Peter Rabbit and the Hawk
Chapter 1: Peter's Daring Plan
Peter Rabbit had always wanted to get into the McGreggors' garden. Yes, he'd heard of other rabbits going into there to steal food and not coming out alive. Yes, he was only a child and not as experienced as some of the older rabbits who had gone in and died. But still, he thought he could manage it. In fact, in his arrogance, he thought he could survive where the adults couldn't, being smaller and, in his mind, less likely to be spotted.
"Peter, that garden may look tempting, but it's too risky. Why, your grandfather was one of those who went into there and never came out." his mother had once told him. However, he thought that that was just his grandfather, who had clearly picked a wrong day to go into the garden. He had gone in midday and been caught. That was clearly the wrong time to go! He himself was going to sneak in even before dawn. That way, the McGreggors' wouldn't be awake to stop him. More importantly still, in his mind, his mother wouldn't be awake to stop him, either.
"Mom, I feel really tired, I think I'll go to bed early." he said around sunset.
"Peter, this is most unlike you. You are never one to go to bed early." his mother remarked. Indeed it was true. He liked to stay up as late as he could, many times, truth be told, to sneak cookies from the cookie jar in the middle of the night. This time, however, he was after a much bigger prize than mere cookies from a cookie jar; he was after an all-you-can-eat buffet in the McGreggors' garden. And he'd have it all to himself, with no stinking family to have to share it with.
Despite his great excitement for his planned capers the following morning, which made him so anxious that he fell asleep later than he'd hoped, he had no trouble getting up an hour before dawn. He left his room after hastily dressing himself (and putting his shirt on inside-out due to his haste and not being able to see well in the predawn dark of his bedroom.) Rather than risk getting caught by trying to sneak across the house, a risky venture owing to his mother being a light sleeper, a fact that he had learned the hard way when he'd been caught sneaking cookies and had had 12 swats with her switch applied to his bare bottom, and her bedroom in front of the house door, he instead slowly crept out his bedroom window, which he thought it great fortune, was on the opposite side of the house as his mother, and down into the yard.
RRRRGH! ROGGH! GURRRG! His stomach rumbled hungrily, but he paid it no heed. He would be having his own private feast soon enough. He had other needs, however, that he couldn't ignore. Normally, he'd have used the family chamber pot to relieve himself in the morning. However, he knew that doing would risk discovery, and so he still had a full bladder. Worse, he hadn't had a bowel movement in a few days, and, due to having already walked a mile, the McGreggor garden being several miles away, was increasingly feeling the urge to go.
He undid his zipper and relived himself on a tree. He then pulled down his pants and underwear and had a bowel movement. Once done, he used some leaves to wipe himself. After he was some distance away from the spot, he began to feel an itch on his rear. 'I wonder what kind of leaves those are." he said aloud to himself.
After trekking the distance to the McGreggor's garden, the itch began to intensify, plus his balls began to itch as well. He felt that he would need to do something about it later, but first, there was the matter of his feast. He wasn't going to let the matter of a mere itchy ass and some jock itch stop him from obtaining his prize now. Only a gate, not really secure enough to even keep a human out, if they wanted in, let alone a young rabbit, stood in his way. This, he easily snuck through, squeezing in between the bars.
Now he was in the garden. The garden! It was bigger than he'd imagined! He stood there for a moment, gazing at it. "This is going to be the best feast ever!" he declared. He immediately set to work devouring as many carrots, radishes, and cucumbers as he could.
The radishes gave him gas, but he didn't mind. It was a small price to pay for such a feast. Next, he set about eating watermelons. Despite their large size, he managed to finish two large melons. After he had eaten several potatoes, his stomach was so full that he couldn't finish another bite. This was the best meal he'd ever had. If only his family could see him now. He'd shown them all that he could raid the garden.
"Cockadoodle doo!" It was one of the McGreggor roosters. The sun had come up while he'd been enjoying his gluttonous feast.
"Cockadoodle doo!" several more roosters echoed the first.
"Shut up!" Peter snapped at them, annoyed by the racket.
Soon, however, he had more problems than loud roosters. The crowing of the roosters had awoken the two McGreggors. Peter was now alarmed. He needed to get out of here, and fast! However, his large feast had made him groggy. He couldn't run as fast as he normally could. He was able to evade the notice of Mr. McGreggor, but his wife spotted the young rabbit thief.
"Another one!" she cried. "Get the nets, it's another rabbit breaking into our garden!" she called to her husband.
