Evening settles over the town of Portallini. The local businesses wind down for the night, and the residents finish what they need to do before heading home. Near the docks, the famous Papa's Pasteria prepares to serve the last customer of the day.
Doan, the cook, smiles when the last patron finishes her food, having practically licked the plate clean.
"So, Crystal, how was your meal?"
The woman, heavy-set with wild white hair, returns the smile. "It was most fortunate, thank you!"
Utah, the server, nods warmly. "That's awesome! Well, we're happy to give you a nice dinner."
Crystal leaves a generous tip before leaving the building, leaving the two employees alone.
Once she's gone, Doan lets out a weary sigh. "Hah, what a day; I'm glad it's over now…"
Utah nods in agreement. "I'm gonna go ahead and shut the doors for now-"
"Ahem."
Both of them look over at the door, where they spot a tall, lanky raccoon, giving them an almost unsettling grin. Standing six-foot-five and with his messy black hair with blue tips, his bright sea-green eyes, his tye-dye shirt and black sweatpants, and his unnerving expression, he's quite a sight to behold.
The server approaches him, speaking softly. "Uh, sorry, sir; we're actually closed for-"
But the raccoon shakes his head, still grinning. "Nope – Your sign says you're open 'til nine. It's only 8:58."
The cook chimes in. "Yeah, but-"
"But nothing," the raccoon cuts in. "I'm hungry, and you're technically still open. Do you want me to leave a review telling folks you turned away a paying customer?" Smirking wider, he adds "What would Papa Louie say about that, eh?"
The room falls silent at this. Doan and Utah look at each other, both fully aware of the world of trouble they'd be in if their boss found out about it – Especially as they have no way of knowing exactly what the raccoon's story would be. He doesn't seem above embellishing or even falsifying details to suit his narrative, and losing their jobs (or worse) isn't worth it to them.
They look back at the raccoon, who merely raises an eyebrow at them while awaiting their response to his terms.
Finally, Doan lets out a quiet sigh. "Fine, you can stay. What can I get you?"
The raccoon, in an almost condescending tone, replies "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Name's Bandit, by the way." He chuckles and steps to the counter. "I'll take a plate of elbow macaroni with marinara sauce, four meatballs, Utah, and Parmesan cheese, and a garlic stick on the side."
The cook writes down the order, but then pauses, looking up at the raccoon. "Wait, what did you say after the meatballs?"
Bandit gestures toward the server, who freezes and looks over at the other two.
"Her. Right in the middle. Oh, and do spread the cheese evenly, please."
Doan gulps softly. "I, uh… Uhm… I don't think we can do that…"
Bandit's smirk grows. "Ah, fair enough – She's too big for the plate, isn't she? That's fine; go ahead and prep the plate with everything else, then."
The cook uneasily finishes writing the order down and nods before stepping back to the kitchen.
The raccoon strolls over to a table and sits down, browsing his phone as he waits for his food. Utah, meanwhile, pours him a glass of water, then steps away to clean the other tables, doing her best to avoid the seated customer. It might not have registered to her coworker, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant feeling finding out Bandit knew her name already.
A few minutes later, Doan places the meal on a plate and sets it on the serving counter. "Alright, your food is ready."
Bandit, though, doesn't look up from his phone. "I'm over here, not over there."
With an exasperated groan, Utah walks over to the counter and takes the plate, carrying it to the raccoon's table. Doan, meanwhile, heads back to the kitchen to clean up and shut everything down.
"You've got a server; might as well use her," quips Bandit as he finally sets his phone down to look at his food. He sniffs the air above the plate, his eyes closing momentarily as he takes in the savory aroma of pasta sauce, fresh meatballs, and a garlic stick. "Mmmh… It's almost perfect."
Utah tilts her head. "Almost?"
"Yeah, but it's missing one thing I asked for."
Before she can ask for clarification, Bandit suddenly pulls out a remote control-like device and points it at the server while pressing a button. In a flash, she suddenly shrinks down to about one inch tall, and she falls onto his plate with a muffled splat in the sauce, squarely between the meatballs!
