Thumbnail by  HungotheNomster. Not my picture. Used with permission. +watch the Nomster!

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Dream Eater



Wrapped in a green silk scarf was a Latias beneath a bluff in the storm. Teeth chattering, breath fogging, his nose nuzzled into the fluff of his chest as the scarf whipped at his face. Cold wind whistled through his ears. They were aching and frostbitten.

I need warmth, he thought. I . . . have to find warmth . . .

Once he’d wriggled out of the dugout he dug and shook the snow from his wings, he took off, only to be slapped back into the bluff by a vehement gust.

“Oomph!”

Howling. The wind laughed and locked him into place. He tried desperately to peel himself from the side of the bluff. Heaving his elbows against the wall. Shoving repeatedly. It restrained him. Summoning strength he strained his muscles to wrestle free, till suddenly the gust ceased and he launched face-first into the snow like a bottle-rocket. “Mmf!”

Twice it laughed. Latias, it said.

Latias.

He was out of his mind. Hypothermia.

Pinching his arm, he shook his head and flew up and vanished in the blizzard curtain. Latias, Latias, the wind repeated to get on his nerves. Laaaaatias! Spinning he searched for the source. After spinning, he was twice as lost. Only when an invisible thread—what felt like fishing hook or spider’s silk—snagged his arm did he find his way. Another per se thread snatched his wing. Another and another hooked to him and he wasn’t sure whether they were tangible or if he was having some sort of brain-freeze breakdown. The threads were tugging on him. Reeling him in. But if it weren’t for those threads and the echoes that followed he’d have never found a warm place to stay. Latias . . . Latias . . . Latias! Come, come!

They led him to a tall slim cavern opening in the side of a mountain, pitch black on the inside (at least, from the outside). The voices became quiet. Taking caution he peeked inside; the darkening silhouette, the sheen from the whites of his eyes, became more distinct with each void step inside.

“Er . . . hello?”

Hesitant he stepped in. Finally the frost on his nose started to thaw. These physical reliefs could not combat the conflict mentally; he sensed a presence, a presence watching over him, but the only distinguishable movement was that of the melted ice of a stalactite’s occasional plink into a puddle. Then he nearly left his fur behind, jumping as a laugh came from no place, resounding in every place, daunting, rippling through his spine. There was no one and no thing to be seen, however. Once it’d faded out, “H-hello? Is anyone . . . h-h-here with me?” he whimpered.

The response wasn’t immediate. I have brainfreeze, he told himself; hypothermia, he concluded. A burst of wild laughter and bulging red eyes flashed before him, and he yelped out, covering his face. Heh-heh-heh, a raspy voice cackled, a giant crooked grin opening up beneath the eyes. For a moment the creature ceased to exist then prickly fingers ran up Lati’s neck and reached through his ribcage, with a yank. Lati gasped in pain. He leapt up, clutching his ribs. Applying cold pawprints to the burned area. “YIP!” Whirling around he found no one there.

Heh-heh-heh!

A dim lavender light (without a source) illuminated the cavern—the center the most—and those terrible terrible eyes reappeared, popping at him suddenly. Latias fell backward, skittering on the floor in reverse for the door. “Waah! Who-w-w what are you?”

Dark pointy ears. Jagged teeth. Check, check. It was Gengar. Gengar slathered him in drool chest-to-head with a slobbery wet slurp, paralysis-statusing him. “Heh-heh—! What am I? Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost! Who are YOU? What do you think you’re doing in MY cave?”

Mouth agape, “I was j-j-just looking for some-w-where w-w-warm to s-stay . . .” Latias chattered. “The w-wind . . . I swear, I heard m-my name . . .” He couldn’t flee. His body was limp.

Gengar’s laugh multiplied into what was like a cacophony of hysterical hyenas, ringing about the room. “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee! What a sad excuse!” He poofed, rematerializing behind the helpless-little-eon. “I don’t think you heard the wind at all. I think you came to my cave thinking there couldn’t possibly be any danger . . .”

“Honest!” Lati broke into a sob. “I really h-heard it. The wind. It was like . . . like . . . it was . . .”