Mr. McGreggor hobbled away, with surprising speed for a man his age, and returned with two nets. Peter had, unfortunately, been quite some distance from the gate, being at the far side of the garden nearest the house. It was quite a long way, for a rabbit anyway, especially one groggy from eating more than four rabbits should, to go. Still, despite the two gaining on him, he was nearing the gate. Once he got through, he knew of some holes that he could get into that would put him out of their reach.
Mr. McGreggor swung the net toward him, narrowly missing him. He was now only a few feet from the gate. He made a powerful hopping leap, zooming out of the way of another attempt to net him by Mr. McGreggor. The bars of the gate neared. He was going to be free!
WHAM! Mrs. McGreggor swung her net in front of the gate bars, and he was unable to change course in time, and landed right in the net. Now netted, Peter could do nothing as she reached her hands into the net and grabbed him. Her grip was too strong for him to do more than wiggle in vain and, due to her wearing garden gloves, his teeth were useless against her hands.
"Should we make him into a rabbit pie?" she asked her husband.
"Nah, this guy is too little. But Agnes will really like him."
"Looks like you chose the wrong garden to break into little fellow." she said.
Peter was terrified. This wasn't how he had pictured things going! What was going to happen to him now?
Chapter 2: Agnes
Peter was taken into the house. He wondered if they were going to kill him and him him into a pie. Mrs. McGreggor opened the door to a room. She opened a cage and placed him in, then locked the door. These bars were too narrow for him to get out, meaning he was trapped.
"Wait, come back! Don't leave me in here!" he pleaded. However, she paid him no heed and walked across the room, opened the door, and then closed it again. At first, he just thought he was going to be held in a cage, as a captive.
He soon tripped over something laying on the floor of the cage. With horror, he realized that it was an animal bone. With even more horror, he soon found that the cage was littered with them. Even more horrific, as he looked up, he saw a large, for the moment asleep, hawk, perched above him.
Upon seeing her, he panicked and began to bang on the cage bars, trying to break out. It didn't get him out, but it did succeed in awakening the hawk. "What's that?" she asked sleepily. Peter realized his mistake and froze, hoping to avoid her notice. However, the damage was already done. She quickly looked around the cage and spotted him. "What is this?" she asked herself.
"Please, don't eat me!" the young rabbit pleaded. "I'm too young to die." "You are rather young. Normally I eat adult rodents." "So don't eat me then. Please!" "That's the dilemma. How to avoid eating you." "What do you mean? If you don't want to eat me, then don't!" Peter cried in exasperation.
"If you were brought in here, it's clear that my masters intend for me to eat you." "Please don't! I'll do anything!" Peter cried hysterically. He couldn't die like this, being torn apart by a large hungry bird. His mother had been right, this place wasn't worth it. His mother! It looked like he would never see her again. "It's not that simple. If I don't eat you, then they'll punish me and kill you some other way anyway."
"Please! There's got to be some way I can avoid dying!"
"I don't see how. If I don't get you, they will."
"Please don't kill me! I'll do anything!" Peter tried prying open the cage, though he knew it would be no good. He couldn't just let the hawk devour him without at least making a, albeit futile, escape attempt.
"I don't see how......" the hawk mused aloud, "unless....hmmm...that might work." she said, deep in thought.
"What might work? I'll be willing to try anything that doesn't get me killed.
"Well, the idea I had still might get you killed, but there's a chance that you won't get killed either."
"How high of a chance that I won't get killed?"
"Hmmmm, I don't know, I've never done it before. I'd wager 50/50 I guess."
"Well, if it's the best you can come up with, let me hear your plan."
"I'm going to swallow you whole."
"Swallow me whole?! That will kill me!"
"How would I survive then?" Peter didn't think there was any way he could survive inside a belly. It seemed a bad way to die, worse than being made into a pie or even torn apart by a hawk. "I'd drink plenty of water and you wouldn't be too digested in my stomachs."
"Stomachs? You have more than one?!"
"Yes, I have two, plus a crop."
"Yes, it stores food."
The whole idea sounded quite awful to Peter. It seemed very likely to go wrong and, to be frank, it sounded like a cruel trick the hawk was hoping he'd fall for. "If this is going to be some kind of trick that allows you to kill me in your belly, then I won't let you. You'll have to tear me apart instead. How do I know I can ever trust you, whomever you are?"
"My name is Agnes. I normally kill anything that moves that comes into this cage. The fact that you're even alive still shows that I plan to spare you, whomever you are."
"I'm Peter Rabbit"
"Are you related to Mrs. Rabbit?"
Peter gasped in shock. "Yes, I am. She's my mother. How do you know her?"
"Never you mind. Are you going to go along with the plan or not?"
