A somewhat old gift for a good friend,  cjfauxx-luvs-transformers! I remember having a great time writing this, what with it being such a cute concept and all :D

A semi-robotic fox, CJ, is in a bit of a pickle as a hailstorm begins battering his car while miles from the nearest town. When he comes across a parked truck, he's got a choice to make: tough it out on his own, or rely on a peculiar stranger to help him out?

Enjoy the read, if you can! If there's anything I could've done better, by all means, lemme know about 'em ^^

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A crackling voice struggled and failed to be heard over the cacophonous clanking of ice on metal. The radio, its volume knob cranked as high as was possible, had just been commandeered by some sort of meteorological official, shouting over the din of hail outside. Gone was the charming soundscape of tire on pavement complemented by classic rock. Now, a deafening dissonance, a perpetual crescendo, only had CJ’s frantic heartbeat to rival it in sheer audial force.

The cybertronic fox knew better than to go driving with a tornado watch in effect. Back home, he had a well-stocked shelter and slightly-too-expensive insurance to keep him and his possessions safe. The issue was, home was still another forty miles down the Interstate. His car, a touched-up Fleetwood, wouldn’t be likely to survive such a trip with a functioning engine, let alone an intact windscreen. With wheat fields flanking the slate grey road, there was nowhere to park up and weather the inclemency. The only option was to keep rolling along, scouring the swaying horizon for a building, a tree, even a pond to dive into to avoid the frozen ordnance. If the day were clear, CJ still wouldn’t have found anything: in big sky countryside, the only things visible over the grain tended to be cows or corn, neither of which would make for pleasant or effective shelter. With a light, casual ensemble of boot-cut jeans and a comfy vest that outline his fit figure, he wouldn’t last too long out there without proper protection.

The search was interrupted when the windshield turned into a crystalline spiderweb, victim of a particularly nasty ice-ball. The massive chunk of rock-solid water remained embedded in the glass, already beginning to melt and drip onto the plastic dashboard. While inspecting the damage in disbelief, a kaleidoscope of dim amber formed, threatening to blind the poor fox. Light was coming from somewhere over the horizon, fading in and out of perceptibility as the grass buckled under the steady westerly winds. CJ, now excited at the prospect of a safe haven, kept his composure, fighting off the impulse to floor it towards potential salvation. In conditions such as these, rushing would only lead to calamity.

At some point, the source split into two; twin, meek beams that had difficulty piercing the television-static air even when combined. Driving at inch per hour, it took a long while for the source to come into view: an old, beat-up transport truck, complete with a rickety wooden bed filled to the brim with loose hay. The headlights were on, but CJ couldn’t make out anybody in the cabin. Either they were taking cover on the floor, or they’d abandoned the durable-looking truck. No matter the case, the frantic fox relished in the sign of life, and was so bold as to place a second toe on the gas, scooting along towards the battered thing.

CJ’s hula doll wibbled and wobbled as tires crushed ice and light debris underneath. The sight was oddly enchanting, a very welcome change from the bleak atmosphere and air of uncertainty associated with the now-close truck. Others might have forgone the idea entirely, instead preferring to hunker down on their lonesome. CJ, of course, knew there was great value in camaraderie especially in dire times. Whoever the truck’s owner was, they might have been a local: no tourist would be caught dead in such a rustic, country car. If not, CJ still wasn’t about to pass by without at least checking in. They might have been scared, hunkered up in such a bucket of bolts.

Slinking past at a frozen snail’s pace, it would have been easy to see inside the truck even from CJ’s position inside… had the height difference between the machines not been so drastic. The cabin lights were on, and the locking mechanisms on the old-fashioned doors were visible. It didn’t seem right for someone to leave their car unattended in such a state - the owner must be nearby! CJ wasn’t about to leave his car and go looking; he gave his wheel a firm bap, sounding off his proud horn in a short series of three bursts. When nothing happened, he did the same, and then a minute later, once more.

