[A/N: Contains sfw soft vore. Based on a Japanese ad for pocky where Black Jack gets a pink color palette. Sorry to everyone for ruining it with this fic.]
"So you ate a cursed box of pocky,"
Black Jack stared upwards at Rock, who stared back curiously,
"And it turned you pink, and two inches tall."
Black Jack sighed at the current situation- yes, it was good that the suspicious box of pocky left at his door wasn't poisoned, per say, but being two inches tall wasn't exactly the best outcome either. The pink color he could stand, despite his own clothes practically burning a hole in his retinas.
Rock, on the other hand, was thoroughly entertained. "You know, I think pink would really help your whole 'intimidating doctor' problem. A new color palette might not be such a bad thing," he smirked, doing nothing to hide his enjoyment. Black Jack tried to ignore it, continuing on, "Some of my scalpels got shrunk with me," he gestured to the inside of his coat, showing off miniaturized scalpels in the pockets, "but at this size, there would be no way for me to operate."
"To be fair, you did eat a box of pocky that was left outside your door by some mysterious passerby."
"I didn't think it'd be magic, alright?"
Two fingers suddenly pinched the fabric behind Black Jack's neck, the tiny doctor suddenly being hoisted into the air and brought closer to Rock's face. "Sheesh, you even smell like candy." His legs kicked in the air, protesting against being carried around. There was a sort of realization- maybe now that he had another person to compare himself too- of just how small he was. Rock idly fiddled with him like he was some doll, ignoring his apparent annoyance.
"So, I guess you'll have to look into some smaller surgeries. You think mice will let you operate?"
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Oh yes, definitely."
As Rock continued to tease him ("Is it alright to call you a 'shrink' now?"), Black Jack found another realization that Rock seemed to be overly focused on him. Behind the dark glasses was a certain kind of hunger, one that he kept denying was there yet couldn't quite shake off. He spaced out of whatever jabs Rock had for him, now finding details he either didn't notice before or was making up in his head out of suspicion. The hot breath of Rock's exhale. The way just a flash of his teeth could be seen in the dim light. The way he licked his lips that seemed to stretch on for an eternity to the doctor.
Rock seemed to notice it too, casually propping his chin on his hand and hiding a bit of his mouth with his fingers. The odd feeling- wanting not just to eat, but to consume- was growing in the pit of his stomach. Despite having eaten a meal before he came here, he felt a new kind of hunger gripping him.
Both are starting to suspect there's just one more catch to this "curse".
Black Jack had stopped listening to whatever Rock was saying, until one line snapped him back to reality.
"You know, if you smell like sugar, I wonder…"
He turned, eyes wide, to see Rock's face slowly approaching him. "Don't. Even. Think-"
Too late. Rock's tongue pressed against his body, slowly sliding upward as it fully took in his taste. "Ah," seemed he was right, "you taste," he licked Black Jack again, slathering him in drool, "really sweet."
Black Jack wasn't having this, of course. He reached under his coat for a scalpel, but Rock quickly took notice. He tugged at the coat, some scalpels falling to the desk before it was ripped away, leaving Black Jack defenseless.
He was then pushed past Rock's lips, held between his teeth and sucked into the rest of his mouth. From then on he was simply subject to wherever the tongue pushed him- at first he fought against it, but soon found the larger, squishier environment made it exhausting to even try. Eventually he was forced to relax (though not mentally) and let himself be slid around. He knew he was literally in a mouth, but did Rock have to slobber on him so much? By now his clothes were soaked through, giving him no traction against the offending tongue.
Rock, meanwhile, was feeling practically elated from the sugary taste in his mouth. It was like it had infected him, the sweetness numbing out whatever qualms he had with shoving his friend into his mouth. It was like some never-ending piece of strawberry chocolate, able to be savored instead of melting away so soon. He took care to not chew (he wasn't that much of an asshole), but did play with the temptation of actually swallowing. Some itch in his brain- presumably another "encouragement" from this pocky curse- seemed to dull down the fact that swallowing your friend whole was usually frowned upon. It just seemed so satisfying to finish the job, after all. He'd just spit him back up later, right? Surely he could withstand stomach acid for a little while.
The mouth had, at this point, become a routine of licking and wetness for Black Jack. However, he took notice that gravity had shifted, slowly carrying him down the tongue. For a brief moment, he was given a view of what lay deeper. Muscle rippled downward, saliva dripping into darkness that was becoming dangerously closer.
He struggled. He couldn't help it, honestly. Rock was actually going to swallow him, just like that. Despite wriggling with all his tiny might, Rock simply tilted his head back so he'd fall right where he wanted. Muscle suddenly closed around him, working to squeeze him downward. They relaxed for a moment, allowing Black Jack a breath, before squeezing in again and pushing him further. Maybe it was because he was larger than the average bit of food, but it certainly didn't seem like it took this long to go down when he ate.
Finally the space opened up, evidently the stomach. Fluid mixed with whatever Rock had last eaten churned beneath him (Luckily, with his profession, Black Jack was plenty used to seeing this), while the fleshy walls were slick with mucus. The space was just tight enough that he had to crouch, eventually giving up and sitting down in the digestive fluid. Despite the small bubbles around him, he soon found he didn't seem to be affected- at least, he was pretty sure his skin was still intact.
Another part of this weird curse. At this point he didn't care, he was just glad he wasn't being dissolved. Now that the threat of that was gone, he had a chance to take in his surrounding with actual interest instead of fear.
The first thing he noticed was the ambience- it surrounding him, pressing in like the stomach walls. Lungs pushed air in and out, a heart pumped blood to his left, and a multitude of other organs worked around him on other bodily functions. As a doctor, he couldn't lie that he found it appropriate to be fascinated by literally being within the body.
Gravity shifted again and Black Jack was swayed to his side. Rock was splaying himself across his couch- he didn't need to see it to know. He probably didn't even take his goddamn shoes off.
"Hey, Rock!" He yelled, wondering if he could even here his voice from within here. He could feel a muscle tense, confirming his hope.
"Y-yes?" It echoed around him in an odd way. He could tell there was a slight nervousness to it, Rock slightly regretting his actions. Slightly.
"You swallowed me."
"Ah, yeah, I did, didn't I?"
Black Jack reached somewhere in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of fluid. While the amount was miniscule in comparison to the stomach, it was plenty to get him out of here when he needed to. Upwards, that is. The fluid inside was just enough to upset the organ- as well as to give a bit of revenge for this predicament. Vomiting up a person probably wasn't great as eating one, especially now that the candy flavor would be overshadowed by an acidic taste.
"Do you… want me to let you out?"
"Actually," Black Jack poked at a fold in the stomach, "I might stay here for a moment. It's an… interesting experience. I don't seem to be digesting, anyway." He could feel Rock relax a bit, probably relieved that, despite being the one who ate him, his friend wasn't being broken down.
Black Jack allowed himself to relax as well. The odd orchestra of organs made for a strange environment- but a calming one. A warm, heavy sort of blanket, though much slimier than most.
"Trust me, you'll know when I want out."