"I don't know. What is the plan anyway? Put me into your belly and hide me there forever? Seriously, how could that help?" If Agnes was playing games with him, he wasn't going to play along.
"Not exactly. You see, I am sometimes let out to stretch my wings. If they see you still here, they'd kill you. But they won't kill you if they don't see you, and I can take you out of the house."
Ok. Peter thought to himself. That's not such a bad plan. I mean, I might still be alive by the time they let her out.
"So let me get this straight, you want me to go into your belly, or one of them, and then when they let you out, you'll go barf me up."
"I'm afraid I'm not going to be barfing you up."
"So what, are you going to digest me then? If that was your plan, you shouldn't have told me it."
"I'm afraid I can't barf you up. I'd lose a couple of meals. They only let me out after dark and it's still morning."
"But how am i going to get out then?"
"The back door."
"The back door?" Peter's eyes moved immediately to a spot underneath her tail, to a pink and purple vent. "You mean I'm going to come out your butthole?!" he gasped, wondering if he heard right.
"It's actually called a cloaca. But, terms aside, yes you are, I'm afraid."
"Why do I have to be pooped out? It's not fair to me! I should be barfed out instead!"
"Listen here, Peter Rabbit, I'm already not going to get a breakfast meal, as they're assuming you'll be it. I won't kill you so I won't get any food from you. There's no way I'm going to give up a full day of meals to "less inconvenience" a little rabbit that I've never met before today. The fact that I'm even giving you this option shows how lucky you are."
"Lucky?!" Peter bleched. He couldn't see anything lucky about coming out a butt, or, as Agnes called it, a cloaca.
"Yes, it's your only chance I'm giving you at survival, and you're the first one to come into my cage who might survive at all."
Peter thought on this a moment. The whole thing, being in a belly, being covered in bird poop, and finally being pooped out a butt sounded awful, but maybe it was his only chance to live. "How do I know I can trust you. I mean, you could swallow me, drink no water, digest me alive, and then poop out my bones."
"You're right. I could if I wanted to. You're just going to have to trust me. After all, the way I see it, you have no other choice if you want to live. So will you accept my offer?"
Peter thought. She was right. He had no hope of fighting her, and he had no reason to doubt that the McGreggors would kill him if they came back and found him still alive in the cage. "All right. I guess I have no choice."
Chapter 3: Down the Throat
RRRRRGH! ROOOGH! GLORRRB! Peter heard one of Agnes' stomachs, he wasn't sure which, growl. He was thoroughly disgusted that he would soon end up inside it. "Can't you let me out of the cage so that I don't have to get eaten?" Peter asked.
"I'm not sure I can with my talons. But even if I could, you wouldn't get far."
"I can climb out the window."
"It's several feet up. How are you going to get up there?"
"I'll come up with some way."
"It's shut too."
Damn, she's right. Peter thought as he saw that it was not only shut but also latched shut too. It would take him hours, if he could it at all, to open it, even if he applied brute force. "Maybe I can hide in a corner and run out the door when one of them comes in."
"They have a few pet cats, and I assure you, they won't let you live if they catch you."
"Maybe I can outrun them all." However, he knew he was being ridiculously optimistic. Right now, he was still groggy from his big meal. If he got caught by the McGreggors or the cats, it would mean certain death. This route, at least, stood to give him at least a fair chance of survival.
"Evne if you could, it's very unlikely you'll find all the doors open at once."
"Well, I guess you're right. I have no other choice."
"That's what I said earlier."
"I know. I just wanted to see what my other options are."
"Option A: Being swallowed and likely surviving. Option B: Trying it your own way and getting killed. Those are your only options."
"I get that now."
They both suddenly heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Oh no, they're coming and I still haven't eaten you. Quick, hide behind me!" Agnes snapped.
As the door opened, Peter hid behind her, which was hard to do, but he managed, due to her spreading out her wings. Mrs. McGreggor entered the room. "Agnes, glad to see you got rid of that awful rabbit. He broke into our garden and ate a lot of our vegetables. Nasty little thing. Well, he won't be eating out of anyone's garden anymore." she said.
Agnes tried to act natural, as though she weren't hiding anything. Still, she was having a hard time not moving, as Peter was so barely covered by her wings, that the slightest movement on her part would have revealed part of the young rabbit. Thankfully, Mrs. McGreggor didn't stick around long. As soon as she'd shut the door, Agnes breathed a sigh of relief.
"That was close!"
"Why don't we do that every time until night? Then, when they come to let you out, you can fly off with me." Peter suggested.
"They'd see you with me."
