With Friends Like These...

Rory stared up at the tent fabric overhead. The rattata could just see its curves in the flecks of moonlight peeking through the weave. It had been a good day. He’d just been assigned to a rookie team, and their first mission with him along had been a success.

It had been a simple search and destroy mission, but he’d been nervous the whole time. It’d been his first time seeing a shadow of anything larger than a pidgey, at least in the flesh. In the shadow? But he’d done well. He’d scouted the shadow sandslash without being spotted, and he hadn’t been a total liability in the fight itself! That was a win in Rory’s book.

The team leader had their own tent; Rory, the newest and smallest member, was sharing with their largest teammate. Teammates? Zan and Aza were a zweilous; he still wasn’t clear on if they counted as one member or two. Since if you ask for a headcount, well…

He’d been unnerved by them when he first joined. The two-headed dragon always seemed only a moment away from biting whatever was in reach. In the fight, they’d been exactly as bloodthirsty as they seemed, but seeing them unleashed like that oddly made him more comfortable around them; their normal level of bitey was much more restrained in comparison.

Also, one of them had called him “snack”. Rory preferred to give people permission to call him that, but it was an interesting sign for the future. Perhaps they had similar interests. It’d worried him before the mission, but not anymore. The rattata’s gaze lingered on the lighter splotch of color that was the bandages wrapped around the dragon’s middle. He vividly remembered how they’d jumped in harm’s way to protect him when the sandslash charged him instead, taking a swipe from its fierce claws. A fond smile spread across his whiskered snout as he looked at the tangled pile of sleeping dragon.

Would they mind if I snuggled in between their necks? Like most rattata, Rory didn’t like sleeping alone. The zweilous’s furry necks looked very cozy to cuddle up with, but he didn’t want to just do that while they were asleep. Except—They’re not, Rory realized with a start. One of their heads was looking back at him. He wasn’t sure which one; embarrassing as it was, he still struggled to tell them apart in broad daylight.

The dragon twitched at the same time as him. “So you’re awake too,” the zweilous hissed. “Good. My brother is finally asleep.”

So this must be… Aza. “Ah… is he?” Rory whispered. “Thanks again for covering me today.”

“Of course,” Aza said. “We couldn’t let anything damage our sssnack.” She drew out the last word like it was a treat to say, rolling it around in her mouth.

The rattata winced. “Again with the nickname?” I really need to tell her to ease off on that. Rory let out a weak chuckle. “Hey, just because I’m… small…” He trailed off, whiskers twitching. All he could see was Aza’s silhouette, but the way she drew her head up made his blood run cold, triggering some base instinct deep inside him. Run.

He leapt, but the zweilous was faster. Aza struck like a snake, snatching him right out of the air. After a blur of motion, Rory dangled in her jaws, caged behind her fangs, legs sticking out on either side of her mouth. The dragon didn’t have many teeth; just four big fangs and a bunch of smaller teeth for gripping food. Gripping prey. Like me. The rattata shuddered and struggled against her hold. “The fuck, Aza! Put me down!”

She just slurped at him instead, licking him with her slobbery tongue. The dragon squeezed with her teeth, just enough for the jagged tips to dig in and hurt. Rory knew she was holding back; he’d seen what she could do if she wanted. This didn’t reassure him in the slightest. Did I completely misread her?

The rattata changed tack. “Zan!” he squeaked, fear throttling his screams down to strangled whispers. “Zan! Help!”

Aza loosened her grip to lunge and regrab him, turning the rattata headfirst towards the back of her maw and working him deeper.

Rory felt around frantically with his limited movement, searching for some way to stop himself. The zweilous’s teeth were too small and her mouth flesh too slick for him to get any grip. Her tongue flexed under him, guiding him deeper. His hindpaws and tail were the only parts of him that still felt the cool night air. Everything else was sweltering dragon maw.

