(pokemon hardvore. Cruel. Disposal.)
The toy boat and the bucket share one common factor... neither of them are under the shelter of the umbrella. And while they do offer their own form of shade, all it would take would be for someone to obliviously pluck one up, and then your shelter is gone. Beyond that, however... you know for a fact that plastic objects, when left out in the sun for a prolonged period, can get hot. Hiding against one of them would practically be like resting in a sauna. You may well fall asleep and not wake up.
Instead, you elect to take shelter beneath the umbrella. That's the safest, and most conveniently the easiest, path forward. You're in Alola, after all. You might as well take the slow, leisurely way forward. You approach the umbrella's pole, sit down, and proceed to tuck your lower body in sand, leaving only your ace completely uncovered. You lie there in the shade, the heat of the beach now reduced to a manageable, comfortable warmth. Despite your position of relative comfort, you vow to remain awake. You will wait for human help to arrive, then the moment you do, you will get their help. You rest in the shade for now, content that your cleverly crafted hiding spot will ensure your safety. Your cleverly crafted, snug hiding spot. Your snug, snug hiding spot...
====
You lie there until you wake from your slumber. You find yourself resting on your reclining beach chair, gazing out into the sea. Still listless from what you assume to be a long walk along the beach, you find yourself unable to move your arms. In spite of your sleep paralysis, however, you feel relieved. Relieved that you aren't the size of a mouse. You groan in a mix of relief, and fatigue, and mild bewilderment as you observe your surroundings. You spot the red umbrella from before... and a man in a robe, idly talking with a vullaby, who appears to be holding a toy boat.
As you return to the land of the waking, you at last gain the ability to move your arms. You reach down into a nearby cooler and go for a bottle of soda. Instead, as you dig your hand into the cooler's mix of melting ice and frigid water, you pluck out your phone. Odd. You don't remember putting it there. Strange decision. Well. You might as well use your phone.
You tap on an app labeled "Gexle," your favorite search engine. The browser directly opens up to a news article, headlined "Bargei|/t Shurk Again." Apparently a typo. But as you read through the article, you find that it is closer to a string of arbitrary characters, some of them likely not even qualifying as actual letters. As the Latin-alphabet characters fade into an incomprehensible creole of latin-alphabet hexadecimal strings, Sinnohan script, braille, Basic, and triangular Chozo characters, you begin to wonder if something is wrong.
Your attention is soon diverted away from the news article by a loud burst of noise, coming from the direction of the sea. You turn your attention over to the water, and see a pirate ship, helmed by by a skeleton waving a cutlas with an emerald studded hilt. You are too distracted by the sight of the skeleton to wonder how you can see such a precise detail from such a great distance. The Skeleton points his blade towards the shore and issues a command to an unseen crew. His ship opens fire... but instead of producing cannonballs, it causes meteors to fall from the sky, striking down with a series of echoing THUDs. You try to flee, but sleep paralysis halts you. Suddenly, a meteor descends straight towards you, eliciting a strange SNIFF SNIFF SNIFFing noise as it nears. Realizing that your doom is upon you suddenly spring up and scream. And as you scream, the meteor freezes in place and begins to transform...
====
Your scream dies in your throat as the meteor freezes in front of you and transforms into something different. Gazing up at the sight before you, you see not a meteor but.. a black leathery nose. A nose that is currently sniffing aggressively at your tiny form. You find that your body is now half covered in sand...and you quickly realize why. You only dreamt that you were normal size. You must have fallen asleep! And that enormous nose...
That nose belongs to the muzzle of the Lycanroc you saw earlier... only now, the colossal canine is directly before you, sniffing you out as if to determine whether you belong to another hound, are an appropriate spot to defecate on, a viable chewtoy, or a potential meal. The constant echoing sniffs are not the only thing your senses notice. The air is heavy with the scent of dogfood and slobber, the you can see more than just the creature's nose. Its blue eyes are gazing at you, clearly focused on your tiny form. Its enormous muzzle is big enough to fit your body several times over. Suddenly, that muzzle opens wide and the Lycanroc smashes his tongue against your tiny face, mashing the back of your head against the umbrella's Pole. Hard. The Lycanroc lifts his head, leaving your upper body soaked in yucky dog slobber as he ponders the pros and cons of your flavor to determine whether you'll be a good chew.