Finally, just as the fox noticed a small stalactite of fabric forming just overhead on the ceiling of his car, he saw movement… in the back of the truck, amidst strands and clumps of straw. Thinking a wild animal might have hitched a ride, CJ focused his eyes on the mound, validated when he saw a hog’s snout jutting from a low patch. Perhaps the farmer had tried sneaking a prize pig out of the barn in response to the weather warnings?

As CJ kept watching, debating whether or not to try moving the animal into his own car, a decent-sized hailstone sailed earthwards, landing right in one of the beast’s wide, flaring nostrils and sticking there. After a loud squeal and earth-rattling flailing, the true form of the creature emerged from beneath a surprisingly thin sheet of wheat: a fully anthropomorphic swine, grain entangled in an off-white beard of bristles! The truck bed creaked and groaned, rubber wheels flattening beneath as what must have been an obscene amount of weight was shifted. It was hard to tell just how big this pig was, as most of his body was still covered up by hay, but judging by the way his chins jiggled as his tubular arms desperately prodded at the ice lodged in his schnoz, he must have been huge.

CJ had to rub his ultramarine eyes in utter disbelief. It was already hard to imagine a farmer sticking a pig in a pile of hay rather than in the much safer truck cabin, but for a sentient being to be out in the relative open at a time like this? It was nothing short of ridiculous! When the frozen ball finally melted and fell out of the exposed hog’s nose, he managed to spot CJ’s car for the first time, and… wave.

The fox, desperate for some sort of rationalization, rolled his window down - just a crack. He opened his mouth, paused, and shut his jaw. He needed to speak, yet, no words were coming out. It was hard enough to parse the information he had just been bombarded with, let alone try and address it. A loud gurgle came from the pig’s side of the conversation, intensifying the awkward lull. CJ finally found the words after many ticking minutes, the heat in his cheeks worse than any storm could hope to be.

“Whatcha up to?”

CJ’s playful lilt faltered only slightly, confusion making the inquiry seem more urgent than it was. By all accounts, it was a perfectly valid question. The boar, however, seemed baffled by it, as if his reasons for being outside during what could be a massive, destructive storm were obvious. Still being assaulted by small pellets of frigid ice, he shifted in his seat, the resulting cascade of hay revealing a pair of breasts that would make any farmer’s cow blush. They were propped up on what must have been a boulder-sized belly - its true form was still hidden, a veil of dried straw covering him from the chest down. No wonder the hog didn’t seem all that fazed by the hail - it would’ve been surprising if he felt it underneath all that blubber! Rendered mute by shock, and soon by embarrassment as he noticed the porker had taken note of his staring, CJ once again stumbled over his words.

“Are you… alright?” CJ’s incredulousness was detectable above the apocalyptic din around him, even if his voice was not. The inquiry was one-dimensional: physically, the pig seemed unharmed, but mentally, his state was much more questionable. In response, the boar snorted, as if the answer was obvious.

“A ‘course I’m alright, can’tcha tell? What kinda doofus would be afternoon-snoozin’ in weather like this if he wasn’t sure he’d be OK doin’ it? A better question is, are you doin’ good?” The curious creature nodded towards CJ’s splintered windshield, one wiper perpendicular to the rugged road below. “Looks like your ride’s on death’s door! Before that glass gets all over your get-up, how’s about you swap cars? Doors’re open!”

The truck cabin did look inviting, and the frame, though caked with dirt, seemed much more resilient than the glossy film CJ’s chassis was draped by. But, abandoning his pride and joy would be difficult. Months of work and tuning had gone into making it road-worthy, and he would want to be with it directly in its final moments, if it came to that. Noticing CJ’s apprehension, the pig sighed, and began a long, agonizing wriggle, culminating in his thunderous disembarkation from the truck bed, upon which any unfortunate hailstones and even some bumps in the pavement were flattened without mercy. The truck, a severe weight off its shoulders, gave a heavy suspension-sigh, springs and coils relaxing and lifting the craft’s wooden aft high above the ground. CJ was more concerned with the shifted scale of his new acquaintance.