"So, then they'd know I tricked them and they wouldn't let me back."
"Can't you make it on your own?"
"I suppose I could, but they bring free food and I don't want to lose that arrangement if I can help it."
Peter groaned. It looked like there truly was no way he could worm his way out of being swallowed if he hoped to get out of here alive.
"I guess there's nothing but to get it over with." Peter sighed.
"I believe so too." Agnes said.
As the hawk opened her beak, Peter gagged at the smell of her breath as it washed over him. "Ew! Ychhh! Your breath reeks!"
"I'm afraid it's never been so bad, for me, that I've been repulsed by it."
"Well of course not!" Peter retorted, rolling his eyes.
"I'm afraid it'll be much worse smelling once you are inside of my stomachs."
"I hope there is enough room in there for me to hold my nose."
"Speaking of you being in there, there is something I want you to do for me."
"Yes. You see, I'm going to miss a meal because I'm not really digesting you. So I want you to rub my two stomachs and my crop from the inside. A nice massage. Plus, I will need you to dance on my food to help process it, as there will be less digestion thanks to the water I'm drinking."
Peter didn't like any of this, but knew he had no choice. "Ok." he sighed.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to make this look convincing," Agnes sighed. She sank her fangs into Peter's back, not deep, but enough to tear his shirt and draw blood. "Now quickly, run around the cage." Peter, hurt, and wondering why she had attacked him, complied. "Why did you bite my for?" he snapped. "It would look odd if you just vanished without any blood left behind." "Got it." As Agnes moved her open beak over his head, he flinched, repulsed by the gooey and wet saliva that began to fall on him, as well as the stench of her breath. It soon became clear that, try as he might, Peter couldn't bring himself to willingly let her eat him, his self-preservation instincts kicking in subconsciously every time Agnes got her mouth over his head, causing him to pull back out.
"I can see that I'm going to have to hold you down." Agnes sighed.
Agnes held Peter down with a talon. The young rabbit still struggled, but it was clear that the hawk was stronger. She began to move his head into her mouth. He shut his mouth, not wanting to get any of her gooey saliva in his mouth. Soon, he head was fully inside of her beak, resting against her wet tongue. She used her tongue, as well as gravity, to move more and more of him in. Soon, he was halfway in, his shirt coated in gooey saliva, which made him start to shiver.
"You now, the taste of blood makes me want to bite down. It's really hard to resist. Makes me extra hungry."
"Thanks for your care." Peter replied, trying not to sound sarcastic.
A moment later, only his legs were sticking out. He was starting to slide down her throat at this point, his head making a bulge in her throat. She slowly eased him in, until only his feet were sticking out. Half his torso was now in the throat. He could hear her heart pounding somewhere below him, as well as her lungs breathing. Somewhere way below, he could hear gurgling, no doubt from one of her stomachs.
A few seconds later, she had him fully inside her mouth. "Ready?" she asked. He sighed. "I guess I'm as ready as I'm going to be." She moved his lower half toward her throat, then shut her beak and titled her head back. He was now in complete darkness. Luckily for him, he was not very prone to claustrophobia. Peter braced himself as she swallowed him with a powerful GULLLLLLLP! He was now sliding down, being pulled down by peristalsis. He could feel the air getting hotter and hotter the further he went down the esophagus. He couldn't move much as her throat squeezed around him as it pulled him down. He could hear the loud gulp as she continued to swallow. The air became fouler the deeper he descended. He approached an opening up ahead and braced himself.
He entered the crop. He had the floor of this organ and finally stopped his descent. He had officially been swallowed and was now inside the hawk's body.
Chapter 4: The Crop
Peter hadn't been swallowed a moment too soon. Mrs. McGreggor came back in the room. This time she noticed the blood. The fact that she hadn't noticed it last time didn't faze her. Perhaps, she thought, she just hadn't looked well enough.
"Thirsty girl? Looks like you've drank all your water. Here is some milk." She filled her water tray with milk, which Agnes drank. This soon landed on top of Peter. The young rabbit was annoyed at being hit by the saliva-laden milk, but he could do nothing about it. Unlike in a stomach, where it would eventually be dissolved, it just lingered, soaking into his clothes, in Agnes' crop.
"What just hit me?" he asked.
"Milk. She gave me some and I drank it because I was thirsty."
"I'm thirsty too. It's very hot in here."
"Feel free to drink some."
"Drink this? But you already drank it!"
"I know. I'm afraid it's the best you'll be getting for a few days."
"I'm afraid so."
Peter held his nose and drank the milk, which didn't taste as bad as he thought it would. However, he had another problem, besides his thirst. "This really itches!" he whined.
