At the airport

By Strega

The most nervous part of it was always passing through the airport. The long drives into the boonies to pick up goods to be smuggled were a mixture of boredom and the occasional spike of fear as you worried it might be a trap set by the law or that your contact was crazed on the very drugs they were supposed to give you. The airport, on the other hand, was scary from start to finish.

There were the scanning machines, always improving, the TSA agents, some more alert than others, and the occasional drug sniffing -

John came to a dead halt as the beast padded by. Without thinking he spoke. "What in God's name is that thing?"

It was bear-shaped, higher at he rump than the head, with a pointed muzzle and long, white claws. It was two, perhaps three times the size of a man and it wore an armored harness complete with a beastly helmet, TSA stencils on its sides and not one but two DO NOT PET labels. Its mixture of brown and almost-black fur, plus a ruff of cinnamon-colored cheekfur peeking past the edges of the helmet looked familiar somehow, and not quite right for a bear. The shaggy tail in back was wrong too. A fellow traveler behind in line helped.

"Oh, that's Bjorn," she said, and pointed to a nearby poster. John stood there for a minute taking in the animals in their armored harnesses before moving on to the text.

"The latest word in security checkpoints," he read aloud. "From Project Delta," and wasn't that a ringing endorsement, the company that made the man-eating monsters for that horrible pay-per-view show! "Enhanced senses in loyal four legged packages. Meet Bjorn the wolverine," that was the one he'd seen, "Boris the bear, Martina the wolf and Rafa the badger."

Just then a chill shot down his back as something sniffed at his ankle. Somehow he knew that it wasn't a tiny rat dog escaped from an old lady's pet carrier. Very slowly he turned around, and sure enough behind him was a broad, turtle-like beast with a pointed muzzle, beady animal eyes and claws at least three inches long on its forepaws. The dark blue harness and armor covered up most of the brown and gray fur but under its helmet was the black mask and white stripe he'd seen on the poster. There was no doubt he was looking at a badger ten times as large as it had any right to be. There was no leash snapped onto the ring on its collar but just past it stood a TSA agent.

It was still sniffing at his ankles. Low and broad as it was its nose was naturally at that level even though it must weigh at least twice as much as he did. John stepped back slowly, or tried to, for as soon as he took the weight off that foot a forepaw shot out and wrapped its claws behind his ankle. The thing's leg was thick and immovable as a stone pillar and he tried exactly once to wriggle his foot free. That just made it pull his foot against its chest and he stopped before it yanked him off his feet.

"Easy Rafa," the agent said. "Sir, come with us please."

"Is there a problem?" John said as calmly as he could.

"This will take only a moment," the agent said. John hesitated, knowing that running would only draw the attention of every TSA agent in the terminal, and the man continued.

"You'd think it'd be easy to outrun short-legged Rafa," he said so quietly only John and the badger could hear. "You'd be wrong."

"Fine," John said as pleasantly as he could. "Long as I don't miss my flight."

He'd been stopped just past the scanning machines and it was a short walk down the terminal hall to their destination. John was acutely aware of dozens of eyes on him as the badger padded along in his wake. More than one person had their phone out to film his little trek, though thankfully they were focused more on the low-slung beast behind him. The click of claws close behind him told John that Rafa was never more than a step behind and the TSA guy was a step behind that.

There were cameras everywhere and even if he got away there'd be many awkward questions to answer when they tracked him down. It wasn't the first time he'd been detained so John stayed calm despite the giant badger and went meekly through the door the TSA guy opened.

It was like any other office, with cubicles along the walls and fluorescent lights overhead, except where it wasn't. Each of the cubicles must be for one of the animals judging by the oversized padded dog beds, water bowls and even a plush toy or two. Along one wall of each cubicle was a frame that supported dangling hooks. John wouldn't have known what he was looking at had the TSA agent not taken a minute to snap the hooks onto the rings on the badger's armor and undo a few buckles. The beast stepped forward out of the harness, its long flank fur springing out so it looked more turtle-like than ever.

