Hot Tourist Destinations
A lone taxi came to a stop at the edge of a white gravel road. Gently, its passenger door creaked open, allowing its occupant, a worried-looking tourist, to float outside.
The tourist, from afar, might have looked like a small, floating hat, but anyone familiar with the denizens of the Cap Kingdom would quickly recognize her as a Bonneter. Her name was Chloe, and she was currently on holiday to visit the famous Cooking Carnival. However, much to her confusion, the area outside of the taxi had no carnival– or even signs of civilization– in sight.
“You really can’t go any farther?” Chloe asked.
“Nope, ‘fraid not,” the taxi driver replied curtly. “Believe me, the terrain ‘round here ain’t exactly friendly for driving. But you should be fine so long as you stay on the footpath.”
Chloe took a moment to examine her surroundings. Scattered on both sides of the road were large, rocky outcroppings. The area looked similar to what she had seen in photos, but the town she was trying to get to wasn’t anywhere in sight. Still feeling lost, she pulled out her travel brochure and stared at its map to try and make sense of where she was.
“Hm. Is it still a footpath if you don’t have any feet?” the taxi driver joked. “But hey, here’s a tip– you can’t go wrong so long as you keep heading towards the volcano.”
Chloe looked up from her brochure, and sure enough, jutting out high above the wall of rocks, was the unmistakable silhouette of Mount Volbono. “Oh, right. Silly me for not thinking of that…” With a sigh, she put her map away and gave one last glance back at the taxi she’d been sitting in all morning. “Well, thanks for the ride.”
“No problem! Have fun at the carnival!” And without any further fanfare, the taxi sped off, scattering gravel on the side of the road– which, upon closer inspection, seemed to consist of oversized salt crystals instead of rocks.
At least I know that I’m in the Luncheon Kingdom, she thought, but I guess I’m all on my own now… Looking ahead once more, she spotted the path between the rocks that she was meant to take. The volcano doesn’t look that far away. Hopefully this doesn’t take too long.
As luck would have it, the trip took much longer than she would have liked.
By the time Chloe reached the town nestled in the foothills of the volcano, the sun had slid into position directly above her in the sky, signaling that it was around noon. The blistering heat from above, alongside the molten pink lava she’d had to contend with near the sides of the path, and she felt like she was going to sweat out all of her ectoplasm and shrivel up. And, on top of that, she was starving for some lunch.
The sight of the town had given her one last boost of energy to reach the town plaza, which she nearly collapsed upon entering. As she stopped to catch her breath, she was approached by a… giant walking fork? The sight startled her at first, but then she remembered that this was just one of the locals of this kingdom– a resident Volbonan.
“Are you alright, miss?” The Volbonan gave her a concerned look. “You seem worn out.”
“Remind me to take the flying taxi the next time I visit,” she grumbled. “But don’t worry about me. I just need to rest for a moment.”
“Well, alright. Anyway, I just wanted to say– welcome to the Cooking Carnival! When the sun begins to set, our famous Stupendous Stew will be ready to eat, but until then, feel free to help yourself to the myriad of other dishes we’re serving!” With that, he gave a quick bow before scurrying off to do… whatever it is that fork people get up to. Probably some cooking.
“The stew’s not ready yet, huh?” Chloe muttered to herself. That was the main thing she’d been looking forward to on this visit– she’d heard from several of her friends how amazingly delicious it was, so she wasn’t enthused about having to wait. But as long as she could find something to fill her complaining belly in the meantime, she could manage… hopefully.
Scanning the plaza, which was teeming with fellow tourists, she noticed several tables dotted about that were piled up with a wide assortment of food. Meats, salads, sandwiches, pasta, pizza… this was the most high-quality buffet she’d ever seen! Needing something to lift her mood, her eyes locked onto the freshly-baked pizzas, which she eagerly zipped towards.
Oddly, there wasn’t anyone manning the table at the moment. Nobody to serve me… does that mean it’s okay to serve myself? Unsure as she was, hunger outweighed her apprehensions, so she pilfered a nearby empty plate and served herself a slice.
The first bite of the pizza was a sucker punch of flavor that made her eyes light up with glee. With the reputation the Luncheon Kingdom had, she expected the food to be good, of course, but this was one of the yummiest things she’d ever tasted! She wolfed down the entire slice in just a few minutes, and she was incredibly tempted to take a second, but she managed to restrain herself. She didn’t want to ruin her appetite for stew later that evening.
Well… now what? She wondered. Looking for guidance, she opened up her travel brochure once again. It seemed that sightseeing was on the itinerary, as most of the pages were dedicated to detailing various landmarks around the area– the Old Town ruins, volcanic caverns, Meat Plateau, and of course– the giant pot of Stupendous Stew, resting atop Mount Volbono. Chloe peered upwards, and there it was, precariously perched above her at the peak of the mountain.
That’s where the stew stews, huh? How does anyone even get up there to cook it? The more she thought about it, the more the logistics of it confused her. I guess I could just float up there myself, but surely there’s a better way.
Pushing that thought aside for a moment, Chloe wandered out of the main plaza, glancing at the brochure’s map in the meantime to try and locate the nearest landmark. This is the town’s east exit, if I’m reading things correctly… the Meat Plateau is pretty close by. If I just take this path… but as she looked up from the map, she was greeted with a confusing sight– there should have been a bridge just ahead of her, but instead, there was only a small strip of land jutting out over a lake of hot-pink lava. Several Lava Bubbles were also jumping in and out of the lava, which made the area seem even more dangerous.
“The hell? Did the bridge break down?” she thought aloud. I guess I could just float across, but going over lava is a bit sketchy…
All of the sudden, interrupting her train of thought, one of the Lava Bubbles jumped unusually high out of the lake, catching her eye. And then, much to her horror, it began plummeting directly towards her! She let out an undignified yelp and scurried out of the way as the molten blob splattered into the ground right next to her, dissipating into a cloud of smoke and leaving behind… a fellow Bonneter?
Chloe stared, dumbfounded, as the Bonneter dusted himself off, and she slowly managed to piece together what had just happened. “H-hold on… you can capture those things?” she asked in disbelief.
“Well, what’s it look like?” the other Bonneter replied, giving her an amused look.
“I never would’ve thought to throw myself at something made of molten lava.” She frowned. “Are those things even alive?”
“I… don’t think so?” The fellow Bonneter turned to look behind him at the smoking patch on the ground where he’d landed. “At least, I hope not.”
As he turned back to face Chloe, he immediately noticed that the surprised expression she’d been wearing seconds ago had been replaced with a nasty scowl. “Oh, um, sorry if my entrance was a little frightening,” he said guiltily. “I was just excited to see a fellow Bonneter around.”
“…Right,” she replied slowly, her displeased expression softening slightly after his apology. “Well, I don’t believe we’ve met before. My name’s Chloe.”
“Ah! Yes! Introductions!” he blurted. “Call me Fred. Nice meeting you, Chloe.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Say, um… what were you doing with that Lava Bubble, anyway?” she asked.
“Oh!” Fred perked up excitedly. “Well, I just think swimming around as one’s a lot of fun. You’ve gotta try it! They’re also a great way to get around the kingdom, since there’s so much lava everywhere.”
Chloe nodded in understanding. “I suppose that makes sense. Though, capturing something made out of lava is a bit… dangerous, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never had trouble with it. Here, how about I show you how it’s done?” Eagerly, Fred turned towards the lava lake and gestured for Chloe to follow him. The two of them floated up to the edge of the broken bridge, where, conveniently, a pair of Lava Bubbles were leaping up and down in place. “I know they look all hot and scary, but trust me, they’re easy to grab if you get the timing right. Just watch… this!”
He suddenly darted forward as one of the Lava Bubbles neared the peak of its jump, his body colliding with it in a flash of bright light accompanied by a distinctive ghostly whirr. When the light dissipated, all that remained was the Lava Bubble, but it didn’t look the same as before– it now wore a hat, and it had a pair of bright eyes that winked at Chloe as it plummeted back into the lava.
She peered over the edge of the bridge and saw the captured Lava Bubble happily swimming around. It quickly noticed her staring, and looked back up at her with an amused expression. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred asked, his voice coming out of the Lava Bubble despite it seemingly not having a mouth. “Join me already!”
Nervously, Chloe turned her attention to the other Lava Bubble that was bouncing in front of her. She watched it leap up, then slowly fall down a few times. It seemed to be doing so in a consistent rhythm, which gave her some confidence in timing her capture properly. Taking one last deep breath to steel herself, she backed up, and then charged forward just as the Lava Bubble reached its apex, slamming into it forcefully! But despite colliding with a literal ball of molten lava, she didn’t feel any heat. What she felt instead was the pull of gravity suddenly yanking her down into the lava lake below, plummeting into the viscous liquid with a graceful splash.
As she surfaced, she was really surprised to not feel any heat at all. I guess my body IS made of lava, but…, instead of heat, the lava engendered a strange tingling sensation, as if it was some kind of fizzy drink. Perhaps that was because it was boiling?
Her train of thought was quickly interrupted as Fred swam up to her, beaming proudly. “See? Told you it was easy!” he exclaimed. “Now, try swimming around. You should get the hang of it quickly.”
It took Chloe a few moments to get used to her new body. Her capture ability was something she seldom used, and an amorphous blob of lava was probably the most outlandish thing she’d ever possessed. But learning how to move about was simple enough, shifting the weight of her body to swim through the lava, and she even figured out how to fling herself upwards in a majestic leap!
“You’re a natural!” Fred cheered as she plopped back into the lava next to him.
Chloe giggled. “Alright, I’ll admit this is pretty fun.”
“Heheh, glad you agree! But actually, do you wanna know something that’s even more fun than just swimming around?”
“Sure, I’ll bite.”
“Then follow me!” Fred replied eagerly. He began swimming towards the lava lake next to the town, and Chloe trailed just behind him. The lake was wide and open, with a few small salt-covered islands dotted about, and the lava itself was littered with chunks of white rock that floated on its surface. It was a bit annoying to have to bob and weave between them as she followed Fred, and in her haste to keep up with him, she ended up bumping face-first into one– but much to her surprise, the large rock instantly shattered into powder.
What the– are these… chunks of salt? Is everything made of salt around here? That surprise stopped her dead in her tracks for a second, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Fred still swimming away, so she quickly snapped out of it and continued to follow him. But now, instead of dodging the rocks, her focus had turned to bumping into the sides of them to break as many as she could along the way.
Fred finally stopped in front of what looked like a big, red cauldron mounted on a small rock jutting out of the lava. “Check this out! These things are a blast. They’re also pretty helpful if you wanna get around the kingdom quickly.”
Chloe stared quizzically at the strange device. “What is it, exactly?”
“Just watch and learn!” With those words, Fred leaped into the red cauldron, some of its lava splashing down its sides as he landed. The device began to make a strange noise, like it was charging up energy, and then… BOOM! Fred was launched into the air at a frightening speed, sailing over the kingdom, becoming so far away that Chloe couldn’t even see him anymore– all before she could even really process what just happened. She slowly turned back towards the device, and she felt a twinge of both nervousness… and excitement.
Oh, wow. It’s a cannon.
Tentatively, she approached the cannon. As unassuming as it looked, she now knew what it was capable of, and it was somewhat intimidating. It didn’t seem all that safe to get launched that high, and that fast, with no idea where she was going to land, but… that was part of the thrill, wasn’t it?
Steeling her nerves, Chloe hopped into the cannon. Immediately, she felt the lava all around her begin to fervently bubble, heating up, building up the energy needed to blast off. The pressure grew and grew, heating up to a boil, until, finally– POW! Its passenger rocketed straight up, high into the sky, at a speed ten times faster than any rollercoaster she’d ever experienced. And she certainly screamed like she was on a rollercoaster.
Wind wooshed all around her as she whizzed by landmark after landmark, though she couldn’t really tell what she was passing since she was spinning so rapidly. In her dizzy, dazed vision, all she could really make out was the huge, blurry triangle that was Mount Volbono. Over time, the spin on her body slowly diminished, finally coming to a stop just in time for her to start plummeting back down to earth. Looking directly below her, she saw that she was thankfully above another lava lake, and before she knew it, she crashed into the lava with a mighty splash.
As she surfaced, and her dizziness faded, she slowly gathered her bearings and assessed the area she landed in. She had ended up on the other side of the volcano, in a lava lake that was much smaller and more enclosed than the one she was in prior. The iconic Meat Plateau was also close by, right on the lakeshore. However, as she scanned the area, one thing was oddly missing…
“Fred?” Chloe called. She swam around in a circle, looking left and right for her fellow Bonneter. “Fred, are you there?”
Alas, there was no response. She sighed dejectedly. The cannon must have launched us to different spots… I guess I’m on my own for now.
Even though she had lost her newly acquired friend-and-tour-guide, Chloe had no problem picking up where she left off on her sightseeing itinerary. She swam to the shore of the lava lake, uncaptured from the Lava Bubble, and spent the next half-hour hiking up the Meat Plateau, taking pictures along the way, until she finally summited, giving her the best view of the kingdom she’d seen yet.
Of course, she took plenty of pictures here, too, especially of the looming Mount Volbono. Zooming in on it, she noticed that the backside of the mountain had its own fair share of rocky trails to climb. But it still didn’t make sense to her– even if the paths went up to the peak of the volcano, there was still no way to get on top of the giant stew pot. So how the hell did anyone do any cooking up there? The thought continued to nag at her, soiling the beautiful view, until suddenly, a promising solution popped into her head.
Maybe there’s a cannon that launches you up there?
No, on second thought, that seemed ridiculous. How was anyone besides a Bonneter supposed to use those cannons? But wait, then why did they even exist? Any further contemplation just left her with more questions than answers– using a cannon was still the best idea she had, so she finally decided that trying to find one around the base of the volcano was her best course of action.
She quickly floated down from the plateau, back to the shore of the lava lake she’d landed in earlier. Almost immediately, she spotted the familiar red of a cannon near the center of the lake. She eagerly captured a nearby Lava Bubble, swam straight for the cannon, and hopped in. As the cannon brimmed with boiling lava, she felt herself brimming with anticipation, until she was finally launched, straight towards Mount Volbono!