"What, the milk?"
"No, I pooped in the woods this morning and used this plant to wipe my butt. Now my butt and my balls really itch."
"I'm afraid you used poison ivy."
"Yes. This will continue to itch for a good while, I'm afraid."
"Damn it!" he cursed out loud.
At that moment, the sphincter beneath him opened, not enough for him to fall through, but enough to release the gas that had exited her stomach and made its way up into the crop. It exited her beak with a loud BRRRRRUP! a moment later.
"Ew!" the young rabbit gagged.
"Sorry, I guess my meal from last night is repeating on me."
Time slowly went by for Peter as he languished inside of the hawk's crop. The rabbit felt very hot, as there was no cool air inside the bird's body. Thus, he drank the milk, which became less and less appetizing the longer it sat in the crop. After an hour of being inside the bird, however, he ran into a situation where it was no longer feasible to drink the milk.
"I hafta pee!" the rabbit moaned.
"If you gotta go, you gotta go."
"But if I go, then the milk will be tainted with piss."
"Do what you think is best."
Peter did. After drinking the milk one final time, he felt that he could no longer hold it off, it having been hours since he'd peed that morning. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, and emptied his bladder. His bladder felt relived, but now he had nothing to quench his thirst anymore.
It wasn't just the hot air that had been making him thirsty. True to his word, Peter had been rubbing her crop for the past hour or so. Agnes liked the feeling, for it felt like an internal massage, which, in fact, it was. However, the movement made Peter hotter and sweatier than he would have been had he just lain there in the crop.
After two more hours of this, he took off his shirt and pants. After all, nobody, including he himself, could see himself in here after all.
An hour later, it was lunch time. Mr. McGreggor came to bring Agnes her lunch, a rat that he'd caught in a trap. Agnes was pleased to finally have something to eat, since Peter technically didn't count.
Speaking of Peter, he soon was hit with chunks of meat and fur. He quickly put back on his shirt and pants, for he had forgotten about the danger of falling food and didn't want his underwear soiled. "What just hit me?" he asked. "My lunch." "I kinda figured that. Could you be more specific?" "Yes. A rat that they gave me." "Yecccch!" "Hawks have to eat too." "I suppose." He felt something poking him. As he ran his hands along it, he soon realized that it was a bone. "You swallowed a bone!" "I know." "Doesn't it hurt you anus when you poop it out?" "It's called a cloaca, how many times do I have to tell you!" "Ok, a cloaca, whatever. Doesn't it hurt?" "No." "Wonder why it doesn't." "Because I don't poop it out." "So, does it just stay inside of you forever?" "No. I spit it up as a pellet." "A pellet?" "Fur and bones and stuff like that. Makes it so I don't have to poop it out, which is good, as it would be hard on the vent.
"The vent? I thought you called it a cloaca."
"Can you spit me back up as a pellet so that I don't have to be pooped out your cloaca?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that. You're too big. It's only meant for fur and bones and things like that."
Agnes drank some water. Peter was glad for this, as it was hot inside her crop. As he'd ruined the milk she'd drank hours earlier when he had to pee, he drank the water as he fell on him. Though it was tainted with saliva, it still tasted good to him since he was so thirsty.
After two more hours, something finally happened. The food in the hawk's first stomach had finally moved to her gizzard. At around 2:30 PM, Peter and the rest of the contents of Agnes' crop were squeezed downward, finally coming to rest in another chamber.
Chapter 5: The Proventriculus
"Where am I now?" Peter asked.
"The proventriculus. It's my first stomach."
"What's your other stomach called?"
"So, how long do you think I'll be stuck in here?"
"Probably 12 hours, at least."
"I'm afraid so."
"Aren't you going to drink water so that I don't get digested?"
"Yes, I do need to. Though it won't come right away as it first goes to my crop."
"What about when I'm in your gizzard?"
"I'll have to drink even more so that it can help you when it finally reaches you."
"You mean I am going to get digested?"
"I'm afraid you are, somewhat, but if all goes right, it shouldn't kill you."
"You mean it could?"
"As I said earlier, there's a chance of that."
For the first 45 minutes of being inside the proventriculus, Peter didn't notice too much of a change. The space was a little bit better than in the crop while the smell of the gasses was worse. It wasn't until Agnes, out of habit, belched, that he realized a big difference. This time, the stomach began to contract around him, squeezing the air out his lungs.
"Help......I.....can't.....breathe!" he rasped.