There was an open fronted shower in a corner and he had just turned to look at it when a set of long, curved claws went around his ankle from behind. The badger let out an excited growl as it tugged and only the pet bed he'd been looking at kept John from hurting himself as he fell forward. The animal musk of the much-used padded bed smote John in the nostrils as he landed, and before he knew what was happening the badger put both its forepaws on his lower back and pinned him down.

"Hold still a moment, sir. Don't want to alarm Rafa."

What about alarming me, John thought, but he stayed still as the TSA briskly searched him. His wallet, phone and car keys ended up in a little basket as the agent moved from one side of the badger to the other to reach him. The beast stayed perfectly still, letting out a purring growl as the agent paused to pet it for a moment. The DO NOT PET signs apparently applied only to civilians.

Finally the badger took a step back and pinned John's feet to the floor with a forepaw. From his new, lower vantage point he could see under a table and made out the European-style floor toilet in the cubicle next to the shower. Presumably it was for the animals. The room seemed out have everything you'd need to take care of the beasts except food.

And maybe they that that, too. John's eyes went wide as something gripped down on his shoes and he looked over his shoulder to see the badger stuffing his feet into its jaws. Its muzzle was narrow but its cheeks were broad and with a twist of its head his feet disappeared to the ankles.

"What the hell!" He bent at the waist to push the beast away only for it to take a step back and yank his arms out from under him. John collapsed back onto his chest just as the badger swallowed and he felt the strong tongue push his toes into the slick chute of gullet, which clenched down and sucked his feet in after. It was warm and wet and slippery and it gripped his shoes like a great soft fist and pulled them into the badger, dragging his calves into its maw.

"Rafa has never been wrong yet when he's smelled something suspicious," the TSA agent said with perfect calmness. "So I don't think he's wrong about you. Tell me who your supplier is and this doesn't have to end with Rafa getting the rest of his shift off to digest you."

"Jesus Christ, stop him!" John scrabbled at the tiles with his fingernails, accomplishing nothing other than to bend one backward painfully, then shot a horrified look over his shoulder at the badger. It had just maneuvered its fangs past his knees and the warm grip of its throat clenched down and sucked several inches of his thighs into the advancing maw. The short-legged beast took a step forward, its furry neck swelling as its swallowing muscles pushed his feet ever closer to its stomach.

"Time's a-wastin'," said the TSA agent as the badger began working its way up John's thighs. There was a scrape of fang first one one side and then the other as it twisted its muzzle from side to side, sliding itself that much further over the fabric of his pants before clamping down and twisting the other way. Very soon the wet slippery throat was wrapped around John's legs all the way to his crotch and his toes were pressed against a muscular obstruction that he knew with horrible certainly would soon open and let his feet slide into the waiting stomach.
"I don't know anything!" John screamed, and the TSA agent snapped his fingers at having forgotten something. He extracted a set of foam earplugs from a pocket and inserted them in his ears.

"Pretty soon now," the agent remarked, "The only way I'll be able to ask you questions is after I have Rafa swallow a transceiver. Not that he'll mind, but it's easier for everyone if there's not a lot of background noise while we talk. All that gurgling as you are digested makes for a bad recording. 'Course I would have him throw you up if you're helpful, but wouldn't you rather do it before your skin has liquefied?"

The badger's jaws were around John's waist and his desperate efforts to poke it in the eyes just made it hook his fingers away with its massive claws. He could feel its throat tensing and once it swallowed his rump he was sure the rest of him would be pulled in after it. He didn't want to be a meal for a badger and finally he broke.

"My supplier is Randy Aames in Susanville!" John gripped the badger's swollen neck, his fingers digging into its dense fur as he tried to keep himself from sliding any deeper. "He gets his stuff from an MS6 contact. That's all I know!" A forepaw pried his hands loose from the fur and there was an awful sinking sensation as the badger gulped. He actually felt the bulge of his ass moving down its neck through the fur the moment before his fingers were pushed away. Suddenly he was to his armpits in the thing's maw and somewhere deep in its gullet his feet pushed past the muscular obstruction into the churning pit of its stomach. Hot fluid soaked his ankles instantly where his shoes didn't cover and there was a burning sensation as the badger's digestive juices began to work on its meal.

