Hiram’s head swam from thirst as he plodded hopelessly over the dried desert ground. He could feel himself shriveling up like a leaf in the sun as he sweated out the last of his moisture. He could no longer walk in a straight line, and his steps slowed down. He flopped hard onto the ground, quite certain he would never rise again, but too dehydrated to comprehend and fear death. With his ear pressed against the dessicated earth, he heard a faint trickle somewhere deep below him. He guessed it was the sound of his own blood running through his veins, distorted by the effects of a parched brain, but it gave him enough hope to push himself a bit further. He spotted an unremarkable hole in the ground a few yards away from him and stumbled his way in. He slid down the steep incline for what seemed like hours. It was pitch-dark inside, but the further he slid, the louder the sound of flowing water became. The slope ended abruptly, and he was thrown into the smooth, rocky ground below. He crawled towards the noise, groping the ground in search of dampness. A shiver of delight went up his spine when he happened to plant his paw in a cool stream. He drank his fill, rolled over, and fell asleep. 

When the fennec fox woke up, it took him some time to recall where he was. He took a matchbox and a torch from his pack, stood up, and examined his surroundings. He was apparently inside a cave of smooth black stone. He could not go back the way he came: the tunnel down which he slid led to a hole in the wall that was too high up for him to reach from the floor. Somebody had hastily scratched the word “DRAGOl” on the wall. Hiram assumed that the “l” was supposed to be an “N,” but the author never got the chance to make the last 2 strokes. He held his torch with his teeth and crept through a gap in the wall with his rifle raised, staying low as he made his way towards the better-lit chamber on the other end. He put the torch away when he entered a larger room, lit by a ring of fire around the perimeter. A loud hiss surrounded him; the dragon must have ignited a series of natural gas sources to illuminate his home. Judging by the immense heaps of gold and silver scattered around the room, he had been around for a very long time. Egyptian artifacts, ancient roman weaponry, medieval suits of armor, and factory-fresh firearms alike were among the beast’s trophies; his collection must have been updated as recently as 1915. Hiram slowly peeked out from behind a heap of treasure, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he was up against before being noticed. The dragon locked eyes with him immediately. He had a long, slender tail and a prominent chest, with beige on his underside and tan scales everywhere else - quite similar to Hiram’s own color scheme, but slightly darker and a little less saturated. Large wings extended from his shoulders, composed mostly of wine-red skin. Great black claws adorned his hands and feet, sharp and shiny as obsidian. He had the sort of gaunt, cruel face that only old men can come to possess after a lifetime of joyless power, unsatisfying riches, and solitary selfishness. He was too large to fight - Hiram was almost as tall as one of the dragon’s fingers, and only slightly wider at the shoulders. He seemed much too smart to slip away from. He reclined upon a natural throne of sloping rock, complete with conveniently armrest-like outcroppings.

“Come out, little fox. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Hiram stepped out from behind the pile of gold coins, fully revealing himself to the dragon in a gesture of dignified submission.

“There’s no reason to run away. My den cannot be left on foot, the only way out is by flight. If you choose to avoid me, you will surely die of hunger.”

“So,” Hiram asked without beating around the bush, “what’ll it take for you to get me out of here?”

“As you can see,” the dragon responded, running a claw over his bony ribs and concave belly, “I haven’t had a meal in weeks. There are currently parasites in my belly, so I can’t eat anything until they’ve starved. It would save me a lot of time and grief if a strong, unshakeable man like you cleared the infestation - most people would be too scared to fight properly in my gut, and would end up as food for the parasites. If you kill them all, I’ll fly you out of the desert. I can bring you back home to England, set you down in Times Square, drop you off at a nice hotel in Havana, or take you wherever else you want. If you prefer duty over comfort, I’ll take you to that bridge they want you to destroy,” he said, eyeing the dynamite sticking out of Hirams’s backpack.

Hiram considered his options momentarily, keeping eye contact with the dragon all the while. He knew it would be suicidal to fight him. He supposed the promised reward for assisting the dragon was a lie, but on the off-chance that he was telling the truth, helping him out would be the only way to leave the cave in one piece. When Hiram enlisted, he knew he would have to risk his life for the sake of the fight. He figured that it made no difference whether he died in no-man’s land or a dragon’s tummy.