You rest there... sore from the lick, near frozen in fear, your vision distorted by a wave of slobber. As you wipe at that slobber, you see the Lycanroc's expression shift from one of focus to one of...excitement. The gigantic canine lets out an eager whine ...and as it does so, you feel a warmth coming from your groin . The sand around your thighs has gotten...damp. You've pissed yourself in fear. "Please don't...
Before you can say anything, the Lycanroc accepts the initiative you have granted him and lunges forward and seizes your body loose from the sand, trapping your upper body within the darkness of his maw and leaving your legs to dangle. And dangle they do. Your legs are subjected to violent forces as the dog proceeds to swing his head around and trot along the beach. Your screams of agony reverberate pointlessly within the creature's dark, cavernous maw...earning only eager licks in response.
A few minutes into your torment you begin to struggle within the confines of his maw. You attempt to push at his tongue, to issue repeated commands, demanding he let you go. But your tiny body fists seem to bounce helplessly off of his tongue, and your command go unheeded. You gaze into the darkness of his maw, wondering if your life will really end with you plummeting down the rancid maw of a giant canine.
Just when you think he's about to gulp you, the Lycanroc spits you out onto the beach. You lie there, twitching, finding yourself ill equipped to even move. You let out a groan, this time one of pure anguish and despair.
Before you can even try to move, the Lycanroc seizes his fangs around your ankles with bone crunching force, and proceeds to lift you off of the sandy shore and up into the air. You suspect he is about to devour you here and now... only to be blindsided by a sudden and overwhelming surge of motion as the canine bolts forward across the beach.
What follows is an hour long roller coaster ride. The dog scarcely makes an attempt to chew at your body. Instead, he simply runs along the beach in what would appear to be a benign game, treating you as if you were a stick. However, the g-forces your body is subjected to would say otherwise. Over the course of an hour, the dog's recreation renders you paralyzed for good, stiff as a stick. Your near constant screams and wails provide him with a providing set of squeaks, and the wounds around your lower legs give him a good sampling of your flavor. excellent for a chewtoy.
Eventually, the Lycanroc tires of his sprint. He gets down on all fours by the water and allows you to fall out of his mouth. You land face-first against the sand. The Lycanroc immediately smashes his pawpad against the back of your head, mashing you into the sand. The canine then casually gets down on all fours and its your feet into his muzzle.
What follows is an experience that is agonizing beyond description. The Lycanroc begins to slowly your body into mush from the ankles up. All the while, you are barely able to breathe . A third of your breaths are you choking on sand, a another third sees you guzzling down saltwater. And oh... the saltwater. The ocean waves do not trouble the Lycanroc, but with every contact the salty water serves to make your wounds twice as agonizing.
The Lycanroc gnaws your ankles, then your lower legs, then your legs, then your arms, then your belly, then finally your chest until there's no evidence they were ever there in the first place. Not taking a liking to your head, he smashes his paw down onto it and crushes it into a paste.
The Lycanroc yawned , having finished off his chewy at last, then relaxed along the shore of the beach, pondering the nature of existence. Looking at the vastness of the sea, he found himself pondering why he invested so much energy into the toy in the first place. Ah... but there was a reason. There had to be. Meaty chewtoys like this one provide more than just sustenance. They provide enjoyment. And enjoyment is a vital part of life. Yes. That is the reason. But was it right for him to take the toy, when it likely belonged to a human? Well... humans discard edible things along the beach all the time, and few of them eat them out of the sand. Yes. Better the chewtoy wind up in his belly than be wasted. And then , he heads back to his owner's property.
Days later, a blond haired Alolan Beauty sat outside of a fastfood restaurant, chitchatting on the phone about a reality TV show, when she caught a glimpse of her Lycanroc approaching a bush. She knew where this was going. Not bothering to interrupt the conversation,she pulled out her poop-catcher stick and lowered it beneath the Lycanroc's bottom preemptively. She turned her head and continued conversing as the dog shat what's left of you out into the bag.
YOU DIED.
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