"Ack! What the-?" yelps Utah, struggling to keep from sinking into the food.
Bandit chuckles. "Borrowed it from a friend. And now the meal is perfect."
He picks up the breadstick and munches on it, watching with a bemused smirk as Utah tries to pull herself out of the sauce and noodles, to no real effect. The pasta is too slippery to grip, and the sauce is offering no help in that regard!
The raccoon takes his time, savoring the bread as he swallows down bite after bite, before sipping his water. All the while, he makes sure Utah doesn't get anywhere he doesn't want her to go. When she tries swimming through the sauce, he sticks his fork into the pasta directly in front of her like a set of metal jail cell bars, blocking her path and making her think twice about trying to escape, lest the tines go through her instead. Instead, she calls up to the raccoon, fear evident in her voice.
"Bandit, what are you doing? Why are you doing this?"
Swallowing the last of his breadstick, Bandit merely chuckles. "Having my food, because I'm hungry. And Doan wouldn't give me one of the toppings I asked for, so I added it myself."
He scoops a bit of pasta onto his fork, and Utah yelps as she dodges to the side, trying to avoid being eaten too. "But I'm not a topping! You can't eat me!"
The raccoon raises an eyebrow at this, gulping his mouthful of food before speaking, still in his disturbingly calm, matter-of-fact tone of voice. "You're on top of my pasta, so by definition, you're a topping. As for eating you…"
He smirks, tilting his head. "Wanna bet I can't? Because I think I can eat you just fine, especially like that."
The raccoon picks up a meatball with his fork and places it in his mouth, munching on it before swallowing it down as well.
"N-No, you can't do this to- Mmhf!"
Tired of hearing her whine, Bandit places a meatball on top of Utah, pressing her into the pasta to muffle her protests. The faint "Mhhf!"s and "Mmmh!"s are certainly a lot easier to ignore.
"Gah, food isn't supposed to complain this much…"
Now in relative silence, the raccoon enjoys more of his food. He eats about two-thirds of his serving, feeling as his belly slowly fills with the tasty dinner he was served.
Only when there's one meatball left does he finally lift it, and he snickers at the sight of the tiny, sauce-covered girl panting on the plate.
"You look a right mess… Here, how about I help you clean off?"
Bandit slides his fork beneath Utah, and before she can move, he lifts her up to his mouth, opening widely before her!
She cowers in fear as she sees the raccoon's deep, cobalt-blue mouth before her. His saliva-covered tongue ripples eagerly, and his throat flexes in anticipation of another mouthful of food. His uvula sways softly as he exhales a blast of humid, pasta-scented air toward her.
Then, everything goes dark as he drops her into his maw!
Utah yelps as she lands on that large, wet tongue, and she can only yell out "No, no, no!" as he clacks his teeth shut, trapping her inside!
Despite the lack of light, she can still see – Though the sight of the raccoon's teeth in three directions around her and his gullet in the fourth direction makes for quite a terrifying view!
"Bandit, please! I don't want to- Nnhf!"
Again, the raccoon cuts off her protests, this time by pressing her firmly against his ridged palate and dragging his tongue along her figure! He smiles, quite enjoying her completely ineffectual squirms and wriggles against his tongue.
The server shudders as he slurps the sauce off of her, but there's nothing she can do to stop Bandit from enjoying her. Her struggles weaken, partially from exhaustion and partially from realizing they're completely fruitless. He's determined to eat her, and she can't fight him off.
"Mmmh, you taste amazing, you know? Best pasta topping I've ever had."
Utah whines in response to the darkly teasing tone of the raccoon. "Please… Please don't…"
"Don't what, exactly?"
"Eat me…"
A menacing chuckle escapes the raccoon's throat. "Eat you? Sure thing!"
The tiny human yelps as the tongue beneath her begins to incline, making her slide back toward the waiting throat!
