors. Bart wasn't even the most monstrous creature there this morning, as some chairs had been moved aside to make room for a russet-feathered gryphon over by the bar. Among the dozen people eating there, only one was fully human. Four had fur, not even counting Bart and Clara.
"Nice to see you again," Bart growled, and took a swig of watered ale. He carried a little spout on his harness that clipped onto mugs. Even on a very big badger, that narrow muzzle isn't built for human crockery. "I hadn't heard your caravan was in town."
"Just got in this morning," she chittered, her own muzzle and rodent teeth producing something of a lisp.
"Breakfast?" Bart raised a claw and attracted the attention of the waitress. That would be Maris, a muscular half-orc woman. Her distant cousin Alma also worked there. Both shared Bart's bed but while that was an almost nightly thing for Alma, the urge to scratch that particular itch with the help of a badger only came upon Maris occasionally. Theirs was a more professional relationship.
It turned out that Clara had other ideas for the morning besides breakfast. By the time Maris got to the booth the were-rat had sunk down into her seat until she was barely visible. With her elbows on the bench she stretched out her leg and when the half-orc arrived to take the order a furless rat foot was rubbing Bart's very furry sheath.
Maris rolled her eyes and turned back toward the bar as Bart did his best to shrink down into his seat. His sheath was so lengthy that the tip of it - and, now, the pink meat sliding out of it - showed above the table. Once he was fully unsheathed it could be bent down out of sight but Clara didn't disappear beneath the table the way she had a time or three before. She just grinned and kept rubbing.
He was stiff as an iron bar under her foot and almost paralyzed with lust. Good-natured and reliable as the big badger was, he was still young and healthy. His weakness was the one most younger males have between their legs.
Aware that things might get messy if Bart hadn't spent his seed recently, Clara relented and withdrew her foot. That left Bart to cross his forelegs on the table in front of him to conceal his still-protruding tip and glare at her half-seriously.
"Rude," he growled. Once again he lifted a claw and this time Clara ordered eggs, porridge and a slice of ham. He added a few hard boiled eggs to his side of the table which he stabbed with a claw and popped into his mouth to chew.
Clara ate quite a lot for such a small woman. Shapechanging burns a lot of calories and her rat-woman metabolism is faster than a human's. Eventually she burped and pushed away her plate. Her belly was noticeably less flat than before.
"You owe me a favor," she said.
Bart flicked an ear quizzically, the badger equivalent of raising an eyebrow. "I'll do you a favor when you finish the one you started earlier."
That made her grin. "Not that kind of favor. You ate my brother and I'm calling in that marker."
That made both of Bart's ears go down, though not in anger. "I apologized for that. It was an accident, you know that."
"You did, and I know. Ignatz was an idiot and he ended up in your stomach because of it. But I still think you owe me something."
Bart thought about that. "You turned down the chance to go before a magistrate about it. I am not a rich badger. I couldn't afford much of a weregild. And I am only a corporal in the guard. If you're in trouble somehow -"
She shook her head. "Nothing like that. Nothing to do with any of your jobs."
That was a relief. As far as he knew her caravan business was legitimate, but her brother at least had been a thief. His worry had been that she'd ask him to let her sneak something through the gate when he was assigned to sniff out contraband.
"You don't have anything I'd want to coerce out of you," she said. She grinned and pointed her fork at him. She'd found one last bit of ham to spear. "Except the obvious. And you give me that willingly."
"Yes, I do." Bart lifted a claw once more and paid for both their breakfasts. He got plenty of meals of leftovers here for free, as one of his jobs was as a bouncer for the inn, but he paid for his share as well. "So what is the favor you want?"
"Ah, that's the thing. You know I have a big family."
"And a lot of stupid brothers, you said."
"Which brings us to the favor. I have another idiot brother besides the one you digested. He too has a thing for large, hairy males. You said you aren't entirely opposed to the idea."
Bart grimaced. Several sharp fangs poked out as he did, but she was not deterred. He'd had plenty of opportunities to devour her and hadn't. Bart only ate people when he had a good reason, barring the accidental trip her brother took through his guts.
