… another crushing defeat. With disappointment the 4 ninja turtles slumped back to their hideout in the sewers. Each one wore scars and wounds from their faces to their legs. While all battles don’t end in a loss, it sure felt like shredder had once again gotten the better of them. “Cheer up guys, we’ll get 'em next time.” Leonardo tried reassuring his team, through his torn blue eyeband.
“Oh shut up,” the red banded Raphael said in frustration. “I almost had him. Maybe if my team knew how to assist properly we could have actually scored.” He rants as they all walk.
“Oh come on now,” the orange labeled Michaelangelo speaks up. “It’s not our fault. We tried our best.”
“Ya you can’t blame us. We only helped if anything.” Donatello finally chooses to speak up.
Psuoo, Raphael spits out the corner of his mouth, “ya well, y'all could try harder next time.” Clearly fuming, the rest of the team decides to let him be. Things were clearly heated, it would probably be wise for all of them if nothing escalated. They’ll talk it over with master splinter once they calm down. With that, they all continued their walk in silence.
Eventually reaching their hideout, Splinter could already tell things weren’t good. “How did it go?” He asked anyway, just to get the conversation going.
Michelangelo puts on a phony smile through cracked teeth, “It wen-”
“Horrible!” Raphael interrupts.
“...ya, not too good.” Michelangelo finishes. “I need a pizza after that.” He says stretching and heading to the kitchen.
“See, that’s the problem,” Raphael continues, throwing his hand in the direction of the orange turtle walking to the fridge. “We don’t train enough. Not only that, but you don’t train us enough. These skills are the minimum, we need to be pushed harder, pushed better.” He says looking back at the tall rat in front of him.
After a moment of eye contact between the rat and red turtle, the blue ninja turtle speaks up, “I’ll let you guys work out whatever this is. I need to sit on the couch and relax.” He says while lugging his body to the couch off to the side. It was a large studio room they were in. Damp, with the kitchen, living room, and dining room all connected. Water periodically dripped from above. It was well organized and maintained, but it was a sewer after all. Seeing the blue ninja turtle walk towards the couch at their 1 o’clock, Donatello decides to follow his lead. “I’m gonna join Leonardo,” he says lazily. Still looking at the rat, the red turtle’s eyes slightly shifted in a sort of see what I mean gesture.
Seeing the frustration, Master Splinter responded, “Well I don’t know what you want me to do? I can’t over train you all, that would be unhealthy.”
“Then train us better,” Raphael continues tossing his arms to his side as if it’s obvious.
“Better, is a subjective term Raphael. I train as well as you each need.” Splinter calmly replies.
“Well clearly we need harder training. More!” Raphael says, doubling down. Moreee, the rat thinks to himself looking down and off to the side. Stroking his chin he goes through all the training regimes they’ve done. He goes through the techniques they’re strong at, and the techniques they’re weak at. Turtles aren’t born perfect, they always need improvement.
Ding! A bell dings from off to his left. Looking towards the kitchen he sees the orange turtle opening the microwave. “Perfect, just what I needed,” the turtle says to himself, pulling out the steamy slice of cheese pizza. The rat watches as the turtle grabs it- albeit slightly burning his hands- and puts it on a plate before joining the others on the couch. Watching this results in a low gurrglee inside himself. Sniffing the air he gets a whiff of the cheese rats are known to love, that’s right it’s almost dinner time, he thinks to himself.
“Hey! Are you still even paying attention,” Raphael catches his attention again with a wave of a hand. “Yoohoo hello, talking about improvement here. Something like paying attention could be an example.”
The rat looks at the turtle standing in front of him again. With the hunger below acting up, and the subject at hand, the points connect somewhere in the middle into an idea. No, but that’s too dangerous he thinks looking at the floor to his right trying to dismiss it.
Seeing the motion, the anthropomorphic turtle speaks up again, “Hey, I see that look. You have an idea don’t you?”
Forgetting to hide his thoughts he turned back at the turtle, nodding his head, “Well… yes, I do. But it’s too dangerous.” He looks off to the side again. It was a forbidden technique after all.
“Didn’t you hear what I was just saying?” Raphael continues, “it’s too dangerous losing like this. I want more training, harder training you dumb rat,” he says slamming his hands into one another.
Dumb rat? Splinter thinks. He knows that those words weren’t coincidental. The turtle clearly was trying to egg him on. Feeling the hunger in him, he takes the bait. Fine, if the turtle wants to get dangerous, we’ll get dangerous. “Fine, if you want to get dangerous, you’ll get dangerous.” He claims, repeating his thoughts outside.
A smile on the red turtle's face shows, “yes!” He shouts with hands in fists. “I knew you’d come around you furry rat. What is it?”
Hah, Splinter chuckles, “Don’t worry I’ll show you. Come with me,” he says, turning and walking with his back to the turtle. A finger in the air motions to follow.
“See that guys, next time we fight Shredder, I’ll be the one taking him down. Hell, you guys could even watch from the sidelines,” he walks forward with his hands on the back of his head and a smile on his face.
Miachalangelo replies over his shoulder, still watching the tv with the others. “yeeeh shshrrr wahtevr man,” he gets out through a mouth full of pizza.
Turning to the others Leonardo asks, “What do you think the masters gonna put him through?”
“Beats me,” Donatello replies with eyes on the tv, “I’ll just be happy to see him get beat up some more.”
…
Bang, the door behind Raphael closes. Now in the training room he stands at one end, with the rat in the middle. “So what’s this training going to be boss?” He says stretching his still sore limbs.
Turning around, the rat faces him again, “Your training is a task. The goal… to escape my stomach,” he says way too casually.