Thankfully, Agnes heard him, and, realizing her mistake, quickly breathed in a bunch of air. By making like she was going to burp again but this time swallowing the air and sending it down instead of up, she sent much needed air to Peter before he suffocated. "Sorry, force of habit. It usually hurts when I keep all that air in there. But I guess I'll have to make do with you in here."
"Yes, that would be great." the young rabbit replied, rolling his eyes.
The next 45 minutes went without incident. Then, once more, something began to happen. "Ouch, something is hitting me and it stings!" Peter cried out.
"That would be the stomach acid."
"Stomach acid! You mean the stuff that digests me?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Quick, drink some water to neutralize it!"
"I'm afraid there's not enough in my bowl to make my crop dump it into here right away."
"Then get some. It burns! Ouch! Get...ouch.....some.....please....ow!"
"Ok, I'll try and get some more, but I can't just keep begging for water every time you whine."
Agnes began to moan and cry. Soon, Mr. McGreggor came in to check up on her. She ran her beak across her empty water bowl, as though trying to find water that wasn't there.
Mr. McGreggor left with the bowl and soon returned with it filled to the top. Agnes drank the entire thing. This filled her crop to the top, causing it to spill the water into her proventriculus, dousing Peter and neutralizing the stomach acid. "There, that should help you for a while. Though I can't keep doing this every time you whine." she said.
"Thank you. That feels much better." he sighed.
Peter was now up to his middle in water. At first it was cool and helped him cool down as he rubbed the hawk's stomach. However, soon the water began to get warmer and warmer due to the hawk's body heat. BRRUMPPPM! Bubbles formed in the water as the rabbit farted. He giggled and farted several more times. At least he had some very mild form of amusement in his very bad situation.
An hour later, he could hear many sounds like that sounded like farts coming from below him. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Emptying my cloaca."
"You mean you're pooping."
"More or less."
Peter didn't know why she said "more or less". He still didn't quite know what a cloaca was. However, he did know that he would, sooner or later, be pooped out of it.
"Agnes, how long do you think it will be till I reach your cloaca?"
"Not tomorrow morning but the morning after."
"Ug, over a full day!" Peter moaned.
"Actually, it will be two full days before you get pooped out. I can only excrete you out at night, remember?"
Peter groaned. Two more days inside a bird's body. This was definitely not worth the garden feast he'd had that morning!
The walls of the hawk's first stomach were slimy and he felt somewhat disgusted to rub his hands against the rough muscular walls. He had worse problems besides slimy stomach walls. His itchiness due to the poison ivy had made his anus and testicles itch worse than ever. Worse, as the acid level increased in the first stomach, the acidic level rose to the point where the acid began to burn at his fur, making him itch even more.
"This itches!" he moaned.
"I can't do anything about your, what was it you called them?" Agnes said.
"My anus, my butthole, and my balls, er, testicles, as my uncle calls them."
"Those. I can't help you with the poison ivy itch. Only time will make it go away, I'm afraid."
"I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about what the acid is doing to my fur."
"I'm sorry, I can't keep drinking water. It makes me have to pee and also it will drown you if I keep drinking it."
"I just hope it doesn't digest me to death."
"You're a long ways off before it could kill you. It hasn't even burned off your fur yet."
"Burned off my fur!"
"Yes, I think it likely you'll lose that before you reach the other end."
"At least you'll likely live."
"Small comfort when you're inside stomachs being digested."
Not only were his balls and anus itching, and not only was his fur itching were the acid was beginning to sting it, but his wound that Agnes had made had started to blister from the acidic burns. And he was very hot. Hotter than he'd been in his life, he reckoned. At least before, when it had been a hot day, he could head inside or take a nice cool bath. Now, he was in warm water, getting warmer by the moment, inside the hot innards of a bird, with acid slowly dripping around him. He was very thirsty too. So thirsty, in fact, that, despite the water having some of his piss, from before, in it as well as the chewed up remains of the hawk's lunch, he drank several gulps of it anyway. His stomach wasn't at all happy about this, but he forced the water down. Drinking all of this water, of course, made him have to pee, again, which further tainted the water. He covered his penis with his hands as he peed, giving it cover from the stomach acid.
Time seemed to slowly ebb by for the young rabbit. Not only was the acid becoming worse, starting to cause a few clumps of his fur to fall out, but he was starting to develop a feeling of claustrophobia. This was not just because of his limited moving space inside the hawk's proventriculus, but because the organ, every one in a while, would squeeze against him as it tried to process him. Thankfully, it wasn't doing a very good job.