This cannon launched her out with much less force and spin than the previous one had, which at first, she thought was because the stew pot was rather close, so it didn’t need that much firepower to take her there. But, much to her disappointment, she stopped gaining height long before reaching the stew pot, and she ended up landing in a small pool of lava situated about halfway up the volcano.
“Well, that was a bust,” she grumbled to herself. Though… if it took me this far, maybe there is some way to reach the top from here. Saves me some hiking, at least.
Begrudgingly, Chloe exited the lava pool and uncaptured the Lava Bubble. Immediately, she was bombarded with the heavy, sweltering heat of the air around her. The other areas of the kingdom had been hot, yes, but being this high up on the volcano, with bubbling lava pools all around her, made her feel like she was in an oven! Part of her wanted to get down as fast as possible, but she also didn’t want to give up so quickly. So, powering through the heat as best as she could, she began hiking the winding switchback trails up the volcano.
Thankfully for her, she’d landed fairly close to the end of the trail, so she reached her destination after only a few minutes. At first, she thought she’d done all this work for nothing, since the trail seemed to simply end with no further way up, but then she spotted something in a nearby lava pool that launched her mood right up, just as she knew it could launch her– another cannon!
The more difficult thing to find was actually a Lava Bubble to capture, but she managed to spot one in a different lava pool quickly enough, and all it took was a few jumps from pool to pool for her to finally reach the cannon. Without hesitation, she hopped inside, and much to her delight, it immediately launched her up, high above the volcano, then down into the pot of Stupendous Stew!
After gracefully landing in the off-white broth of the stew, Chloe surfaced, and gasped at the astonishing view before her. Now that she was in the stew pot, its sheer size was more evident than ever before– it was practically a lake of yummy, bubbly broth! Scattered throughout the pot were an assortment of oversized vegetables and cuts of meat, as well as the familiar small clumps of salt, all floating on the surface of the broth. The milky ocean also seemed to have a bit of a current, as if the stew was being stirred, and there was a noticeable breeze in the air, as if the pot was being fanned to stoke its flames.
Man, I came all the way up here, and I still have no idea how they’re cooking this. It all seemed like magic to her. …Maybe it IS just straight-up magic. That seemed like the most plausible explanation to her at this point.
Chloe also desperately wanted to get a taste of the mouth-watering stew, but as a Lava Bubble, she had no mouth with which to drink! And it was probably much too hot up here to uncapture, let alone drink the boiling broth. She was a bit miffed, knowing her cravings for stew would be left unquenched until the evening, but she figured she might as well enjoy herself while she was up here.
She was quickly reminded how much fun it was to swim around as a Lava Bubble, bumping into every chunk of salt, leaping over vegetables, and doing laps around the hunks of meat! Before she knew it, she’d actually smashed every piece of salt in the pot, and she was finally starting to tucker herself out. Relaxedly, she drifted over to the edge of the pot to admire the view of the whole kingdom– mountains and lava lakes stretched out in a breathtaking panorama, as far as the eye could see. She was even able to peer over the edge and see the town square down below, which was a fair bit busier now that it was comfortably into the afternoon. Part of her really wanted to just leap down there so she could start gorging herself on local cuisine again, but she managed to restrain herself. Sunset was still several hours away.
She spent a few more minutes gazing into the distance, but unbeknownst to her, a new presence had approached the gargantuan stew pot. Something that cast a large, round shadow onto the broth. It tossed a few extra vegetables into the pot, then, seemingly displeased with how well the stew was mixed, it made the wind above the pot grow stronger, causing the flames below to roar up intensely, and the contents of the pot to flow around even faster, stirring up a whirlpool!
Being on the edge of the pot, Chloe was initially oblivious to all of this– it took a moment to even realize that the current underneath her was starting to spin her clockwise around the pot. She turned around, and immediately noticed all of the meat and vegetables moving much quicker than they were before. She was confused, but not alarmed. This just seemed like some inexplicable cooking magic was kicking into gear… and the increased current was the perfect opportunity to have some more fun swimming around!
Eagerly, she began to swim with the flow of the broth, doing speedy, circular laps around the pot. She had to constantly dodge and weave past the hunks of food being stirred along with her, which made it all the more exhilarating! It was like she was racing around one of those go-kart tracks, with items flying everywhere!
Eventually, the intense winds calmed down, and as the stew slowed to its usual leisurely flow, so did Chloe. She stopped near the center of the pot to catch her breath, the thrill of it all still making her feel giddy. But as much as she had enjoyed all the swimming around, she was starting to feel fairly tired and hungry– perhaps it was time to take a pit stop back at the town and refuel with a light snack before squeezing in a bit more sightseeing for the day. But while she was resting, weighing her options… the mysterious shadow above the pot loomed over her, blotting out the sun.
In her continued obliviousness, she didn’t even notice the shadow at first. It wasn’t until she heard a distinct, echoey squawk! that she was finally alerted that she had company. Startled, she looked up, and saw a pink, blurry figure in the sky– swooping straight at her!
In a panic, she tried to swim out of the way, but it was too little too late. The figure crashed into her with a deafening splash, scooping her up, along with a heap of assorted meats, vegetables, and broth. In the blink of an eye, the sights and sounds of the outside world were ripped away, sealing her in darkness and silence.
This was quickly followed by an intense, squeezing pressure all around her, seeming to push her somewhere even darker and quieter. The sensations of the outside world were gone, leaving only the squelchy flow of broth around her and a faint drumbeat in the background. Eventually, the squeezing stopped, and she found herself submerged in a stew-filled chamber, with claustrophobic walls on all sides of her that kept her from swimming anywhere. Completely, totally trapped.
A horrible, seeping dread washed over her as her frazzled brain pieced together what had just happened. I… that thing, whatever it was… it just ATE me.
Oh, no. Oh, no no no…
About ten minutes earlier, a large, funny-looking bird had flown into the outskirts of the Luncheon Kingdom. Anyone seeing this bird for the first time would note that its feathers were a bold combination of white on hot-pink, and it had a long, flowy tail that dwarfed its stumpy wings. One might also be able to glean its eating habits, noting its wide beak, plump physique, and perhaps most strikingly– the chef’s toque adorning the top of its head.
With such an unforgettable appearance, any resident of the Luncheon Kingdom could tell you that this hefty hen was the notorious Cookatiel. The Volbonans had a bit of a history with her, as she had tried to claim the pot of Stupendous Stew all for herself at one point. Their feud was eventually resolved by a certain famous plumber coming in and fending her off. However, the Volbonans soon discovered that, thanks to her meddling, their world-renowned stew tasted better than ever! When she eventually returned, the Volbonans made a peace offering, and in the end, they agreed to share the stew. A happy outcome for all!
Of course, the Volbonans did their best to keep this all a secret– tourists probably wouldn’t be as eager to eat stew made by a wild bird, and the fact that she upstaged their world-famous cooking was rather embarrassing. Especially since her method of cooking mainly consisted of scrounging up random vegetables from around the kingdom and tossing them into the pot.
Coincidentally, that’s exactly what she happened to be doing at the moment.
Once Cookatiel had foraged an assortment of veggies that she liked, she gathered them up in her talons and began carrying them off to Mount Volbono. She clucked happily to herself as she flew, knowing that she was about to fill her belly with a hearty helping of scrumptious stew.
As the bird neared her volcanic destination, she noticed the town at the volcano’s base was bustling a lot more than it usually was. “Huh, it hasn’t been this busy in a long time. Are they having that festival again?” she mused aloud. “Looks like fun! Oh, but they probably wouldn’t be happy if I crashed the party…”
Pushing that thought out of her mind, Cookatiel flew up the side of the volcano, until she finally reached the top, hovering over the rim of the stew pot. She dropped in the vegetables she’d collected, taking care to not let any broth splash out of the pot. She took a moment to admire the stew, though something seemed off about it that she couldn’t quite place.
“Something’s missing… oh!” she chirped quietly as she realized what was amiss. “The salt I added earlier! It dissolved way faster than it usually does, I guess?” she cocked her head as she inspected the stew further. “But why? Is something off with the broth? Too acidic?”
Cookatiel shook her head after staring for a while without coming up with a satisfactory answer. If something was horribly wrong with the stew, she’d end up tasting it. For now, she figured she should give it a bit of a stir, so all the ingredients she just added could get properly mixed in.
Her method of stirring didn’t involve a spoon, but it was still just as effective– she began beating her wings as frantically as she could, creating a forceful gust of wind over the stew pot. The current of air spun the bubbly broth around, sending the meat and veggies on a carousel ride. She was able to keep this up for over a minute until she started to get tired, at which point she lightened up the wingbeats so the now-stirred stew could slowly settle.
“That looks all mixed up!” the bird squawked triumphantly. “Time to dig in!”
Eagerly, she swooped at the stew beak-first, aiming for an area near the center that was particularly dense with bits of meat and veggies. Her wide maw was able to scoop up a large mouthful of stew effortlessly, and she had to quickly snap her beak shut to keep it all in as she flew back up. The sheer quantity of broth in her mouth took her several gulps to swallow down, and as she did, something particularly hot and flavorful grazed her tongue, and she could feel the heat in her throat as it traveled down her gullet into her rapidly-filling belly.
“Woah!” Cookatiel yelped the moment her beak had emptied. “There was something spicy in there! Maybe that’s what was making the soup all weird?” Admittedly, that had been one of the most delicious bites of stew she’d ever tasted, but it left her feeling extremely confused. “But what could I have added that was spicy?” She wracked her brain, but nothing came to mind. Tentatively, she fluttered down to the stew and sampled another small swallowful– but it didn’t have the same zing as before. No spice.
She wanted to keep eating more, just to try and find another morsel of spicy goodness, but she stopped herself. She was already feeling quite full, and she didn’t want to get too fat for her tiny wings to lift her off the ground– it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened! So, reluctantly, she backed away from the stew and began flying home. This mystery would have to wait for another day.
Cookatiel’s nest was in the far-off mountains, about an hour’s flight away. For her, this was a relaxing glide like any other day. The familiar views were as gorgeous as ever, the mellow breeze felt lovely against her feathers, and her full belly, while heavy to lug around, was a weight she was more than happy to lift. She swore she could still feel that strange warmth within her, too– but maybe she was just imagining things. At least that delectable, spicy flavor still sat faintly on her tongue. She’d be sure to savor that for as long as possible.
The long flight eventually ended with her landing delicately in her nest, perched atop a rocky mountain shelf. To accommodate for her size, her nest was built using tree trunks, ripped straight from the earth, as well as a sprinkling of stolen lumber. There was actually enough room in the nest for two birds of her size– but its other occupant wasn’t home at the moment. Tuckered out from a long day of flying, and needing to digest her meal, Cookatiel decided to take a nap while she waited for the nest’s second tenant to return home.
The bird soon drifted off into a cozy, peaceful slumber. Her passenger she was blissfully unaware of, however, was having anything but a peaceful time.
Chloe had spent the last hour being bounced around in the bird’s belly, repeatedly ricocheting off of squishy stomach walls as the bird’s stew-filled belly sloshed as she flew. It was horribly disorienting, not to mention emotionally distressing. She at least knew she wasn’t in immediate danger, as long as she stayed captured as a Lava Bubble– but what really made her panic was not knowing how the hell she was supposed to get out.
After what felt like an eternity, the constant turbulence had finally stopped. The half-digested stew came to a rest, pooling at the bottom just deep enough for Chloe to float in it. She hadn’t realized it until now, but most of the broth had drained from the stomach by this point, so at least she wasn’t completely submerged anymore. That being said, if it continued to drain, there would eventually be no liquid left, and Lava Bubbles fizzled out on dry land…
I’ve gotta get out of here NOW.
Unfortunately, Chloe didn’t have much of a plan at the moment. She anxiously scanned her surroundings– the captured Lava Bubble’s faint glow was enough to barely illuminate the area, letting her get a view of the slimy, rippling stomach walls.
With nothing else to work with, the Bonneter initiated the best escape plan she could think of: trying to give her captor an upset tummy. Over and over, she bonked her head against the stomach walls as hard as she could, making her fleshy prison jiggle in response. She even leaped upwards to slam against the cardiac sphincter a few times to try and agitate things further. She had no idea how effective this was, but it was her only hope, so she had to keep doing it until she grew too tired to continue.
Cookatiel suddenly stirred from her nap, feeling something… strange in her belly. Like there was some kind of pressure bubbling up inside, punctuated by her gut loudly groaning at her.
“Uh oh. Did I eat something bad?” the bird fretted. “It… wasn’t that spicy thing, was it? I thought I could handle spice!”
Despite her complaints, the uncomfortable sensation continued to swell. A few particularly strong jolts of malaise bubbled up from the base of her gullet, escaping from her beak as pained squawks. “Ough… ow… I feel like I’m gonna…”
BUUUOOOOOOAAAARRRP!!!
Suddenly, Chloe was launched upwards like a cannonball, thrusted by a torrent of gas that the stomach squeezed out all at once. The thunderous belch was enough to rocket her all the way up the esophagus, through the throat, and straight out of Cookatiel’s beak, landing on the floor of the bird’s nest with a forceful splat! Her Lava Bubble dissipated on impact, reverting her to her Bonneter form.
She groaned in a mix of pain and exhaustion. After what she’d been through, she wanted to just lie there and rest for a while… but, when she looked up, and was greeted with a giant, pink bird staring cross-eyed at her, a wave of fear and panic washed over her, which quickly got her off of the floor.
“W-wait! Please, don’t!” was all she managed to blurt. She kept eye contact with the bird as she tried to slowly back away from it… and all the bird did was stare back, with a confused, cross-eyed look.
“Don’t what?” Cookatiel asked.
Chloe froze. She definitely didn’t expect this thing to be able to talk. Though, as she continued to stare at it, she noticed it was wearing a hat and a neckerchief… so maybe she should’ve expected that. And while the bird speaking was a good sign, she still wanted to be cautious. “You… you ate me!” she accused.
“I didn’t mean to,” Cookatiel replied defensively. “Were you… that spicy thing?”
“Spicy thing?” Chloe replied. Slowly, she was beginning to calm down– the bird seemed surprisingly amicable. “Um, I guess I was?”
“You don’t sound so sure.” Cookatiel brought her head down to Chloe’s level, which startled her a bit. “And you don’t look that spicy.”