Latias, mimicked Gengar. Lati-ati-oxen-free . . . heh-heh-heh.

Lati’s mouth gaped.

“Honest,” mocked Gengar, his gaze darkening. “You didn’t hear the wind.”

Red flashed suddenly. The eon shielded his eyes. Opening them he found Gengar before him; it seemed either Latias was shrinking or Gengar had spurted with growth; feeding from the explosion of fear the Gengar swelled to twice his normal size, casting a shadow over his prey. Gargantuan. Thick ghostly arms and chubby pricks for fingers wrapped around the prey and tightened, squeezing him against his squishy round belly. It squashed Latias’ lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Gengar’s multiple voices pitched in like one single chimera: “You heard MY voice, Latias! You heard MY VOICE! MINE, MINE, MINE-MINE-MINE!”

“AH! OO-okay . . . I heard y-your voice . . .” The eon shrank another two sizes; Gengar had grown four-fold.

A-heh-heh-heh-heh!

POOF. . . . Another vanishing act.

Latias was dropped limp to the floor; but he used Refresh in time to break free of paralysis while landing on both feet.

POOF. There returned a giant Gengar wielding a knife-and-fork with a napkin tied around his neck, licking his chops, making this grotesque sucking sound from the side of his mouth, rumbling through the cavern. His stomach growled, quaking in content. “On the menu today: We have a fluffy red daaar-gon.”

“NO!”

“No,” Gengar nodded. “A fluffy white-and-red daaar-gon. Right, right? Hmm? Howzat?”

Latias never told him how-that-was because he’d already left in a cartoony puff of smoke, rushing for the door. Grinning, Gengar watched him make the run for it without having seen anyone prior so eager to dive back into a snowstorm. Cue the hallelujah chorus. Play the scene in slowmo. Almost there. Alas, Latias leapt for the door, out-of-nowhere blocked by Gengar who’d bursted up out of the floor. Cackling, his voice boomed: “Where do you think you’re going? A-hrrrrrrrm?”

Not like he had a clue. “I’m-I . . . you didn’t want me here so I, uh, t-thought I’d j-just . . .”

The eyes of Gengar blared red, swelling till they enveloped all that could be seen. “You’re not going ANYWHERE!”

“Y-yessir—”

He recited: “‘I didn’t want you here?!’” Reaching into the deeps of his stomach before bellowing a laugh, “You say I . . . HYEH-HYEH-HYEH-HEH!”

Latias used his paws as earmuffs. “Please . . .”

A lavender arm snatched him up, hoisting the squeaky-flaily specimen into the air. Gengar eyed him. Prodded him. Amused.

“No. You’re absolutely right. Ab. So. Lute. Ab-so-lute. You don’t belong here,” he agreed, waving his stubby finger around the cave. Whisking it at his stomach, which gurgled to make the point, he said, “You belong here. Here—making—me—pudgier—” poking his gut between each pause on the last four words. “—after all, I could use +3 E.V. points in Special Defense!”

Lati winced.

Like a leviathan’s the mouth widened hungrily, the rows of jagged edges and lack of hygiene now displayed in their greatest glory, as a blast of ghastly breath walloped Latias in the face. Revolted, he scrunched his nose. His eyes and nostrils flared. That is, they did until they were extinguished by a lap of the stinking, slimy tongue (Gengar used Lick!).

“EEP!” A jolt of electricity paralyzed him.

The squirming, grappling, roundabout flailing of his prey had ceased; and now the fluffy white-and-red daaar-gon was right where he wanted him to be. Gengar stuck his tongue out, hovered his arm over his tongue, and dangled little-helpless-eon by one of the wings. The Gengar went, “Aaaah . . .”

Latias whimpered. “Please, Gengar.”

Begging now, are we? Gengar thought to himself, chuckling. It amused him, gratified him, to suckle every last droplet of fear. To dominate. To further grow. He’d swelled to over five times his normal size. Watching the Latias cower, watching the stream of negative emotions funnel out of him into him. Fear was sweet like honey dew and left a rich residual on his lips. “Please what, little Latias?”