"I've had a dalliance or two with males, but you know I prefer ladies." Bart shifted his huge forepaws with their long curved claws on the table as he thought. In the course of breakfast his erection had shrunk down and his sheath peeked innocently above the edge of the table, showing just the least hint of pink.
"Don't worry. I'm sure he would happily dally with you, but the main reason he wants to meet you is to be eaten."
Bart blinked. "Another one?"
"Another what?" It was her turn to blink.
"A while back a man provoked me into swallowing him. I felt bad about losing my temper, but a bouncer is allowed to kill troublemakers if they make enough of a stink. He planned the whole thing, had some sort of resurrection magic. I hadn't even digested the last of him when he walked back in the door. He tricked another predator into swallowing him afterward, and came back yet again. They kicked him out of town after that."
Bartleby tapped a claw on the table. "Now, you wouldn't send your brother to me to die even if you hated him. I'd be breaking the law and you know I won't. You'll have told him that I digested another were-rat just fine. So how is he to avoid Ignatz's fate?"
Carla shrugged. "He said he has a way. He asked me if you can swallow people whole, which you can. He's not suicidal so he thinks he'll survive in your stomach until you cough him back up."
Bart thought about it, shrugged. "Can't hurt to talk to him, I guess."
And so only a couple of hours later - Carla and her brother had arrived on the same caravan - Bart found himself sitting across from not one but two were-rats. The last time the Flask hosted two, one had promptly gone down his throat.
"Rafferty," said Carla's brother, and ducked his head politely. His naked rat ears reached the dizzying elevation of five foot one and he was more muscular than his sister.
"Bartleby," the badger said. His immediate impression was that history looked to repeat itself today. When he opened his mouth to speak, this new rat leaned forward and stared into his maw.
Rafferty sucked in a breath and Bartleby held up a forepaw.
"You don't need to explain yourself. I owe your family a debt for eating your brother. You want me to swallow you and I will...once you convince me that you'll survive. When I eat someone I have to report it to the Guard and if I gobble someone up like a mindless predator I'll get in trouble. But if you have a way to survive, that's different. Then it's just play."
It really was distracting how the rat leaned forward, raptly focused on his moving jaws, the light on his fangs, the pink carpet of his tongue. He could smell the lust radiating from Rafferty. The thought of being eaten aroused the rat.
Bart was sure that if he just yawned, Rafferty would climb up over the table and push himself in. The rat wanted very badly for this meeting to end in a burp. It was the first time Bart ran into such an obvious desire to be eaten. At least the one with the resurrection magic pretended to resist.
Well, he couldn't point fingers, could he? Every woman he'd fucked since coming to Verbobonc walked on two legs, as compared to his four-legged scuttle. Some of them even asked him to pretend to be a mere animal as they rutted. The seemingly widespread bestiality fetish let him healthily empty his balls at least once a week, not counting his regular girlfriends. Rafferty just had a different extreme fetish. One that would get him killed the first time he indulged it if he hadn't made the proper preparations, admittedly.
The rat touched a wide bronze bracelet on one wrist, then the other.
"Magic," he chittered. "They were a ring and an amulet that I had transmogrified into bracelets. One protects me from a certain amount of acid. A dragon could probably digest me, but I should be fine in your belly. The other lets me go without air. Bracelets, you see," he turned one on his wrist to show how snugly it fit, "Aren't going to come off at an inopportune moment."
Bart nodded. For a crazy person, Rafferty had put some thought into this. The bracelets could only be removed by turning three fasteners on each or chopping off the rat's hands. They weren't going to pop loose and then make a probably uncomfortable trip through his bowels with a bunch of digested rat. And the Were's magical toughness should keep him safe from badger teeth on the way down.
"All right. My other worry is that if I swallow you fully, you might get curled up inside me and be hard to cough up. There's a hestan woman who likes to be partially swallowed, feet first. I don't suppose..."
Rafferty shook his head. "No. I want to hear you burp from the inside. I'll be awake, I should be able to stick my arm up your throat and get started back up once I'm tired of being in there."
"So you've done this before."
Finally the rat began to look nervous. "I've wanted to. The trick is to find the right predator. Ever since I saw...anyway, if I let some wild predator swallow me there's no telling what would happen. I might go all the way through a big one, or it might cough me up and immediately attack me. I've run into a few civilized creatures who could swallow me, but I don't know them well enough to trust them. If one of them found a way to cancel out my magic items even for a few minutes...."