“Well, I was in a captured Lava Bubble!” the Bonneter explained frantically. “That’s probably what you tasted. So, wait, you really didn’t mean to eat m– W-WAIT!!”
Much to Chloe’s horror, she was suddenly greeted with a view of Cookatiel’s gaping maw. The bird opened her beak wide, with her drooling tongue lolling out, and the slimy appendage collided with Chloe before she had a chance to flee. It greeted her with a long, forceful lick, the squishy surface coating her face in a layer of sticky slobber. But then, as quickly as they had pounced upon her, the beak and tongue pulled back– she wasn’t being eaten after all.
“Hmm. No, not really spicy,” Cookatiel said flatly. “What’s your name, little not-spicy thing?”
The Bonneter stared back at the bird blankly, barely able to muster a reply. “I… I’m Chloe.”
“Chloe, Chloe. That’s a cute name!” the bird cooed. “I’m Cookatiel. It’s nice to meet you!”
Chloe scoffed. “Nice? Being licked like that sure as hell didn’t feel nice! What was that even for!? I thought you were gonna eat me again, you scared me half to death!”
“To see what you tasted like,” Cookatiel answered bluntly. “Not spicy, for sure. But…” She clacked her beak a few times, her tongue swishing back and forth inside of it, still savoring the Bonneter’s faint aftertaste. “Still, it’s… a fascinating flavor. I’ve never had anything like it. Would you mind if I had another taste?”
“I absolutely would mind!” Chloe exclaimed, baffled that the bird would even ask such a thing. “Don’t lick me again, that was disgusting!”
“Oh! Oh…” Cookatiel’s expression quickly turned remorseful. She looked away dejectedly, twiddling her wings. “Sorry…”
There was an awkward pause. Chloe took the opportunity to wipe the bird’s saliva off of her face to the best of her ability, but it left behind a damp, sticky feeling. She noticed Cookatiel repeatedly glancing back at her, then looking away again– it really did seem like she was ashamed of what she’d done. Maybe this bird wasn’t so bad after all, but Chloe also didn’t want to let her guard down just yet.
“Um… if I may ask,” Cookatiel finally spoke up, “what exactly… are you? I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”
“I’m a Bonneter.”
The bird squinted, looking even more perplexed than before. “Are you a ghost? You look like a ghost. A dapper ghost.”
“Er, not exactly,” Chloe replied. “But I don’t blame you for assuming that. I do look pretty ghostly.”
“You really do!” Cookatiel agreed. “You float, and you’ve got that… see-through glowy white stuff around your tail.”
“It’s called ectoplasm. Or just ‘ecto’ for short,” Chloe said matter-of-factly.
“Eck-toe-plazz-um…” the bird repeated slowly, testing the word out on her tongue. “Ecto-plasm. Ectoplasm. That’s fun to say!” she chirped happily. Then, abruptly, she leaned down so her head was level with Chloe once again. “Maybe that’s what makes you so tasty?”
Chloe was somewhat spooked by the bird’s beak suddenly being so close to her again. Warily, she backed away, only stopping once she bumped into the raised outer rim of the nest. “You know, I’d really prefer if you weren’t still thinking about how I taste.”
“Oh, but I can’t help it!” the bird bemoaned. “I’m sorry! But it was… otherworldly! Fantastic! Ethereal! Like nothing I’ve ever tasted before! One more little lick wouldn’t hurt, would it…?”
Cookatiel’s beak poked closer once again, a smattering of drool seeping from the corners of her mouth. Chloe backed even further away, now floating over the edge of the nest, and she was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. “Again, I’d really rather you don’t…” she warned.
“Sorry!” Cookatiel squawked as she lunged forward. Her beak slammed shut in the air where Chloe was floating just a split second earlier, the Bonneter had dodged out of the way just in the nick of time. The bird snapped at her once more, barely missing yet again as Chloe scurried away as fast as she could. Clucking indignantly, Cookatiel leaped into the air, flapping her wings fervently to give chase!
Chloe glanced backwards as she fled, only to discover, much to her horror, that Cookatiel was rapidly gaining ground on her. It didn’t seem like she could outrun the bird, so she quickly scanned the environment for potential routes of escape– Cookatiel’s nest had been perched on a flat area, high up on a mountain, so there wasn’t much to work with besides some sparse trees and bits of rocky rubble. She tried darting around the trees, zig-zagging back and forth in hopes of outmaneuvering the bird, but Cookatiel seemed perfectly content to crash straight through the trees, knocking them over and snapping their trunks like twigs as she flew.
With that plan failing spectacularly, the bird was now right on Chloe’s tail, her beak loudly gnashing as it narrowly missed snatching the Bonneter out of the air. Chloe had little choice but to dart towards the rocky slopes of the mountain, scanning for any possible escape route– and by some miracle, she spotted one! There was a thin crack in a particularly steep rock face just ahead of her, and without a moment to spare, she barely managed to slip inside. She heard a heavy THUD! just behind her as Cookatiel’s skull smashed into the rock wall.
“OW! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…” the bird squawked, reeling from the head-on collision.
Chloe had to take a moment to catch her breath before smugly retorting. “Ha! That’s what you get!”
“S-shut up!” Cookatiel fussed. “I just wanted another taste! Is that so wrong?”
“Yes, you feathered lunatic! I’m really not keen on being slobbered all over!”
Chloe’s view of the outside world was suddenly blotted out as the bird moved to peer into the crack. Her view was now dominated by the bird’s eye– which was bigger than her– nearly flush against the opening. “Come on, not even one more measly lick? Pleeeeaaase?” the bird begged.
“Not a chance!” Chloe said firmly, poking Cookatiel in the eye for good measure. The bird yelped and recoiled, rubbing her afflicted eye with her wing.
“Ow! Hey! Oh, that’s it…” growing frustrated that her bargaining wasn’t working, Cookatiel decided to take matters into her own talons. She approached the crack in the wall once again, this time attempting to cram her beak in to fish the Bonneter out. Her beak being as wide as it was, she could only fit the very tip in, but she tried to shove it as deep as she could regardless.
Chloe was caught off-guard by the hungry beak-tip suddenly barging in, but she was deep enough in the hole to narrowly avoid being snatched. For good measure, she scooted as far back as she could, pressing up against the cranny’s back wall. The beak pushed in further and further each time it snapped shut, stopping only a few inches in front of her face. It continued to snap away, like a mad pair of tongs trying to grab a sausage that had slipped through the barbecue, but after a few minutes, it finally stopped and pulled out of the hole.
Jeez, that was a close one. Chloe let out a deep sigh of relief. She floated forward slightly to peek out of the hole and check what Cookatiel was doing, and saw the bird pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. I guess I have to wait for her to give up and leave. I hope that’s soon, I really don’t want to be stuck here all day…
She backed up and leaned against the wall. But I just have to be patient. At least I can rest for a bit.
However, her respite didn’t last long– a familiar shadow loomed over her as Cookatiel approached the crack once again. “What now, feather-brain?” Chloe grumbled.
But the bird didn’t reply. Instead, Chloe was greeted by a shocking sight– Cookatiel gaped her maw wide, impossibly wide, stretching it to span the height of the nook and then some. The entire opening was covered by the fleshy, pink expanse, which framed the bird’s dark gullet and wriggling tongue. The tongue was comparatively much thinner than the rest of her mouth, which– much to Chloe’s horror– allowed it to squeeze into the crack.
Even backing away as far as she could, Chloe couldn’t escape the bird’s advances this time. The tongue snaked forward, slithering deeper and deeper, until it finally made contact with the Bonneter. Cookatiel cooed in delight as she tasted the familiar flavor; meanwhile, Chloe was trying as hard as she could to push the fleshy appendage away, but she wasn’t having much luck. The slimy muscle didn’t seem to care one bit, and it continued to lick up and down unimpeded, slathering stifling saliva all over her.
“S-stop it!” was all Chloe managed to sputter. But again, the bird didn’t seem to care, continuing to slurp ceaselessly. It felt like an eternity before the licking did eventually slow, but only so the tongue could extend further, as far out of Cookatiel’s beak as it could go– as it did, it slipped under Chloe, then around her back, wrapping her up like a sushi roll. She squirmed, trying as hard as she could to escape, but it was no use– the tongue reeled in, pulling her into the beak, which snapped shut firmly behind her.
“Haha!” Cookatiel crowed. “Finally got you!” She couldn’t help but giggle with giddiness as she swished the ghostly gobstopper around in her mouth. Now she could finally appreciate that flavor! Flapping her wings, she lifted off the ground and began lazily flying back to her nest.
It had only been a few minutes, but Chloe didn’t know how much more of this onslaught she could take.
The bird’s tongue was relentless. It writhed every which way, effortlessly pinning her wherever it saw fit, whether that be against the cheek, palate, or even itself, completely swaddling her up. Slick saliva soaked her and every surface, coating the entire experience with an inescapable wetness. And to top it all off, the bird’s body heat exuded from all directions, but especially from the tongue, which reminded her of its excessive warmth every time it pressed into her.
She wanted nothing more than to get that slimy, repulsive appendage off of her. She had tried to push it away, but all that had accomplished was causing her hands to squish deeper into the supple flesh, and for even more saliva to ooze out of it and soak her further. She had tried to squirm to escape, but all that had accomplished was rubbing more of her body over the tongue, letting Cookatiel soak up even more of her flavor. Her struggles were all for naught– the only thing she had truly accomplished was draining her own stamina, which she had little of to begin with thanks to how exhausting her day had been up to this point. Eventually, she ceased fighting back, if only to catch her breath for a moment.
It still seemed like it would be impossible to relax amidst the tongue’s unabating assault, but surprisingly, its lashing seemed to be slowing down, as if it had taken notice of the fact that she was no longer squirming. And then, by some miracle, it eventually stopped, coming to a rest on the floor on the bird’s mouth, with Chloe lying face-down on top of it. Part of her wanted to take the opportunity to finally push away from the horrible muscle, but she knew the bird would just scoop her back up again, and she barely had the energy to move anyway. Besides, at least the tongue was… soft. That was the only part of this situation she didn't loathe.
“Ugh…” she groaned. “Can you let me out already?”
“Soon!” Cookatiel replied. Her tongue undulated under Chloe as she spoke, rattling the Bonneter about in her mouth. “Just let me savor your flavor for a while!”
“Have you not had enough already?” Chloe complained.
“Oh, but you taste so good! Delightfully delicious, magnificently mouthwatering! I’m tempted to keep you all day…”
“Hey, no! You can’t do that!” Chloe protested. “I have places to be!”
“Hmmmmm?” Cookatiel asked, her tongue vibrating beneath Chloe like a fancy recliner. “Do you really? Where?”
“The Cooking Carnival! It’s the whole reason I traveled to this kingdom in the first place!”
Cookatiel tilted her head slightly. Chloe started to slip, but the tongue beneath her instinctively shifted to cradle her. “Oh? That’s right, I saw that earlier today. Are they going to serve my stew?”
Chloe blinked in confusion. “Your stew?”
“Yes, my stew!” Cookatiel eagerly echoed. “You know, in the giant pot on the volcano. I’m basically the head chef!”
Chloe had never been so dumbfounded. This ridiculous bird was the one who made the world-famous Stupendous Stew? “Wow, I…” She could barely muster a response. “…I guess that explains your hat.”
Cookatiel hummed to herself smugly. “Mhm! When are they serving it, anyway?”
“Sunset.”
“Sunset…” Cookatiel looked upwards, gauging where the sun hung in the sky. “Well, there’s plenty of time until then! I’ll make sure you get there, but for now…”
The bird kept talking, but Chloe had stopped paying attention to what she was saying the moment her head had tilted skyward. The tongue beneath the Bonneter was no longer the floor, but rather, a slippery slope– leading directly towards the bird’s greedy gullet. Chloe began to unwittingly slide downwards, which served as an unfriendly reminder that being in a mouth wasn’t just gross– it was also dangerous. She didn’t want to be swallowed again! She scrambled to stop herself, grabbing at the tongue beneath her for some sort of handhold, but it was too slick and squishy for her to get any leverage.
As she approached the precipice of the throat, something grazed the back of her head, stopping her in place. At the same time, Cookatiel let out a faint cluck of surprise– as if she’d been poked somewhere uncomfortable. Curious as to what had stopped her, Chloe turned around to investigate, and was greeted by the gatekeeper of the bird’s gullet: the uvula.
Chloe had noticed the uvula earlier– it was hard not to, considering its size– but she hadn’t paid it much mind until now. It dangled above the entrance of the throat, swaying back and forth slightly, even as it rested against the Bonneter. Tentatively, she poked the fleshy lobe, which elicited another short squawk from the throat below. It felt smooth and slimy, like the tongue beneath her, but it was also much firmer, pushed back by her touch instead of her hands squishing into the surface. She couldn’t move it very far, though, since it was rather weighty, and she was worried that jostling it too much would dislodge her.
“H-hey!” Cookatiel suddenly blurted, her voice sounding strained. “What are you doing?”
The tongue beneath Chloe lurched as the bird spoke, knocking her even closer to the cavernous gullet below. In a panic, she grasped for anything she could to stop herself from being swallowed. By the time the tongue had calmed its lashing, she found herself clutching the underside of the uvula, hanging precariously above the bottomless pit that was the bird’s throat.
“Trying not to get EATEN!” Chloe grumpily retorted. She pulled herself up slightly, trying to anchor herself better to the uvula. The end result was her awkwardly hugging the back of it– or at least, the best hug she could manage with her stubby little arms. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing, embracing the slobber-covered organ, but it certainly beat being smothered by the tongue.
“I wasn’t… going to eat you! Really!” Cookatiel sputtered. “Just tasting, promise! Can you… urk… stop? Whatever you’re doing, it’s kind of… uncomfortable!”
Chloe scoffed. “And let you go back to assaulting me with your tongue again? Fat chance!”
“Why, you little…” A low growl rumbled from the bird’s throat between her squawks of discomfort. Her uvula jiggled slightly, as if in tune with the growl, but Chloe managed to stay firmly attached to the dangling lobe. For good measure, she squeezed it even more tightly, and almost immediately, she was pelted with flecks of spittle as Cookatiel entered a coughing fit.