“Please don’t e-eat me.” Squeezing it as much as they could in his limpness, he clutched the Gengar tongue, nuzzling into it like he would his scarf to drown the bad things out.

Gengar’s eyes widened. The act of affection surprised him. It did tickle his tongue, it did. “Mmmm . . . now, why would I do that?”

“I j-just want a warm place to stay . . . can I stay here? We can t-talk . . . and keep each other company . . . until the storm ends?”

Gengar started to shrink. He’s past the peak of his fear, I see, he thought. Yes. Very much so. I must act. “And whooo’s going to fill my stomach while we sit here talking? Latios? No. I don’t think you can.”

Breaking paralysis with Refresh, Latias grasped tighter, strangling the tongue. It carried its cargo into Gengar’s mouth which slowly began to shut, the cave’s lavender light dimming. All became dark. The Lati whimpered, weary, trembling over the pink flesh and slobber.

He keeps using Refresh. Gengar sighed. “Shh, shh . . . you will rest now . . . Yes . . . You are getting veeeeery sleepy . . . rest, little Latias.”

GULP. Gengar pretended to swallow before Hypnosis put the little one to sleep. Hopefully, he hypothesized, it would be enough to inspire in him some horrible horrible dream. But it was not so.

Opening his mouth he removed from it the sleeping Latias; Gengar had lain down, placing Latias on his belly. His enormous form shrank to normal size. He watched the little one who was curled up over his expanding-contracting stomach for some time. Then, up from Latias’ head sprouted a dream bubble: A fluffy white cloud that hovered over him, that only Gengar could see; projecting his dreams. In it Gengar saw:

* * *

A white-and-red speck was resting on top of a long round hill in the middle of blank space. The sky was a fluctuating aurora of pink and yellow. The moist grass, Latias could feel, and Gengar felt too, was soft, ethereal feeling, and squooshy; Gengar imagined his belly felt that way to the Latias. Buried in the lawn was his head. Poke. Poke. A fluffy thing nudged him. He looked up. It was a Mareep. The Mareep stared at him, void-eyed, and let loose a “Meeeeeeeeh.”

Mareeps don’t sound like that! Gengar thought.

The Mareep’s touch soothed Lati. Lati smiled, and licked Mareep’s nose. Then more Mareep came. A small herd circled him, covering the hill by cotton sphere-tailed creatures. “Y-you guys are s-so warm . . .” Latias blushed, hugging all the Mareeps. “You guys . . .”

Gengar rolled his eyes. Snoozeville!

Snapping his fingers, storm clouds flashed over the skies; and three Murkrow cawed overhead; for he’d used Nightmare. A colossal Thunderbolt struck the ground, blowing all the Mareeps away which emitted a harsh “MEEEEEEH!” in response. Charcoaled grass sizzled. Lati coughed, inhaling smoke. From the sky fell a giant Ampharos, crashing like a thunderous meteorite. Both Lati’s ears stood on end.

“THUNDER,” the Ampharos growled, his tail shepherding electricity from the storm clouds above. “THUNDER!”

Lati made a guinea pig’s screech as the tail swung down like a guillotine, when out of the blue a Clefable tackled Ampharos. Ampharos spun to the ground. Howling on impact. “Argh—urmph—awrr—” he went, somersaulting off the hill. Rising to his feet, Latias backed away. Fear filled him. The Clefable snickered. Thunder flashed—her silhouette turning black for an instant—and after the flash she was two times bigger than she was before. Big and pink. Fangs bared.

“FAIRY!” Lati fled, tripping on his foot. “Umff!”

Gengar snickered. Now that’s MY type of dream!

The skies’ pinks and yellows shifted to dark reds and oranges. Lati picked his head up to find a giant Tyranitar (twice its average size)—wearing shorts—shattering buildings by sweeping its tail at the bottom of the hill. Its red eyes flashed at him. His head swung to see Clefable, then Tyranitar, and their stomachs shuddered, quaking the earth. Gengar indulged in the stream of fear that ebbed from the dream bubble into his body. He smirked. From the slits of his half-closed eyes two Nightmare creatures could be seen looming nearer. Towering over little Latias. Cornering him on the middle of the hill’s slope . . . In this was a rush of adrenaline typical to any and all Nightmares Gengar had fed from before; and it left him full of energy; but it did not fill his belly.