“Haha funny man, is that code for something? What do you want me to do?” He says with an arm stretching across his body now.
“Exactly as I said,” the rat continues with seriousness, “A belly is one of, if not the, toughest environment a turtle like you can end up with. The pressure is immense, the acid is strong, and your balance is constantly on edge.” The turtle slowed down the stretching, not fully believing it, but taking the info in.
“A long time ago, without these modern tools we have today, ninjas trained with the nature around them. They had to train with what they had. Pushing the limits, and scaling different techniques, they one day stumbled into this new form training. Which they found to be one of the hardest forms of training imaginable. It was tough for them to pull off, only certain animal combinations and sizes could work. But soon it became the ultimate technique to build their best warriors. If you could survive the belly of the beast, you could survive the harshest nature had to offer. But just as soon as it was discovered, it was banned as the dangers of it became quite apparent. So, I want you to be real certain, how badly do you want to get stronger? You will already get better through your current training, but if you really are that adamant about more, this is what I can offer you.” He finishes, looking at the ground below the turtle, and momentarily scratching his belly.
“Hahaha… hahahaha,” his laughs start to die down after seeing the look on the rat, “haha, ha… Wait, you’re serious?” The turtle replies.
Gurgle, the rat's middle sounds out, “much so,” he flatly replies. “Lucky for you, you’re a turtle and I’m a rat. Not only that, but I haven’t eaten since this morning.” gurglee, his middle rumbles again. “See?” Looking down and at the turtle again the rat continues, “Now, it really will be quite difficult to get you down, but as long as you help and don’t fight on the way down, I think I can stomach you.”
Gulp, the turtle swallows in nervousness. This is insane. How badly did he really want to get stronger?
Minutes passed as the turtle paced back and forth in deep thought. Is it really worth it? I do want to get stronger. But like this? He glances at the rat's thin but slightly chubby middle. Splinter had already confirmed that this was really the only way moments ago. As Raphael continued looping his thoughts, more time passed. As more time passed Splinter could feel himself getting hungrier and hungrier. Eventually almost 20 minutes later he couldn’t take it anymore, “Make up your damn mind or I’m going to get some dinner!” Startling the turtle he calms himself down with a breath, “That’s it, what’s it gonna be?” He sparked out.
With a final thought, remembering his goals and previous statements, with mixed confidence Raphael replied with 4 words, “Fine, let’s do it.”
Licking his lips the rat replied, “lets begin.” Don’t forget, at the end of the day he was still a rat. Two things are true about a rat, a hungry rat will eat anything, and a hungry rat will always enjoy a good meal.
What preceded was quite the show to say the least, taking an extended amount of time. In the beginning, two animals filled the center of the room with one in front of the other. On his knees, the rat was lowered with his mouth gaping, open and wet above him. At this level, his mouth reached just to the bottom of the turtle's neck in height. On the other end, the hard shelled turtle looked below at the wet open maw with disgust. He knew he really didn’t want to go in there, but he already made up his mind and wasn’t planning to turn back any time soon. You could have at least brushed your teeth first, he thinks as he sticks his hands into the mouth with a wet squelch. Sticking the hands deeper, they open up the throat in the middle. Subsequently, the rat swallows, dragging the turtle’s upper body in closer as his hands and wrist sink deeper. This grossed the turtle out even more as his arms inch in deeper. Wanting to get this over with he takes a big inhaled breath, and plunges his face between the teeth of the rat.
From that point on it was quite a process. The turtle's legs would slowly push forward, as the rat would simultaneously swallow. At times he’d have to slow down the turtle to get his bearings, and at other times he had to take the lead, swallowing before the turtle could push. The point of contact between the two was around the turtle's standing shoulders in the beginning, but as more and more of him entered the rat, this point of contact slowly lowered.
At one time facing upwards, with each swallow the rat felt his face aim lower and lower. Estimated some 80 degrees, down to 70 and 60 degrees, to now 40 degrees from the ground. It was here, with half the turtle inside his mouth or deeper, that he could place his hand on the ground. Then, like a weird symmetrical reflection, the rat was on the left side with his left leg extended and his right leg slightly bent to push forward, and on the right side the turtle's legs followed the same shape as he also pushed forward. The only difference was that in the middle where the two intersected, the turtle's middle and above disappeared inside the rat's open maw. If you wanted to get real technical, the rat’s, starting to swell midsection, also slightly broke up the symmetry a little bit, but one could say the same about the turtle shell.
Speaking of said turtle shell, Splinter definitely thought this was going to be the hardest part. And as he reached the widest point, he found his fears were justified. With his lips stretched to its maximum width, he swore he could feel the skin ripping. While he never felt an explicit rip, the slight taste of iron blood eventually confirmed this as parts of his skin were forced to break to make room for the turtle. If his stomach wasn’t dripping so much in excitement, he might have backed off at this point. This would definitely continue to be a problem, but the widest part of him, his stomach should be able to manage it. All he needed to do was get it down. Through stretched and strained swallows, he slowly inched closer and closer around this portion, making this turtle fit inside him closer and closer to reality. Luckily for him, this shell only spread on the back of these turtles so he wasn’t forced to stretch vertically too. That probably would have made this all not possible. Also he was lucky that a turtle's shell is almost about as wide as their shoulders, and not much more. The only reason this was causing such difficulty was because his mouth and throat couldn’t compact it like the rest of the turtle meat.
Once he finally got over that widest hurdle- while still feeling the stretch bulging out his throat- he found he was able to swallow quicker as his mouth size shrunk. This proved to be crucial since the shell’s widest part being in his throat meant he couldn’t breath. With labored quick swallows he pushed his legs forward harder to get the shell deeper inside him. It got a bit close, but eventually it sunk deep enough into him, and once more air could squeeze into his lungs.