The bird hacked and wheezed, each sputtering cough buffeting Chloe with hot air and causing the uvula to wildly swing back and forth. It felt like she was riding a mechanical bull, but her adrenaline-fueled grip kept her from being bucked off, even as the uvula bounced off of the tonsils, momentarily sandwiching her between the two firm, fleshy surfaces. Some particularly bad bumps made her feel like she was about to slip off of the uvula, which she fought against by squeezing it as hard as she could, further agitating Cookatiel’s gag reflex.
What started as a mildly irritating itch at the back of the bird’s throat was becoming seriously painful. She couldn’t stop coughing, and her usually highly durable throat was becoming rather sore. She didn’t know what Chloe was doing in there, but she needed some way to counteract it– at first, she tried to clamp her beak shut and breathe through her nostrils in order to force herself to stop gagging, which was briefly effective, but the pain in her throat quickly flared up. Her eyes watered, and spittle pooled up at the back of her throat– her body was screaming at her to either cough or swallow. She really didn’t want to do either, but the temptation was rapidly mounting…
Within her maw, her uvula continued to swing like a pendulum for a good while before slowly growing still, weighed down by the unwanted guest clinging to it. Chloe wondered what was happening… why had the coughing fit stopped? Had Cookatiel’s gag reflex stopped bothering her, somehow?
Her question was quickly answered with a firm no as the bird’s gullet started to collapse around her. Cookatiel couldn’t take it anymore– she was swallowing.
The back of the tongue rose to the roof of the bird’s mouth, then pushed backwards with a loud squelch. The uvula Chloe was desperately clutching plunged downwards, and the walls of the throat squeezed inward, attempting to pry the Bonneter off and pull her into the hungry gullet. She felt her grip slipping– the force of the swallow, alongside a torrent of saliva, causing her to slide lower and lower on the uvula– and yet, by some miracle, she managed to stay on. The walls of the throat loosened, the uvula lifted back up, and the tongue settled as the swallow concluded. However, Chloe knew she couldn’t relax just yet– she pulled herself higher up on the uvula, bracing herself in case the bird tried to gulp her down again.
Cookatiel coughed a few more times before her agitated lungs finally settled down. While the swallow had helped ease her discomfort, her throat was still tender, and the strange, tingling feeling of the Bonneter clinging to her sensitive uvula was ever-present.
“Ooough…” the bird rasped. “Listen, whatever you’re… doing in there… could you please– urk–” her question was cut off by another bout of gagging, but Chloe understood the gist of what she was asking.
“Only if you promise to spit me out and never lay your filthy tongue on me again!”
“Oh… promise?” Cookatiel replied weakly. “I… I don’t know… if I can do that.”
Chloe groaned in exasperation. Why does this bird have to be so obsessed with licking me? I can’t taste THAT good… can I? “Well, then, tough luck!”
The only response Cookatiel could give was an angry squawk before she erupted into another hacking fit. Every once in a while, she managed to get in another attempt at gulping down the pesky Bonneter, but no matter what, Chloe stayed firmly latched on. Surely, this bizarre wrestling match could only go on for so long before one of them finally gave in…
High above Cookatiel’s nest, a shadowy figure was swooping through the air. It happened to be another bird, roughly the same size as Cookatiel, but it flew at such an altitude that, from the ground, it appeared as only a tiny speck in the sky. But that speck gradually grew larger and larger as the bird approached the nest, and anyone looking from the ground would slowly be able to make out more of its features– notably, its sleek black feathers, sharp beak, and impressive wingspan. More strikingly, it wore a golden necklace, golden anklets, and a turban on its head, embedded with a glistening sapphire. One might be able to glean that this bird had a penchant for shiny things– further evidenced by the sparkling treasure it was clutching in its talons.
This crafty corvid’s name was Wingo, and he saw himself as an expert treasure tracker. Over the years, he’d amassed a sizable hoard, full of coins, Power Stars, Shine Sprites, Super Gems… name anything that gleams, and it’s probably part of his collection. Today’s haul was a find he was particularly proud of– a Multi Moon! He’d collected plenty of Power Moons, of course, but Multi Moons were especially rare and valuable. He intended to stash it away for safekeeping, but before he did, he of course had to show it off to his mate.
“Oh, honey!” The black bird called out as he descended upon the nest. He gingerly set down the treasure he was carrying before planting his talons on the floor. “I’m hooome!”
He stared at Cookatiel with a wide grin, expecting a warm welcome, but that grin quickly turned into a worried frown. Cookatiel’s eyes were watering, her face was beet red, and she was making strained choking noises– something was clearly wrong. “…Cookie?”
Cookatiel’s eyes widened, jolting to attention as if she had only just realized she had company. “W-Wingo!” She blurted. “I’m… ack… my throat…”
“Cookie, dear? What’s going on?” Worriedly, he stepped towards her and placed a caring wing on her cheek. As she wheezed, he tried to look into her beak to figure out what was causing her trouble, but all he could spot was a flash of white in the back of her mouth. “Something’s caught in your throat?”
Cookatiel nodded frantically. Wingo took a step back, his face smeared with concern. “Oh, goodness… um, what should I do?”
“Anything!” was Cookatiel’s plea.
Wingo didn’t have much of a plan, but he sprung into action anyway, quickly darting around Cookatiel to get behind her. He extended a wing, raising it high and pulling it back, before bringing it down with as much force as he could muster on her nape, hoping to dislodge whatever was in her throat.
Now, a wing is designed for flight, making it rather lightweight and not particularly good for smacking things. The best wallop Wingo could muster didn’t do much besides knock Cookatiel’s noggin slightly forward– though, inside of her mouth, the effect of the hit was much more pronounced. Chloe found herself suddenly lurching forward, the uvula she clung to careening wildly, ricocheting off of the soft palate before swinging the other way to collide with the back of the throat. Being slammed against the back of the throat was actually enough for her to finally lose her grip on the uvula– it swung down, away from her, and she began to fall after it, on trajectory to land on the back of the tongue thanks to the beak’s downward tilt. Though, as luck would have it, just before she landed, the uvula swung back once again, catching her and allowing her to latch back on as if nothing had gone awry.
Wingo delivered a second smack before the wobbling uvula had fully settled down, but Chloe had luckily managed to fully readjust her grip by then. This time, she was ready for it, and she didn’t fall off, even though this was the wildest, most dizzying swinging yet. It took all the strength and willpower in her body to stay on, but she was growing weary– as the uvula gradually came to a rest, she began to wonder how much more of this she could take.
Outside, Wingo was beginning to panic. The back blows had proven ineffective, and Cookatiel was still choking. Scrambling for a solution, only one thing came to mind: Just hit her harder, dummy! His wimpy wings clearly weren’t doing the trick, so he took a few steps back, lowered his head, and charged forward, colliding with Cookatiel’s back in a powerful headbutt!
The uvula swung forward, faster than it ever had before, which, in combination with Chloe’s exhaustion, was finally enough to wrench it from her grasp. The Bonneter squealed in surprise as she was launched rapidly out of the bird’s open beak, landing face-first on the floor of the nest.
“Ough…” she groaned. Part of her wanted to just lie there, since she was so worn out, but the last thing she wanted was for Cookatiel to snap her up in her beak again. Sluggishly, she pushed herself up off of the ground and turned around– only to be met with a sight that made her heart sink.
Oh, no. Why are there TWO birds now!? Chloe froze in fear, her eyes darting back and forth between the feathered pair. Cookatiel was still coughing a bit, clearing her sore throat, rubbing her neck with her wing. Beside her was a corvid of comparable size, who seemed to be doing his best to comfort her.
“Are you alright, Cookie?” Wingo asked. “Oh, I’m so relieved that that worked. What even happened?”
“It was– ahem, sorry,” she rasped, still having trouble speaking. She looked down to glare at the petrified Bonneter. “You.”
“…Me?” Wingo replied quizzically.
Cookatiel rolled her eyes. “No, her!” She extended a wing to point at Chloe. Wingo looked down, and his eyes widened upon noticing the bedraggled Bonneter.
“Her?” he echoed, tilting his head. If anything, he was even more confused now. “That’s… a Bonneter. Is that what was caught in your throat? Were you trying to eat her?” he accused.
Hearing Wingo’s skepticism helped alleviate Chloe’s state of terror, if only slightly. Oh, hopefully that means he doesn’t want to eat me too…
“N-no!” Cookatiel shook her head hurriedly. “Just taste! But she stuck herself somewhere hurty, and wouldn’t let go!”
“She deserved it!” Chloe snapped back, finally speaking up. “I did NOT ask to be slobbered all over.”
Wingo looked back and forth between the two girls. Every new sentence just made him more puzzled than the last. “…Taste her?” He finally asked.
“She thinks I’m delicious for some reason,” Chloe stated gruffly. “It’s ridiculous!”
“But you are!” Cookatiel insisted. “I’ve never tasted anything like it before!” She turned to face Wingo, prodding his chest with her wing. “You need to try it for yourself and see what I mean.”
Wingo took a nervous step back, holding his wings up in reluctance. “Er, I really don’t think that’s necessary, dear. I’ll take your word for it.”
“No! I’m serious!” All of the sudden, Cookatiel lunged at Chloe, plucking the Bonneter from the ground before she could react. The tip of the bird’s beak pinched the Bonneter’s nape, hoisting her up like a cat carrying its kitten by the scruff of its neck. Chloe writhed and squirmed, but couldn’t manage to escape. “It’ll only take a lick, and you’ll completely understand!”
“Cookie, honey…” Wingo grimaced. “Look, she really doesn’t like what you’re doing.”
Cookatiel huffed in indignance. “Oh, what does that matter?” She thrusted forward, practically shoving the Bonneter in his face. “Come on, I insist!”
Wingo opened his beak to protest further. For a brief moment, Chloe got a glimpse at the inside of his mouth– it wasn’t quite as wide or deep as Cookatiel’s, but his tongue seemed much plumper, taking up the full breath of his lower mandible. She felt a wave of warm, humid air wash over her as he exhaled, which made her shudder in anticipation. There wasn’t anything she could do besides hope with all her heart that he wouldn’t cave in to Cookatiel’s demands… getting licked by his tongue might somehow even be worse than hers!
And then, suddenly and forcefully, the event Chloe was dreading happened– Wingo’s tongue slammed into her, her face mashed into the squishy, wet surface. Wingo also let out a choked squawk of surprise, interrupting whatever he was trying to say– he hadn’t expected this either! Cookatiel had shoved the Bonneter into his mouth without warning, giving him a taste whether he liked it or not.
Wingo staggered backwards, his beak snapping shut. Chloe had been stuffed surprisingly far back in his mouth, and she was being squeezed tightly between his soft palate and the base of his tongue. Unlike Cookatiel, he lacked a uvula to latch onto, and his tongue was rougher and bumpier than hers. It ground against the Bonneter, rubbing back and forth, slathering her with sticky spit as he sputtered. It seemed like he wasn’t coping well with a foreign object suddenly being lodged at the entrance of his gullet– and much to Chloe’s horror, she found herself slowly being pushed towards it.
“Delicious, don’t you agree?” Cookatiel chirped, pleased with herself.
“I– I…” Wingo tried to speak, but he could only manage a faint wheeze. He tried to cough, but it was no use, as the Bonneter was clogging his throat almost entirely. As a desperate measure, he reached into his beak with his wing, trying to manually fish out the choking hazard– but it was too late.
Reflexively and involuntarily, he swallowed.
The flesh surrounding Chloe instantly compressed around her form, a wave of rippling muscle rolling over her and effortlessly sucking her down the giant bird’s gullet. She tried to struggle, tried to scream– but the constricting throat stifled her squirms and smothered her squeals. Completely helpless as she was pulled down, down, down…
On the outside, the only evidence of the Bonneter was a small, smooth lump traveling down Wingo’s neck that quickly disappeared into his chest. As soon as his throat was free and he could breathe, he gasped in bewilderment, his wings flapping frantically, his mind reeling over what he’d just done. His eyes locked with Cookatiel for a moment, who was staring back at him blankly, frozen with her beak agape. She was just as shocked as he was.
“I– oh, heavens, I ate her!” Wingo squawked. “Oh dear, oh dear… um, little one?” he looked down at his chest, patting himself with his wings, trying to feel the Bonneter buried deep beneath his feathers. “Can you hear me? Are you alright in there?”
An onlooker would barely be able to notice the slight bulge that appeared where Wingo’s neck met his chest, but the bird was able to feel every lurch and wriggle as the Bonneter struggled within him. “Let… me… OUT!!” was the muffled cry he heard.
“Oh, dear…” Wingo bemoaned under his breath. “Um…. listen, little one!” he blurted. The gears in his mind were spinning into overdrive, trying to think of how to best handle the situation. He was drawing nothing but blanks, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from running anyway. “Just… try to stay calm, okay?”
Chloe’s point of view could only be described as suffocating. From all directions, she felt hot, slimy flesh clinging to her skin. It was as if the chamber she was in was conforming to her shape, but it wasn’t squeezing her– she could shove it away without much force, though it quickly collapsed back on her if she didn’t keep her arms outstretched. She tried to scramble upwards in an attempt to crawl back up the throat, but she couldn’t so much as manage to escape the thin pool of saliva that sat at the organ’s floor.
“CALM!? How am I supposed to be calm when I’m in your stomach??” she roared, punching the gut walls in frustration. Though, the soft flesh absorbed the impact so well that Wingo hardly felt a thing.
“Um… actually, you’re not in my stomach,” he corrected, confidence creeping back into his voice as he realized what he needed to say. “And I recommend you stop squirming so much, so you don’t end up in there by accident.”
Almost immediately, he felt the thrashing lump within him freeze. “I’m… not?” Chloe asked slowly. “Where the hell am I then?”
“You’re in my crop!” Wingo explained. “It’s like… a little storage pouch that the food I eat sits in before I send it to my gizzard. It won’t digest you or anything, so you should be perfectly safe in there.”
Chloe fidgeted nervously. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to keep trying to push against the crop and escape, but she fought that urge. She wanted to have faith in his words, but she couldn’t help but still be scared. “I… I still don’t feel that safe,” she replied, her voice trembling.
“Listen– no harm will come to you in there, and I won’t let you slip deeper in. I promise.” He spoke in a slow, soothing voice that slightly calmed Chloe’s nerves, but not enough to totally quell her fears. She heard the bassy thumping of his heartbeat slow down as he grew more calm and collected, but her own heart didn’t seem to want to follow suit.