"Good, good," said the agent, making a note on a clipboard. "Anything else?"

"There's a pound of cocaine in me! Condoms full of it! It'll kill your badger if he eats me!" Desperately he wrapped his arms around the thick neck and narrow skull. It was far stronger than him but he had leverage and if it couldn't swallow him it had to eventually cough him back up to breathe, right? He tried to ignore the increasing pain in his ankles and now calves as stomach acids seared unprotected skin.

"Mm, it won't." John cursed as the badger pawed at his hands to pry him loose. Its long claws were the perfect tool for it and before he could get another grip it yawned massively and crammed his arms into its jaws. Its maw lurched forward the second it got its cheeks around his hands and the gulp that followed sucked his arms down its throat. All too quickly they were pulled in and pressed against his sides and John found his face staring out of the badger's mouth, its fanged jaws pressing against his scalp and chin. It was already gathering itself for a last gulp and he felt the throat muscles tense as the TSA agent went on.

"Rafa was made for this, you know," said the man. "A pound of cocaine won't do a thing to him. Good thing it wasn't heroin, though. Gives him the shits."

"Please," said John, and the badger swallowed. The muzzle clamped down on his head as the strong tongue pushed him into its throat and the last light he saw was the far wall of the room getting further away as he was sucked in. Through the closing jaws he saw the TSA agent watching with idle interest and then there was just the dark and a continuing contraction of the surrounding muscles that gripped his cheeks and forced him down the badger's throat.

He felt the badger arch its back and then straighten as he was pushed down its throat, his legs, then his ass, and finally his arms, torso and face popping free into its stomach in one long slide. Thick muscle and strong pelt squeezed him into a ball that pressed against the floor, forcing the badger to hunch up to make room for the new bulge in its middle. When the slide was done there was wet flesh pressing in all around him and acid that was already halfway up his sides. John screamed as the burning sensation spread, his clothes soaking through in seconds. Only his feet were partly protected by the thicker material of his shoes and that wouldn't last. Maybe some of the synthetics in his suit were indigestible but leather oxfords weren't.

The pain was thankfully brief. Only a few seconds later the badger let out a mighty belch and there was nothing left to breathe in its guts but acid. There was a short, terrified struggle and then John was still, moved only by the peristaltic action that kneaded gastric juices into every fold of his skin.

The TSA agent watched as Rafa arched and stretched, shifting his paws to make room for the great bulge in his middle. The badger always needed a minute to get used to being this full and he gave it to him before speaking.

"Hey Rafa." The badger looked up alertly and padded over, belly sliding along the smooth tiles, then stood still as the agent parted the short fur atop its head and snapped a thumbnail-sized device into the exposed port. The agent picked up a tablet and tapped a key, and a moment later the data feed popped up on the screen. He scratched behind the badger's ears as he made sure the telemetry was coming through.

"Looks good, Rafa.” The big badger yawned and curled up in his round bed, wrapping himself around the bulge in his middle. It'd take him an entire day to digest and excrete the drug runner, and as the man made his way through the badger's digestive tract the multitude of sensors implanted in Rafa's body would examine his meal's constituent parts with great thoroughness. By the time Raja expelled the first bit of digested man they'd have a chemical analysis of his flesh showing where he'd been and when the drugs themselves were broken down they'd be able to tell to within a mile where on Earth they were grown.

The Project was making a lot of money on this enterprise and there was a rumor that in addition to the Sunday Night Run pay per view there might soon be a weekly "Drug/criminal finding animal" (title to be determined) show as well. You'd just have to save the really good stuff for the late showings. Didn't need little kids watching a begging drug runner get swallowed alive, after all, however good a reason you had for letting the animal eat him.

"Good boy." Rafa yawned again and blinked sleepily. "We'll have to see if we can find you a nice tourist lady who wants to learn alllll about badgers tomorrow."

Rafa gave him a smug look before settling down to sleep, and the agent smiled. "There's no shortage of those, is there? Have a nice nap, fuzzy."