"No, please, Bandit! I'll do anything!"
Bandit, without missing a beat, says "The only thing I want you to do is digest for me. Bon voyage!"
Before she can protest further, Utah slips off the back of the raccoon's tongue! She makes a desperate grab for his uvula, but her momentum makes it slip from her hands, and she falls right into his pharynx, the esophageal muscles tensing directly beneath her.
"Bandit! Wait! Please! Don't-"
Glllp!
Utah shudders, whining pathetically as the snug muscles grip her, squeezing all around her tiny form and pulling her deeper into the raccoon's body! She's unable to move – The muscles are too strong to resist. She can only ride the peristalsis down Bandit's digestive tract, inching closer and closer toward the gurgling chamber below.
She hears his relaxed heartbeat and steady breathing, showing not a single thought toward her as she descends further along. She didn't mean a thing to him – And she can hear chewing up above; he isn't even waiting until she lands in his belly to have another mouthful of food.
But she doesn't have long to wait for that, as she soon reaches the bottom of his esophagus. She presses against a tight ring of muscle that readily parts to let her through, and she squishes past the raccoon's cardia before landing with a splat in a stomachful of half-digested pasta.
The blue walls flex in and out, rolling contractions of muscle working the reddish paste like a slow-moving mixer. The mush has the consistency of thick mud, and Utah struggles to keep afloat in it – Not at all helped by the constant movement trying to force her beneath the surface of the digesting food!
"Bandit, please, let me-"
Splat!
Another bolus of chewed-up food lands directly on top of her head, and she struggles to pull herself through it again.
"Sorry, didn't catch that. What did you say?"
"Please, let me out!"
There's a chuckle, then a thump-thump as the raccoon presumably pats his belly. "And risk losing my tasty meal? Nah, I'm good."
"But I don't want to be in here!"
"Oh, that's not a problem; give it a few hours and you won't be in there anymore."
Utah shudders at this, knowing precisely what he means. "Ugh…"
"Now please be quiet; you're disturbing my meal." He scoffs tauntingly. "Really, as a server, you ought to know when to leave your customers alone…"
Before she can say anything else, the stomach contracts, and Utah yelps as she's plunged deep into the mush!
She struggles, trying to swim to the surface, but she's lost all sense of direction in the constantly moving mess. She bumps into the rubbery stomach walls a few times, but it takes a good minute or so before she finally makes it to air. Choking and sputtering, she tries to catch her breath.
Only to be forced back under with another squeeze of the chamber around her!
By this point, Utah is growing quite weak, and a tingling numbness begins spreading through her body. She tries to find the surface again, but she has no idea which way is up – And the continued squeezes and rolling contractions of Bandit's stomach keep her from finding any sense of direction.
Slowly, she begins to fade, both from the lack of air and from the growing fatigue, not to mention her rapidly softening body growing more and more resistant to obeying her desires. She bumps into the stomach wall again, and it shoves her back to the middle of the chamber, undoing all of her progress.
And as she halfheartedly tries to move again, she finds her limbs aren't responding to her. They've gone completely numb, no doubt melting into the mush around her.
She blurbles out her last breath, before falling completely still as the stomach squeezes once more.
----------
Outside, Bandit gulps the last of his water before bringing his plate and glass back to the service counter, smirking at Doan. "Not bad at all! I'll give that a 98%."
He leaves a tip of $2.90, then offers him a piece of paper. "You'll probably need this, too."
Doan unfolds it, finding the words HELP WANTED written on it in permanent marker.
"Wha… You… You brought this with you? W-What's this for?"
The raccoon chuckles, giving his belly a gentle thump with his fist, before letting out a crass Boouurrp!
A tiny Pastaria uniform, stained orange from marinara sauce, flies from his mouth and splats on Doan's face, much to his horror.
Bandit smirks at the sight. "No real reason; just have a feeling you might need it."
He turns and leaves, but he calls back from the front door just before stepping outside.
"Thanks again for dinner!"
