A Brief Diversion
By: Vidofinir
 
It was a dark, dreary night. All was silent but the sound of a light breeze blowing through the trees of the great northern forests. A thick fog hung over the land, serving as a reminder of the heavy rainstorm from earlier in the evening. Not a creature ventured from its nest, for not one would be able to see further than a few feet.
 
Not one except Gray, that is, for his echolocation made it rather easy to see in any weather, and the urgency of his journey made it necessary to cover as much ground as possible. Like most bats, he was migrating south in search of a warmer climate and more plentiful food. The problem was that he'd gotten lost, sidetracked, and otherwise delayed, and he had to make up for a lot of lost time.
 
Still, some things warranted taking a break. Over the past few hours, Gray found his hunger was slowing him down more and more, and it was about time he did something about it. He scanned the trees below for food, seeing if anything appetizing stood out. He saw a few random insects, but they weren't really his thing. Angling his deep-black wings, the large bat dove deeper into the foliage in search of more worthwhile meals. However, it seemed like there were just more boring insects about. Perhaps other, smaller bats liked eating insects, but he was too good for that. On top of all that, they tasted terribly bland, and were hardly a filling meal.
 
However, the bird Gray saw in its nest a few dozen feet ahead seemed perfect. It'd be big enough to fill his stomach, but small enough that he could easily overpower it. All he needed was to make s careful approach, and the bird would never see him coming. He casually adjusted his flight-path, aiming for a branch above the bird's nest, which would serve as a perfect perch from which to make his move. As he came in for a landing, Gray was surprised to see that the bird hadn't noticed him. That was convenient, to say the least.
 
Gray came in to roost on the branch, and as he stared down at his future-meal, his mouth began to water. The bird looked deliciously plump and wonderfully appetizing, and it would be all his in a matter of moments. He could almost feel the warm, tasty bird-meat sliding down his throat...
 
Gazing down, Gray realized that he still had the element of surprise, somehow, and decided to act immediately. Unhooking his claws from the tree bark and unfurling his wings, he dropped swiftly toward the bird's nest. In an instant, he was upon the bird, digging his short, sharp claws into the bird's shoulder. The unsuspecting prey recoiled in terror and tried to shake loose, flapping its wings frantically, but it was mostly futile. Gray bit deeply into the bird's feathery neck, tasting its warm blood on his tongue.
 
After its struggles ceased, Gray dismounted from the bird. The wound he'd inflicted was probably not fatal on its own, but he had no intention of stopping there. That was merely his first move, meant to incapacitate the bird, putting it completely at his mercy. Standing over his prey's body, Gray's mouth began to water more intensely than before, his warm, slimy saliva dripping onto the bird's face, a look of pure terror and disgust on its face. It knew its fate, to be sure, and nothing could change that.
 
Gray clearly saw the blood loss was taking its toll on the bird. He always enjoyed the pitiful struggles of his doomed prey, and would hate to see this one expire before he could have his fun. Leaning in closely, Gray licked the bird's wound, savouring the delicious blood which continued to pour profusely from its neck-wound. After consuming the blood which had pooled around the injury, Gray's tongue gradually made its way back to the bird's face, coating it in a thick layer of slimy drool, matting down its feathers and lubricating it for the imminent trip down his throat.
 
Finally, Gray retracted his tongue into his now widely-opened maw, his hot, putrid breath wafting out at the bird's face. In an instant, he wrapped his wings around the bird's crumpled body and began stuffing it head-first into his humid mouth, his tongue lubricating his meal as it entered the tight chamber. He took care not to dig his teeth too deeply into his meal, satisfied for the moment with the injuries he'd already inflicted.
 
For a moment, Gray almost thought the bird was already dead. However, it seemed the shock had worn off around the time he took his first swallow. The bird's wings had just entered his mouth when they began flapping wildly, an action that was thoroughly pointless and served only to annoy him. In an effort to quiet the bird's senseless struggling, Gray bit mercilessly into its wing, feeling a few small bones crack from the pressure as his teeth slid easily into the bird's feathery flesh. In an instant, the bird's body went limp again, another bleeding wound inflicted on its broken body.
 