It grumbled emptily.

Anyone . . . someone . . . help . . . Latias’ thoughts echoed from out of the dream bubble: Where did Gengar go? he wondered. I want Gengar . . . please . . . Gengar . . . where is Gengar?

Heh. Gengar shook his head and tsked. This is sympathy I’m feeling? It’s not in my nature, no.

“How cute. . . . The itty-bitty daaar-gon’s shivering,” taunted the shorts-wearing Tyranitar, approaching Latias with slow, booming stomps.

Clefable hummed, squeezing Latias from behind, her gut gurgling. “Imagine how cute he’d be right here,” she said, repeatedly poking her belly pudge, “giving me +3 E.V. points in Special Defense. Har-har-har . . .”

Gengar facepalmed.

“He’s not yours,” Tyranitar growled. “How about this: We’ll go looking for Latios after I eat him. How’s that sound?”

“L-Latios?!”

Gengar lifted the Latias sleeping on his belly up carefully. Set him down curled up on the floor. Then he took a few paces back. Kneeling, he took the position of a marathon runner. Then he bursted with speed at the dream bubble and leapt into it, wriggling his chubby chub through the cloud material. It squelched. He landed somewhere within it as the bubble sluuuuurp!-ed him up. Tyranitar had just picked up Latias when Gengar stepped between them and Clefable.

“He’s not yours,” said Gengar, echoing Tyranitar. “After I eat you, we’ll decide the fate of him and Latios. Yes.”

Latias shook with joy. “Gengar!”

Tyranitar lowered his head to inspect the tiny ghostling, over twice his height. “HAH-HAH-HAH! Who are you?”

“Gengar,” said Clefable.

“You’ll be handing over little Latias now.”

“I don’t THINK so!”

A hard stare cast from Gengar seared into his skull. Tyranitar flinched, averting his gaze. It burned hotter and hotter and his head seemed to be on fire. A gasp. He released Latias, who sobbed and fluttered onto Gengar’s back, then fell to his knees as he shrank smaller and smaller until his stretchy shorts sagged at his waist and he became a normal size: The result was a 6-and-a-half foot Tyranitar. Still, Gengar stood over the kneeling Ty. Latias poked his head out from over Gengar and grimaced at him. Gengar growled.

Tyranitar quivered. “Right! You were right. I’m s-sorry—”

“You resisted me.”

Tyranitar faked a laugh. “Hah! Me? No! I was just testing ya—”

“HEH! I think you will be punished.”

MEEP.

Before he could get to his feet and spin around completely (in an attempt to escape), Gengar pounced on him, pinning him in place. Out came a wail of sorrow, all 500 pounds of Tyranitar hitting the ground. Tyranitar’s claws reached out and grasped at the grass in front of him; but then a cold hand wrenched his neck, and drove him 180 degrees like a dog on a leash. Up he looked; and there was Gengar, his eyes full of authority and judgement. An elastic tongue whipped over Tyranitar’s throat and pulled him in. There was blackness. Ectoplasm—Gengar’s ghostly jaws—snapped over the Ty’s head, whose claws scratched from the outside. Hollering. Flailing Magickarp style. Gengar hummed with content. He shoved. Tyranitar was shoveled down the esophagus, and the neck of his predator produced a bulge resemblant of him. Hums grew louder, louder than the vacuous slurping and the squelching of flesh. Tyranitar’s arms were slurped up—the only resistance he had against the vacuum’s current—and he was drawn further in. What he noticed: The throat practically was the belly, part of one big blob, and had begun to bulge. Stretching. Latias’ eyes widened, watching the lower half of the prey kick-n’-squirm so desperately without doing a whole lot. Gengar leaned his head back, stomach expanding. Rounding beautifully. Latias nearly slipped off. The sucking stretched on and got especially loud the last three seconds, then all seemed to end suddenly. Ssssssssssssslrup! Tyranitar’s tail disappeared through his lips, and Gengar’s head reared forward; and he cackled triumphantly; then he rubbed his belly, which gurgled sickly, before letting loose a monstrous belch equivalent to a dragon’s roar: “HRRRRRRRRRRRRRPP!”