And speaking of processing, true to his word, he'd been dancing in the remains of the hawk's afternoon meal, helping to break it down, stepping on broken meat, and, occasionally, bone. "You eat the bones too?" "To save the time of picking all the little ones out, I do. My stomachs can handle it." "Yuck! To think of pooping out bones! It's something I'd never do!' "And I never thought I'd ever have to poop out a whole young rabbit, yet here I am." And besides, I don't poop out the bones anyway." "What?" "I spit them up in pellets, remember?" "Right."
Evening came and Agnes sent down more food into her crop. Thankfully, it didn't reach Peter for hours. Unfortunately this also held true for the milk that she had drank as well. In fact, the sun had set, the moon come out, and the hawk had fallen asleep for the night by the time it did. He had lost several patches of fur and was glad for some relief for the acid in the form of the milk, even if it did come with a large mole that the McGreggors had caught. This big meal, in fact, had put the hawk to sleep. She had been kept awake for a good while past her normal bedtime by the incessant pestering of the young rabbit, but soon, her natural need for sleep, plus her large meal, caused her to nod off. Peter could tell that she was asleep for she snored, and rather loudly too. The snoring echoed around him, making him cover his ears. He had tried to wake her, but she was too sleepy. Finally, around 2 AM, he finally woke her.
"Can't you let a girl sleep?" she whined sleepily. "Your snoring is awful!" "I suppose it is. But I've never had a stomach guest before to worry about. I'm afraid you'll have to make do." "I guess so." A few minutes later, something finally happened. The first stomach began to drain. Peter soon reached the bottom and was squeezed down a tube and into chamber. "Where am I now?" he asked. "You're in my gizzard." Agnes said, before falling back to sleep.
Chapter 6: The Gizzard
"What's a gizzard?" Peter asked.
Agnes didn't answer. "Hey, where am I?"he snapped. After much poking and prodding, the hawk awoke.
"Damn you Peter, can't you let me sleep?"
"I most certainly can't sleep in here!"
"What did you want? Make it quick so I can get some sleep, or else I'll be really tired and might forget not to burp or something like that."
"Ok, could you tell me what a gizzard is?"
"Second stomach. Does most of the processing of the food."
"Processing! Wait, does that mean it'll kill me?"
"No, there should be some water coming to you by morning, but I really need my rest." the hawk said, before going back to sleep.
Peter Rabbit was worried now. While Agnes said that it shouldn't kill him, he feared that the gizzard might cause him all sorts of unpleasantness throughout the night. And he was right. Merely half an hour after Agnes had gone back to sleep, acid began to pour into the gizzard. He had been asleep, being exhausted, and had started to dream that a fire-breathing dragon was attacking him. He wondered why it actually felt like it was burning. He soon awoke to realize that acid was coming in. This soon began to burn off more fur. Also, the gizzard contracted and squeezed against him, trying hard than the proventriculus had to process him. Now his skin, going bald in many places, plus his anus and balls, were itching worse than ever. Bare patches of his skin, devoid of fur, began to blister. When he peed two hours later, his penis got hit with a trickle of acid, causing him to quickly put it back in his pants and just finish urinating there. The pants were already so soaked by water and milk that a bit of urine couldn't really damage it any further.
The acid content was such that his hands became blistered from rubbing the gizzard wall. He was most miserable that night and was glad when Agnes finally awoke around sunrise. "Get me some water! It burns like the fires of hell in here!" he moaned.
"Sorry, my bowl is empty of water."
"Pee and then drink it or something! It's really hot and burning in here!"
"I'm afraid my pee isn't quite like that of your kind. It's not really liquid like that."
Peter wondered what she meant. However, he knew enough to know that it wouldn't help him. Half hour later, Agnes drank water, then, crying out for more, downed an entire second bowl that the McGreggors gave her. This however, didn't reach Peter for several hours, as it first went into her proventriculus.
The young rabbit, meanwhile, felt that he had to poop, for he normally had a bowel movement once a day. Thus, he pulled down his pants and underwear and voided his feces. This helped relieve his rectum, though the acid landed on his exposed rear, burning fur off of it and blistering it. This made the itch there worse than ever. And speaking of itch, since he had nothing to wipe with, that also made his anus itch all the more.
He had no relief until about noon, when finally the water from above came down to him. This came with the annoyance, though, of having the hawk's breakfast also land atop him, leaving him in a mixture of food and water up to his middle. This he helped process by dancing.