“Sounds like a deal, Mister…”

“Phoraxalos.”

“Thank you, Phoraxalos. How do you expect me to kill your worms, exactly?”

“They’re not mere worms. They’re just as smart as you, they stand on two legs, and will gladly have you for dinner if you allow them. They can see in the dark, they’re invulnerable to acid, and their scales protect them from fire. I shall swallow you whole, and you will dismember them. Punch, strangle, kick, and bite everything that moves until you’re the only living thing left in my stomach. You have 10 minutes until I cough you up. If you haven’t killed all the parasites by then, I’ll let you rest for a week and you’ll try again when your skin grows back. My acids are flammable, and I will ignite them so you can see the parasites. To survive the flames, you will have to bathe in my urine beforehand. It has heat resistant properties. If I feel you trying to cut your way out of my belly at any time, I’ll turn up the temperature and roast you to cinders despite your coating.”

The prospect of having his skin digested off did not appeal to Hiram, but he chose not to show it. He left his backpack on the ground, not wanting it to get burnt, gurgled, or covered in piss.

“Right, then!” said the young soldier, approaching Phoraxalos’ seat, “Let’s get it done.”

He laid down between the beast’s thighs, staring uncomfortably into his dickhole as he patiently waited for it to unleash the golden deluge. The rank odor radiating from the dragon’s wrinkly foreskin served as an unsavory preview of the shower for Hiram. His cock and fat balls rested heavy on the ground, dark, soft, and veiny. A torrent of piss gushed out of the end right when Hiram let his mental guard down. The fennec closed his eyes and rolled around in it, rubbing the fire-retardant fluid into his fur as deeply as he could. He slathered it between his toes, in his armpits, on his nutsack, and between his assckeeks in order to take full advantage of its protective properties. He even drank a few mouthfuls of it, knowing he was bound to get some flaming stomach acid in his mouth once he was in Phoraxalos’ tummy. The urine kept pouring out, soaking into Hiram’s back, chest, and belly. It thoroughly saturated the fur on his arms and legs, too. He pulled back his sheath and spread it all over his cock, just in case. He splashed it behind his ears and on his chin, leaving not a single hair dry. He doused the crown of his head and the soles of his feet, massaging the smelly water into his fluff until he felt ready to swim in a pool of flame. Just as Hiram ran out of skin to soak, the yellow stream flowing from Phoraxalos’ cock ceased. 

“I reckon that’ll do,” said Hiram to the dragon, “you can gulp me down now.”

Phoraxalos picked him up and brought him to the tip of his snout. When he opened his mouth, the view was breathtaking. His lightly-yellowed teeth glistened in the firelight, audibly dripping saliva onto his slick tongue. That mighty muscle shone with spit, eager to lubricate Hiram for the trip down his throat. Slobber ran down the inside of his cheeks, puddling by his bottom teeth. The immense humidity of it reminded Hiram of the jungle, and when he stepped between Phoraxalos’s jaws, he found it a great deal hotter. Though he felt as if he would melt on the spot, the fennec tightened his metaphorical belt and strode forward confidently, trusting his piss-drenched fur to save him from the fire in the beast’s belly. His mind was made up, and no matter how many times he reconsidered his situation, he could find no way out except through the dragon’s stomach. His tongue squelched under Hiram’s paws, tender and flexible yet incalculably strong. The fox stared into his seemingly-bottomless throat, letting the hot air rising from the darkness blow back his fur.

“Down the hatch, Phorry!”

