Refueling

Migrating across the American West used to be a very popular prospect in the 19th century. Despite the great difficulty that came with moving across vast deserts and foreign landscapes. Downright impossible for some, yet just about everyone was motivated anyway. It was almost a spiritual imperative to head west in hopes of finding new lands, new chances. Of course, those days are long gone. Now both coasts (and the world) are connected instantly by Internet. Slightly slower by air. Land these days was still faster than 19th century transportation, but it gave some of the feeling.

So, an alligator and his coyote buddy decided to take a drive across the west to see the sights. Which is to say, Érasme was convinced to go even further from his ideal humid environment. Connor was raring to go, having a nearly intrinsic desire to explore the country. Of course, he was more naturally acclimated to the whole thing. Regardless of habitat differences, exploration interested both of them. The reptile would rather head eastward than into a desert, but he was willing to bare it for his roommate. No reason they couldn’t do both, in time.

Their modern carriage would be Éras’ car, a fairly new model featuring biofuel compatibility. Better for the environment that way and seemingly better at mileage. With the sparseness of desert gas stations, it would do just fine for them. He also fit it with a humidifier for his own sake, even though it drives the maintenance up. On top of that, he made sure to stock the trunk with many coolers full of water bottles for this trip. Likely more than would be necessary, but better safe than sorry.

They got on the road late in the afternoon, after Connor woke up. In the center dashboard alone, Éras had an entire case of water. The AC was set to maintain a comfortable 70°F and his humidifier at only 50%. This was mostly because his furry friend was already seeming pretty hot and wet as is. The canine complained, “Geez, it’s like a swamp in your car, dude.”

“Yeah, well, this is as low as I’d like to go. And if you think this is a swamp, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be in an actual one.”

“Probably not. Now I know why you don’t usually drive people around.”

“Yeah… Most of you furry folk can’t handle the conditions in here for too long. No offense. I mean, I can barely handle the desert out here…” With that note, he quickly took a swig from his current water bottle. His one point in favor of the desert was that there was no one out here. They passed cars pretty rarely on the freeway, leaving them free to go about as fast as comfortable.

“Can I at least open a window?”

“Kind of defeats the purpose of the humidifier. And the AC. Just drink some water, it’s still ice-cold.”

“The last thing I need right now is more water.”

“Suit yourself. We’ll stop in a few hours for a break and dinner, probably.”

Until then, they drove through the desert more or less aimlessly. They had some maps for when they needed to actually find a place, but aimless driving was good for sightseeing. Connor was fond of pointing out tall mesas or other mildly distinctive rocks. Éras was more fond of every bit of non-cactus vegetation. One time they saw a forest, which sidetracked them from the desert for about an hour. They even stepped out of the car for a bit, though the forest was every bit as dry as the desert. Rather disappointing. Connor wasn’t interested in the forest, but he was happy to have a moment of dry air, even if it was unbearably hot.

After leaving the forest, they spent the next hour driving around for a restaurant before happening across a diner in a small town. Connor was once again happy to leave the car, though Érasme grumbled as he finished chugging his current water bottle. He dumped five bottles in the trash outside the diner as they head inside. The diner was pretty empty at this time of night, seemingly only holding a single employee. But she was upbeat none the less saying, “How may I serve you gentlemen?” She didn’t blink at the coyote, but did seem to scan the alligator as if to ask what he was doing in a desert.

Connor replied first, “We’re just getting a late dinner. We’ve been driving around the desert all afternoon!”

The jackrabbit nodded, “Well just take a seat wherever you like and I’ll get to you shortly.” She handed off two menus and then disappeared into the back of the diner. The menus were only one page, but held enough food for both of them to find something they liked. The waitress returned shortly. “What will you two be having tonight?”

Connor, once again, answered first. “I’ll just have your chicken salad and a milkshake.” She nodded, writing that down and then turning towards the gator.

“I’ll will have your steak with fries, and an ice water.” The waitress wrote this down too, but seemed more apprehensive to his choice of food. Éras noticed, but shrugged it off. She left with the usual politeness and brought their drinks without further issue. Though Éras was in need of a refill almost immediately, swallowing all the water and ice at once. Connor drank more politely through a straw. The single waitress returned once to refill his water, which he promptly drank in one gulp again.

About ten minutes after the refill, she arrived with food. Connor’s salad was fine by normal standards, but Éras’ steak left a lot to be desired. It was burnt to a crisp, beyond even the standards of well done. The fries were okay. He looked up at the rabbit but she was already heading into the back without saying a word. His roommate gaped amusedly at Éras’ own offended yet amused face. He called the waitress back over, who returned with an obviously fake politeness. “Is something the matter?”