“You sure? You didn’t exactly exhibit much control when you unwittingly swallowed me,” she pointed out sternly.
“That… was different!” Wingo said defensively, before quickly shifting back to his reassuring tone. “You just have to trust me, okay? You’re safe. Please, don’t worry.”
Chloe didn’t reply immediately– instead, she took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure once and for all. There was something about the way Wingo spoke, the way he carried his words with such a tender tone, that made her truly trust him. She believed in him, believed that he would keep her safe, and the feelings of fear, anger, and disgust that had been plaguing her for hours on end finally washed away.
Well, maybe the disgust was still there. She was still stewing in a steamy sac of bird slobber.
“Alright, alright,” she sighed. “I trust you that I’m safe, and that’s great and all, but what would be even better is if you could, y’know… get me out of here?”
“Oh! Right!” Wingo exclaimed, feeling a pang of embarrassment that he hadn’t even been thinking about that. “Well, the thing about that is… I’m not exactly experienced with, er, regurgitation. But I’ll give it my best shot!”
Chloe heard a mix of strained heaving and squawking above her as Wingo tried as hard as he could to barf her up. His attempts seemed promising, as she noticed the crop squeeze tightly around her in short bursts. She braced herself, waiting for the moment when she’d be suddenly siphoned up his gullet… but that moment never came.
Wingo eventually had to stop and catch his breath. “Oh, ow…” he moaned. “This is… much harder than I thought it would be. Cookie, dear, how do you make it look so easy?”
He looked up at his mate expectantly, who had been nervously pacing around the nest and muttering to herself for the past few minutes. Cookatiel hadn’t seemed to have heard him, so he called her name again, and she quickly stood at attention, her face wrought with worry and regret.
“What is it?” she asked timidly.
“Well, I’ve been trying to cough this poor girl up, but I’m having a bit of trouble,” the corvid chuckled nervously. “Have you any nuggets of wisdom?”
Cookatiel tilted her head. “Um, have you tried… doing it as hard as you can?”
“That’s all I’ve been doing.”
“Oh. Um, that’s my whole strategy, really…” she confessed.
Wingo shook his head. “It’s just not my area of expertise, I suppose.” He tapped his foot as he tried to wrack his brain for more ideas. Worry was beginning to creep up on him, but he was doing his best not to start panicking again. “Well, there’s got to be something we can do, right? I can’t keep her cooped up in my crop forever…”
Though nobody could see it, Chloe rolled her eyes at the abundance of avian ineptitude around her. “You guys don’t happen to have any emetics around, do you?”
Wingo blinked. “Eme-what now?”
“You know, the kind of medicine that makes you throw up,” Chloe explained. “Maybe it’s a bit of a long shot, but it’s the best thing I can think of.”
Wingo looked up at Cookatiel, who assumedly couldn’t hear the Bonneter buried within him. “Medicine that makes you throw up…” he echoed. “Do you have anything like that, Cookie? I know you keep lots of exotic ingredients around.”
Cookatiel stared back at him blankly. “I… don’t think I have anything like that, no,” she replied after a long moment of thought. “I’d never cook something that might make people sick. That just doesn’t seem right.”
“Well, it’s kind of what we need right now,” Wingo frowned. “You sure?”
Cookatiel stewed in silence for even longer. Wingo gazed at her worriedly, feeling more unsure by the second. But just before he could spiral into despondence, the pink bird’s eyes suddenly lit up, the seemingly permanent pout on her beak erupting into a grin. She locked eyes with him. “Actually, I just thought of something even better!”
Wingo gasped. “Really?”
She nodded eagerly. “You bet! I just need a little bit to cook everything up. I’ll be back in a jiffy!”
With that, Wingo watched as she took off, her tiny wings whirring like crazy to carry her portly body as fast as she could go. She disappeared from view as she flew around to the other side of the mountain, where her personal kitchen was located.
“I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Chloe commented flatly.
“I have faith in her. She’s the best chef in the whole world!” Wingo praised. “I’m sure whatever she’s cooking up will get you right out. So just hang tight for a little bit, alright?”
Chloe sighed. “Not like I have much of a choice.”
Wingo looked down at his feathered front. Gently, he placed his wing to his chest and affectionately patted his crop. “Oh, I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad, is it?”
Chloe was caught off guard as she was jostled from the outside, each light wing-tap rocking the crop back and forth like a hammock swaying in the breeze. “What are you talking about?” she scowled. “I’m inside of you. It’s cramped, muggy, and I’m soaked in your drool! What isn’t bad about this?”
“Well, you’re just focusing on the negative parts!” Wingo countered. “I’m sure it’s at least, you know… soft, right? So not totally uncomfortable?” His voice wavered, as if he hadn’t even convinced himself that what he was saying was true. “And you’ve got the charming, dashing Wingo keeping you company!” He posed proudly, even though no-one was around to see it.
“Wingo, huh?” Chloe grumbled. “So that’s whose gut I’m stuck in…”
Her corvid captor blinked in surprise as a realization dawned upon him. “Oh, was that really the first time I’ve mentioned my name?” he gawked. “I’m sorry, I guess we were so caught up in… you know, that we never introduced ourselves! Er, it’s Wingo, yes. And you are…?”
“Chloe,” she replied tersely.
“Chloe!” Wingo repeated. “Even if these aren’t the most ideal of circumstances, it’s nice to have met you.”
The Bonneter wanted to make a snarky comeback, but she was rapidly losing the energy needed to continue this conversation. She yawned, her eyelids drooping, nestling herself a little more snugly into the walls of the crop. “I’m glad you feel that way…”
Wingo frowned, gently prodding his chest with the tip of his wing. “Are you doing alright in there, Chloe? You’re getting a bit… quiet.”
“I’m just… exhausted from today,” she mumbled. “I need some rest. Badly.”
Wingo couldn’t help but quietly chuckle. “Well, it must be at least a little comfy in there if you’re about to fall asleep!”
“Shut up!” Chloe growled. “It’s… gross…”
“If you say so,” Wingo smirked. “But hey, if you really need that rest, I won’t bother you. At least, not until Cookatiel’s ready to get you out.”
“She better hurry up…” Chloe trailed off, her eyes flitting shut. Despite her best efforts, the clutches of exhaustion were beginning to overpower her desire to stay awake. She didn’t want to pass out– sleeping in the slimy guts of a bird was objectionable to her on a fundamental level– but… much to her annoyance, Wingo was right. His crop was comfy. The worst part of it was the unrelenting wetness, which she had long since gotten used to, and other than that, the sensation of the fleshy walls wrapping around her was akin to being bundled up in a cocoon of warm, silky blankets. The crop’s embrace was gentle and comforting, and it slowly coaxed her into a peaceful slumber, aided by the white noise of the bird’s soft lungs, thumping heart, and gurgling gizzard.
All the while, Wingo did his best to keep still, taking note of the subtle movements in his crop as Chloe shifted and snuggled about. If he listened closely, he could hear the faint sound of her breathing– slow, quiet inhales and exhales, indicating that she was sleeping soundly. A bubbly warmth filled up his chest, contented knowing she was safe and comfortable, and proud that he could be a hospitable host, even in these bizarre circumstances. Strange as it was, it felt… nice to have her in there.
Wingo sat in the nest for a good while, worried that if he started moving about, he’d disturb Chloe’s nap. But as the minutes ticked by, he began to grow a bit impatient, and he started to wonder what was taking Cookatiel so long. Maybe he ought to go check on her…
Gradually, he began to rise to his feet, careful to lift his body as slowly as possible for the sake of his snoozing passenger. After pausing for a moment to make sure she hadn’t woken up, he took a small step forward. Again, he checked up on the Bonneter, and she hadn’t stirred one bit. Gaining some confidence, he began to delicately walk forward, heading towards the kitchen.
As he was about to step out of the nest, a glittering light in the corner of his eye caught his attention– the Multi Moon! In all the commotion, he’d entirely forgotten about the valuable collectible. He leaned down, gingerly picking it up with his beak, deciding he’d take a quick detour to stow it away in his hoard before meeting up with Cookatiel.
It took a small hop to leave the nest, his talons landing softly on the earth below. He began to slowly amble his way towards his treasure trove, which was stashed away in a hidden cave on the mountain side. As he walked, he noticed Chloe start to toss and turn a bit in his crop, reacting to the bird’s every movement, gradual as they were. Wingo worried that she might wake, but she remained fully unconscious in spite of the ever-shifting world around her.
After a few minutes, Wingo reached the entrance of his cave, which was cleverly camouflaged by a tangle of hanging vines. He effortlessly pushed his way through them, entering the grotto, which greeted him with the familiar sight of his hoard. Coins, jewels, and treasure of all kinds were heaped into a big pile, which glistened even in the dim light of the cave. Wingo eagerly sauntered over and leaned forward to delicately place the Multi Moon atop the hoard, before taking a step back to admire his priceless collection.
He gazed on, fondly, but it wasn’t long before an abrupt noise broke the silence– a loud, impatient GROWL rumbling from his belly. Wingo looked down at himself, caught off guard by his own body. Evidently, his gizzard wasn’t happy that it was empty while his crop wasn’t. He poked himself firmly in his stomach, as if to say Hey, that’s not for you! He’d promised Chloe that he’d keep her safe, and he’d never forgive himself if he let the firm hold his crop had on her slip.
He turned to leave the cave, but he was caught off guard by a different sound this time– a quiet murmuring from within his chest. Despite his best efforts, his grumbling gut had disturbed Chloe’s slumber, and she was now slowly waking up.
“Ough…” she groaned, before erupting into a lengthy yawn. “…Oh, damn it. I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
“Indeed you did,” Wingo spoke softly. “Are you feeling any better now?”
“I guess,” Chloe mumbled. “How long was I out?”
“Oh, not that long,” the bird assured. “Maybe twenty, thirty minutes. I tried my best not to disturb you, though perhaps that was a futile effort.”
Wingo felt the Bonneter suddenly shift around, her movements creating a noticeable bulge in his chest. She was stretching her limbs, trying to get her blood flowing so she wouldn’t feel so sleepy, which inadvertently pushed against the pliant walls of the crop, expanding it in all directions. As soon as she pulled back in, the crop walls followed suit, collapsing back in on her like a wet sleeping bag. She didn’t bother pushing back, happy to accept the slimy yet cozy embrace.
There was a part of her that didn’t want to leave. A deep, bodily desire that wanted to stay here, in this warm, secure place forever. But the rational side of her brain nagged her, reminding her that she should really get out sooner rather than later. “So, um… how’s Cookatiel’s plan coming along?” she asked hesitantly.
“I was actually just on my way to check on her,” Wingo replied. “Though I took a quick detour to stash something away in my hoard.”
“Your hoard?”
“Yes, my hoard!” Wingo crowed, spreading his wings wide. He’d been hoping she would ask exactly that. “I’m somewhat of a collector, you see. I’ve got a wealth of treasures to my name! I know you can’t exactly, er, see it right now, but I promise it’s highly impressive.”
Chloe couldn’t help but be amused by the bird’s bursting pride. “Hey, I’ll take your word for it,” she chuckled.
“You better!” Wingo joked, poking his chest to nudge the Bonneter about, which only made her giggle more.
As the bird continued to tease his pleased passenger, he stepped outside of his cave. The hazy, late afternoon sun wasn’t particularly bright, but he still had to shield his eyes with his wing as they adjusted to the light. “Alright, alright, Chloe…” he warbled soothingly. “I think it’s time to give Cookatiel a visit. It’s going to be a quick fly over there. I’ll try to keep turbulence to a minimum, but just… y’know. Be ready.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Chloe reassured.
Wingo took a deep breath. “Okay. Prepare yourself for liftoff in 3… 2… 1…”
Even with the countdown, Chloe was still caught off guard as her world suddenly lurched, as if it was upheaved by a devastating earthquake. Each heavy pump of Wingo’s mighty wings shook her like a bead in a maraca, pressing her into the floor of the crop as it pulled her upwards, then slingshotting into the roof above as the bird prepared his next flap. Thankfully, the literal stomach-turning tremors soon eased up as Wingo reached the apex of his flight, fully extending his wings and settling into a glide.
The rumbling didn’t fully stop, but it settled into a subtle, constant vibration, not unlike the one you might feel while riding an airplane. Chloe could hear the muffled sounds of wooshing wind pelting Wingo’s feathers as he soared– she didn’t know how high he was flying, but she imagined the winds would be rather frigid up here in the mountains, which made her all the more glad that she was stowed away in this first-class cabin.
It wasn’t long until she felt Wingo start flapping his wings again, though the turbulence was much gentler this time, as he was simply controlling his descent as he neared his landing point. His talons clacked softly against the rocky ground as he planted his feet down. “This is your captain speaking,” he announced, purposefully hamming up his voice. “We’ve arrived at our destination. You may now unbuckle your seatbelts. Please take care not to forget your carry-on, and be sure to exit in a calm and orderly fashion.”
The muffled laughter coming from his crop told him that his joke had landed. But just as importantly, it had caught the attention of Cookatiel, who had been tending to a large pot just a few paces away. She turned to face him, an eager grin on her beak. “Wingo!” she cooed. “You’ve come to check up on me! Don’t worry, I’m aaaaaaalmost done.”
“What exactly are you making?” Wingo asked. On either side of the pot, which was simmering on a stovetop, were an assortment of countertops and open cupboards, with utensils and jars of ingredients seemingly strewn about at random. The way Cookatiel organized her kitchen had always been an enigma to him, but it seemed to be a system that worked for her… somehow.
Cookatiel gave a beckoning gesture with her wing. “Come and look!” she urged. Steadily, Wingo approached the pot and peered into it. Inside was a clear, purple liquid, which was brimming with a million tiny bubbles.
“Looks fizzy,” Wingo noted.
“Indeed!” Cookatiel chirped. “That’s the signature fizz of Sparkle Water, imported directly from Bubblaine. Boiling it refines the flavor. Even still, carbonated seawater tastes pretty bad on its own, so I’ve stirred up a special syrup to turn it into a sweet, fruity cola!”
“Fizzy soda…” Wingo muttered. “Don’t get me wrong, dear, it looks delicious, but how will this help, exactly?”