Relief washed over him. Then surprise joined in when he looked down, shocked to only see the turtle's legs jotting out from his mouth as they slowly wiggled in the air. Noticing this also caused the rat to notice how much weight his arms and legs were now supporting. With the turtle unable to assist anymore, it was all up to the rat, supporting both of their weights. At some point, that former symmetrical balance the two had, had been reduced to one fat- and still growing- rat balanced on his four limbs.
Like before, Master Splinter swallowed more and more, and soon enough, with his stomach expanding, the leg shrunk down into just a foot. Just in front of his face it sat there outside his gabbing saliva dripping maw. Swallowing with his throat, the foot entered his mouth, and eventually his mouth closed shut once more. Then just sitting there, another final swallow was made. It looked odd out of context, seeing the rat wince and strain for seemingly no reason as he seemed to sink backwards with a grimace. But as his already fat waste grew wider and wider, the reason for this look became apparent again. Then, the rat put a smile on his face as he felt the last of the turtle dispel into his now very large stomach.
“Ughh oooof, O-,” BRWAP, “K,” the rat burps, wrapping an arm around his now bulging belly as he ruggedly gets himself into a sitting position. Huffing and grunting he sits down as his belly spills out in front of him, “huff, now that, huff huh huff, was something.” His cheeks swell up momentarily looking like the skin of them is stuffed with fat before his mouth opens again with another louder, BUWWWRAPPPPpgg, as more bubbles come out from the pits of his stomach.
The room that once housed two animals; a rat and a turtle, now just had one very fat rat in the middle. Said rat, looked down at his round swollen belly resting above his lap. It almost looked the same as before, smooth and all, just… really bloated as it pushed farther out in all directions. It seemed to have a slight horizontal egg shape to it, probably because of the shell, he thinks. “Ok now!” He shouts at his midsection. Said midsection wiggles and groans as he watches points of contacts barely stick out and slide along his middle. It feels quite good having a live animal filling you up, he notices. Continuing, “can you hear me?” He asks while raising an eye at his belly.
The response is faint, but it is clear, “Ya I can. Ughh this is so disgusting!” The turtle inside shouts, but the sound couldn’t have made it more than 10 feet away from Splinter.
“Well what did you expect?” The fat rat replies almost in surprise, “don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he casually states as his belly blorps and grumbles below him. “This is what you wanted after all. Now, remember your training.”
The turtle expecting more sits quietly. For about 5 seconds nothing sounds in the room except some quiet breathing and deep rummbless as the stomach rolls over and massages the food inside. Eventually the turtle makes a sound, “Is that it?”
The rat, almost meditating, is shocked back to his engorged stomach, “why yes. Remember what I said before? Your test is to escape my stomach. Unless you’d prefer not to for some reason.”
The turtle looked at his confines as they gurgleee deeply. No, he’d very much like to get out of here. To him he felt like he was in a whole other world right now. Tight and strong, he couldn’t believe this sack was what was inside of a rat. On top of that, he couldn’t believe he was actually experiencing it first hand. A part of him had thought it was some weird elaborate trick to teach him a lesson, but now actually inside the rat's belly he was in for quite the shock. Still taking it in he asks the rat who ate him, “B-but, what if I can’t do it? What if I-,” grrrrrglleee, a powerful squelch interrupts him, squeezing him roughly all over. The process spreads some stomach slime around him in the process. It’s here he notices it stings a little bit.
The turtle’s eyes were momentarily closed from that stomach quake, but opening them again he looks at his right hand, and is shocked to see just a small part of his scaly skin had started to melt away, turning pink. “Hmmm,” the rat ponders outside, “then I will have to enjoy this new addition to my waistline,” he finishes casually. Having also felt the powerful gurgle shift his belly back and forth, he knew what typically happened to food in his stomach. While very different then anything he’s ever had mind you, the turtle was still in a stomach. According to the stomach, that meant he was food. If tough training is what the turtle wanted, tough training is what he was gonna get.
Looking in shock at the burn he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The old man has gone nuts, he thinks to himself. But continuing to stare deeply into his hand, he soon saw that pink patch spread ever so slight with a drop of stomach acid. This spurred him awake into action. Fine let's do this, he thinks. Mustering his strength he threw his arms against the walls around him and began to push out.
On the outside, the once meditating rat feels something stir deep inside bowels. Lets being, he thinks as this stirring quickly morphs into two strong points of contact, each pushing powerfully directly in front of the rat. Below him, two wide bulges push through his round belly, quickly jerking him forward looking like two cones. The sudden action causes him to blurt out a quick “woooo,” in surprise. Like a wave, the force moves up him as his chest follows his belly forward, and soon his head does the same as it meets the force. Oh now, here we go, he thinks while putting his right hand in front of his belly, and his left hand behind his back. His position almost looked like riding a bull, except this bull was fighting from the inside.
The turtle ended up feeling a lot more resistance than he expected. Compressed tightly, he already had quite the pressure acting on him. Then, for every few inches he stretched the stomach wall, it felt like the compressive force doubled to fight back. This increase in force wasn’t only met in his arms, but the rest of his body in every direction. Like having the high ground, the stomach's advantage was that it was able to squeeze inwards at every single possible point, unlike the turtle who had only his limbs to push out with. When pushed outwards, the stomach was forced to compensate by caving in on him, that little more it could elsewhere.
