Chapter 10: Failed Excretion

Peter Rabbit was horrified. He'd hoped that his living hell inside the hawk was going to end tonight. But now, he was too fat to come out her vent and thus was stuck inside her cloaca. A frightening thought crossed his mind. "What if I...ptuhhh...never get out...ptuhhhh...of here and...ptuhhhh...I get buried...ptuhhhh...in your waste? Ptuhhh!"
"Hopefully, that won't happen. If you never get out, we're both going to die. You, from being buried alive. Me, from a severe case of constipation."
Peter couldn't help but laugh at her remark, despite his situation, and despite getting waste in his mouth from doing so. The idea of dying from constipation did seem hilarious.
"That's not funny! Don't make me regret not digesting you!"
Peter stopped laughing. "Any idea how to...ptuhhh...ptuhhh...get me outta here? PTHHH!"
"As I said, the best idea is for you to slim down a bit from lack of food and for the waste behind you to act as a force pushing you outward. Hopefully, that'll happen before you get fully buried."

The night went on. The hawk made a few more attempts at vacating her cloaca, but they were all in vain. The young rabbit was like a plug, blocking up her vent. UNNNNH! UNNNNNNNH! UNNNNH! She grunted hard, her cloaca pulsating and opening but only a part of the rabbit able to come out. His waist was still too big to fit through her vent. "I'm sorry, it's not working." she said after her final attempt that night to try and poop him out. "I'm afraid you're going to have to wait till tonight."
"Tonight? PTUUHHH!"
"Yes. Unless you want me to poop you out where you can be seen."

Agnes had eaten more than usual that night. While she normally was fed enough by the McGreggors so that, at most, she only hunted late night snacks when let out of her cage, now she had already snagged several rodents plus two squirrels. This was going to full her crop and proventriculus, but she didn't care. It would provide extra nutrients and also, she figured, mean extra waste that would, hopefully, create enough force to help push Peter out for her.
When she came back to her cage, she demanded food right away and ate it all quickly, despite already feeling full. She also drank a lot, figuring that more urates also would mean more pressure. She knew that all this waste wouldn't add any comfort to Peter, but it seemed the best means of getting him out of her body alive. The McGreggors were concerned about her appetite plus her lack of droppings in her cage that day.

"I think she's got something wrong with her. Not only is she eating a lot but she hasn't relieved herself." Mrs. McGreggor remarked that afternoon.
"I agree. Something is up with our hawk. Maybe she's pregnant or something." Mr. McGreggor said in agreement.
Agnes, of course, wasn't pregnant, though she sure felt like it with Peter stuck in her cloaca. Even laying several eggs didn't hurt this badly!
"Maybe she ate something that didn't agree with her." Mrs. McGreggor remarked. This, of course, was true, in a sense, but she wasn't to know that Peter Rabbit had survived.

Peter Rabbit, meanwhile, was doing his best to not panic. He had now been inside the hawk for over 72 hours and had been breathing in the fumes of the wastes in her cloaca for over a full day now. The waste, solid feces and semi-solid urates, continued to pour in. However, the only thing going out of her cloaca at the moment was gas, which squeezed its way past him. Unfortunately, there was more of this than usual exiting her vent due to the hawk's altered diet. The fumes were so bad that Peter finally couldn't abstain from vomiting anymore.
"Well, there...plhhhhh, goes my lunch that...pluhhhh...I had a few...pluhhhh...days ago. Pluhhhh! Your ass stinks...PTUHHH! PTUHH! too much with your...PTUHHHH...pee and poop and...PTUHHH...gas! PTUH!"
"Sorry, this is where my body sends waste products."
"I'm not a...PTUHHH...waste product! PTUHH!"
"I know you aren't, but you're stuck traveling with them."

Urates continued to enter from the ureter and feces from the rectum, filling up the proctodeum until the waste pile was now nearly up to Peter's arm level. "I need to...PTUH! PUHHH! get outta here...PTUHHH...before I literally...PTUHHH...am buried in this...PTUHHH...shit! PTHHH!"
"It's nearly dark. I'll try and have another go at a bowel movement as soon as I get out." the hawk replied.
"Thanks. PTUHHH!"

Half an hour later, the hawk left her cage, taking off into the night. She landed over a mile away from the house. "I'm going to try again. Brace yourself for the drop." the hawk said. Peter readied himself for a fall out her vent. The hawk once more bent her legs into a squat and lifted her tail out of the way of her cloaca. "Here goes." UNNNNNNH! OOOOH! UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNH! OOOOH! UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNH! She grunted hard and squeezed harder than she had with even her most stubborn past egg. More gas than she had ever emitted before shot out her cloaca, making Peter vomit again. However, though she was able to push a bit more of him out than last time, getting about half of him out now, his middle was still too big. "I'm sorry." she panted. "It's still not working."
"How do I keep from-PTUHH! PTUH!-being buried in your waste then? PTHHH! It's getting up to my neck! PTUHHH!"
"I don't know, but I'll think of something."