Cookatiel smirked at him, as if she was amused that he didn’t see the full scope of her plan. “Isn’t it obvious? Chug this down, and you’ll unleash a Category 5 belch! Hopefully it doesn’t launch the little one too far.”
“I see…” Wingo said, though he was incredulous that burping up the Bonneter would be a viable strategy. Still, there was no reason not to try. “You know, I wouldn’t have minded just drinking the raw water, if it would’ve had the same effect. I could’ve burped her up half an hour ago.”
“Oh, you know I’d never serve you anything that isn’t my finest cooking,” Cookatiel chided. “And now’s not the time to get impatient! Let me just get some ice, and it’ll be ready.”
With a flick of her wing, Cookatiel turned off the stove and moved the pot to a nearby counter to let her concoction cool. Then, she pranced over to the other side of the kitchen to fetch some ice from the freezer. Wingo silently admired her as she hopped about– she always looked so joyful and motivated while she was cooking, which made her all the more fun to watch.
“Hey, Wingo?” Chloe’s voice murmured beneath his feathers. He blinked in surprise– for a brief moment, he had nearly forgotten she was still inside of him. “What’s Cookatiel’s plan, do you know yet?”
“Oh, right,” the corvid blurted. “Don’t worry, she’s cooked something up, and I’m fairly confident it’ll work. But a fair warning: it’s going to involve me drinking something.” He glanced over at the large pot, which Cookatiel was pouring ice into as he spoke. “…a lot of something.”
Chloe shuddered in anticipation. “Drinking something? If that’s what it takes…” the plan was beginning to worry her, especially with how nonspecific Wingo was being. What’s he going to drink? And how much? I’m not going to get swept up with it, am I…?
“I’ll make sure you stay safe, Chloe. I promise,” Wingo reassured. Though deep down, he had his doubts, he did his best to push those thoughts aside.
“Alrighty!” Cookatiel suddenly announced, prompting Wingo to turn his attention back to her. She was holding the huge pot in front of her with her wings, and she lifted it up to her beak to take a sip. “Mmm, perfect! It’s ready now, Wingoooo!”
Wingo approached his mate, his wings outstretched to receive the cauldron of carbonation. Though, Cookatiel didn’t let go, keeping her grip on the pot firm. “Now, don’t worry about lifting it,” she instructed. “I’ll handle that. You just focus on chugging it all down.”
Wingo tilted his head in concern. “Do I really have to drink all of it…?”
“We’ve gotta be 100% sure it’ll work!” Cookatiel squawked. “No half-measures!”
“Okay, okay…” Wingo conceded. He looked down at his chest one last time. “Just brace yourself, alright, Chloe?”
Chloe might have replied, but he didn’t hear it over the noisy sloshing of soda as Cookatiel lifted the pot up to his head. Hesitantly, he brought his beak to the pot’s rim, waiting with bated breath– and then, the pot began to tilt.
At first, it was only a trickle of soda. The sweet, tangy flavor of the chilly liquid punched his tongue, the corvid grinning eagerly as he performed his first swallow. Cookatiel’s cooking never failed to impress! The fizzy drink continued to pour steadily into his beak, and he gulped it down apace, enjoying the tickling sensation as it traveled down his throat. A few more swallows, and he was beginning to feel like he needed a breather– just a quick moment to exhale before getting right back to drinking. But the stream of soda was unrelenting, and much to his dismay, it seemed to be pouring in faster! Cookatiel was tilting the pot more and more, trying to empty the sugary liquid into his gullet at a rate he was struggling to keep up with. His beak filled to the brim with fluid, rivulets of soda trickling out the edges and staining his feathers, as he strained with all his might to guzzle the fruit-flavored downpour. All the while, he could feel his belly filling rapidly, struggling to accommodate the tsunami of liquid, the mounting pressure making him feel like he was about to burst!
Within his crop, Chloe wasn’t faring much better. The soda had started as a gentle drip, seeping in from the top of the pouch, the cold drink causing her to shiver as it passed over her on its journey to the gizzard below. Like a faucet being turned on, the drip turned into a thin, solid stream that rapidly began to grow thicker and thicker. Chloe was quick to realize what was happening, and she stretched out her arms to brace herself against the crop walls. The stream of liquid soon turned into a torrent, then a deluge– completely submerging her in chilly, sticky soda. The walls of the crop began to expand, filling with fluid faster than it could filter it out. The Bonneter felt her handholds loosen, expanding away from her, but there was nothing she could do but hold her breath, hold on tight, and hold out hope that Wingo would stop drinking soon.
Of course, it wasn’t up to Wingo– Cookatiel tilted the pot further and further, lifting it higher and higher as it emptied, determined to make him drink every last drop. She could tell he was struggling, but he was so close, it would be a failure to stop him just before the finish line. With one last heave, she tilted the pot all the way, completely vertical, decanting the final few droplets into his beak.
Cookatiel brought the empty pot to the ground, giving her mate an expectant look. He stared back at her with a strained grimace, clutching his stomach, which was noticeably bloated. “Ough… for a minute there, I thought… I was going to drown…”
“But you did it!” Cookatiel grinned sheepishly.
“…And now I think I’m going to explode…”
Wingo’s gut groaned and growled, noisily enough for even Cookatiel to hear it loud and clear. But for the Bonneter inside his crop, who didn’t have a layer of fat and feathers dampening the noise, the cacophony was much more visceral– just as the last bit of soda drained from the crop, and she thought she would get a moment of respite, the thunderous bellow of Wingo’s gut roared beneath her, a sound like a thousand stampeding Yoshis rattling her to her core. The gizzard, which was already stretched and strained from being filled with so much soda, was rapidly building up gas from all the carbonation. Once enough of it had bubbled to the surface, the cardiac sphincter yawned open to release it, the gas shooting up the esophagus and into the crop, picking up an unwitting Chloe along the way, launching her straight up the throat and out of Wingo’s beak!
BWWAAAAOOOOOOOUUUUUOOOOOOOUUUUUUUURRRRRP!!!!!!
Her exit was accompanied by a record-shattering burp on Wingo’s behalf– a belch so long-winded and full-throated that it made her ears ring. Along with the fact that she had been thrown high up in the air, she was left feeling rather disoriented, dizzily spinning around as she floated back to earth, trying her best to readjust to the outside world all the while.
“Oh, goodness,” Wingo gasped, catching his breath once the belch had finally concluded. “Excuse me. That was–” he was interrupted by another burp escaping his beak, which while not nearly as loud or lengthy as the first, was still quite substantial. “Excuse me again! Oh, that’s definitely not going to be the last of it, is it…?”
“It might have been a bit overkill to have you drink that entire thing…” Cookatiel admitted. “But look, it worked!”
Wingo perked up, scanning the area in front of him, until he finally noticed Chloe above him, slowly drifting downwards. “It worked!” he echoed. “Chloe, you’re out!”
Her descent finally stopped as she reached eye-level with him, having finally gotten her bearings. She gave him a bemused look. “What, you think I couldn’t tell?”
“Oh, you,” Wingo chuckled. “C’mere!” He suddenly outstretched his wings, reaching forward and pulling Chloe into a tight embrace. She yelped in surprise at first, but quickly discovered that being hugged against the black bird’s warm, feathery chest was unsurprisingly incredibly cozy.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that,” he murmured. “I never intended to swallow you, it just sort of… happened. Believe me, I was just as scared as you were!”
Chloe sighed. “It’s alright, Wingo. I know it wasn’t your fault. But…” she put on a more stern tone. “…it was someone’s.”
“Mhm. Right,” Wingo nodded. “Perhaps that someone owes you an apology, too?”
He gently let go of the Bonneter, who turned around to face the other bird in the kitchen. Cookatiel was hanging her head in shame, but she slowly brought her gaze up, eventually resulting with her guilt-ridden eyes staring back at them.
“Um… listen…” Cookatiel eventually stammered after an awkward pause. “I’m… I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, okay? It’s all my fault!” she began worriedly pacing back and forth, making a quiet clucking noise with each step. “I just… thought you were really tasty! I mean, I still do, but… that’s not the point! I– I really shouldn’t have done any of that stuff…”
“Cookatiel…” Chloe sighed. Part of her didn’t want to accept the bird’s apology, but she did really seem sorry. “Y’know, I’ve had a really rough day today. You’ve made me fear for my life several times. You do realize that, right?”
Cookatiel nodded her head meekly. “I do. But I promise I never meant to harm you…”
“I get that, but my point still stands,” Chloe sternly replied. “Listen, all I ask is that you promise not to scare me like that again, alright?”
“You’re… you’re willing to forgive me if I do?” Cookatiel asked hopefully.
Chloe nodded.
“Okay!” Cookatiel chirped. “I promise! No more tasting you, if you don’t want me to!” Then, her expression suddenly drooped, and she lowered her voice, muttering under her breath. “Even if I still want to…”
That last line was just barely audible enough for Chloe to hear, but before she could respond, Wingo stepped forward, standing between the two girls, beaming proudly at both of them. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you two make up! Chloe, it was very kind of you to forgive her.” He reached out a wing, giving her a consoling pat on the top of her head. Though, as he pulled his wing back, he noticed a few strands of his own saliva dripping from the tips of his feathers. Looking down at his chest, he also saw that his plumage was wet and matted where the Bonneter had hugged him. “Um… now, perhaps we ought to get you cleaned up. You’re still a bit damp. Let me go fetch you a towel.”
In a matter of seconds, Wingo snagged a nearby dishrag and handed it to Chloe. To him, it was only a small piece of cloth, but in the Bonneter’s arms, it was practically a king-sized bedsheet! In spite of its unwieldiness, she was able to use it to dry herself off.
“Much better!” Wingo exclaimed. “Now, Chloe, is there anything else you need? You are our guest, after all, and as your host, I’m happy to provide.”
“Me too! And I have an idea!” Cookatiel chimed in eagerly. “I can cook you dinner! Anything you want!”
“Dinner…?” Chloe echoed, a horrible realization suddenly dawning upon her. Frantically, she looked up at the sky, scanning for the sun, only to spot it bordering the horizon, painting the air around it with wide streaks of orange and red. “Oh, shoot, it’s almost sunset! I’m gonna miss the Cooking Carnival!”
“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Cookatiel squawked. “I guess we both forgot… well, I’m happy to fly you there!”
Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Cookatiel. I really appreciate it.” She smirked. “And you know, it’ll be nice not flying in your stomach this time.”
“Ha, true!” Cookatiel laughed. “But wait, actually… how am I going to carry you?”
“Can’t I just ride on your back?” Chloe asked.
Cookatiel shook her head. “No, no. That’s not very secure. You’d slip off, for sure.”
“It’s not a big deal if I do. I mean, I can float and all.”
“Yes, but… it’s an hour-long flight, you know. Can you really hold on for that long?”
Chloe suddenly didn’t feel so confident. “Well…”
“Hmm, I’ve got an idea,” Wingo interrupted. “You could carry her in your talons instead. That way you’d be the one holding on, Cookie.”
“That could work!” Cookatiel agreed. “Chloe, what do you think?” As if to demonstrate, she lifted one of her feet off the ground, flexing her digits. Her foot had three toes, two in the front and one in the back, which clamped together like a meaty claw machine. Her talons were a striking cyan, contrasting with the yellow of the rest of her foot, and they seemed quite sharp. Even though Chloe trusted Cookatiel, the thought of being carried like that made her uneasy.
“Um…” she winced. “Is that my only option?”
Cookatiel tilted her head. “Well… there is one more way I’ve been thinking of. But I didn’t want to say it.”
“Why not?” Chloe asked. “Come on, spit it out.”
“Funny that you say that…” Cookatiel chuckled nervously. “It’s, er, carrying you in my beak.”
Immediately, the bird was met with a disappointed glare. “Really now?” Chloe said tersely.
“Hey, listen for a sec!” Cookatiel pouted. “I know what I promised! But if I just, like, held you in there, and didn’t lick you, and tried not to drool too much… it wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
“I mean…” Chloe grumbled. As much as she wanted to firmly tell the bird “no”, it really did seem like her best option. “You promise you’ll keep yourself under control?”
Cookatiel nodded fervently. “I do, I do, I promise!”
“…Fine, whatever,” Chloe finally begrudged.
The Bonneter rolled her eyes as Cookatiel let out a clucky cheer. She’s WAY too excited about this.. But without any energy left to further argue, she had no choice but to go along with the bird. Let’s just get it over with…
Slowly, Cookatiel lowered her head down to Chloe’s level, the tip of her beak pointing right in the Bonneter’s face. “Ready?” she asked eagerly.
“I guess so,” Chloe said reluctantly.
Nervous as she was, she couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed as the beak before her began to unhinge. The lower mandible drifted to the ground, the thin tongue lolling out slightly as if it were an entrance ramp to Cookatiel’s throat, while the upper mandible rose skyward, letting the late afternoon light spill into the mouth, reflecting off of the glistening saliva, showing off the fleshy cavern in its full splendor. Even the usually-dark back of the throat was aglow, allowing Chloe to get a good look at the uvula, which quivered in place even as the bird held still.
Gradually, Chloe inched forward, floating just above the tongue. She was still wary of the bird’s gullet, so she didn’t venture too close to the back of the mouth, stopping around the center of the tongue. She expected the roof above her to lower, shutting the beak, but instead, Cookatiel’s head lifted from the ground, consequently scooping up the Bonneter with her tongue. Chloe let out a peep of surprise as the slimy surface she’d been avoiding rubbed against her, but she didn’t bother trying to push away from it. After all, this would be her seat for the next hour or so. Might as well get used to it.
Well, I guess I could also sit on the floor of her mouth, Chloe mused. Cookatiel’s beak was much wider than her tongue, so there was plenty of space on the sides of her mouth to sit. But… that’s probably not as comfortable, is it? The beak’s floor was drier than the tongue, sure, but it was also harder and firmer. Considerably less comfy to lie on than the tongue, which she was admittedly starting to warm up to.
Not that she would ever admit that to Cookatiel. She didn’t want to give that bird any ideas.
As Chloe fidgeted about on the tongue, something strange came to her attention– Wait a sec. Why aren’t we leaving? Why’s her beak still open? She turned around, and was caught entirely off guard by what was staring at her from just beyond Cookatiel’s lips– Wingo!