With the turtle stretching it out already, this stomach was already at its limit, seeing how much it didn’t want to stretch any further. Rafael receded his arms back momentarily, before again pushing out, this time slightly more to the left and right. Now with one punch higher than the other, this caused him to rollover slightly in his prison. This didn’t matter to him too much, seeing as the direction wasn’t important, only the fight. And while the fight was just getting started, he could already feel an increased burning in his arms compared to the rest of him. Actually, little parts all over him also felt little spots of increased burning. This was as a result from where his arms splashed more stomach acid on him.
Knowing that rolling over didn’t really matter, he allowed himself to roll back and forth as he stretched his arms and legs out now in all directions. Hopefully the added friction of his body rotating would be the icing on the cake with his struggling to get him out of here. He already felt his stamina dwindling ever so slightly, but soon after feeling, seeing, and hearing the stomach around him rrrummmbleee, he was given the motivation to continue on.
Feeling, seeing and hearing his own stomach rrrummmbleee, had a similar but different feeling to the rat. While eating some extra spicy stale tacos Michalengo bought one time did resemble this, it didn’t give nearly the indigestion swallowing a whole turtle gave him. He was almost beginning to regret the plan as nausea whipped over him as his belly continued to vibrate in and out with another gurrggleee.
From then on, the struggling only increased, and with it, the indigestion. Determined to make a point, Rafael continued fighting inside the damp cave. There wasn’t really a rhyme or reason to any of it, just keep struggling and wiggling as much as possible to give that rat the biggest stomach ache of his life. As he went on, he could feel the stomach walls becoming just a bit duller as it gurggled and writhed, trying to contain the feisty meal. It’s working, the turtle thought as he felt it give more and more overtime.
While the stomach didn’t want to give up the nutritious and lively meal, as time went on it wasn’t feeling like much of a choice. On the outside, the rat had taken to lying on his back as he felt what his stomach was feeling. There, with his hands squeezing his head tightly from between his head and the ground below, he watched as his body shook and glorbed too and fro. To an outsider the wiggles and the shakes definitely looked noticeable, but not too crazy. To the rat however, he was feeling first hand how much more troublesome these actions felt then they looked. He felt every little bit, of every little and big push doing quite the bruising to his abdomen. Regretfully he had a similar thought the turtle inside had a moment ago, it’s working. The only advantage the rat had when it came to keeping his meal down was time. But as time went on, he was feeling like the turtle had too much time on his hands.
Inside, the turtle was keeping up his motions feeling confident about his situation. He knew he was doing some damage to the rat's bowels, but what the rat didn’t know, and what he knew, were these same bowels were doing quite the damage to him as well. A lot of his skin was starting to show hints of bleaching white, and his arms and legs showed more and more pinks, and less green as time passed. He started to worry that some parts were even beginning to show red. Not wanting to waste time checking tho, he pushed on, focusing on the task ahead as he continued feeling his energy slowly being sucked out.
About a minute in and things were not looking good for either one of them. The turtle, fighting to prove himself pushed on, and the rat, not wanting to lose his- secretly scrumptious- meal, kept trying to handle his large stomach ache. But sooner than the rat hoped he started feeling that need to throw up growing more and more. Momentarily, in the middle of the same thrashing, it started with a slight hiccup. The stomach squeezing in on itself, decreasing the rats diameter an inch, before going back to normal, was felt by both predator and prey. Pausing the movements momentarily.
Then instantly the turtle went back to it with renewed vigor. A couple seconds later, and a second slightly stronger Hiccup shook the rat's belly again. Then again. And again. While each hiccup meant the turtle was closer to victory, it was also a double edged sword, doing more of a number on the turtle as he felt the muscle crushing around him each time. The already very tight sack squeezing around him did not feel too good. Still, he pushed onwards. HICupp, the rat's insides bounce up and down. The struggle continues, HICCUp, the rat's head rocks farther and closer to his stomach. The struggle continues, HICCUPPP, and the same thing. Each hiccup timespan becomes closer and closer to one another.
The turtle was definitely feeling the effects of the stomach now. All around him it felt like a way to a hot and acidic sauna. He felt a scratching burning pain throughout his body, and his arms and legs felt like he was pushing them through sharp pins and needles every time he moved them. A SCRUNCH squeezed around him as he heard the rat hiccup around him again, amplifying the pain. The pressure was very strong, but now he noticed the intervals were only short seconds apart. The double edged swords was sharpening.
The rat’s face pants, gasps, and strains as the ruckus below does a number on his swollen organ. An uncomfortable hiccup jerks his head up and down farther this time. He exhales air that partially comes from his stomach. It laboriously squeezes out of his mouth like sweat. He -hiccup, does -hiccup, not -hiccup, feel -hiccup, goo- hiccURRRP-. Then suddenly, a hiccup unlike all the others strains his stomach and mouth. He feels his mouth filling with saliva as the motion is deeper, and much stronger than all the others. OH NO, HURRRRRKKKK.
Uncontrollable to the rat, he feels like his entire throat and mouth open up as if they had free will. The HURKK, shakes his whole body as his stomach caves in on itself. The force pushes heavily on the turtle inside with one goal in mind now; to get the turtle out of the stomach.
Inside the turtle feels this action. Not a minute to soon mind you. He felt his energy just about drained at this point and his skin would probably take a month to heal already. Hell some parts the acid got real deep in may never fully heal. At least he’ll have some battle scares he thinks to himself, trying to look at the brightside. Above him, the hole that once dumped him in, loosens up. He feels the strong movement of the stomach caving in on itself, and he feels himself pushed heavily towards the now loose esophagus. There, his head squeezes through, with his shoulders and the rest of him close behind. I knew I could handle this, he thinks to himself.