The rattata shuddered. Sure he’d been fantasizing about the zweilous a little, but he only liked pretending to be prey, not being treated like a piece of meat. Not like this. It was uncannily close to what he wanted, yet worlds away, flipping his fantasy on its head and filling him with a primal revulsion. “Aza—”

Aza tipped her head back and swallowed, silencing Rory’s panicked squeaking. His hindpaws slid into her mouth, then his tail, and with another gulp the rattata became just a bulge slowly sinking down her long neck.

The outside sounds cut off as Rory squeezed into the dragon’s throat, his whiskers and ears forced back against his head. Tight flesh gripped Rory from all sides, kneading thick and slippery slime into his fur. He couldn’t struggle; he could barely move. Aza’s esophagus held him firmly in place, working him down her gullet one ripple of muscle at a time. He heard and felt her sigh, the air passing by right next to him. His mind raced in circles, a scream only he could hear.

The zweilous’s other head stirred, lifting off where he was curled up on their back. “Did you say my name?” Zan asked, interrupted in the middle by a yawn.

A flicker of hope. Zan! Three above, please! Please notice! Squeezed too hard to speak, Rory squirmed as hard as he could, fighting against Aza’s throat muscles.

“Hm?” his sister grunted, feigning ignorance. “Nobody said anything. Sshh. Go back to sleep.” The rattata’s lump wriggled under her her neck fur, nigh invisible in the darkness.

Rory’s prayers went unanswered: Zan just grunted sleepily and put his head back down.

The rattata’s heart sank as he got no response. He can’t feel me, he realized. This is Aza’s neck… The rest of him sank too, descending inexorably with each ripple of muscle. It was interminable, the anticipation only making it worse.

The dragon’s gullet grew even tighter as Rory squeezed into their body proper. Their heart was loud against him, louder than the slick squishes pushing him along. Finally his snout pressed against a ring of muscle, stopping his descent. He braced himself. Rory heard Aza’s last swallow from above before it reached him, her muscles gripping him tight and shunting him through into her stomach.

He spilled out into a more open space, dropping down a couple inches and splashing into a shallow puddle that covered the floor. Rory squirmed onto his back right away, keeping his mouth out of the liquid. Released from the crushing grip of Aza’s throat, he gasped for breath. He took deep lungfuls of the hot, stale air, stained with the scent of the berries they’d had for dinner. The remnants of which he was lying in, no doubt.

With no light, he felt around with his paws and whiskers. The zweilous’s stomach was wide but not very tall, just like the body it was nestled in. Their gut was just big enough that he barely stretched it, the walls all wrinkled and squishy under his paws. They were covered in thick slime, thicker even than the layer in Aza’s throat.

Rory took a couple breaths to recover from the trip inside. The dragon’s gut rippled around him, rocking him in the cramped chamber. He steeled himself and kicked the wall. “Let me out!”

Aza just chuckled, the sound carrying through her body to come from all around him. “Maybe in the morning, snack…”

“No, right now! Or I’ll gnaw my way out!” He pressed his paws into the slimy wrinkles in front of him, struggling to get a grip on the slippery flesh.

He felt some shift in their body as Aza bristled. “You try that and you won’t get out at all,” she threatened.

That made Rory hesitate. Is she really planning to let me out? He wanted to believe it. She definitely had easier ways to kill him if she wanted. And she saved him earlier. Just to get her jollies like this, he thought darkly. But there’s no way she’d get away with it… right?

Aza felt him go still. “That’s right,” she cooed. “Be a good snack. Just curl up and snooze in our gut where you belong.”

The rattata scowled. Being small, everyone always assumed what he wanted; “helpfully” picking him up, teasing him, thinking they knew better… He hated it. He could have enjoyed that same tease, verbatim, from someone else, but hers landed sour. Rancid. Maybe she really is going to let me out. I don’t care. Rory leaned into the anger welling up inside him. He refused to let her have the satisfaction.

Rory grabbed a wrinkle of gutflesh. “Fuck you.” He bit down, sharp incisors slicing into dragon flesh.