“Yeah, my steak looks more like charcoal. Also, I would like a refill.”

She took a rather defensive and condescending stance. “Well, it just seemed to me that you were going to drink the whole water supply. Figured I might cut you off there. And you know, I just couldn’t help myself with your steak. I think it’s wrong for anthros to eat ferals like that, even if they’re not lookalikes.”

“Look lady, I know you’ve probably never seen an alligator before, but we’re carnivores. Gotta eat meat.”

This didn’t seem to faze her opinions at all. Instead she simply made a grunt of disagreement and once more disappeared into the back. The two at the table locked eyes again, Connor grinning when he realized what Érasme was likely about to do. Some other people who rubbed him the wrong way met the same fate. Let alone an assertive jackrabbit to an irritated alligator. In a small town like this, they figured there would be even less issues than in their city. Once the other patrons were gone, they called for the bill.

Having snacked on fries long enough, Éras was ready for his main course. The waitress returned with a receipt, undoubtedly still asking for payment for his burnt steak. But instead, the gator stood up, grabbed her arms together, and plunged his jaws over her. She was a small thing compared to him, and his mouth alone easily took up the girl from head to belly. Sitting back down, he flipped her into the air easily. Her legs kicked wildly, but couldn’t break free of his jaws. He started to gulp casually, dragging her down into his own belly in less than a minute.

Érasme patted his now bulging stomach with satisfaction. “Oof, I’ve gotta say Connor, I’m glad she was being so annoying. She was much better than that steak could’ve been.” He belched while Connor continued to grin. He always liked the gator’s method of dealing with problems, even though he knew he could be at risk for being a meal as well. That said, the coyote decided it was time to go.

“We should head out of here before anyone sees.” Slapping the mild gut, “It doesn’t look like she’s very big at all, so you oughta still be able to move, right big fella?”

Éras nodded and grinned toothily. His food squirmed but it did nothing to impact his movements as he got up. “Though, I think you should drive. I’m gonna take a nice nap and sleep her off,” he said, tossing the keys.

As they sped off out of town, Connor asked, “When should I get you up?”

The gator yawned, “Ehh… How about just by the time we get to the next landmark or something.” He closed his eyes and burped slightly as he fell asleep.

After watching his roommate for a few minutes, the coyote decided he was well into his digestive sleep, as shown by gurgling starting to overtake the engine. So he started to carefully readjust the climate control, bringing it down to a cooler 65 and only 20% humidity. That felt much better to him, even though the desert wasn’t quite as hot at night. And to him, it took on quite a uniquely beautiful appearance in the dark. Free of most light pollution, both the desert and the sky seemed nearly infinite. Though the loud growling and struggling in the passenger seat did well to keep him grounded.

*/^\*

Érasme woke up much later, feeling exceptionally dry. He instantly twisted off a bottle of water and downed the whole thing. Smacking his lips, he recalled the taste of jackrabbit and looked down. His gut was smoothed out now, though still bigger than when the trip started. Now he noticed that the car was off and that it was only barely dawn. Connor wasn’t in the car, so he got out and looked around. There didn’t appear to really be anything. They were pulled over on the side of the road and he saw the canine just sort of hanging out on the other side of the car. “Connor, what’s goin’ on?”

He turned around with a grin, though it seemed more forced than genuine. “Oh uh hey! Did you sleep well?”

“Yep. She’s pretty much pudge now,” he said, jiggling his belly to display. “Why did we stop though?”

He chuckled nervously, “Oh uh,” taking a subtle glance at the belly, “I just-- we-- Um.” His façade finally broke down and he answered, “We’re out of gas.”

Éras’ expression darkened. “We’re out of gas? In the middle of the desert?”

Growing defensive, Connor replied, “Hey, hey, I didn’t realize we were running out. Besides, we’ll be fine! Just gotta wait until someone drives by.”

Once again checking the surroundings, they were really in the middle of nowhere. It was extremely early. Traffic was unlikely to come across them for many hours. Éras wasn’t really willing to wait that long. He hurried over to the fuel cap in some desperate attempt to see if there was any more gas left. There was no way to really see, but he knew it really was empty. He rested his head on the car and punched the side of it.

Behind him, Connor frowned and tried to put a comforting paw on his shoulder. “Hey dude, don’t worry about it. You still have plenty of water in the coolers too.” Éras was well aware, but didn’t want to rely on cold water alone for the next however-long. Instead he was noticing something on the edge of the filler pipe. The biofuel converter certification. He smiled as he stood back up, his tail curling slightly around his roommate’s legs.