He spent the next few hours in silence, rubbing the stomach walls and wincing in pain as the rest of his fur burnt off. Thankfully he skin was, for the most part, protected from blistering, but his face was turning raw as it was unprotected. He shielded it with his hands, only for those to get blistered instead. At dark, around 8PM, Agnes was released for the night. She felt a disturbance in her gizzard, one she'd had many times before. Peter, however, was new to this, and so was alarmed when a large chunk of fur, bones of her prey, and even Peter's shedded fur, was heaved upward into the proventriculus and further up until she upchucked the pellet out of her mouth. Half the air in the gizzard was gone, though it left enough for Peter to breathe, though barely. "What the hell just happened?" the rabbit asked. "Pellet. How I don't have to poop out all the annoying stuff." "Pity I couldn't come with it." he sighed. He stayed in her gizzard as she flew around, moving from tree to tree. He could feel her move but, being inside her gizzard, had no idea of where she was. It wasn't until Agnes went to bed that night around 10PM, for Peter kept her awake with his whining, that something finally happened. The gizzard began to drain, taking the contents, including Peter, of the stomach with it downward into the duodenum. It was a tight and painful squeeze, but, bit by bit, he was moved into the small intestine. Finally, he was out of the range of stomach acid and ready for the next stage of his journey through the bird's digestive tract.
Chapter 7: The Small Intestine
"Where am I now?" he asked.
The hawk didn't reply. He soon realized that, wherever he was, there was no longer a danger of acid. This new area seemed more peaceful than the stomachs. Since he really couldn't see anything anyway, there was little for him to do. He no longer had to rub a stomach, which was good as his arms were getting tired. He thus soon fell asleep.
He didn't sleep long, maybe half an hour to forty-five minutes at most. He soon encountered villi, which made him start to dream that he was being slapped by evil octopuses, who poked and yanked at him. He awoke with a start to find that, at least to some degree, it wasn't a dream after all. Sure, it was tiny villi, not octopuses, but it still was incredibly annoying. He surely wouldn't be getting any sleep now!
He was glad that he had shoes and clothes on, but, unfortunately, his face and arms weren't covered, so he was tickled there until he laughed so hard that he peed himself. "Just great!" he moaned. The tickling made him laugh until he was nearly hoarse. He was tempted to bite the villi, but knew that that wouldn't make Agnes happy, and she might change her mind about sparing his life. He pulled his shift up over his face and arms. This helped protect him from being tickled endlessly, but it also made him stuffier than he already was in the small intestine. And, unlike in the crop, proventriculus, or even the gizzard, it would be a long time indeed before water reached him now. And just when he needed it most too!
Agnes awoke an hour later, having had a nightmare that woke her up in the middle of the night. Peter could feel her stir. "Glad you're awake. Where the heck am I?" he asked.
"Small intestine I think."
"Small. Does that mean it's short?"
"Kind of. It's actually longer than the large intestine, just smaller, tighter."
"Yes, I can feel it all right. Bruises me a lot."
"I'm afraid you're just going to have to deal with it."
"I wonder how long it'll be till I get out of here."
"As I said, unfortunately, it won't be till tomorrow night. You'll reach the cloaca by morning but I'll be back in my cage by then."
"Can you stay out for one day?"
"I could, but then I wouldn't get food for the day unless I hunted it."
"Couldn't you go out a few hours after morning?"
"I could, but I'd still miss breakfast, and I've already missed one meal because of you."
"You don't want to make this easy for me, do you?"
"To be honest, you're lucky to get what you're getting. You're the one who broke into the garden and stole all that food. It's not like I came to your home and took you."
Peter couldn't argue with that. He had indeed landed himself in his worst mess ever.
Agnes went back to sleep. Peter tried to sleep as well, but the poking of the villi made his sleep very intermittent, waking him up constantly. He also began to itch in his underwear, not only from the poison ivy, but from peeing, once more, inside of it, not wanting to risk his penis being tickled by the villi if he moved it out of his pants to urinate properly.
The further in Agnes' digestive tract he descended, the less he could hear her breathing, the less he could hear her stomachs gurgle, and the less he could hear her heartbeat. What he did hear more of, though, was the gurgling of her intestines, the slurping of nutrients being sucked up by villi, and, worst of all, gas as it went past him toward its exit from the hawk's cloaca. Peter could also tell that the food was starting to stink worse, which made him realize he must be getting closer to the hawk's butt, that vent-like hole under her tail that she called a cloaca. He dreaded this part most of all, save the stomachs, where he feared digestion, in the hawk's body. He knew that, sooner or later, he'd be covered in bird feces and also, as the worst sort of humiliation, be squeezed out the hawk's tailhole at the end of the journey. He hoped it didn't hurt much at the end of the trip. Around 4AM, he rounded the last bend of the hawk's small intestine and moved through an opening into her large intestine.