Bitter stomach slime and bile filled his mouth, immediately overpowered by the metallic taste of blood. A yelp reverberated through the chamber around him.

“That’s your last mistake,” Aza hissed.

The walls clenched down on Rory, crushing him in the dragon’s grip. Fuck. I made her mad. He gasped in the hot stale air, struggling to keep fighting back. Ripples of muscle tossed him around, keeping him from getting a good grip to bite, until he was pushed facefirst against the slimy wall. The rattata braced himself, mouth full of stomach lining. If I fuck her up enough, she’ll get sick and cough me up.

A sleepy voice rumbled through the stomach. “Sister, did you feel that?”

Zan. Rory made a split second decision not to bite and let go of the stomach wall to talk instead. “Zan! She ate me!”

“Rory? Is that you?” Zan twisted his head to press it against their back, listening.

A muscular clench stifled the rattata’s response, muffling him in dripping rugae. “Feel what?” Aza said.

Zan was quiet for a moment, the seconds crawling by like little eternities. ”…Sister. How stupid do you think I am?” Zan said. “I felt that too.”

Rory heard one of them make a choking noise. The walls convulsed around him, shoving him up and out, back into the tight esophagus.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him… much,” Aza protested. Her voice sounded distant and muffled; Rory could barely hear her. This must be Zan’s throat.

As expected, Zan’s voice was loud and clear. “You always play too rough. Now I have to try and fix this.” He let out a frustrated sigh; Rory felt the rush of air pass by him, separated by only a few thin layers of flesh. “It was my turn, too.”

Wait, what?

If Zan had anything more to say, he couldn’t finish, as the rattata slid up and into his mouth. He lowered his head and spat the slimy rat out onto the tent floor, on the left. His side. “Don’t come closer. I put you out of her reach.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” Aza said from the other side. Rory could hear the scowl in her voice. “You all ruined the mood.”

Zan ignored her to focus on the rattata. “Are you all right?” the zweilous asked.

Rory rolled onto his back and lay there, sprawled on the floor, taking shallow breaths of fresh, cool outside air. He felt himself over; his heart was still hammering in his chest. “Y-yeah,” he gasped. “I think so.” A scaly snout bumped his side and made him squeak.

“You’re breathing quickly,” Zan observed. His sibilant voice was gentle on Rory’s ears, despite coming from only inches away. “Slow down. Deep breaths.”

The rattata fought to take deeper breaths, trying to calm himself. He was still shaken, still shaking, his ears and tail quivering. It was all catching up with him. Even if Aza never truly meant him harm, his body didn’t seem to know that. He leaned against Zan’s head, hovering close to him.

The dragon sniffed at the soggy rat. He flicked his tongue out to sample at the air. “You smell like blood.”

That caught Rory off guard. “Uh—”

“My sister didn’t bite you, did she?” Zan pressed.

“Not that hard,” Aza snapped. She was listening in—how could she not? “He bit us, stupid. That’s our blood you smell.”

“That’s, uh.” Hm. Rory hesitated a moment. “That’s true. It’s not mine, it’s hers. I mean yours. Your blood.”

Zan considered this. “Ah.” He pulled his head away and grabbed a corner of the rumpled blanket he was lying on to drag it over to Rory. “Here. You can clean yourself with this.”

“Oh. Thanks.” The rattata sat up and took the blanket corner, using it to mop his face and front. He tried to get off as much gut slime and blood as he could, rubbing at the blanket, dragging it against his back, moving on as each bit he grabbed became too sodden to help. He felt better already; somehow being distracted from his panic had helped.

“Is that our blanket? Nasty,” Aza hissed. “That’s your half now.”

“Hush. We can wash it,” Zan said. He nosed at Rory as the rattata was finishing. “Still slimy. Let me help.”

“Help?” Rory asked, before his question was answered by a slick zweilous tongue dragging over his back. He squeaked, but the dragon’s saliva was notably thinner than the slime still clinging to his fur. “Oh. That actually is better.” He crossed his arms and braced against the licks. “Next time ask first.”