Standing above and on a great pile of worthless hay was eight hundred pounds of pure, porkish lard, stuffed into and spilling from a miraculously mobile body. CJ looked down at himself: never before had he felt so in-shape! Even a hibernation-ready bear would seem a body-builder standing next to the titanic boar, whose appetite matched his look: he bent, shamelessly nude and blush-provoking, to grab a hoof’s worth of hay and chow down. In between gnashing, sloppy chomps, he huffed, “Urf, wakin’ up is always a pain… went to bed full, now I’m starved!” Initial plans of helping the driver come to a decision now scrapped in favour of sating his hunger, the pig abandoned the last shreds of decency he had and started his feast.

“Well, I have some peanuts in the…” CJ’s thought was interrupted by a low, loud, guttural growl, the bassy cry of an empty stomach that made the fox’s perky ears flatten. Even with the pig turned around, it was a safe bet that the tectonic activity made those added pounds quake viciously. CJ was thankful he didn’t have to see that, and that his silly thought had seemingly gone unnoticed. In the fox’s glove compartment was a small bag of roasted peanuts, perfect for crunching while on the road, but worthless when it came to feeding someone who went through a few buffets daily. If anything, the tease of food would just make the hog hungrier, and CJ wasn’t sure he wanted that.

As the strange boar dropped to all fours to make short work of the strewn straw, CJ weighed his options. Leaving meant risking a breakdown and further damage to his car, while staying meant the same, only with company, however uncivilized it may be. With no other landmarks in sight, at least none as big as his newfound character of a companion, it was decided that he’d be staying until the storm blew over. With this came a new revelation: as CJ’s eyes naturally wandered away from the glutting pig’s backside, they saw the truck, now raised so high as to be able to fit part of his car beneath.

Thinking fast, he eased on the clutch and rolled his ride as far beneath the sturdy platform as was possible. He only got to just about three quarters of the way up the hood before things got a little too close for comfort, but this way, any more freak hail wouldn’t damage the engine block. Now parked up, the only thing left was to make a mad dash for the truck. The falling baseballs surrounding CJ’s makeshift encampment made the prospect a frightening, dangerous one. The more he thought about it, the less intelligent it seemed to make the dash from one seat to the other.
Finished with his spontaneous lunch break, the fat hog looked around, baffled. Where had that friendly fox gone off to? A chunk of hail bounced off his sturdy skull, eeking an oink out of the unfazed piggy. After a brief search, he found the indecisive fox still in his car, which seemed to have gotten trapped under the truck. Bemused, he waddled up to knock on the far window, startling poor CJ. Turning around, all he saw was that nonchalant, ginger face.

“You stuck?” snickered the pig, all too familiar with how easy it was to wedge oneself in a car. “Y’know, maybe the truck ain’t too safe a place neither… yeah, how’s about you come out this way? I got a better plan!” After this declaration, the truck beeped, and its lights flashed. Was there someone inside, after all?

“What’s wrong with just getting under the bed itself?” CJ questioned. “It looks like there’s no hail hitting the road there.”
“Wha? Naw, don’t be silly! You ain’t gotta get on the ground like some sorta pig - ‘sides, that’s where all the glass’d fall if your windows bust open. Jus getcherself over to my side, I’ll keep ya safe… n’ warm!” An ominous groan once again sounded from the pig, one that convinced CJ he would be better off taking a risk with the hail. Though he wasn’t particularly opposed to cuddling for warmth, the fox was under the impression the hog had some ulterior motives. Hay alone wouldn’t be able to fill a gut that monstrous!

