Chocobo manure
(soft vore, graphic digestion, disposal)
 
“It is no use, Zipper” sighed the jockey and got off his racing chocobo. He walked up to the tall bird’s side and patted his neck, looking up at the avian with plenty of sadness. He and Zipper had been a dream team for years, winning enough races to actually make a living out of the sport. But, two months ago, they had an accident, and sadly it had been the bird who broke his leg, not him. Ever since, the jockey had paid for a vet, medicine, and even physiotherapy for his prized bird. But as the bills kept piling up and Zipper still suffered from a nasty limp, the writing was on the wall.
“I hoped we would not have to part ways like this, but there’s no other way. I need to keep racing and sadly that means you need to find your luck elsewhere. I found a spot where you should be able to spend the rest of your days comfily.”
Zipper did not understand what the man was saying but caught on to the emotions and lowered his head to nuzzle his rider, who had always taken good care of him. The man stroked over his beak and shiny yellow neck feathers before mounting back up and riding Zipper off the track he had been training on and towards what he hoped would be an all you can eat retirement buffet for his beloved bird.
 
“You want to get rid of such a fine chocobo?” asked the worker from the manure factory with an incredulous stare as he looked over the pristine plumage and handsome face of the tall avian. Sure, he walked funny, but that bird was otherwise in top condition and easily had another five to ten years in him.
“Sadly yes. I need to win races to pay my bills and you saw how badly he limps. So, can you take him on?”
“Sure, he is a big guy but we can handle chocobos just fine. I will just put him with Jack and see how they get on together.”
“That sounds good. I bet they will become friends. Zipper is a very kind chocobo.”
“Yes, something like that.” replied the worker, scratching his head. For a moment he thought about asking the man if he knew how they made their manure, but then he remembered he was paid by pound and not by the hour and went on to guide Zipper to a large pen and introduce him to his predator.
 
While his previous owner walked away, thinking Zipper would make new friends and turn fodder into fertilizer for a living now, the bird was actually being ushered into a large warm pen. The entrance door had a sign bolted next to it which read “Caution, maneater inside” with a pictogram of a huge snake in the middle of slurping down someone's legs. The picture had been added after the inscription had been proven to be insufficient to save two interns. However, Zipper did not get the warning, and while the room smelled a bit funny, the chocobo walked in to explore the soft soil, warm humid air and the small pond in the corner of the enclosure.
“I have no idea what you did wrong to deserve this, but I hope Jack will make it quick.” sighed the worker and walked away, closing the door behind him. The next time he would go check in on Zipper he was expected to be a still, scale spreading lump inside the facility’s largest predator. Most of the manure they produced came from pests being thrown to dogs, strays being disposed of in an alligator pit and so on. Jack and a few other massive snakes were there for the unusual cases, big challenging prey that was difficult for any creature to devour nice and cleanly. Throw enough hungry gators at a horse sized bird like Zipper, and they will eventually tear him to shreds and recycle his flesh, but they will leave behind a huge mess. Mess needs cleaning and cleaning needs time and time costs money. Jack, on the other hand, disposes of his prey very neatly.
 
Zipper tentatively walked around the strange, warm, and humid enclosure. The avian was taking all of this in slowly. A strange scent kept the chocobo busy, as he tried to figure out where he even was and what to do next. The poor snack got his answer when he strayed closer to the murky pond in the corner of the enclosure. A massive, gaping maw suddenly sprang from it. A huge anaconda’s jaws grabbed his neck tightly, sinking dozens of short, hooked backwards needle teeth into his flesh as it wrapped its ponderous coils around him. The chocobo let out a shrill cry which was choked out a half second later when his neck was coiled up in a length of serpent far thicker than it. The hungry reptile continued to slide his fat, muscular body around the shocked bird and eventually rendered Zipper almost helpless.
While Jack was very obviously routinely feeding on large prey, as made apparent by his thick layer of fat under the scales, Zipper only had his instincts to go on. As a well kept racing chocobo he had known nothing but kindness in his life, discounting a few hard races and training sessions. He was no fighter in any case and he was up against a huge snake who had caught, strangled, eaten, and digested dozens, if not hundreds, of meals in his size class. Though admittedly, chocobos were a rare treat for Jack.
 
Struggling with the force gifted to him by incoherent panic, Zipper managed to get his large dull-ish claws into contact with the writhing body of the constricting predator. With his final breath of open air, he made the snake pay for his premium meal by scratching through the scales,revealing the pearly white fat beneath in one place, but that was to remain the only inconvenience he would cause on his way to becoming neatly packaged manure. Jack increased the pressure of his coils and with a sickening pop, followed by another one, his coils shifted inward as they dislocated Zipper’s hip joints.
The tortured bird opened his beak to cry out in agony, but only the hoarse whistle of a deflated lung being drained further by brute force and the cracking of his snapping ribs came out of the chocobo’s beak, amplified by the resonating cavity of his long throat.
 