I thought I could handle this, the rat thinks to himself as his gut lurches inward. Looking down he sees his once outstretched swollen stomach, still heavily swollen mind you, but now it’s shaped with some more mass dipping deeper into him, in the direction of his throat. On top of the usual waves and motions, he also barely sees, but heavily feels more gurgling around the stomach's sphincter. His still open esophagus starts to feel uncomfortable, and his mouth starts to drip waterly as his body prepares to throw up. No, not now. I can’t lose this meal! The rat thinks to himself, feeling the losing battle.
He thinks about how the turtle first felt inside him. How full, and perfectly satisfied he felt. It may not have exactly been the best tasting meal in the world getting down, but it made him feel full and complete like nothing else. No longer hungry, he felt like he wouldn’t need to eat ever again, or at least another week. It was almost like that turtle’s purpose was to be in there. Like it always was meant to belong in his stomach. He needs that meal in his stomach, it would just feel wrong to let it go to waste. It belonged to his waist.
Forgetting about the purpose of this whole exercise, hell, forgetting about the exercise in general, he felt a will of fire come over him. But still, he knew his stomach couldn’t handle the turtle on its own. So that only left one option. Still lying down on his back, and with his hands free, he stretched his arms out strongly in front of him. No, you’re not getting out of there so easily, he thinks to himself as his hands sink into the fur just before his belly.
Refael, finally feeling confident, was suddenly thrown down. What looked like an open esophagus ahead of him, suddenly caved in on itself closing his path ahead. Not only that, but the mass his head was dispensing into, was now heavily pushing down on him, pushing him back into the stomach below. What the hell?! He thinks as the force knocks his chin back into the pit.
Down below, Master Splinter definitely felt his stomach arguing as it felt the turtle start shaking in his gut gut once more. He felt the mass under the palms of his hands, through his own belly fat, writhing and pushing back against those same hands. It seemed like everything inside him, turtle and his own stomach included, were trying to get the turtle up and out of his mouth. But, with his arms extended, and his mouth closed shut for good measure, he was able to maintain this stalemate between them. Throwing up an entire turtle takes a lot of effort, even if someone wanted to, two well placed arms and hands were well capable of overpowering the motion. The only way the turtle was getting out, would have to be by breaking through the stomach wall, which the turtle liked those odds. While yes, the rat still remained extremely uncomfortable, as he aimed his hand back onto the floor looking up, all that mattered in that moment was keeping the turtle down. While the struggle continued, his arms continued to try to drown the turtle deep inside him. All he needed to do was stick to the plan, wait him out.
Struggling to keep his nose and/or mouth above an acidic puddle that formed at the bottom of the lying down rat's stomach, Rafael kept trying to move forward. However, he increasingly found that he just couldn’t. Starting to put the pieces together through the fight for his life, he starts to realize what’s happening, “HEgllgg, NO FAmmR, THmgglg CHEATING!” He shouts trying to get his head up while also trying to get through the throat. But with the hands pushing down through the rat’s insides, and the stomach wall writhing and squishing him about everywhere, this was a very daunting task.
Through the turtle's continuous struggling, the rat continued to lay there on the hard ground looking up and back as his stomach writhed and shook below. One knee was bent, and the other was extended as his middle pinned him to the floor. His stomach was once again, wide, tall, and very round. It was close to a perfect sphere, but it still wasn’t for a couple reasons. Reason number one, about half of his full stomach was stretched inwards. This means that a lot of his swollen belly stretched inside him where his other organs and body mass already was, covering up the shape to the outside. This also means only about half of the round sphere was visible as it extended straight up into the air. So while it may have technically been ‘perfectly spherical’, most of it was hidden.
Reason number two, was that with gravity pushing downwards, and with the turtle's shell being oval shaped, his stomach still had the egg shape it once had earlier. So looking down, instead of a circle stomach, it was slightly oval.
Finally, reason number three the belly wasn’t perfectly spherical was because, as much as it liked to return to its smooth mold, the animal inside was still causing quite the ruckus. This becoming apparent as the bumps and vibrations continuously rippled and thrashed his belly back and forth, and up and down, into the uncomfortable rat.
However as time went on, these mounds and shakes slowly diminished. The acid’s effects, and the tiredness of exerting himself was clearly catching up to the turtle. Pinned down, he started to feel the last of his energy deteriorating as he felt his muscles doing the same. Literally, as looking at his limbs he was beginning to see his muscles peaking through where some of his scales had digested away. Exhausted, the turtle was forced to heavily pant in the unrefreshing humid acidic air even as it felt like it even burned his lungs, as he slowed down.
On the outside, as each bubble and glorb dwindled along the rat's fur, his face seemed to relax more and more. The feeling of pain and discomfort was slowly residing as the rat slowly removed his hands from pushing down on his swollen stomach. Seeing as no sudden jerk happened when this was done, he finally relaxed his face as he too began to pant. Down below he feels a small but heavy gurrglleee that vibrates his stomach before he feels it move. It ripples along the top of his belly, before being granted passage through his throat and out his mouth with another BWRAAPPPP, that quite literally knocked the wind out of him. Instantly he feels a bit better, and slowly he feels his nausea subside. Soon enough he feels back to normal; full and satisfied. Finally calm, he lifts his head from the floor and looks at his dome of a belly, and is relieved to see it perfectly still, quiet, and smooth again.
Reaching a hand out slowly, almost timidly, like going to touch a stove top that could still be hot, he goes to touch the large mound. Right before touching it his hand shakedly stops a moment, before jutting out to poke the mound. Seeing nothing happen, and realizing how heavy his belly is, he tries again a bit harder. After contact, a wave goes over the skin from his finger to the other side of his belly, and then with a slight delay his belly slowly rocks forth and then back slowly before settling again.