He took a deep breath and plunged into the abyss. The dragon did not even have to swallow him actively; he simply slid down the slimy tube like a waterslide. He crashed through the esophageal sphincter, and was hit at once with the sweltering heat and the blinding glow of the flames. He splashed down in the middle of the burning acid, which was deeper than was tall. He swam closer to the stomach walls - the pool was shallower there, covering little more than his ankles. He scarcely found his footing when the first parasite dove at him. His thick biceps and sharp teeth failed to rattle Hiram, who ducked under his pounce and headbutted his stomach as he passed overhead. He pinned him to the wall sideways, crushing his neck into the wall with one hand and bashing the lizard’s nuts against it with the other. Before the reptile could get a good grip on Hiram, the fox sunk his teeth into his side, ripping a huge chunk of skin and meat from his midsection as he threw him to the ground. Hiram tried to finish him off with a stomp to the throat, but he rolled out of the way and grabbed his vulpine assailant by the shin. When he extended his snout towards the fennec’s leg, a furry kneecap smashed into his upper jaw, knocking his head back briefly. Hiram quickly grabbed the enemy’s snout and held it closed. The creature pushed on his chest in an effort to keep Hiram’s jaws away from his face as he attempted to free his own snout with his other hand. They grappled on the ground for a moment, trying in vain to bite at each other’s juicy necks. Hiram rolled into the acid, allowing the scorching goop to enter the wound above the foe’s hip. He also managed to get his jaws around one of the lizard’s pectorals, piercing his scales with his teeth and tearing the muscle away from his body. The green menace perished with a whimper when Phoraxalos’ digestive juices entered his abdominal cavity and seared his sensitive internal organs. He let go of Hiram just as two more scaly beasts arrived to rescue him. They closed in on Hiram from both sides, forcing him back towards the wall. He turned tail and took a step to the right, but when the monster on the left lunged towards him, he spun around and ripped out his throat, severing his jugular vein with his teeth and killing him instantly. He grinned at his remaining adversary, letting blood gush from between his jaws and drip down his chin as he chewed up his gory mouthful. The parasite took a step back, visibly shaken, and let out a howl-honk to call for help. 

Two more of them emerged from the acid, rising from their slumber to defeat the canine invader. They looked like anthropomorphic fires until the black fluid slid off their reflective green scales. Before they could catch him, Hiram dove into the infernal lake. He found the half-digested corpse of the first man he killed, and had an idea. He nipped the heel of one of the reptiles, causing him to dive down and chase him. When he reached for Hiram in the opaque liquid, Hiram pushed the dead body into the vengeful arms of his pursuer. He fell for the ruse, chomping into the back of its neck and dragging it to the bottom of the scalding sea for further brutalization and ingestion. Hiram resurfaced, but there was nobody to fight; the other parasites knew he was too dangerous on dry ground, so they lurked under the acid’s surface, where they held an evolutionary advantage. Hiram took the time to revisit the man whose throat he had eaten. He chewed into his succulent thigh until he could extract his femur. He gnawed one end into a sharp pike, and waited. When he saw bubbles rising from the acid, he jumped into it and thrust his makeshift spear into the depths. It pierced one of the swimmers’ backs, causing him to roar in shocked agony. Hiram yanked the bone out, allowing boiling acid to pour into his victim’s bloodstream and fill his lungs. The impaled man, knowing he could no longer survive submerged in the acid, chased him onto solid ground. There, Hiram made quick work of him, poking a few more holes in his face, chest, and tummy before his comrades could catch up. He stumbled after Hiram, and collapsed facefirst into a puddle of his own blood before he could reach his retreating nemesis. One of the other lizards loomed over Hiram, preparing to punch his lights out and have him for lunch. While Hiram was distracted by the nearer threat, his second opponent whipped a long bone at him from a half-dozen meters away. It smashed painfully into his fingers, forcing him to drop his weapon and fight one-handed. The hulking predator in front of him knocked him to the floor with one strike, causing a scary quantity of blood to gush from Hiram's nose and breaking one of his ribs with a well-placed kick. He jumped into the air to end Hiram’s life with one good body slam. The man’s width was too great to dodge, but Hiram managed to plant his feet on his torso as he fell and catapult his nose into the wall. In a split second, Hiram snatched the unsharpened bone with his good hand, stood up, and charged at its original thrower. This slightly-less-herculean scalie grabbed the bone before Hiram could smash his skull with it, but Hiram managed to chop off the fingers on his other hand with a ferocious bite as he hopped out of the way of a strong kick. The fennec danced behind him and drove his teeth into the back of his knee with maximum power, disabling one leg completely. He had enough time to eat a hole in the maimed fellow’s hip before the bigger reptile caught up, forcing him to run away and hope his prey would bleed to death. 