He really had given this some thought. "You could shrink to rat size inside a predator and go all the way through if your bracelets change size with you. You're right though, you could end up anywhere. Like flushed down the sewer if you did that with me."
Rafferty smiled. "Not what I want. Maybe eventually...I just want you to swallow me, let me hang out in there a while and cough me up."
Bart didn't ask what he'd be doing in there. The way the rat smelled, he'd be lucky to make it down a badgery throat without going off. All three of the were-rats he'd met were horny as hell. That probably explained all those brothers and sisters. He couldn't complain about Clara given how much time she spent with a badger cock inside her. Ignatz's urges had gotten him digested but Rafferty had it all worked out. He knew what he wanted and had taken steps to get it safely.
"Fair enough. Do you have a room?"
Rafferty did. Some of the people in the common room idly watched the three of them go up the stairs, two rat-people and a feral badger twice the size of the both of them put together. Maris watched from her spot by the bar and silently mouthed "Have fun."
The door had barely closed behind them when each began furiously stripping off their clothes. Bart had the easiest time, merely pulling off the iron bracers that protected his forelegs. He left the leather harness with its several buckles on. Clara shucked out of her dress in one quick motion and stepped out of the sandals she'd put back on after the aborted footjob. Rafferty had the most to take off, boots, trousers and bloused shirt plus the short sword and dagger he carried.
He hardly had his pants unbuckled before Clara reached out and grabbed his sheath. That made Bart flick an ear in surprise but before he could comment on the naughtily incestuous pair she reached under him and grabbed his as well. She grinned and used the convenient handles of a rat hard-on and a long badger sheath to push them together muzzle to muzzle.
It could have been a kiss and might have been were the two there to fuck. They weren't and when Rafferty leaned forward, Bart's jaws creaked open. The rat hesitated for just an instant with his chin resting between the badger's lower canine fangs, then climbed in.
That one hesitation was all there was. Rafferty pushed his nose into the waiting gullet, reached down and grabbed one thick badger foreleg with both hands and used that grip to force his shoulders into Bart's maw. As Bart yawned, gaping easily wide enough to swallow the were-rat whole, Rafferty planted his bare feet against the floorboards and shoved. There was a sudden bulge in Bart's thick neck and just that quickly there was nothing left of the were-rat but a set of kicking legs protruding from a badgery muzzle.
Bart hadn't even had to swallow and he didn't now, for there was a pattern to the movement of Rafferty's legs. The rat hooked his knees down and bent his feet up against his rump, then spasmodically kicked his legs out straight before repeating the whole process. It wasn't an effort to wriggle free. Quite the opposite. With each kick he forced himself deeper. All Bart had to do was stand there as the the rat wriggled deeper into his gullet.
Rafferty's naked pink hands gripped the corners of Bart's mouth, pushed, and were gone. A different rat hand was sliding the fur of his sheath up and down the badger's rapidly stiffening cock and Bart resisted the urge to hump against the grip. He was paying a debt to the rat family and he owed it to Rafferty to let the were-rat enjoy himself. That was why he didn't object when he felt the rat's cock unsheathe against his tongue, and why he let Rafferty make his own way down. Each of the rat's kicks served a double purpose: to thrust himself deeper, but also to grind a rampant rat hard-on against the slick walls of a badgery throat.
When there was nothing left of the were-rat but a set of calves, pink rat feet and a brown-pink tail, it all came to a head. Rafferty was increasingly immobilized by inward-pressing throat walls and the strong muscle and pelt behind them, but he was still thrusting when a sudden shudder ran through has body. His tail lashed from the corner of Bart's mouth and his feet kicked. Though Bart could not see what had happened, nor feel the rat cum spurting against the walls of his throat, he knew. Just as he'd expected, Rafferty didn't even make it all the way down before emptying his balls.