The zweilous paused. “Sorry,” he said. “I will.”

Hm. At least he listens. The ratatta pushed back against Zan’s tongue each time. When the dragon went for his front, he turned to help, hugging the squishy muscle to clean off his forelegs. Rory even nuzzled at the tongue, using it to clean his whiskers and ears. This is nice. Shame it’s because of… everything.

Newly coated in a relatively clean layer of zweilous saliva, Rory sighed. “Sorry for biting you,” he said, patting Zan’s scaly nose.

Zan tilted his head. “Why? It woke me up.”

“Well, I don’t regret it, but I’m still sorry I had to hurt you.” Not sorry about hurting Aza, though.

Zan pondered this, like he’d never considered being sorry without being regretful. “Interesting. Then, me too.”

It was Rory’s turn to tilt his head at the dragon’s silhouette. “You too?”

“Sorry you had to bite us, but glad you did. You woke me up so I could help.”

“So you could interfere,” Aza snapped, reminding Rory she was still listening.

“‘Interfere’?” Zan lifted his head up and twisted around. “Bold words from you, sister. It was my turn and you know it.”

There’s that “turn” thing again. Turn for what? Rory wondered. He tried to speak up. “Turn—?”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Aza said, talking right over him. “I just thought you didn’t want him.”

“I was waiting for the right time,” Zan said, a growl creeping into his voice.

“I gave you plenty.” She snarled back at him, the rumbling sound filling the tent.

Three preserve us, please don’t fight, Rory prayed. “Zan’s turn for what?” he piped up. “What was it his turn for?” He had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

Both heads turned to look at him. The growling stopped, much to his relief.

Zan waffled. “Ah, well, it’s—”

“It was my brother’s turn to eat you,” Aza said, smug. “That’s right. Your ‘savior’ was going to do just what I did.”

“No.” Zan disagreed immediately. “I wasn’t.” He focused his attention on Rory. “My sister is always too rough. I was waiting for the right moment to ask you.”

“To ask me if you could eat me?” the rattata asked.

“And let you out of course, yes,” Zan said.

Well. That’s another point for him over his sister, Rory thought. But… “What if I said no?”

The zweilous was silent. Aza snickered.

“Zan. Would you still eat me if I said no?”

Zan made a frustrated whimpering sound. “I wouldn’t, if I could,” he said.

“What do you mean ‘if you could’?”

“If I didn’t, my sister would, and she doesn’t care about how you feel at all.”

“That’s not true,” Aza hissed. “I care. I care that he’s terrified. It’s not fun if he’s not scared. That’s the whole point, the thrill, the struggle, the squirming.”

“See? It’s better I do it, right? At least I can be gentle about it.” Zan lowered his head all the way to the blanket, like he was looking at Rory for approval.

“I’m gentle!” Aza protested. “I only hurt them enough to scare them. I’m not a monster.”

If she set the bar any lower it’d be underground, the rattata thought. He felt bad that Zan had to put up with her—not that Zan was a paragon of virtue himself. Rory patted Zan’s snout. “It’s… a little better,” he allowed. “But not by much. You’re still just using someone for your enjoyment, like her.”

Zan sighed. “But if I don’t use my turn, my sister will…”

Aza seemed more ruffled. “What am I supposed to do?” she said. “If they like it, they won’t be scared.”

‘Not this’, was what Rory wanted to say. But he had an idea. He wasn’t sure if it was stupid or brilliant. ”…That’s not true. Or, it doesn’t have to be. You’re both caught in false dichotomies.”

“…in what?” the two of them asked in unison.

“A false… er, I mean those aren’t the only options,” Rory explained. “There’s other possibilities.” He became acutely aware that both of the zweilous’s heads were staring at him.

“How so?” Zan said.

“Yes, explain.”

The rattata gulped. “Have you ever heard of role-play?”

“Like. Down a hill?” Zan asked.

“We can’t,” Aza said. “Too wide now.” She sounded wistful.