With his four companions either dead or too badly hurt to keep fighting, only one lizard was left. Known to his kin as Pynorax, he was the biggest of them all by far, standing half a meter taller than Hiram and weighing at least twice as much. They squared off on opposite sides of the acid reservoir, looking hungrily into each other’s eyes as their stomachs whined for fresh meat. It was settled without verbal exchange that only one of them should leave the dragon’s belly alive. They cautiously drew near to one-another until Pynorax took the first swing, having much longer reach than Hiram. He stepped back just in time to avoid the strike, skinning the parasite’s knuckles with a timely nip. Pretending to lose his balance, the monstrous reptile spun around from the momentum of his fist and swung his heavy tail at Hiram’s face. He caught it nimbly, managing to bite off a foot of the massive appendage before its owner pivoted round and pounced, too fast to backpedal away from. Hiram was faced with a mighty arm on both sides; a clean dodge was all but impossible. He dove to the left, locking his jaws around the scalie’s wrist and pulling it down with a twisting motion as he slipped away yet again. This decisive chomp severed all veins and muscles in the vicinity, leaving the hand limp, bloody, and useless. Hiram went back in for another bite, precisely at the elbow. He dug his teeth into the sinew at the end of Pynorax’s humerus and pulled with all his might. He stumbled back with half an arm in his mouth, just in time to avoid the murderous grip of his adversary’s other hand. Hiram took a moment to rip a hunk of meat off the broken limb, chewing it up and promptly swallowing it as a mid-fight snack, just to tide him over until he could tear some more juicy flesh off of his muscular prey. 

Having taken one of his opponent’s arms out of commission, Hiram was free to harass the corresponding leg with minimal interference. He tore a piece from the side of his thigh first, baiting him into a wild kick. Hiram grabbed Pynorax’s extended leg and started chewing a ring around the top of the knee, revealing bone with a few seconds of frenzied gnawing. Before he could completely disable the leg, the beast swung his tail at Hiram, who simply turned his head and devoured it instead. He sucked it into his mouth as fast as he could, reducing the reptile’s lethal whip to flakes as a woodchipper might. Pynorax pivoted without warning, forcing Hiram against the wall before he could scamper out of reach. Thinking on his feet, Hiram slipped between his legs, appearing behind him with a bleeding cock and disembodied ballsack hanging from his smiling jaws. Adrenaline had allowed Pynorax to fight through the pain until that point, but that sudden and violent emasculation was too much to bear. He fell to the ground and screamed as blood poured from the cavity between his legs, adding to the immense pool that had flowed from his tail, knee, and half-eaten arm. Hiram took the chance to finish cutting the muscles in his left thigh, snipping them between his teeth like strands of saucy spaghetti. His competitor swatted at him, but the fox was too swift to catch. He pressed his advantage, nipping off a pinky finger and pulling his head back before his nemesis could take hold of it. In a similar manner, he opened a series of wounds of varying depth and size on his biceps and forearm, keeping his victim guessing as to where he would bite next. His arm must have been bleeding from a dozen spots, but the brute could still swing it hard enough to knock Hiram out in one more hit. 

Pynorax had trouble turning around due to his injured leg, and could not track Hiram when he ran behind his back, jumped up, and snapped his jaws down hard on his good shoulder, making him screech in pain as he plummeted back to the ground. Hiram refused to let go when his prey fell forward, embedding his teeth deep into his shoulderblade. Pynorax twisted his head and tried to grab Hiram with his tongue. The fennec predictably ate that too, and resumed his work on his beefy shoulder. He eagerly stripped away scale, skin, and sinew until the entire bone was exposed. He eviscerated his armpit, pulling out his thick, chewy muscles until there was little holding Pynorax’s arm to his torso. Hiram planted his foot on the poor creature’s back and tugged on his wrist, successfully popping the whole limb out of its socket after a few seconds of straining. Screaming in agony, the lizard was totally defenseless; his only remaining weapons were his right leg and his own teeth. He made a last-ditch effort to spring at Hiram and kill him with one good neckbite, but a windpipe-collapsing throat punch from the fox knocked him back to the wall. He fell upon the stunned reptile’s leg and sawed through his massive triceps, letting his chest, face, and arms get utterly soaked in salty blood. 

CRACK!

In one full-strength chomp, Hiram split the femur, pouring bone marrow all over the ground. 