“Wingo!” Chloe yelped. “Did you have to sneak up on me like that?”
“For the look on your face, it was worth it!” the corvid chuckled. “But anyway– you didn’t think I’d just let you leave without saying farewell, did you?”
“Oh, yeah,” Chloe said sheepishly. “I guess this is goodbye, huh?”
“I wish you could stay for longer, but still, it was lovely meeting you, Chloe,” Wingo smiled. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again someday?”
“Um, maybe?”
“Feel free to visit us whenever you like!” he insisted. “Ooh, or maybe we could visit you! You live in Bonneton, right?”
Before Chloe could respond, the beak surrounding her suddenly snapped shut, replacing Wingo’s visage with the dim interior of Cookatiel’s mouth. As her eyes adjusted, the tongue beneath her began to wiggle, and instinctively, she clutched the slimy muscle to avoid being bucked off of it, embracing it in a haphazard hug.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Cookatiel said firmly. “Chloe, are you ready to go?”
Chloe had been so focused on staying attached to the tongue that she didn’t even realize she had been asked a question. Instead, as the slobbery appendage settled down, she took a moment to catch her breath and collect herself, not loosening her grip all the while.
“…Chloe?” Cookatiel asked after a long pause. “Are you hug–”
“N-no!” Chloe blurted, pushing herself off of the muscle as fast as she could. “Um, let’s just go already!” She was incredibly grateful nobody could see how red in the face she was.
Cookatiel didn’t reply, but her bemused chuckling reverberated through her beak. Chloe felt the world around her shift as the bird’s wings began to flutter, lifting her into the air. As they ascended, she heard the faint voice of Wingo calling out one final farewell. “Byeeeee, Chloe! I’ll miss yooooooou!”
She listened to his voice fade to nothingness as the distance between them grew. She wanted to holler back, but she knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her.
“Hey, Cookatiel… when you get back, tell him I’ll miss him, too.”
For Chloe, it was easy to lose track of the time. Everything felt static– the beak’s ambient warmth, the muffled drone of the high-altitude wings outside, and the wet softness of the tongue she was resting on. Cookatiel was doing her best to remain steadfast, even as the Bonneter’s flavor tickled her tongue, not slobbering all over her no matter how much she ached to. And Chloe really appreciated that– it allowed her to lie down and get some much-needed rest.
Even after her nap earlier, she was still feeling a bit drowsy, though not quite tired enough to fall asleep again. Instead, she reclined with her back against the tongue, staring up at the roof of the beak. The pinkish palate was mostly smooth, with some faint ridges running down the middle, but that wasn’t the sight that enamored her– there were strange patterns of light and shadow, slowly drifting across the ceiling towards the throat. It seemed that the keratin of the beak was thin enough to let some light through, allowing Chloe to see a silhouette of the outside world, the dark patches being shadows cast from wispy clouds high above.
The Bonneter gazed at the projection of the clouds for minutes on end, completely mesmerized– until a fat droplet of saliva suddenly fell from above her, splattering on her face and snapping her to attention.
“Blech!” she sputtered, sitting up and wiping her face off. As she moved, she noticed the tongue beneath her start to shift as well, which immediately made her start worrying about being licked again. But the tongue didn’t seem to be focusing on her– instead, it was wiggling to the left and right, filling the beak with the squelching sounds of shifting saliva. Chloe eventually realized what was happening– drool had been pooling up on the floor of Cookatiel’s mouth, and she was going to swallow it before things got out of hand.
Chloe watched as bubbly spit piled up at the back of the mouth, sticky strands of the stuff draping from the uvula and tonsils. Then, the tongue suddenly slipped out from underneath her, scrunching against the entrance to the throat, completely blocking it off as the bird swallowed. A hearty glrk! resounded through the beak, and the tongue gradually settled back down, revealing that the gullet was now saliva-free.
“Sorry,” Cookatiel quickly apologized. “I’m trying not to drool so much, but I can’t help it…”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Chloe reassured, giving the tongue a comforting pat as she settled back onto it. “I still appreciate how much restraint you’re having.”
Cookatiel sighed, her warm breath washing over Chloe. “It’s not easy, but… I’m doing my best.”
And Chloe did appreciate that, she really did. Cookatiel even seemed to be speaking more softly, careful not to deafen the Bonneter nor lash her tongue too ferociously. But at the same time, that twinge of sadness in the bird’s voice was unmistakable. Part of her wanted to relent, and let her have her fun, but…
“Chloe?” Cookatiel asked, interrupting her train of thought.
“Yes?” Chloe replied, but she already knew what the bird was going to ask.
“Can I have just one?” the bird pleaded. “Please?”
There was a pause. A long pause.
“…Alright, fine.”
Cookatiel chirped with glee, a triumphant trill oozing with so much joy that it immediately made Chloe feel better about the decision she’d made. But as nice as it was to hear the bird happy, she was still unsure what to expect, so she braced herself, extending her arms in case she needed to hold onto the tongue tightly. If this was going to be anything like last time, the tongue would violently thrash about, slathering and smushing her against any surface it saw fit.
Thankfully, Cookatiel seemed to have much gentler intentions. Her tongue began to lift, slowly and gently, scooping up the Bonneter with it, only stopping once she had been raised all the way up to the palate above. Chloe curiously ran her hand against the fleshy roof, which felt firm and slightly damp, greatly contrasting the plushness and thorough sogginess of the tongue that cupped her. After a few seconds, the tongue began to move again, this time lifting until it was flush with the palate itself, tenderly pressing Chloe between the two surfaces.
Unlike last time, the tongue’s squeezing wasn’t suffocating at all– it was reserved and deliberate, showing that the bird now cared about the ghostly morsel in her mouth for more than just its flavor. The feeling was like a warm, wet hug, mixed with a massage, the latter of which was further exaggerated once the tongue began to move back and forth, gently grinding against the Bonneter, savoring her as sweetly as it could.
Chloe was, admittedly, enjoying this a lot more than she expected to. Getting licked all over, as gross as that might have sounded to her only a few hours ago, was actually a blissfully cozy experience. It even made her a bit red in the face– but she wasn’t too flustered to return the favor. With her arms still outstretched, she gave the tongue a squeeze of her own, hugging it back as well as she could manage.
The lick felt like it lasted an eternity, but it was only a few minutes in reality. All the while, Chloe heard quiet clucks of contentment bubble up from the bird’s throat, but those noises eventually faded away, punctuated by a quick swallow to once again drain the mouth of drool, and then the tongue slowly fell back to its resting position.
“…Thank you.” Cookatiel chirred. “I really needed that.”
“No problem,” Chloe replied. “That was, um, way less bad than last time. I appreciate it.”
“You know, if you want another go, you can just say so.”
“Well–!” Chloe blurted, her face becoming even redder than it already was. “I-I mean, um… Say, do you know how much of the flight we have left?”
Cookatiel couldn’t help but chuckle at such an unsubtle attempt at changing the subject. “Hmmmm…” she hummed, purposefully holding the sound out, her vibrating tongue tickling her maw’s occupant. “I’d say we’re about a third of the way there.”
“You said it’d take an hour, right?” Chloe asked. “I can’t believe it’s only been twenty minutes…”
“They say time flies if you’re having fun, but sometimes it doesn’t,” Cookatiel stated. “Er, maybe that sounds stupid. But you get what I mean, right?”
“No, no, I get you,” Chloe giggled. “It’s nice when good times feel longer than they are.”
“Yeah, glad you agree!” Cookatiel grinned. “And lucky us, we’ve got another forty minutes to go! In the meantime, give me a holler if you need anything, alright?”
“Alright, I’ll let you know,” Chloe replied as the muscle beneath her finally settled down from all its linguistic wiggling. She sat upright on the tongue, gazing at the closed lips ahead of her, wondering what to do now. She considered lying back down, but she wasn’t feeling quite as exhausted anymore. She also considered asking for another lick, but it felt embarrassing to do so, especially so soon after the last one. Initially, it seemed like she was out of options… but there was one more thing she could do, which had been tugging at the back of her mind ever since she’d watched Cookatiel swallow.
Chloe swiveled around to face the back of the mouth. Just a few feet away from her was the entrance of the throat, which was incredibly eye-catching in spite of how dark it was. In contrast to the rest of the mouth’s calmness, the throat never seemed to sit still, constantly expanding and contracting with each of the bird’s hefty breaths. But what hung above the gullet was what transfixed her most– it was that big, fat uvula.
The pink pendulum was constantly shifting about, tilting with gravity as Cookatiel adjusted in the air, each flap of her wings inducing it to wobble in place. Chloe was reminded of her experience wrangling the dangler– which, in the moment, had been rather terrifying, but through rose-tinted glasses, it seemed almost… exhilarating. Maybe going for another ride wasn’t the best idea, considering how much discomfort it had caused the poor bird, but she was too tempted to not at least touch it again.
Gradually, she inched towards the back of the mouth, her gaze locked firmly onto the uvula. She stopped once she reached the very back of the tongue, right at the precipice of the throat where it started to curve downwards. Peering down the dark gullet still scared her a little, if only on an instinctual level, but she pushed her worries away. Instead, she focused on pushing the thing right in front of her– gingerly, she reached one hand forward, placing it on the uvula with a gentle pat.
Chloe held her breath, expecting Cookatiel to squawk in objection– but luckily, the bird didn’t seem to notice. Eagerly, she rubbed it a bit, fascinated by the feeling of the slick flesh running under her digits, and she soon brought her other hand forward to enjoy the sensation twofold. Eventually, her hands drifted down, gently cupping the bottom of the uvula– it felt weighty in her palms, and the way its center of mass subtly fluctuated back and forth was oddly satisfying. That delicate motion caused a new idea to pop into her head– she readjusted her grip, moving both hands to one side of the uvula, and gave it a shove to make it swing.
“Huh?” Cookatiel blurted. “Chloe?”
Shoot! I’ve been found out. Internally panicking, Chloe tried to give a nonchalant reply. “Um… what is it?”
“I felt something weird,” Cookatiel accused. “What are you doing in there?”
“Sorry… it didn’t hurt, did it?”
“No?” Cookatiel said, confusion in her voice. “What was it? Do it again.”
Chloe blinked, surprised by the bird’s request. “Again?” Happy to oblige, she reached out to the uvula, which was still jiggling a bit from her previous push, and gave it another nudge. In response, an odd warbling unlike anything she’d ever heard murmured from Cookatiel’s throat.
“That’s… bizarre. It’s like you’re tickling my brain,” the bird eventually uttered. “But I kind of like it?”
“Really?” Chloe asked in disbelief. “I assumed it would hurt, like last time. After all, touching your uvula is supposed to trigger your gag reflex.”
“My uvula?” Cookatiel echoed. “What’s that?”
“You know, the big dangly thing that hangs at the back of your throat?”
“Never heard of it,” the bird admitted. “And you’re… touching it?”
Chloe could still hardly believe what she was hearing. This thing’s so huge and heavy, how could you NOT know about it? “…Yeah, I was touching it,” she admitted. “It’s what I was holding onto when I was causing discomfort in your throat earlier. It’s supposed to be a very sensitive organ, but maybe it’s not so bad as long as I’m not, like, squeezing it?”
“I see. That explains a lot…” Cookatiel mused aloud. “But why were you touching it, anyway?”
“W-well…” Chloe stuttered. This was going to be a weird thing to admit. “It’s kind of the most eye-catching thing in your mouth. There’s not much else to do in here, so I figured I could try pushing it a little, make it swing around, y’know?”
Cookatiel couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity at what she was hearing. “You’re an odd little thing, you know that?”
“My whole day’s been odd!” Chloe retorted. “But, um… did you want me to stop?”
“Hmm… no. Keep going, if anything!” Cookatiel insisted. “I wanna experience this strange feeling more. And something tells me you do, too.”
“Really?” Chloe asked, her tone of voice perhaps a bit too revealing of how eager she was. She took a brief pause to compose herself before she continued. “I mean, um… if you insist.”
Happy to oblige, Chloe reached forward once again, this time pushing the uvula with a little more force than before. Immediately, Cookatiel squawked in surprise, as if this hadn’t been exactly what she requested.
“Oh, wow!” the bird blurted. “That was an intense one!”
“Was it bad?” Chloe winced. “I can be more gentle…”
“What? No, no! That was wild, is all!” Cookatiel exclaimed. “I feel all tingly… do it again, but less brief this time!”
“Brief?” Chloe echoed. She stared in confusion at the uvula, which was still swinging like a pendulum from her shove. But it’s still going… maybe it’s not about how much it’s moving, but just me touching it? To test her theory, she grabbed the uvula with both hands, slowing its swaying. Once it had mostly settled down, she gave it a light but lengthy squeeze.
“Oooooooh hoo hoo…” Cookatiel’s voice burbled. “My head feels all fuzzy… keep going, keep going…”
Chloe rubbed the uvula a bit as she kept up the gentle pressure. “I’m surprised you’re enjoying this so much… you’re sure everything’s good?”
“Chloe, why are you so skeptical?” Cookatiel replied, her amusement clear in her voice. “I’d be coughing if I was hurting, wouldn’t I?”
“I mean, not necessarily.”
Cookatiel scoffed, smacking the Bonneter in the face with a puff of hot air. “You know what I’m saying. Listen, if you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re enjoying this too, you’re doing a pretty bad job.”
Chloe instantly tensed up, flush with embarrassment. “H-hey!” she sputtered. “I mean– you’re not wrong, but…” She let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s just so weird. It’s weird that I like this. I feel like I really shouldn’t be, like this is wrong, somehow.”
“Hey now, don’t feel ashamed,” Cookatiel reassured. “I’m not judging you. I mean, this is just as weird for me, right? Who’s weirder, the one giving the uvula massage, or the one receiving it?”
“But it’s–”
“Shush!” Cookatiel interrupted. “So what if it’s weird? Nothing wrong with getting a little weird with someone. As long as you’re both having a good time.”
“…You sure you don’t mind at all?”
“Sure as shootin’!” Cookatiel chirped brightly.
Chloe couldn’t help but giggle at the bird’s silly reply. As quickly as they had flared up, her nerves washed away. “Alright, alright… I guess I shouldn’t worry so much,” she yielded. “You have a way with words, you know that?”