She remembers being a deino? Wait, was she the first head? Is that how it works?¹ Rory shook himself and tried to stay on track. “No, no, like… in a play. In theater.”

“A… play?”

“Didn’t we see one about bugs?” Aza said.

Zan perked up. “Oh yes! The one with the red and blue bugs in love.”

“They died at the end. It was stupid.”

“I thought they faked it with a potion.”

“Yes, and then they died for real,” Aza said. “Or… for fake. In the, the play.”

Rory jumped in and latched onto this. “Yes! Those were actors,” he explained. “They were playing roles. They didn’t really die or do any of those things. They were just pretending.”

Both dragon heads looked at him curiously. “What does this have to do with us?” Aza said.

“What if someone pretended to be scared? But they actually liked it?”

Aza had to think. “But… I’d know it was fake,” she said.

“You knew the play was fake,” Rory pointed out. “Did that matter?”

“She didn’t at first,” Zan snickered.

Aza bumped her head into his neck and hissed. “Shut up, brother.”

Rory pressed on. “You’re already doing it,” he said. “Remember when you, ah”—he hesitated, whiskers quivering—“when you ate me? You were pretending to treat me like food. Right?”

Aza stared at him.

”…Right?”

“That’s true,” she said slowly. She went quiet.

Zan rubbed his head against her neck. “It sounds clever,” he said. “You could play with someone more than once, since they wouldn’t run away after…”

“Yeah! You could be friends with them. Actually grow close. You could make them feel good too.”

Aza rumbled with a growl. “But that’s all make-believe. Wishful thinking. Does someone like that exist? Who would even want to do that?”

Rory crossed his arms. “Me. I would’ve tried it, if you’d asked.”

“You would?” said both heads at once.

“Yes! I actually like this stuff if I get a choice. Zan, your tongue bath was lovely.”

Zan made a pleased sound almost like purring.

Aza took a moment to process this before eagerly butting in. “Well! We—we can try your way next time—”

“No! There’s no ‘next time’,” Rory said, in as firm a voice as he could muster. “Not with you. After you apologize, I’ll think about it.”

Aza arched her neck and bristled, hissing at the rattata outside her reach. “Apologize?” she said, as though the word were something foul-tasting.

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by a headbutt from her brother. “Sister, wait,” Zan said. “Don’t say anything rash.”

“Yes, sleep on it.” Rory said. “I want a sincere, heartfelt apology.” He wasn’t sure if Aza could manage that, but he wouldn’t settle for less.

Aza grumbled softly. “I need to think about this,” she said, setting her head down away from the others.

I hope she really does, Rory thought. He sighed. His paws were clenched tight, he realized; the rattata tried to relax and loosen up. In the middle of a stretch, he yawned. That’s right, it’s the middle of the night.

The dark shape of the zweilous’s close head swung around towards him, leaning down to touch against Rory’s side. “Thank you for giving my sister another chance,” Zan whispered. “You’re very kind.”

Rory hugged Zan’s head, nuzzling into the fur that covered the sides and back. “I’m not sure she deserves one,” he whispered back. “But I guess we’ll see.”

“Mhm.” The dragon made that purring sound again, pressing his head against the rattata. He lay there for a bit. “If you ever want,” he said, voice soft. “I’d be happy to give you another tongue bath.”

“Yeah?” Rory chuckled and gave Zan a firm scritch with one paw. “I’ll let you do a lot more than just a tongue bath, if you ask nicely.”

“Really?” Zan winced and grunted. “Ngh. Stomach still hurts.”

Rory’s eyes widened. “Frig, I almost forgot about that! We should treat it now. Hold on.” He scampered away.

By the time Zan said “Huh?”, the rattata was already at one of the tent corners, sorting through his loose pile of gear. He searched them by feel, looking for two things in particular: a vial of oran extract, kept in long narrow vials, and his mini light crystal headlamp. A crystal that small wasn’t very bright, but he wouldn’t need much light. Rory untangled one of his shoulder belts and slung it across his chest, slipping the vial snugly into one of its loops. He pulled his headlamp on over his ears, then thought better of it and clipped it onto the belt with the vial.