He had done it, he had truly eaten the turtle. It’s true, this was a deep down goal, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, when he had felt that hunger growing as time passed earlier. When he first tasted the turtle he felt it grow, when the turtle first rounded out his belly he felt it grow, and the more the turtle fought, the more he felt that hunger grow. And now, with his belly full and calm, he finally felt that hunger turn into satisfaction.
Slowly and with a lot of effort he sits himself into a sitting position again. More glorping is heard as his stomach wiggles back and forth. But this time, not that he’s sitting up, he sees some bulges sticking out ever so slightly, and moving along the edges inside his stomach. Feeling everywhere those points move he wonders, what the turtle is doing? “Well, it seems like you failed,” he calmly states, trying not to act like all of this was the result of him going too far.
The mounds seem to stop as the turtle processes what he heard. Then, a weak voice responds, “are you gonna let me out?”
Looking down at his belly with a hint of disappointment the rat places his right hand on top, cupping the form, “unfortunately, you knew the risks when you accepted the task. I tried to warn you about the dangers, but you didn’t want to listen.” He says, talking to his fat stomach
Worn out, beat, and with a hint of annoyance, the turtle replies again, “ya but, come on. You said dangers, not digestion. You can still let me out can’t you?” He pleads, knowing he can’t get out on his one. For one, dying to a rat's belly would be a very embarrassing way to go out, and for two, every part of him was sizzling and burning in the caldron. Not fighting anymore, he was forced to focus on the pain, and being compressed and eaten away by acid was quite painful to say the least.
As much as the rat didn’t want to admit it, the turtle's question was true. Hell, a minute ago he could barely keep the turtle in. If he really wanted to, he was sure he could find a way to barf the turtle up. But after all of that, where would be the joy in that? Plus, that would take such a toll on him. No, letting him out wasn’t an option, “unfortunately I can’t. This is the way of the technique, the only way out is by fighting your way out. Otherwise, you are for the stomach to claim,” he lies, almost acting like it wasn’t his very own stomach the turtle was crushed inside. This becomes more apparent as gas builds up, again forcing his mouth open with a nice *BURPPgg*. This burp just amplifies the crushing force of his stomach. The crushing now well spread out over the turtle and his shell, tighter than before.
This shell also contributing to the smooth and round taunt belly. His stomach was already smooth, he was sure, stretched out like this, so the transition to his belly made his skin that much smoother. His fur almost felt like a fat furry bed sheet as his hand gilded over it. Just now, the thought of the shell crosses his mind. Dam, how am I going to deal with that later, he glances down, worrying about the journey ahead. Not wanting to dwell on it decides to move on.
“Well, with training done, why don’t we go and join the others huh?” Splinter heavily stands himself up and waddles to the door. Rafael, not having a choice, is forced to go come for the ride.
Internally, while also completely drained and burned all over, Rafael’s face manages to turn a bit redder. While not his first priority, he can’t help but want to slide inside his shell, this is gonna be so embarrassing. Trapped deep inside the belly of the rat is a very gross and embarrassing place to be as is, but he soon grows to realize that he bounces less than a foot above the rat's ass below him. On the positive side of things, at least he’s hidden away and won’t be able to see them, nor will they be able to see him. Yet on the negative side of things, he’s pretty sure his whereabouts will be as obvious as the sun.
Well, after they mock me and I humiliate myself, maybe I can get them to free me at least, he figures. A scraping rash starts to dig into his arm. Glancing over in the dark, his eyes catch some gunk of mixed meat painfully sliding off one of his arms, soon if possible!
The rat opens the door and heads back into the large main room again. First looking at the couch he sees the trio not there anymore. He grows confused for a moment, before the corner of his vision leads him to seeing them gathered around the dining room table. It seems they had ordered another pizza, and were all around it eating the delicious cheese dinner. The purple ninja with his back to him, the blue one on the left, and the orange on the right.
Seeing Master Splinter in the distance out of the corner of his eye, the blue wearing turtle asks, “hey how’d the training go?” While keeping his face in a slice of pizza below. Stepping out into the open the rat stops with his feet holding him up to the right and left of him.
“I’d say it went quite well,” he states, rubbing a hand over his large new addition. Glancing over the orange mask turtle does a double take before stopping and staring, “wooooooo.” This causes the blue one to look at him before turning to the rat and dropping his jaw. Lastly, seeing the other two, the purple one turns around and eventually does the same.
With a hefty slap followed by a gorgle, the rat walks to the empty seat at the end of the table. There was another empty seat next to Leonardo, but Splinter has a good guess Rafael won’t be sitting there today. The other three continue to stare in shock at the fat extension as he walks around and takes a seat. The chair groanss under the added weight, not happy holding up the weight of two animals. Seated, half of his bulging belly visible above the table, and the other half is hidden on his lap below the table.
“Hey teacher,” the orange one confusingly asks, “were you always thisssss, well… fat?” He questions.
“No offense, but ya,” Leonardo agrees, “And where’s Rafael?” He asks, looking at the entrance expecting him to come through.
Suddenly, a jerk extends out of the rat's fat middle, causing it to bump hard into the table. This bounces the table as all the water and soda cups splash quickly, yet they luckily don’t fall over. All the turtle's eyes drop as they stare in disbelief. Said belly looks the same as before, round and smooth, but now there’s a single cone shaped stretching point slightly to the above and to the left of the stretched belly button. This point recoils heavily in pain after the contact, smoothing out the belly once more momentarily. Then, slowly this time it pushes out once again. The eyes continue to stare in disbelief. This time, a second wider bulge, right around the belly button also juts out, albeit not as far. Here they see it morph and vibrate as a hurt and weak voice talks through. It’s muffled and quiet, but they’re still able to hear it just enough, “helppp… meee.” It says pitifully, before the force of the belly is enough to overcome it once more, squeezing the hand and face back deeper into its depths where the voice belongs.