The drivers’ side door flung open, and out burst a scurrying fox, tail trailing behind. It took a whole of three steps to reach the truck door, but by the first, the hail was already too much for CJ to handle. A few larger bits battered his body all over, thin cotton doing nothing to save him from the torrent. Most injuries would do nothing but ache and bruise later on, but one particularly forceful hit coaxed a few drops of cyan blood out from under his skin. There wasn’t much pain to it, just a further dull buzz of discomfort, but the damage could easily add up. As if CJ needed any more convincing that this hail was serious!

Fiddling with the door, CJ was able to get a good look inside through the window: a discarded straw hat, far too small to be the pig’s, was laying upside-down on the passenger’s seat. Come to think of it, it was unlikely that hog would have been able to fit in such a tight interior. He would have taken a closer look around the inside, had the door not failed to open. Further jiggling left the handle in the same place it had always been; confused, the hail-struck fox tilted his head, discovering the locks had been engaged.

“You’re gettin’ beat up, guy!” The hog yelped, scrambling over the car to get to the apparently in-danger fox. If the hail wasn’t going to ruin CJ’s vehicle, then an obese pig sliding on top certainly was: the suspension strained, a side mirror fell clean off, and even the hula doll finally had enough, flopping over for a well-earned rest. CJ, turned around in surprise, caught an eyeful of a wide-eyed wild boar, clawing his way towards him! He would have run off, had it not been for one thing…

With his piggy partner now in full-frontal view, CJ could see the greatest oddity of all: a mouth, enormous and functioning, centered right on his sagging gut! The sight was freezing, the mix of shock, terror and morbid curiosity all combining into one indescribable emotion, enough to overload any mind. The rapidly approaching maw, tusks on either side, seemed intent on swallowing him whole - when it paused a foot away, its owner panting with exertion and coating CJ in clouds of warm air, it seemed as if time had stopped.

The clock, of course, kept ticking, and the hail kept falling, only now it was blocked by the sheer girth of the pig looming overhead. CJ dropped his defensive stance and looked up at the spirited, if exhausted, creature.

“I don’t remember the door bein’ locked… sorry, pal! O-Oh, yeah… forgot ta warn ya bout my gut, huh?” Whatever the pig was toting, he didn’t seem scared by it. CJ had seen plenty of unique-looking people in his travels, though none with features quite as terrifying… or as interesting! Now that he knew it wouldn’t be trying to kill him, CJ felt safer in taking a good, long look at the maw. His living shield cocked his head, unsure about what was so appealing about his belly. After a quick look downwards, he yelped and took a step backwards, only to reconsider as the hail grew more intense. This was fine by the fox; this was too cool! The pig was all too happy to flaunt his bellymaw, turning a bit to show it off from another angle while keeping himself between CJ and the wind-blown hail.

“Wow, I… wow!” CJ, now more enthusiastic than scared, sang. “How’d I not notice before? That looks… can it talk?”

“Oh, no, all he does is just kinda eat a bunch. Like me!” The pig chortled, grabbing his gut with both hooves. “Even if he’s full, thanks to that other fella.”

“Huh? There’s someone else around? Where are they?” CJ looked around. They weren’t in the truck, for sure, unless they were somehow hiding in the glovebox. All the while, the pig’s hooves never left his belly, kneading and stroking his half-ton paunch like the world’s largest ball of dough. The fox soon turned back to the pig, picking up on his movements… he didn’t…

“He’s sittin’ good n’ purdy right around…” with a pinch of a roll, the hungry hog smirked! “...here! Ol’ John tried zippin’ me outta here ‘fore the storm struck, but I guess I was weighin’ him down. So, we tried plan B!”

“You really… ate him?” The hog nodded. “With your belly mouth?” The hog nodded once more! “Then, how are you
gonna get back to, uh, wherever you’re from if he’s gone? You don’t seem like you can drive all that well!”