Carla giggled and slapped the long bulge in Bart's neck. Rafferty was almost still now, caught up in his orgasm, and soon Bart would have to breathe. As Carla watched, the big badger tossed his nose upward to gather in Rafferty's feet. For a moment the thinly furred rat tail still showed but then powerful and well practiced swallowing muscles rippled under Bart's neckfur and the tail disappeared into the corner of the badger's mouth. Bart arched, stretched, and grunted as the swelling moved down his neck. Rafferty slid neatly and willingly into a badgery stomach. A hundred and thirty pounds of rat made quite a bulge in the five-hundred-pound badger's middle, but that was all Rafferty was now, a bulge. Only his magic bracers lay between him and a trip through Bart's digestive tract.
Bart turned his head. The long flank fur that made him look like a great furry turtle from some angles only partly covered the new, lumpy bulge in his middle. Rafferty was still alive, still moving. The shape of his muzzle was outlined through the pelt as he curled up inside the badger. Even through the fur, the two of them could sense him reach down and grasp himself.
"Normally, I'd squeeze a swallowed meal until it succumbed," Bart growled. He reached back with a huge forepaw and touched the bulge of curled-up rat. "But I don't think he is done."
"He isn't," Carla chittered. She reached under him once more, past the bulge, and gripped a sheath now stretched tight around his erection. "Roll over."
There was a bed a few feet away, but this was a single room with a bed sized for only one person. Bart and his lovers had broken a bed or two in the inn's rooms and didn't want to pay for another, so he sprawled out on his side and rolled belly-up. Long flank fur spread out across the floorboards and when Carla stepped over and straddled him it was as though she made love to a great lumpy rug.
He smelled her excitement. Watching her brother gulped down, or perhaps the other play, had her ready for sex. She didn't present her pussy to his tongue as she usually did, but just sat and impaled herself.
Bart let out a long growl as his cock disappeared all the way to the balls. Her belly actually bulged. It never failed to amaze him. He could sort of understand it when she took it up her ass. He was just straightening out her lower intestine. Her pussy, though?
Bart hooked his claws over her thighs as she bounced, knowing her Were toughness would protect her from the sharp edges. "I fucked a centauress once and I think she only pretended to enjoy it to soothe my ego. Centaurs are big. But a woman your size?"
Carla giggled and rode his balls, most of of a cock as thick as her ankle and long as her forearm out of sight. Bart growled, his claws scraping her Were-tough hide. After the earlier footjob and handjob he was just about at the end of his endurance already.
"I know," she chittered. "If I were a normal woman my size, your tip would be in my lungs. Practice makes perfect!"
She wasn't a normal woman. She was a Were, and a really skilful Were can manage some pretty fancy shapechanging. Taking a big badger's cock to the hilt was not a huge challenge. She just rearranged her innards a bit.
Lying on his back, his flank-fur out of the way, the lumpy bulge her brother made stood out of Bart's yellowish bellyfur like a sculpture. Rafferty hadn't lied about the magic bracers. He was still moving, still jacking off, even surrounded by acids that should be dissolving his flesh. His magic items protected him and he was just where he wanted to be.
"It's nice not to have to hold back," Bart said. His forepaws hooked his lover down against his belly and the last inch of wet badger cock disappeared with a squelch. It had been a day or two since he last lay with a woman and he began to growl low in his chest.
At that moment Carla pressed down on swallowed Rafferty, squeezing the walls of Bart's belly against the were-rat's hands and cock. The slide of stomach wall over Rafferty's tip made him buck where he lay curled up and at the same time she let out a whine as she clenched as tight as she could around the badger's much larger cock. Both males shuddered in unison.
With a feral growl Bart arched where he lay and Carla clung to the bulge of her brother to avoid being unseated. Under her hands she felt Rafferty's hands jerk on his cock as he too came.
When the big badger was done painting her insides with ropes of hot cum he gestured with a claw. Turn around, he indicated, and my tongue will finish the job. And so she did, clambering around a bulge of swallowed were-rat and letting a skilful badger tongue go to work.
The moving pressure of her hands atop his swollen belly forced a long belch out of Bartleby. Just the same, Rafferty kept moving inside the badger. As Carla slid into position on the forward curve of the bulge there followed the wet slurp of a badger's tongue on rat nethers.