The eyes of the turtles outside of a rat's belly stare like a deer in the headlights. Then all together they slowly turned their eyes to the rat wearing the active belly. His eyes on the other hand just showed indifferent annoyance. It’s almost as if he wasn’t responsible for a seemingly living belly, as he looked down at his extended gut below. After a moment, placing his right hand back on it he scratches ideally. The motion gurgles the belly diagonally back and forth ever so slightly as he speaks. “No, Rafael won't be joining us tonight. Or at least, not as a member at the table. Unfortunately his training didn’t go too well for him,” a gurrgle sounds below confirming the statement. Taking a nail from his other hand, he starts picking his teeth, “the good news is he’ll be leaving more pizza for the rest of us to enjoy.”
This doesn’t sound right to all four turtles. To the three with some possible say in the matter, Rafael was like a brother to them, it wasn’t right to not get him out of there right? They start looking at one another, exchanging awkward glances to see if they each feel the same way. Still in shock they begin to read one another’s faces before they are interrupted.
Gurgle-glop, a wet sound echoes to their side as the rat's belly lurches again. “Oof,” the rat quietly says, feeling the motion. More sounds begin to build up inside him. Like bowling, a low rumbling is heard by everyone at the table. This is followed by a slight squeeze that momentarily shrinks the rat's round belly, resulting in him making a reflective “huhh” sound. With that he quickly begins to feel a slightly heavier burp coming up this time. This one with a little bit of weight. Feeling that something, his cheeks momentarily fill his closed mouth with gas, and then, like a cannon his mouth opens very wide and loud BUURRWAPP aimed at the turtles in front of him. The force shoots speckles of spit from his mouth along with something else coming from the pits of his stomach. With a wet *slap* everyone takes in the sight of a wet, sizzling, and very ripped red eye-band that just landed on the table. 6 wide eyes and 2 nonchalant eyes all stare at it in silence for a moment. Eventually, once more the 6 of them look back at the gassy rat at the head of the table who asks the group, “any other questions?” While pushing around his extended belly. “No? Well then let's enjoy our dinners shall we?” He rhetorically asks, and with that, the turtles lost their brief moment of solidarity.
Inside and tightly compact, Rafael was doing very poorly. He might not know much about biology, but he was learning first hand that a rat's stomach acid has quite a low ph. Splinter wasn’t lying when he said the belly of the beats had a harsh nature. While feeling weak before, he was really beginning to feel drained. It wasn’t like he could really lift his head or limbs with how tightly compact he was already, but even if he had space he doubted he’d be able to now. He couldn’t even see any of his green scales anymore. He didn’t know if they were already digested off, or just covered in stomach juices, but he didn’t want to find out. Everything was foamy and bubbly, and the pool below him had grown taking up half of the space now. He still could feel his limbs and body, but they were all very numb at this point. Eventually, this became the only way his body could deal with the pain of being digested alive. While he was somewhat grateful, it still did burn quite a bit, and it still didn’t feel too good.
A moment ago, he felt some wind blow by his face and the next thing he knew his eye patch was gone. While a part of him was disappointed, he really could care less at the moment. All he noticed after that was how his body was forced even tighter into itself after that burp. His shell was the only thing left that was holding strong, but seeing as that was wilting away, he didn’t know how much longer it would hold its form.
On top of this, while tightly squeezed, he was never perfectly still as much as he’d like to be. As the rat moved his own limbs in the outside world, or rubbed his belly or even breathed, the motions would follow and wiggle his whole world. Unfortunately for the turtle, this just aided in the digestion process. These motions, and his feeling of being so utterly drained, is how he didn’t pick up on the difference when the rat started chewing and eating above him. That wasn’t until he suddenly felt something greasy and cheesy land right on his face. What the hell? He weakly thinks to himself. While he couldn’t really move his arms, his hands were close enough in his fetal position for him to grab the still hot object. Sliding it off his face, and with a little part of his own face now attached to it, he put the matter just in his vision. Confused, he realizes it smells… good. Not caring about the saliva around it, and how it is already chewed up he takes a bite. Munch, Munch, Wait, he thinks, this is pizza. Another slob of cheese pizza lands on his head. That rat’s still hungry?!
While not necessarily still hungry, it was true that the rat was eating. This was just as shocking to the other turtles as they glanced at the rat while eating his own slices. Much to their amazement, the rat would lift a slice to his mouth, open his mouth, and bite into another slice. His mouth would swish side to side as he chewed momentarily. Afterwards, he’d swallow, and while no lumps were visible, they’d hear the stomach growl as more food entered it.
“Mmmmm, Antonio’s does know what they’re doing,” he says, taking another bite.
“Y- ya, I guess they do. Antonio’s is always the best,” Michelangelo awkwardly replies, taking a bite of his own pizza.
“Just don’t forget, you guys can’t always have pizza. Need variety in your diets,” there’s some irony to that. “At least try to put tomatoes or garlic on next time. That way it does something good for you,” the rat continues.
Not wanting to be the one to speak again, a moment lingers before Leonardo picks up the slack, “noted, will do.”
Chomp, chomp, mush, swallow, and with that, the rest of the pizza slice entered the rat with another audible growl from inside. Wanting another slice, the rat laboriously inches up and stretches forward, “Ya, I mean, it’s important what yo-, HURR,” the rat suddenly stops talking and winces. Halfway towards the pizza in the middle, he leans over the table squeezing one eye shut, and remaining still. “Hurr,” a quieter sound emits his mouth as he remains as he is.