With his meal subdued, Gray took a few powerful swallows while stuffing last of the bird into his mouth. With nothing of his meal left outside his hungry maw, its fate was sealed as his food. He took one last moment to savor the bird's flavor, running his tongue along its rear. Despite the fact that he was arguably licking a less than clean area, the taste was surprisingly enjoyable, and regardless, every part of the bird had to be savoured, lubricated, and prepared to be swallowed. The last thing Gray wanted was to choke on a bunch of dry tail-feathers when he tried to swallow.
 
Gray's stomach growled in anticipation of its meal, urging him to swallow. After a few more wet licks to the bird's body, he complied, and with one massive gulp, the bird's body was emptied from his mouth into his tight throat, which squeezed and pumped the terrified prey ever closer to his ravenous stomach.
 
A few minutes after the initial strike, it was all over. Gray sprawled out comfortably in the bird's nest, his belly slightly rounded from his meal which was still struggling weakly within his stomach. He could still taste the bird's blood on his tongue, a wonderful reminder of a wonderful meal... a meal that was, however, over. There was little left to savour, and little left to enjoy. With the deed all but done, Gray stretched his wings, and drifted into a satisfied sleep.
 
Within his stomach, the bird's struggles had mostly subsided. Between its two major injuries, it could scarcely move, leaving it to simply wait for the digestive process to end its suffering. Blood continued to drip from its wounds, staining the stomach juices a deep shade of red. Hydrochloric acid began to seep from the walls, which were pressed tightly around the bird's form. The acids soaked into its feathers anywhere they weren't already saturated with gooey saliva.
 
Within seconds, the acid had formed a deep pool in the bat's stomach, quickly burning away at the bird's body. Countless feathers came loose and floated about in the disgusting pool of stomach juices as the acids worked away at their helpless meal.
 
The efficiency of Gray's stomach was alarming. Within minutes, the bird's flesh was all but melted away, it's mind floating in a near-death state, it's body sitting in a pool of its own blood and feathers. The walls of the stomach pushed and squeezed around its form, forcing the hot, frothy acids into the bird's body. Gradually, the stomach compressions became more fierce. Softened by the stomach juices, the bird was helplessly crushed into a lifeless pulp, reduced from a living, breathing creature to mere meat within the carnivorous bat's stomach.
 
The bird's remains continued to be processed by Gray's stomach. It's flesh, bones, and feathers entirely liquefied, leaving nothing but a bloody paste to be churned about in the bat's gut. The chaos within his stomach was offset by his peaceful sleep. From the outside, one would hardly be able to tell the horror that had transpired here, The bat's full stomach and the bird's otherwise empty nest being the only visible clues.
 
As he slept, Gray's stomach finished processing its meal, passing its contents into his intestines. The remains were drained of nutrients and moisture as they continued along the predator's one-way digestive tract.
 
After a few hours' rest, Gray awoke to find his stomach returned to its normal, flattened form. Tiredly dragging himself to his feet, he immediately felt pressure in his bowels, the night's meal begging to be released. Awkwardly squatting near the edge of the nest, Gray relaxed his bladder and began to relieve himself, a warm stream of liquid waste flowing from him, soaking the twigs that comprised the bird's nest and marking it as his own. The flow of pee slowly turned to a mere trickle, and then to nothing.
 
Having dealt with one problem, it was time to satisfy a far more urgent one. Shifting his position slightly, Gray relaxed his bowels and began to push. Despite the efficiency of his digestive system, the size of his meal meant there was a lot of waste to be excreted. The solid mass slid easily from Gray's anus, forming a small, reeking pile beneath him. He continued to push, expelling the last of the waste from his system, ridding himself of the weight of the bird's remains.
 
Gray remained in the nest a moment longer, contemplating his next move. He would continue his migration when the sun went down, the energy from his recent meal allowing him to make great progress... and when that energy ran out, he'd simply have to do this all over again.