“Simple, really! I just ain’t gonna digest him!” If things weren’t weird already, now, they were ridiculous. Digesting something at will? CJ could believe the bellymaw - after all, he was staring it right in the face… er, mouth. But, this was pushing things. Eyeing the fox’s doubt, the hog lit up! “Hey, here’s somethin’! How’s about you two get ta know each other? Yeah, that’ll be extra warm, cuzza body heat or whatever! Looks like the hail’s gettin’ faster, too - I’ll keep ya safe!”

“Oh, uh, h-hah! Yeah, that’s, um -- “ CJ’s flustered stuttering was silenced by a sudden, drawn-out lick, courtesy of that giant maw! “Gah! Well, at least it isn’t biting me... “ Crawling into somebody’s mouth, no matter how spacious or enticing it may be, was not without its risks. CJ, however, was confident: thanks to his not-entirely-biotic makeup, he would last a good while if this was all some sort of long-winded trick. On top of that, he would be able to reform elsewhere, should the unthinkable happen. This, combined with his growing desire to curl up and sleep through the storm, drove him to nod and take a tentative step forwards…

“If it helps any, the name’s Cinnabar - you c’n call me Cin.” Gentle, heavy hands tenderly wrapped themselves around CJ’s shoulders, pushing just enough to lower him, giving an unrivalled view of the inside of the bellymaw. A wide, pink tongue rested within, a cliff beyond that led to goodness-knew-where. A few fangs dotted the edge of this mouth, though their positioning meant it would be very difficult to chew anything. They must have been more for retaining than anything. This was extra reassuring; all the positives seemed to outweigh the negatives. Feeling a rush of adrenaline, and even a spritz of excitement, CJ looked back up, peering through the valley formed in the middle of the hog’s chest.

“Heh, I’m CJ - CJ Fauxx... can’t say I ever planned on saying this to, uh, anyone… but, yeah: please, eat me, Cin!” CJ showed a few fangs of his own in a smile, which the pig only matched! That eager tongue came out once more, snaking its way between the fox’s legs. As it curled upwards, the monster of a hog lifted his new meal the slightest bit. Now suspended in air, it was easy working the compliant and wonderfully squirmy treat into the spacious bellymaw.

“Thanks, CJ..~” It took a bit of pig-tickling wiggling before the fox could get into a comfortable position, seated facing outwards, peeking out at the grey skies that he’d soon be leaving behind. After a few eternal moments, a great gulp, and a delighted sigh, CJ tumbled down into Cin’s belly proper. As Cinnabar cradled his stomach, he waddled back to his roost in the wooden trailer. Along the way, he pulled a pair of truck keys out from a roll of porky fat, unlocking the cabin with the press of a button.

CJ’s trip was a quicker one, nowhere near as tight as a typical gullet-slide would have been. The soft landing was nevertheless appreciated, though it raised a few questions of its own. CJ lifted a paw, straining to see what he was surrounded by in the dim, humid air. The stuff wasn’t standard stomach acid: this was thick, almost goopy, and it wasn’t stinging in the slightest. During his continued investigation, a small flame began to flicker behind the fox. The paired sound of a lighter flicking caught his attention, and he whipped around to see the hunched-over form of a perfectly healthy, if elderly, collie. Denim overalls and shiny waders remained intact as his fur, save for a slight bald spot up top - a straw hat would have been overkill, this outfit considered.

“Stars n’ stripes! Weren’t expectin’ company!” The old dog guffawed, his country drawl almost as warm as the belly they were within. The tiny flame illuminated just enough of the cavernous belly to reveal some sort of gelatin-like slime had all but replaced the acid one would have expected to be inside a stomach. The gentle swaying of the pig, accelerating to delighted writhing whenever CJ or his fellow belly-dweller patted a sensitive spot, sloshed the gel around, coating the fox in the stuff. Whatever it was, it was pretty comfy…

CJ had been through a lot; a nap was inevitable. The dog’s constant storytelling about nothing in particular exacerbated the growing sleepiness… with a happy, appreciative stroke to the belly walls and a curl, CJ’s eyes closed, dreams of carefree riding swarming his resting mind.