Quickly turning around and grabbing the coyote’s arms, he said, “I just need to fill the tank up.”

Connor froze in addition to the hold. The words sent familiar thoughts into his head, staring up the gator’s long jaws. He had seen many other animals disappear down there, both anthro and feral. He took another glance down at his belly, admittedly probably emptier now. He stammered, “A-Aren’t you still f-full?”

The gator’s grin grew more toothy. “Maybe not full. But not hungry enough to swallow you up, no.”

He relaxed, despite still being gripped firmly. “So what--”

Before he could finish, Éras lifted him up and started cramming his head down the pipe. It was made of a rather flexible material, but unlike Éras’ own throat, it wouldn’t drag food down on its own. Instead, he found himself having to work to push the coyote down. Head first luckily had the advantage of streamlining the rest of the body. With his arms still locked down, the biggest difficulty was managing around the shoulders.

One by one, he managed to get them through. Connor started kicking the gator’s gut, a bit painful to his half-digested meal. He carefully sidestepped the kicks, maintaining a steady grasp on the coyote’s forearms. As he eased those in, he was able to shift his control from the arms to the legs. From there it was smooth filling. The coyote went down the pipe as smooth as gasoline, only stopping once more by the gator’s will. With only shins and hind paws hanging out, Éras decided to have a slight bit of fun.

The shoes and socks came off. Connor briefly renewed his struggles, but then shuddered. He felt a tongue drag across both of his paws, then another pause. He felt Éras let go, but then he started to simply slip down the tube. Most of his body was already inside the fuel tank and his legs weren’t far behind now. Once they joined him, it was a very tight fit. Unlike what he imagined a stomach to be, the walls had no give, no soft surroundings. It was just hard and slightly wet. He shouted out blindly, “Éras, what the hell?!”

His voice came clearly from outside, though he couldn’t turn to face it. “Had to fill the tank up! I can’t stay in the desert as long as you can.”

“Get me out of here!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a shame. I would’ve liked to eat ya one day. You were prettttty tasty. But, I gotta get home.”

Before Connor could plead further, the fuel cap shut on him. He was left in pitch blackness, though he shortly felt Éras hop in the front seat. The car cranked up slightly, just enough to start up some electrical functions. Mostly, the biofuel conversion system. It immediately detected the presence of organic matter (and some clothing). The conversion process, according to the system, was estimated to take 30 minutes based on the mass of the source. In the meantime… Éras could use the climate controls. He paused and then gave a hearty laugh. “I guess I could’ve kept you around for a little longer then! But either way you were bound to be fuel for something.” He waited for a response, but the most he got was very muffled sounds and slight movements. Rather than tease further, he simply decided to lean back and wait.

The fuel tank itself was providing some gas, which Connor could feel, but not sense otherwise. He could feel himself start sweating in the tight container, the only sound to occupy him being his own claws clicking against plastic. Unbreakable, naturally. He tried to see if he could work his way back up the pipe, but he couldn’t seem to find out how his foot managed to slide in to begin with. He tried hitting walls of the tank, but they refused to budge whatsoever. It just worked to splash more gasoline on himself.

More gasoline? He felt around some more at the bottom of the tank. There was now a puddle where it used to be merely damp. Maybe it was the fumes hitting him, but he couldn’t actually smell any of his own sweat in there. He had the oddest sense of movement, though he couldn’t feel the car shaking at all. Not to mention there was barely any gasoline in the system. And he most certainly wasn’t gasoline. On the dry top of his body, he tried to wipe the sweat out of his fur. Instead, the fur slicked off his body as if it were liquid. It was then he realized what was happening. He took a deep breath and instantly passed out.

Over the next several minutes, the gaseous chemical vented into the tank worked to break down and transform the coyote’s body into gasoline. It would be a fairly fast process for observers, though neither the victim nor perpetrator were there to see it. Connor passed out by simple asphyxiation, whereas Éras relaxed in hot, humid air. With no furry animals to please, he was free to crank up the heat and humidity as he wanted. The sound of muffled voices had disappeared and was now mostly replaced by the fuel tank readjusting as its contents transformed from solid to liquid.

After 30 minutes, all that was left of the coyote was high-quality gasoline. Éras started up the car without a hitch. It even seemed to be running smoother than before in some ways. Paying tribute to Connor, he gunned it down the road. “I think this is a good use of you! All the fat you would’ve added to my body would just slow me down, but this way you can go even faster.” He looked in the rear-view mirror at the exhaust, though it didn’t respond at all. Naturally. Turning on the radio, he decided to just gun it home. Deserts weren’t for him anyway.