“Really? I’ve always felt like I… don’t, honestly,” Cookatiel stated bluntly.
“Well, it worked on me,” Chloe chuckled. “Anyway… shall we, um, continue?”
“You never stopped,” Cookatiel pointed out.
Indeed, she hadn’t– Chloe froze up, a bit embarrassed that she’d been absentmindedly rubbing the uvula this whole time without realizing. “O-oh! Er, silly me…”
“Silly you!” Cookatiel crowed in agreement. “But hey, don’t stop now! I was just getting used to it!”
“Right, right, of course!” With a newfound determination, Chloe resumed her rubdown routine. Her hands spent the next few minutes exploring every inch of the uvula’s curvature– the way it was plump and round at the base, but thinner in the middle, before spreading back out where it connected to the roof of the mouth. The way its flesh was pliant, but it still required some effort to press into. And the way it shifted about with gravity, never seeming to sit still. Everything about this was… oddly calming to her, in a way she’d never be able to explain.
But what she actually enjoyed the most about all of this was the way Cookatiel reacted– the soft coos and trills that wafted from the bird’s throat, occasionally punctuated by sharper squawks of surprise when she rubbed or squeezed with a little extra force. She even felt the whole world around her shudder a few times– giving the bird goosebumps, no doubt. To think she could elicit such reactions with barely any effort, just by fondling a weird fleshy nub! That thought made her weirdly giddy– no doubt, because it once again reminded her of her itch to climb onto the thing.
She looked up at the uvula, and her intrusive thoughts yelled at her to springboard off the tongue and jump onto it already!– but she hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was cause Cookatiel any more pain, and she felt like she’d been on the verge of that for the last ten minutes. Still, maybe if she was extra deliberate, the bird wouldn’t even notice a difference… it couldn’t hurt to try, right?
Cautiously, Chloe floated forward, stopping just a hair’s breadth away from the dangling lobe. She outstretched her arms wide, took a deep breath, and then slowly, gingerly– she embraced the uvula. The Bonneter waited with bated breath, but she didn’t hear any moans of discomfort. The bird hadn’t noticed– or maybe she did, but it at least wasn’t hurting her!
Just to be safe, she held still for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of dangling with the uvula. Its subtle swinging was much more noticeable now that he whole body was being carried along with it. It was oddly relaxing, like laying in a hammock that was swaying in the breeze. Except, instead of a cool breeze, it was a hot faceful of bird breath that washed over her every few seconds. Not that she minded, of course– she was plenty used to it at this point– but now, something about it felt… different. And it didn’t take long for her to realize why– it was no longer coming from in front of her, but from below.
Chloe looked down, and was immediately awash with dizzying vertigo. The bird’s yawning gullet was a bottomless pit, a tube that descended into danger and darkness, which one wrong move could very well send her tumbling down. Even though she wholeheartedly trusted Cookatiel, there was still an instinctual fear that made her not want to chance it– she tensed up, smushing her face into the uvula to avert her gaze, while unwittingly tightening her embrace on the sensitive organ.
Instantly, Chloe realized her mistake and relaxed her grip, but it was too late. She winced as Cookatiel let out a yelp of discomfort. “Ack! Chloe!?” the bird squawked.
“Eep! Sorry!” Chloe squeaked. “D-did that hurt?”
“A little,” Cookatiel bemoaned. “My throat feels kinda tight…”
“Um, I can let go if you want,” Chloe replied meekly.
Cookatiel sighed. “No, no, it’s fine. That was just… a shock, is all. And my train of thought is totally off the rails now.”
“Hm? What were you thinking about?”
“Oh, you know. Food things.” Cookatiel said unhelpfully. There was an awkwardly long pause, in which it seemed to dawn on the bird that she hadn’t explained herself very well. “I mean, I was wondering if it’s possible to cook something up that can elicit the same sensation you’re giving me right now. There was an ingredient on the tip of my tongue, but I’ve lost it now…”
“Well, I can see the tip of your tongue right now, and it doesn’t look like there’s much there to me,” Chloe joked.
Her witticism was met with a clucky chuckle from the bird. The light laughter caused her world to start to wobble– each utterance from Cookatiel’s throat jostled the uvula, causing it to swing from side to side more intensely than any of her previous speech had. Chloe was carried along with the slippery, swaying lobe, and while she had to remind herself not to squeeze it too tightly, she managed to stay securely attached to it.
Cookatiel’s laughter soon subsided, but the uvula had enough momentum to continue swinging for a few more seconds before finally settling down. As it did, Chloe felt a twinge of disappointment– that was fun! But it was over so quickly! She wanted to swing around like that again, and it seemed like the best way to do that was to make the bird laugh again. Though, that was easier said than done…
Her train of thought was interrupted by a breathy sigh that made the uvula faintly flutter. “Dang it, I’m really drawin’ a blank now…” Cookatiel grumbled. “Whatever I was thinking of is gone forever. Totally poofed.”
“Oh, it’ll probably come to you later,” Chloe reassured. “It’s like your brain can sense that you’re trying too hard, so it won’t give it to you now. Only when you least expect it.”
“You’re probably right…” the bird conceded. “I’ll just forget about it, I guess. Unless… you have any ideas, Chloe?”
“Me?” Chloe almost replied with a flat ‘no’, but she stopped herself. She had a much better idea. “Actually, I do! Don’t you realize you’ve already got the perfect ingredient in your beak? You know, a Bonneter breath mint!”
Cookatiel responded with a brief giggle. Not being as long or as loud as her previous laugh, it only made her uvula swing very slightly. Chloe frowned at the underwhelming ride– her joke hadn’t landed as hard as she had hoped.
“You know, that’s not even a bad point,” Cookatiel said with a smirk. “But as good of an ingredient as you are, it’d be nice to have something more readily available.”
“Yeah, yeah, I figured…” Chloe replied. “Hmm, then what if… you plucked one of your feathers and tickled the back of your throat with it?”
Cookatiel snorted. “Now you’re just being silly!”
That puff of air had jolted the uvula fairly substantially, so Chloe knew she was on the right track. “What, you don’t think that’d work?”
“No!” the bird exclaimed. “I’d just make myself gag! I couldn’t be as delicate as you… and I can’t imagine my feathers taste great, either.”
“I bet Wingo could be more delicate, and his feathers might taste better.”
Cookatiel couldn’t help but let out a loud guffaw– the mental image of Wingo daintily sticking a feather in her beak and wiggling about was too much to bear. Chloe admittedly hadn’t expected that to be what set the bird off, and as the uvula jerked into motion, she realized her intentionally loose grip may have been unintentionally looser than she thought. She managed to stay affixed to it for a few lurching swings, all while scrambling to get a better handhold– but after a few seconds, she finally slipped, getting flung upwards onto the roof of the mouth, then ricocheting off and landing on the tongue with a wet splat.
“Oh!” Cookatiel blurted, having felt the passenger in her beak suddenly bounce about. “Chloe, what’s going on in there?”
Chloe lay prone on the tongue, her face firmly planted into the saliva-filled divot that ran down its center. She didn’t bother getting up before responding, content with her position, resulting in a muffled reply. “I may have, er, slipped off your uvula. But I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“Okay, phew…” the bird breathed a cool sigh of relief. “Why, was it because I laughed too hard?”
“Yeah. Honestly, I was trying to get you to laugh, but I guess I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into, huh?”
“I don’t even know why I laughed that hard…” Cookatiel mused aloud. “I mean, you were funny, but not THAT funny… maybe you’ve just got my brain all frazzled.”
Chloe lifted her head from the tongue to take a quick glance at the bird’s gullet once more. The uvula hung in place, finally at rest, free from the Bonneter’s fondling. She had half a mind to immediately get up and grab onto it again, but she decided against it. Hanging from it for minutes on end had worn her out, and she wanted to just lay down and rest… and she got the feeling Cookatiel could use that respite, too.
“Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do all that while you’re flying…” Chloe replied. “I think that’s enough for now, anyway. Do you know how long we have left?”
Cookatiel swiveled her head to look at her surroundings, pulling Chloe left and right atop her tongue. The Bonneter ended up rolling over in the process, now once again staring up at the roof of the mouth. “I’d say… fifteen to twenty minutes,” the bird guessed. “We’re almost there!”
“Great, I’m starving…” Chloe couldn’t tell if she was drooling or if a perfectly-placed dribble of saliva had fallen onto her face. It might have been both.
“I’m feeling a bit peckish, too,” Cookatiel concurred. “I may have to stop by the stew pot for a second serving on my way out.”
“I can’t wait to taste it… your cooking better be as good as everyone says it is! I have high expectations!”
“I can assure you, it’s delicious!” Cookatiel assured. “…Almost as delicious as you!~” she added cheekily.
Chloe chuckled. “I’m sure it is, Cookatiel. I’m sure it is.”
A contented chirr rumbled from Cookatiel’s throat. “You know, speaking of which… you wouldn’t mind another lick, would you, Chloe?”
“Go right ahead,” Chloe smiled.
Instead of raising to the roof of the mouth like before, the tongue instead curled up into a bundle, wrapping around Chloe, swaddling her up in squishy flesh. She shut her eyes, allowing herself to be fully enveloped in the warm, wet, soft feeling of it all. She squirmed around a bit, not to struggle against the tongue, but to nestle herself even more firmly against it– judging by the satisfied burbles coming from Cookatiel’s throat, she was also very much enjoying having the Bonneter nuzzle her taste buds.
The two enjoyed this arrangement so much, in fact, that not a word was spoken between them for the remainder of the flight. Even as Mount Volbono came into view on the horizon, Cookatiel couldn’t bring herself to pipe up, as her tongue was currently occupied with savoring the Bonneter’s flavor until the very end.
With the setting of the sun, the Cooking Carnival was fully underway. The town plaza was completely packed with people mingling between tables piled high with food, filling their plates with pizzas and pastas and pastries until they couldn’t hold any more, and then taking more food anyways.
Fred was among the crowd, though he’d only nabbed a couple of small snacks for his plate– to him, the buffet was just an appetizer before the real main course. He shuffled over to the edge of the plaza with his food and sat atop a multicolored rock. For now, he was content to simply watch and wait.
A few minutes passed, which was enough time for him to finish his plate. As he sat on his own, he began wondering what was taking so long… and he also began to feel a bit lonely. He looked to his side, to the empty space on the rock next to him, and a single thought echoed through his mind– What happened to Chloe?
Chloe, the friend he’d had for all of ten minutes, who had vanished into thin air. He’d spent all afternoon scouring the kingdom for her, checking everything from the most iconic of landmarks to the most insignificant of lava pools. All that effort with nothing to show for it. He was really worried about her– and the guilt of knowing that it was all his fault certainly didn’t help.
The piercing chime of a dinner bell suddenly diverted Fred’s attention, and he looked up to see an oversized stew pot being wheeled into the plaza. Lethargically, he got up and floated towards it, trying his best to push his nagging thought out of his mind, just for a moment. Eating a helping of Stupendous Stew was the whole reason he’d come here, and he wanted to enjoy it… as much as he could enjoy anything right now.
His slow pace had resulted in him ending up in the back of the line, which meant several more minutes of waiting to receive his bowl of stew. Gradually, the line inched towards the steaming cauldron, its mouth-watering aroma growing stronger as he grew nearer.
After what felt like an eternity, he was finally next in line to receive his bowl of stew. The Volbonan manning the pot was quick to fill one up and hand it to him, which he accepted eagerly. He turned around to head back to his lonely spot on the rock, and–
“BIIIIRD!!!”
Suddenly, the entire plaza erupted into a panic, Volbonans and tourists alike screaming and scattering in all directions. Fred, on the other hand, stood there in a daze, not having the foggiest idea what everyone was riled up about. He turned his head from side to side, looking for the source of the hysteria, but didn’t see anything– but he did start to hear something. The terrified yelling ringing in his ears was slowly being replaced by what sounded like heavy wing flaps. He looked up, and indeed– there was a bird. A big, big bird.
Before he even had time to think, the huge bird swooped down and landed right in front of him. He stared at it, frozen in awe and fear, and the bird simply stared back. The two assessed each other in silence for a few seconds before the bird began to lower its head down to his level. He flinched, thinking it was going to attack him– but instead, the bird only opened its beak a smidge, and a familiar wispy figure slowly floated out of it.
Fred blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. Was that really…
“Chloe?!?”
It was her! She was disheveled, baggy-eyed, and soaking wet, but it was definitely her! She stared back at him, an amused look on her face.
“Is this one of your friends?” the bird suddenly spoke, startling Fred so much he nearly dropped his bowl of stew.
“I suppose it is,” Chloe smirked. “Well, um…” she turned to the bird, suddenly looking rather bashful. “I guess this is goodbye?”
“Seems like it,” the bird chirped. It stood up straight, preparatorily fluttering its wings. “Goodbye, Chloe! I hope we’ll meet again someday!”
Chloe waved at the bird as it lifted off the ground. “Thanks for the ride! I’ll miss you, Cookatiel!”
The bird flew away as quickly as it had landed. Fred was amazed by how fast it could rocket off with those tiny wings… but he didn’t have much time to wonder about that, as he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat to get his attention, and upon turning back to Chloe, he was met with a rather stern expression.
“That stew better be for me,” she said tersely.
“O-oh! Um…” Fred stammered, still too dumbfounded to string together a proper sentence. After a few seconds, he figured out how to use his hands, at the very least, awkwardly thrusting the bowl of stew forward to hand it to Chloe.
She accepted it without a word. She picked up the spoon from the bowl, but not to use it– simply to get it out of the way as she lifted the bowl to her face and started chugging it like it was the only thing she’d eaten in weeks.
Fred awkwardly gawked at her as she downed half the bowl’s contents without even stopping to breathe. In that time, his brain cooled off just enough for him to form his thoughts into intelligible sentences. “Chloe…” he drawled. “Just what the hell have you been up to all day!?”
He had to wait a few seconds to get a reply, as Chloe didn’t put the bowl down until she had guzzled every last drop from it. Once she had, she lowered it down and let out a long, satisfied exhale. “Ahh… Oh, wow, that was delicious!” she exulted. Then, she gave Fred a sideways glance. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“No kidding!” Fred exclaimed. “Like, what was up with that giant bird??”
“I’ll tell you,” Chloe replied. “…But first, get me another bowl of stew.”