Bart might not be much of a lover for a centauress but he was too large for most humanoid women. He traded many a tongue-lashing for hands pumping his sheath up and down his cock until his bellyfur got all sticky. When he did manage to fit part of himself in, he still had to treat his smaller lovers like delicate crystal sculptures. They might get a scratch or a bruise when in a moment of passion he got careless but they got their romp and learned what badger cum looks like, oftentimes even what it tastes like. They never knew how tightly he had to control his impulses lest he hurt them through simple lust.
It's nice to be able to go all out for a change, and that's why Bart so appreciated a certain ninety-pound were-rat. Odd bulges might appear in her abdomen when he drove in to the hilt but he could pound her sex without fucking her to death.
All those tongue-lashing-for-handjob trades meant Bart's tongue knew its way around pussies and assholes and it was soon Carla's turn to tense and shudder. When she'd had her pleasure she draped herself over the bulge of her brother and smiled at Bart.
"So, you and your brother," the badger growled.
Carla shrugged. "We're careful. He can't knock me up if he only uses my ass or mouth. We travel together a lot and many people don't like were-rats. Even in human form we aren't the best looking. We get horny. You know how it is."
Bart, who sometimes curled down over himself and sucked his own cock when he couldn't find an interested lady, knew how it was.
"You and your idiot brother," Bart said with a fanged grin.
"If I needed a genius I wouldn't be in bed with you," she said with a grin of her own.
"Fair enough," Bart growled, just as Rafferty shuddered once more in his gut. The were-rat showed no signs of slowing down even with his sister draped over the bulge he made.
"He's a horny one," Bart observed.
"He'll get hot eventually and want out," Carla guessed. "It has to be a sauna in there. Just acid and hot flesh everywhere."
"Hasn't happened yet," Bart growled.
"Let's see if we can keep up," Carla said with a smile, and shifted enough that she started to slide down the far side of the were-rat bulge. Her aim was good and the tip of his sheath ended up beneath her tail. It only took a little rubbing to get things started again.
They did manage to keep up, but only because there were two of them. It was several hours before Rafferty made it clear he wanted out, and by then the lovers were almost disappointed. Left to their own devices they would have been at it all day.
"Sixteen brothers," Bart muttered. "Nine sisters. Your home must be a madhouse."
He and Carla were back in the booth for a late lunch, having worked up an appetite upstairs.
"It's not as bad as you'd think," Carla said around a mouthful of spiced potatoes. "Most of us leave home early. And some don't show up again for Solstice get-togethers because, you know." She pointed a finger at Bart's furry midsection, where a certain brother met his fate. There was no sign of the bulge he'd had an hour before.
"And some of you leave together." Bart pushed a chunk of meat around his plate with a claw. His thoughts were elsewhere.
"Were-rats travel in packs, or at least meet often. Some become lovers, even inside families. It's all we have, sometimes. Most people aren't as happy to meet us as you are."
Bart smiled. "There's only one talking badger I know, and he is me. If I turned my nose up at people for not being badgers, I would get very lonely. And frankly, I can't tell who is supposed to be pretty. Most of the time I'm looking at people's knees. You smell nice, and that's good enough for me."
"How did it happen, anyway? I've run into other dire badgers when out on caravan. They are just grumpy, growly animals. If I tried to seduce one the way I did you I'd have to kill him, or I'd learn about badger innards the way Ignatz did."
"It's a long story. There is a man who runs an exotic riding animal shop -"
Bart's voice trailed off and the claw pushing the bit of meat around the plate speared through it. A low growl forced its way out of him and he shivered despite his best effort to stay still.
His eyes were still glazed when Rafferty's nose appeared between the bench his sister sat on and the table. The were-rat slid through the gap and was soon sitting next to his sister and opposite Bart. He was clothed once more and the faint odor of bile accompanied him despite a visit to the inn's bath.
"And now," he chittered as he pointed a claw at Bart, "You owe -me- a favor."
The glaze went out of the big badger's eyes as he recovered, but before his ears could go down or his fangs come out in irritation Carla elbowed her brother.
"Don't get greedy," she said. "You went under the table on your own. Just be happy you got what you wanted out of this visit."
"Yes," chittered Rafferty, and he licked his lips. He was enjoying Bart's discomfort. "I did indeed."