A pair of shorts erupted into the air and landed on the ground, steaming with drool, sizzling a crater into it.

Latias’ teeth chattered. Clefable shook, rigid. Gengar didn’t look up. Still kneading at his gut.

Gllt, gllllllrrr.

“Tell him again. Who am I, Clefable?”

“GENGAR!”

Unsatisfied, he took two slow stomps at Clefable. Clefable stepped back each time, shrinking a little. He tsk-tsked; and she shriveled up gradually, repeating, “GENGAR! GENGAR! GENGAR!”, as if the answer was her savior and he hadn’t heard it the first time. Tsk-tsk. The puffball slipped onto her back. Thud. Gengar opened wide. His tongue lashed out, coiling over her leg then dragging her in. “GENGAR! YOUR NAME IS GENGAR! I SAID IT! I SAID IT! I—” A slurp so instantaneous, it made Latias blink twice, cut her off. She was gone. The tongue snapped back. Gengar’s cheeks bulged. The bulges flexed as his prey struggled against the stretchy ectoplasm-for-flesh. He held her in his mouth for a while and hummed. It calmed Latias: The humming, the Clefable being out of sight. His nose nestled into one of the ghost’s ears. Gengar winced, having never felt such positive emotion directed toward him, but allowed it. For little Latias, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath, cocked his head back, and—GULP. They heard a splash. The bulge from his cheeks relocated to a nice groaning spot in his gut. THWOMP, said the gut as it hit the ground sagging. It reddened. It was painfully swollen. He rubbed over it like a crystal ball then hummed some more.

Thereafter came another ghastly belch. “HRRRRRP! Ah.” He too hit the ground. His belly stuck in the air.

“AH!” Latias sprung, landing on the bouncy belly.

Gengar chuckled softly, stroking the white-and-red.

“I’m safe . . .” Latias breathed.

A curious look Gengar gave him. “Just how do you suppose?” His tongue snaked its way out. . . .

. . . But Latias laughed as it touched his forehead. “I know you’re not gonna eat me. You saved me.”

Gengar stroked him again and smiled. They sat for a while, resting with each other. The stomach gurgled under Latias one or two times but, oddly enough, it ceased to bother him. To one another they returned affections; this was something Gengar had not been familiar to. Watching the Latias rest his eyes, he felt a stream of positive emotions funnel out of him into him.

“Mm. . . . You got me.”

* * *

Out came a Gengar from the dream bubble with an enormous swollen belly, straining himself to squeeze through. He popped out the bubble and it closed shut and blinked out of existence. Thudding to the floor, he stood up, relieved he hadn’t squashed the little one, who was still sleeping calm-as-ever, curled up in a ball beneath him.

“What will I do with you,” he murmured, gently picking up the white-and-red and laying him over his belly as he lay down.

He drifted off to sleep.

Seven hours later: Snowstorm still outside.

Eight hours later: Grrlllllllllrrr. Rrrrrrrt.

Opening his eyes, Latias woke up to the gurgling of Gengar’s stomach. Either he was already awake or they’d awoke at the same time; Gengar’s eyes were open. Latias clutched tighter. “H-how . . . this can’t be . . . Tyranitar . . . Clefable . . .” he rubbed over the belly’s bulges, eyes wide. “But it was all a dream.”

“It can be. I am not just ‘Gengar’, no,” he told Latias—remembering his annoyance to Clefable repeating his name over and over. “I am Gengar, the Dream Eater. Gengar, the Nightmare of Nightmares! Hyeh-hyeh-hyeh-hyeh!”

Latias smiled.

“Will that answer your question?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?!”

“Yeah.”

The declaration made Gengar more snuggly. Latias wrapped his arms around the purple neck, burying his muzzle in it. His wings flapped in jubilee. That was the closest Gengar could get to a blush. He told himself he refrained from eating the little one strictly because he was full enough!

“Remember it, little Latias.”