 
The snake knew that his meal was ready to eat now. Unwilling to postpone feeding any longer, and probably all too happy to terrify his mortified prey even further, the snake removed his bloody grip on Zipper’s neck and moved his head in front of the bird’s beak. Slowly the reptile unhinged his jaws, showing off a bright pink, drooly funnel which was all too eager and -more importantly- able to devour Zipper in his delicious entirety.
Unable to move a muscle, and aching from several bone fractures, Zipper was forced to spend his last bit of consciousness watching the horrid maw approaching him. He tried to wiggle his beak out of the way but soon enough it was simply engulfed and the snake thus attached to him. From there it was just routine feeding for Jack. The ten meter anaconda relaxed his grip around the chocobo somewhat, no longer seeing a need to constrict the almost motionless prey item with bone crushing force. This allowed Zipper to perform quick, shallow breaths, sucking in the damp acris air which filled the dark chute opening up before him. Unable to fight back at all, the bird was being pulled in, or rather having the conda pull himself over his body.
 
After having left the two animals alone for twenty minutes, the worker who had admitted Zipper came back to check in on the progress. As expected, he saw Jack’s unhinged jaws walking their way over the bird’s midsection, small trickles of blood stained drool running down the ruffled yellow feathers. Jack continued to ratchet his segmented jaws further around his prey, spreading his writhing scaly body ever so slowly over the delicious avian.
“Naughty boy. I told you to be nice to him.” sighed the worker when he saw the bird’s talons twitch and clench on occasion as Zipper was clearly still alive, even as his beak slipped into the acid drooling hellscape that was the snake’s very experienced stomach.
 
“Would it kill you to kill them?” the man sighed as he watched the twitching and struggling pick up inside Jack’s vastly distorted body. Skin showed between beautiful dark green scales, the smooth shape of mostly ingested bird occasionally sending waves of undulation through the shiny coils as Jack dumped the still breathing chocobo inside his very deadly stomach. The worker did not stick around to watch his advancing throat finally engulf the bird’s clenching talons, but that was of course no relief to the freshly devoured avian.
With Jack’s maw closed shut behind this week’s meal and the squirming bulge accelerated by bending his muscular coils in a descending S-shape, Zipper was proper snake food now. Slowly but surely, his entire body arrived in the stomach, resulting in a hearty bulge which only allowed for his head, torso and legs to be differentiated under the inches of fat Jack had accumulated in his line of work. Now the snake was able to show why he was employed here, why he got all the prey he could ever ask for and then some, without having to leave his cozy enclosure. He was about to compost several hundred pounds of poultry, skin, flesh, and bones, all within mere days. Only claws, the beak, and some crumpled remnants of once silky feathers would pass through undigested. The rest of Zipper was about to become a homogenous brown mass and some crumbled logs of solidified uric acid.
 
Inside the snake’s belly, Zipper was experiencing a veritable hell. His owner thought him to be well fed and entertained, busy making manure. Only the last part was true, however, as Jack’s veteran stomach started to marinate the still living bird in digestive acids and matching enzymes. This churning, fleshy sack has seen all kinds of creatures come and go. Mostly large stray dogs and deceased farm animals. But judging by the liquid fire the screaming chocobo felt inside the hundreds of exposed bite wounds, these liquids were working on exotic avians just fine.
As the minutes rolled by, the struggles slowed down. Bit by little bit Zipper used up what little oxygen he brought along to his fleshy grave. Mostly he was breathing in the acrid fumes rising from the steadily growing pool of digestive juices surrounding him. With his skin and feathers saturated already, any freshly added drizzle of acids just ran off his slimy frame to pool under his belly. Already, his eyes were a murky white, resembling sanded down golf balls more than the keen intelligent spheres they used to be. When his breath finally ran out, it was a safe bet the bird was thankful for his torment to end, while the anaconda seemed to almost smirk, his head resting on the thick gurgling bulge in his midsection, when the chocobo fell still. With yet another life claimed by his magnificent stomach, Jack merely had to wait for his prey to liquefy and pass through him, certain of a fresh feeding as soon as he released the disposed bird back into the world, refined into cheap fertilizer.
 
Now as Jack coiled up around his bloated midsection and fell into a day-long sleep, digestion started in earnest. The anaconda’s heart was pumping rapidly even though he was sleeping. His liver and intestines made way for his stomach as the bloated sack of churning muscles was about to be filled with copious amounts of gastric juices. A vile mix of concentrated hydrochloric acid and pepsin oozed from his smooth stomach walls and drenched his prey. The flesh eating liquids formed a pool underneath the dead avian, penetrated his bite wounds and infiltrated his flesh, beginning to break him down.
One of the first parts to get utterly destroyed by the burning liquids were Zipper's eyes. After an hour inside a busy snake stomach the helpless orbs finally gave up and spilled their contents over Zipper's lifeless, melting face as the anaconda’s gastric juices proceeded towards the chocobo's brain.
As with most predators, Jack's stomach worked a lot faster on the pyloric end. While his feet looked fine besides being wet, Zipper's belly started to lose feathers and show red, snogging flesh rather quickly. But while this was an unsightly view, the chocobo’s once-handsome head was already turning into a grim monument to gastric decay. The snake's strong acids had worked together with the clenching stomach muscles, to slough half melted skin off decomposing meat. Around his former eyes and beak, there was bone showing and Zipper's rapidly liquefying brain started to seep from his eye sockets and nostrils as a red and grey muck. The proteins which had once steered the chocobo from success to success were now some sticky fluid to be collected by his predator’s peristalsis to be dumped into the snake's intestines.
 