Assuming the culprit, the turtles look at his swollen stomach once more. It’s hard to see with the table and some of Splinter covering it now, but they can still make out parts of it. It looks normal, until they see it momentarily shrink in on itself, before returning to normal. During the motion, the rat rocks back, and then forward ever so slightly. Another quiet, “huff,” leaves his mouth. A second passes, and again the stomach tries to shrink in on itself, this time a bit more powerful. It squeezes into itself almost a full inch all the way around its oval shape before it returns back to its old size. Again this rocks the rat forward slightly as he eventually becomes still again, still stretched out not wanting to move. Then suddenly, it squeezes tightly into itself again, and like a baseball bat hitting a home run, a loud CRACK is heard.
The rat's eyes pop open in shock, as his belly shrinks into itself again, but this time it continues to shrink about another full inch or two. The whole mound then seems to shakily bounce in and out of itself, delicately, but heavily as it tries not to hurt itself, before eventually reaching an equilibrium. Slowly easing itself, it’s now just a bit smaller than it was before, and perfectly spherical vs oval shaped.
Mostly overshadowed by the loud crack, the rat grunts out a heavy breath as he handles the motion. All new to him, he was a bit worried himself about what that sound was. Is that bad? Did I break something? He thinks, concerned about his own safety. Looking down and at his middle below him, he slowly leans back as he was before, allowing his belly to relax in front of him again.
It looks a bit rounder, more spherical, he notices. Like a perfectly smooth sphere, it lost its horizontal egg shape. It’s also still very large, but the farthest point is just about a tenth of the way closer to his middle. Placing his hand on his belly again he goes to investigate. The fur still feels taut and tight as before, so nothing there. But when he goes to push in is when he feels the difference. With some resistance, it almost feels like jello now on the very outside. Pushing in and moving around he feels big hard chunks of something, that slide and move around the slurry inside him. He feels them poke and make contact within him elsewhere from his hand as he moves it round. Then it clicked, his shell broke, the rat realizes. Moving upwards, he feels something still solid in the form of Raphael, but now he is much more tightly compact without the hard round shell pushing outwards against the belly. Splinter didn’t even realize the resistance until now, but that shell breaking gave him such a feeling of relief. Now that’s better, he groans to himself.
Looking back up he sees the turtles still grossed out once more in worry and confusion. Deciding it’s better if they don’t see this part he decides it’s time for him to head to his room. “Ok guys, we have some training ahead of us,” he says standing up. His belly wobbles just a bit more than before, but he ignores it continuing, “I want today to be a lesson. Know your capabilities, but keep pushing yourself forward.” He stretches across the table again, grabbing a slice of pizza for the road. As he does so, his belly hangs below him like a hammock, while also remaining tightly attached to him. “Today was a tough one, no doubt.” He walks around the table back in the direction he came from, curling up the pizza slice in his hand, “but I’m confident you can all learn from your mistakes and go farther.” Almost out of view, he stops at the hallway entrance with his back to them, “but I don’t want you all to be afraid. Push yourselves as far as you can.” He stops his speech, putting the rolled up pizza slice in his mouth, and swallows it with a single gulp, “huf, some may fail!” He continues, putting his left hand on his round belly, soon feeling it gurgle as the slice slides inside. “But if you guys want to truly achieve greatness, I have faith in you.” His face, belly and hand still hidden from the turtles, “all you have to do is just let me know,” he finishes with a sly toothy smile. Now picking his teeth again, he heads into the shadows towards his room.
That night was a prime example of two sides of the same coin. Lying on his back, the rat was quite tired after a long day as he lounged on his bed. With his belly size decreased slightly, he could intertwine his hands, and leave them stretched out and relaxed on top of his belly. With his robe off, he peacefully slumbered with a pillow holding the back of his head.
As hard as it may seem to believe, the turtle trapped inside was still just barely alive. His shell breaking had been excruciatingly painful, enough to momentarily knock him out. When he came too again, he was momentarily relieved, thinking it was all some horrible dream, but when he opened his eyes he was distraught to face the grim reality. His former shell now tightly squeezed and dug into him all around. Almost protecting him, but the acids were so spread out that they could seep between the contact anyway. Plus he saw his shell parts shrinking in the acid as well. If the shell was that bad, how bad was the rest of him. Barely able to even see, he could still tell his state was very bad. He couldn’t even move his arms now if he wanted to. The stomach acid foamed and coated a thick layer all around him and the pool was up to his chin. A lot of it probably wasn’t even stomach acid at this point as the jelly mass clearly had a lot that once belonged to the turtle. Here he was getting a first hand view of the slosh that would eventually be pumped down and through the intestines below. A loud sizzling sound always filled up the cave, and his chest and legs were heavily deteriorated as well. Everything was just red at this point, red a hint of green, and mushy all around him. Reluctantly, while the rat slumbered peacefully, he was forced to stay awake, and stay awake, until eventually, in the middle of the night, he was awake no more. The belly rumbleddd as his head was squeezed tighter into the mush that was one below it.
Except for a temporary loud rumble, the rat's stomach remained quite still throughout the night. Only the sounds of groans and glorbs really sounded out periodically. Sometimes a slosh would mix things up, slightly sloshing the belly side to side in the process. But, for minutes at a time, it would remain perfectly still, unmoving. Like a big round cocoon in the middle of a rat. Except with a sort of reverse metamorphosis happening inside. One that would eventually fatten up the rat’s hips and other body parts. But for now, pinned under the weight, the rat remained as still as his belly as he slept. And sleep he did, as his belly continued to calmly digest.