He returned and patted the zweilous on the snout. “Okay, open up.”

Zan obliged, opening his jaws. Rory looked into the warm cave—not that he could see anything more than shapes in the darkness—and leaned in. He put his front paws on the dragon’s tongue and started climbing in, ducking between Zan’s upper fangs. But as he took his first step into the maw, paw squishing into a little pool of saliva, he heard a confused chirp from around him. Zan’s tongue lifted up before him, pushing firmly and insistently against his chest until Rory stumbled back onto the blanket. Air rushed past him as Zan shut his mouth.

“I thought you were going to… pour something in,” Zan said. “I thought you didn’t want us to eat you again. Right?”

“You’re not your sister. That question is exactly why I trust you, Zan,” Rory whispered, reaching up to stroke at Zan’s snout scales. “Oran extract is topical. If you just drink it, it won’t get where it needs to.” He smiled. “I should have been clearer. Will you please swallow me?” He heard the dragon’s sharp inhale and smiled wider.

“Of course,” Zan said. The whispering hiss that sounded so ominous coming from Aza was almost sensual in his voice. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Zan opened his mouth again. This time, he didn’t resist as the rattata climbed inside, sliding his tongue underneath Rory to help him in. The rattata’s expedition gear tasted of dust and dirt, along with the bitter flavors still clinging to his fur from earlier. But Zan didn’t mind; the flavor wasn’t important. What mattered was having the rattata lying on his tongue, willingly, cuddling up inside his maw.

Rory rested atop the squishy bed of muscle. He squirmed just deep enough that he felt Zan’s fangs behind his hindpaws, then stopped. His stomach dropped as Zan closed his jaws, lifting him up and sealing all but his tail into humid warmth. This time, it didn’t feel like a cage. Squished between the dragon’s hard, ridged palate and his squishy tongue, it felt like a full-body hug.

The rattata hugged the tongue back, rubbing his face into it like he had before. He didn’t feel like he had to hide how much he liked it anymore. Sure, he was also slicking himself up for the trip down, but he kept nuzzling long after he was soaked in saliva. It was comfy… cozy… He could have fallen asleep right here. Maybe I’ll ask Zan for that another time. If there is another time. But he had important work to do before he could sleep.

Rory felt Zan lifting his head and lifted his too, looking ahead into the darkness. Into the dark abyss of the dragon’s throat. He felt no fear, only eager anticipation of its tight embrace. This time, he remembered to take a deep breath first.

He closed his eyes as the mouth tipped around him, sending him sliding headfirst into Zan’s gullet. The first swallow was loud in his ears, a gulp that gripped him and sent him slithering deep into the zweilous’s long neck. Rory didn’t fight it this time, holding his paws against his body, streamlining his descent.

Zan slurped up the rattata’s tail, holding his head still as Rory’s bulge sank down his throat. He hummed happily in between swallows, each one ushering the rattata deeper. This was his favorite. Tucking away a friend deep inside himself.

The long trip felt much shorter this time. Before he knew it, Rory felt the tightness of the zweilous’s chest around him. Their heartbeat came from a different direction as he passed by, squeezed toward their gut by Zan’s insistent peristalsis.

He spilled into it with just as much grace as last time—none—landing with a splat among the slimy rugae. Rory took a deep breath of the air, the slightly acrid scent of old berries now joined by that of iron. He fumbled with his headlamp, unclipping it from his shoulder belt. It had gotten thoroughly slimed by the trip down; he did his best to wipe it off so it wouldn’t drip into his eyes. A somewhat fruitless effort; the stomach wasn’t tall enough for the rattata to sit up without his head pressing into the ceiling, so of course putting it on scraped more slime off the folds overhead. At least the front stayed mostly “clean”. He slid it into place behind his ears, centering it between his eyes, and fiddled with the glyph to turn it on.