A cycle developed as the hours passed. Every twenty minutes or so, it repeated. First the stomach pumped gastric juices all around the eroding chocobo corpse, then it macerated the contents until the liquids were saturated with dissolved meat to form a nutritious smoothie. Then a series of slow but firm contractions ran down the considerable length of Jack's stomach, collecting, compressing, and then pumping the dissolved avian flesh into his thirsty intestines. As this cycle repeated and Zipper's body broke down, Jack's intestines started to bloat and grow while working on sifting through the former race champion’s liquid remnants. After a few more repetitions, the digestive process reached the point where Jack's clenching stomach folds popped open Zipper's eroding abdominal cavity. Various avian entrails spilled into the general reptile chyme, giving Jack another boost in digestion speed. From here on out the beak, with a few attached bone fragments, and some stubborn stray feathers, were the only obvious hints as to what this amorphous mess used to be. A closer look would also reveal that the sloppy mass of muscle covering the mangled corpse’s thighs must have used to be massive, given how they were still somewhat recognisable, as opposed to most everything else. They used to carry Zipper's jockey to many victories, but now they were merely nutritious mass waiting to be reduced to reptile manure.
 
As a reptile, the anaconda was a superbly inefficient fertilizer producer. He handled his calories very efficiently, leading to infrequent feedings and his guts were very thorough about removing nutrients from the future manure. The reason the facility entertained large snakes was that their automated process required prey to be consumed neatly and to be crapped out in a particular spot, something Jack performed reliably. There simply was no other way for them to recycle large animals like chocobo's.
 
Days passed until Zipper was properly skeletonised front to back. His spinal column had collapsed, and several of his ribs were a grainy liquid filtering through a wad of bleached feathers on their way to become more snake shit. Already Jack's coils were bulging more below than around the stomach. Most of the bird was already fat on his dark green body or a thickening mass growing darker and denser as his digestive tract had its way with the bird. Soon, every last bone would be receiving this treatment, getting corroded into a soft state and then ground apart and mixed with the other fluids coursing through thee anaconda's guts.
 
Days after the last bit of Zipper exited Jack's stomach and ten days after he first arrived there, the chocobo was done. As he had been trained to, Jack hoisted his tail over a railing above a chute to finally shit out that massive bird. The one good scratch the chocobo had gotten in had left an itching scar but it had healed well overall. But as the snake's anus protruded from his cloaca, packed with dense brown former bird, the phrase “you should see the other guy” came to mind.
Using the railing to his advantage, Jack slowly pulled his tail back towards the inside of his enclosure, helping his packed guts to push out the dense, feather reinforced waste. The first heavy log was a particularly feathery chunk, broad as two fists and nearly ten pounds heavy. It made the metal chute sing like a gong after it impacted and fell deeper into the packaging machine. The huge chunk was followed by several darker brown, pieces of waste which contained a lot of the recycled avian muscle and blood. Not much of the considerable amount Jack had ingested remained to be defecated, packaged and sold, but as the mushy logs fell apart on impact, the clanking of keratin on metal heralded the re-emergence of Zipper’s talons.
But the chocobo had a final act of resistance up his sleeve. As the railing drew closer to the anaconda's gaping tailhole, Jack chocobo spewing holes got stopped up. The thoroughly indigestible beak got stuck on the way out, its hollow frame packed with undigested crumbled feathers and more dense snake shit. It took a lot of work and brown liquid bubbled from the former nostrils in the beak before the pressure rose enough to crack and expel the beak for good.
After that part, things went more smoothly and grainy brighter logs of recycled bones fell from the pooping snake in quick succession. In the end, it was all topped off with a splatter of crystallized uric acid and essentially a gush of snake pee. It looked as if the anaconda was sure that the mass he passed on for packaging had not been disgusting enough previously.
 
 
While waiting for the delivery of his new racing bird, the Jockey had turned to gardening to pass the time. It was an old hobby he finally had time for again and it turned out that Zipper's retirement due to injury had triggered a healthy insurance payout. As he shopped around for fertilizer he picked up one of the cheapest bags and felt an odd firmness on the backside of the bag. He turned it around and froze in shock. There was a beak on the other side of the clear plastic package and it had exactly the same scratch around the tip as Zipper's. As the realisation of why the manure plant worker had nearly talked him out of selling them Zipper rose up, so did his breakfast.