Chapter 3

Daddy's Mouth

The giant was moving.

Tim wasn't sure how, but he could feel it. Every step made his body vibrate. Occasionally, the giant's lips would part, and cold air would rake across Tim's body, only to be followed by a hot cloud of rancid morning breath to wash back over him in the other direction.

The giant stopped moving, and Tim heard the distant sound of a waterfall.

Blinding white light filtered into the giant's mouth.

Tim forced his eyes to adapt. Even though he couldn't blink. He tried to make them focus. White smudges burned into his vision. But eventually, Tim was able to see what was beyond the giant's maw.

It was a mirror. A giant mirror. It had to be bigger than a skyscraper. It was filled with a blurry image. It was so bright.

Was he in this giant's house?

Eventually, Tim's eyes adjusted enough that the blurry image in the colossal mirror refined into a form he recognised immediately.

Standing in front of this giant mirror was his dad! He was just standing there…in the bathroom as if it was a normal day.

Tim tried to jump and wave his arms. His body didn't move. It just lay in his dad's mouth like a slimy lump.

'Dad! Daddy! I'm in here! I'm in your mouth! Help! Help me! Save me, Daddy!' Tim tried to scream, but just as before, his mouth wouldn't move, no sound would come, and it was more like he was screaming in his head than actually shouting.

His dad acted as if he couldn't hear or see the distressed five-year-old boy in his mouth. 

Squirting a small drop of toothpaste onto his white, electric toothbrush, Eric leaned into the mirror, opened his mouth wide, and lifted the instrument to his mouth.

Tim felt nausea bubble in his tummy as his dad suddenly leaned closer to the mirror. It felt like when his dad would speed the car up when going down a steep hill, only times like a thousand.

The nausea was quickly dissolved by a wave of horror, though, when Tim regained his equilibrium and was staring through the jaws of his giant father and into the titanic mirror. He could see the inside of his dad's mouth perfectly, down to the small specks of plaque that had escaped previous brushings.

He could see inside the giant mouth.

There was no tiny Tim inside it.

Tim tried to move. Maybe if he did, he'd see himself.

Again, he was unable to move and still, Tim remained vacant from the mirror.

Was he invisible?

What was going on?

Nnnzzzzzttttttt

The head of his dad's electric toothbrush appeared at the entrance of the giant mouth. Like everything else, it easily dwarfed Timmy, and the little boy was suddenly aware of just how small and helpless he was as the dental implement entered his daddy's maw.

It touched down on one of the giant teeth.

Tim felt his very bones rattle as the tooth was scrubbed by the huge, fast-moving fibres, finding and destroying specks of food and plaque from the night before. They showered Tim along with dozens of bits of foamy snow that smelled strongly of mint.

He wanted to squirm in disgust and shake it off like a dog fresh from a bath or a rainy walk.

However, Tim's disgust was eroded as he felt the several spots where the toothpaste had splattered him begin to burn. The ever-present taste of saliva and digested food was replaced by the way too-strong flavour of mint and Listerine.

'AHHHHH! DADDDY! STOP! IT HURTS!' Tim mentally shrieked.

It was like he was being bathed in acid!

His dad didn't stop and continued to brush his teeth, unaware of the torture he was submitting on to his little boy.

The giant buzzing brush moved over each tooth, each one splattering its corrosive kiss over little Timmy. His screams were so frequent and so loud that even Tim was becoming deaf to them. It even started to feel like he was going through the motions as he begged the unhearing giant, the fear and agony burning their way into his mind for years to come.

Tim was suddenly bathed in light. He was dimly aware of the giant mirror as he stared at his reflection. A long, maroon and red tongue, splattered with foam.

There was no teeny tiny Tim glued to the tongue.

The brush moved over Tim.

He didn't react until it pressed onto him, and he screamed.

Eric winced as he felt the brush massage the toothpaste into his tongue. Hopefully, this would help rid him of his deadly morning breath, as Nancy put it. After a few seconds, he stopped, his tongue vibrating with the memory of the onslaught, and he began to rinse and spit, glad for that to be over.

Tim was relieved when he was back inside his daddy's mouth. The comforting smell of his morning breath was heavily diluted by the toothpaste, but at least he was safe now.

He understood why he didn't see himself in the mirror now.

Why there was no reflection of a tiny stuck Tim.

He wasn't invisible. He wasn't a little Superman. He wasn't a tiny little boy.

He was a tongue.

He was his dad's tongue.

"Daddy…" Tim internally sniffed, dread and despair settling into him as he tried to retreat into his own mind and enjoy the brief safety of his dad's closed mouth.

"Timmy! Is that you!?" an urgent voice shouted.

Tim immediately recognised it as his mother's, and hope swelled in his little heart. Even though he didn't really have one, as a tongue.

"Mommy, is that you?" Tim asked hopefully.

"Yes, baby!" the voice answered worriedly.

"Please! You have to help me! I'm daddy's tongue! Where are you?!" He shouted frantically.

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Mommy?!" Tim shouted, terrified she was gone.

‘I…I think…I…I’m your father’s nose…’

The hope died in little Timmy's heart.