Soft white light filled the zweilous’s stomach, making Rory squint even though it was dim. It glistened off the wrinkled walls, the flesh a pale pinkish yellow. Strands of slime hung across the small chamber, the walls rippling as he watched. The ripple rocked him as it passed by, making him drop to all fours to keep from falling over on the slippery flesh.

Now. Where’d I bite them? The rattata looked around. Much of the slime had blood in it; it wasn’t mixed so much as suspended in streaks. The shallow pool ahead had a red tinge to it. Trying to remember where he’d bitten was pointless; he could barely tell up from down when he did it.

Rory looked up and down, but when he turned around it was obvious. The twin bite marks from his incisors stood out against the wrinkled walls, off to one side by the stomach entrance. Entrances, he corrected, looking at the pair of cardia. He’d bitten further right than the right one… and he’d come in through the left one, this time. So that’s Aza’s side. Rory didn’t know if it’d hurt her more than Zan—Zan had clearly felt it enough to wake up—but he kind of hoped it had.

He made the short trip across their gut. It was only a few steps, but that didn’t make it easy. His paws squelched into the squishy floor, the slime giving him almost no traction, like walking on slippery sand. Rory got onto his haunches in front of it, head pushing into the top of the fleshy chamber and stretching the wall before him. He heard a muffled grunt and winced. “Sorry, but I need my forepaws to do this,” he said, just in case Zan was listening.

Up close, he inspected the wound. He’d gotten his teeth pretty deep; one side was still oozing blood. Still, it was a lot smaller than the gash they’d gotten from the shadow, and they seemed unconcerned about that. So this should be fine. He hoped. Pokémon healed quick.

The rattata wiped his paws on his fur and tugged the vial from the belt across his chest. “I’ll try to make this quick.” He pried the seal off with his teeth—how fitting—and tipped the vial over his bite. Supporting the tube with his shoulder, he used his other paw to ensure the extract got as deep as it could. Rory spread it across both slices, focusing on the one that’d still been bleeding. He squished the wound closed, squeezing out bloody slime and replacing it with the brilliant blue oran extract. It was quick acting—the bleeding had already stopped, the cuts staying closed on their own.

Rory let out a sigh of relief. He recorked the empty vial and tucked it back into his belt, then flopped against the wrinkled floor, staring up at the glistening ceiling overhead. It was barely an inch from his face, held away by his paws. “Done. Should be good.”

He heard the rumble of Zan’s voice. He was listening. “Many thanks,” said the zweilous. “Let me bring you up…”

“No!” The rattata lowered his voice. “I mean, I don’t want to put any more stress on your stomach. And I should check on it in the morning to make sure it’s healing. And I’d just have to clean off again.”

Zan was quiet. Then there was the rumble of a chuckling laugh. “Are those the real reasons, or do you just want to sleep there?”

“They’re real… …but that too,” Rory admitted, a bit of heat in his cheeks. He ran a paw across the gut wrinkles, feeling them squish and spring back as he passed over them. “I’d like that. May I?”

“It would make me very happy,” Zan said. “We’ll let you out by the stream tomorrow, so you can wash up.”

“Perfect.” The rattata squirmed up against the side of the stomach, finding a spot where the idle churning of the dragon’s stomach hugged him with its ripples. He looked out across the glistening gut, then reached up to turn off his headlamp, returning the chamber to its natural darkness. Rory just listened. The zweilous’s heartbeat was a constant presence, accented by quiet gurgles from deeper in their body. The rush of air from lungs as big as him was comforting white noise, and he found his breathing syncing up with theirs. All the excitement was catching up to him fast.

At least I made one friend, Rory thought. Half a friend? He pondered this, listening to Zan and Aza breathing slightly out of sync. No, Zan’s definitely a whole friend, he decided, as a gentle stomach ripple squeezed over his body. We’ll see what tomorrow brings…

Footnotes

1. It’s not. Both Zan and Aza remember their time as a deino, but neither is the original; the original head split in two, each half growing into one of them. ↩