“Care for a bite?” he said as he jokingly offered Pynorax his own disembodied thigh. Pynorax did not laugh. Hiram savored the rich taste of its tough, lean tissue, ignoring the pitiful wailing of his prey. The lizard watched in terror as the hungry fox tore his flesh from his bones like shish kebab and washed it down with the blood that still gushed from the limb. Though he scarfed down an impossibly large amount of meat every second, his belly remained totally flat; his beautifully-chiseled abs compressed his meal into a dense mash, packing gallons of shredded brawn into his average-sized stomach. Within the minute, Hiram had ingested nearly a meter of leg, leaving only a pile of bones behind. 

“~Ahhh. Nothing like a good fight to work up the appetite. URP.”

Pynorax stared back at him with puppy-dog eyes, with tears welling up at the corners.

“Come on now, don’t give me that look. You would have tortured me ten times as badly if you had won, and I wouldn’t have said a word. We fought one-on-one, unarmed, and I beat you fair and square. If it’s any consolation, you really did give me a run for my money. So please cut the submissive, apologetic crap and let me enjoy my food without feeling bad about it.”

Hiram leaned into Pynorax’s abs, licking them curiously before opening his jaws and sinking them into the lumpy wall of hard muscle in front of him. Excruciated, the parasite screamed at the top of his lungs, much to Phoraxalos’ delight. Hiram had to hold his sensitive ears shut to avoid going deaf as he gnawed through his enormous eight pack and into his most intimate depths. He ripped out, chewed up, and gulped down each bump individually until only a hole remained, exposing the innermost workings of the scalie. Hiram salivated over those glistening viscera, covered in new blood yet squirming with life. His snout probed Pynorax’s abdominal cavity as he lapped up the taste of his intestines, liver, and pancreas, all pulsating tantalizingly. He settled on the gallbladder as his first target, biting the soft morsel in half and feeling its bitter juices fill his mouth. He then slurped up the small intestine like pasta, mincing it to ribbons before sucking it down his throat. He thoroughly chewed every organ in due time, enjoying their unique tastes and textures until his prey was entirely exenterated. He eventually worked his way under his ribcage, where he lightly nibbled on his spleen, heart, lungs, and kidneys. He left the stomach alone, though - a mouthful of strong acid did not sound so appetizing to Hiram. Having nearly hollowed Pynorax out, he pulled his head out and looked the larger man in the eyes. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll finish you off now.” 

The lizard smiled and fell limp, happy to hear that his suffering was finally over. Hiram chomped on his delicious neck with deadly force, splattering a great arc of blood on the wall. His sharp teeth sailed through his flesh easily, killing him before he could let out another scream. 

Judging by the stillness in his stomach, Phoraxalos knew Hiram had successfully carried out his task. The dragon went down on all fours, stuck out his neck, and heaved. A deluge of acid, dismembered bodies, and partially-digested lizards poured onto the floor below. His relief was palpable; after spending so many long nights being kept awake by the activity inside his belly, it was bliss to finally have a truly empty stomach. Hiram landed in the middle of it all, stood up, and tried his best to shake the piss, blood, and acid out of his fur.

“As you can plainly see,” Hiram said, gesturing at the corpses of the parasites, “I’ve done as you asked. Count the heads, all five are there. Now, if you would kindly bring me to the bridge where the railway crosses the Namehere canyon, I would be most appreciative.”

Phoraxalos, who had seemed irredeemably cynical only ten minutes earlier, looked upon Hiram with grateful and intimate satisfaction. He had planned to eat the fox after being rid of the parasites, but for the first time in his life, he was feeling nice. 

“Very well, little one. Climb upon my tongue, and I shall fly you there.“

Hiram picked up his bag, entered the maw, and hoped the dragon would keep his word. Pharaxalos shut his mouth, sealing Hiram in the slimy pitch darkness of his cheek. He neither chewed nor swallowed. It felt good to relax in the secure warmth of his merciful maw after enduring the five hardest minutes of his life, Hiram had to admit. His worry subsided as his trust grew, and soon enough, he was humming a happy tune while rinsing out the unholy combination of bodily fluids that his fur had absorbed in his new friend’s gut. He wondered if he would ever see Pharaxalos again after they parted ways, and he found himself hoping he would.