A commissioned work
Speed walking over a dry, cracked sidewalk, Amanda knew it was almost time to start boiling the water for her dinner “date.” Knowing she was possibly going to be late, she knew she had to get home quickly in order for everything to be ready by the time she had promised her mother. After living alone with her for over a year, Amanda knew that she had to start pulling her own weight around the home in spite of the exhaustion she felt as a full-time student. Long, black hair bounced next to her thin face as she heard her flats pitter-patter against the ground. Squinting her eyes, she saw some ditzy-looking bitch standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring at her phone. Ugh! She didn’t want to get her socks wet in the dewy grass. “Well, I could always use one more!”
Still walking with intent, Amanda raised her right hand, on which was a gaudy bright pink ring. “Hey, bitch.” She said with a deep, commanding voice. As the woman’s head turned, Amanda pressed a tiny button on the palm-side of the ring, causing a bright flash of light, almost like a camera flash, to blink before her. In a split-second, the woman was almost gone. Looking downwards, she saw the same woman, only less than a centimeter tall, crawling backwards on the pavement. “Yeah, yeah. Bad day. I know.” Amanda stated as she squatted down and gently picked up her victim. The shrinking ring, both mysterious and useful, always gave her a certain powerful sensation within her chest. As she continued walking, she peeled the clothes off of the tiny, squirming woman with her fingernails, reveling in how formidable she felt in doing so.
Upon reaching the front door of her home, she realized that she didn’t exactly want to expose the little box of “spices” to the open air just yet, so she reached under her jacket and pressed the little squirmer between her D-cup breasts. That should hold her for however long this would take.
Immediately getting the food prepared, Amanda unboxed the spaghetti, heated up the sauce, added a few extra ingredients as per a beginner-level recipe she found online, and sighed. “Hi mom!” She shouted down the hallway.
“Hi dear! I’m excited!” Her mother responded.
“Why’s that?” Amanda asked, loudly, as tiny bubbles appeared at the bottom of the water-filled saucepan.
“You’re making dinner for once!”
Rolling her eyes, Amanda yelled down the hallway “Yeah, yeah! I know!”
Tapping her foot, she reviewed her ulterior motive within her own mind. “What am I missing?” She asked herself, trying to figure out what she forgot. “Glasses.”
Stomping down the hall, Amanda quickly turned into her mother’s bedroom and deftly snatched her mother’s thin-framed glasses from the nightstand and slipped them into her jeans pocket. “Can’t have her looking too closely at it.” She thought, feeling some relief as she found the water rolling to a boil. Snapping the pasta strings in half, she dumped them in the bowl as the sauce continued to simmer.
After several minutes of staring at her phone, stirring, sighing and looking at the clock, she felt as though time slowed down as she saw her mother walk down the hallway. Wearing a thin goldenrod sweater that hugged her shapely figure, Amanda considered herself very fortunate that she inherited her mother’s voluptuous body type.
Seeing her mother sit down at the pre-made table, Amanda knew it was time to begin plating. Scooping the softened pasta strands on the plate itself, she knew she would have to wait until after she poured the sauce before adding the “spice.” Licking her lips, she felt her heart begin to beat more quickly as she used a large ladle to spill the tomato-and-parsley mixture over the spaghetti itself. Looking down, pleased with her presentation, she turned her back and clinked the plate upon the counter. Without her mother noticing, Amanda deftly and subtly picked out a small, plastic tube from her front pocket.
As if she were adding salt, Amanda tapped the sides of the tube itself and watched as almost twenty shrunken people all poured from the lip at once, plopping into the red mixture below. Their thrashing was extremely clear to Amanda, but she knew it’d be nearly invisible to her usually-bespectacled mother, who seemed to have “misplaced” her glasses. Watching them writhe within the steaming red mixture was exciting in itself, but Amanda knew it was absolutely nothing compared to what was to come. After plating her own “spice-free” plate, she poured two glasses of wine. In her mother’s glass fell the last two shrunken squirmers. Perfect. Gourmet.
Turning her body towards the table, Amanda traipsed towards her mother carrying both the plate and glass. Leaning forward, she clinked both right in front of the older woman. After taking a few steps to set her own plate, Amanda sighed as she sat back down and smiled. Everything was relaxed.
“Thank you for this, sweetie! I’m excited to see how this turned out.” Her mother said, with a sweet tone to her voice.
The daughter smiled. “Oh, you have no idea! This is gonna blow your mind, I guarantee you.”
As Amanda’s mother picked up her fork, rolling her eyes as if her daughter made a silly joke, a light buzzing echoed through Amanda’s chest. The seriousness of the situation gripped her as she experienced a dream-like haze take over her body. Watching her mother’s fork begin to descend towards all of those tiny, terrified people, she couldn’t help but stare. Eyes wide. Focused.
Amanda gasped as a unique feeling exploded within her chest. It wasn’t an erotic thrill, but it was close. Blood coursed through her so quickly that her veins felt as though they were lightning bolts booming across a dark sky. She felt truly alive as an electric chill vibrated under her skin, feeling as though she were in a shadowy trance.
Almost shivering, she attempted to prevent herself from displaying any outward signs of the dazzled excitement she felt in every cell of her body. Wanting to bite her lip, she refused herself. Even the reflex to breathe heavily had to be actively repressed. This was just a normal dinner, one which she had made lovingly. Nothing strange was going on whatsoever.
Watching her mother stab the spaghetti strands with her fork and twist, Amanda grit her teeth, unable to keep her eyes from widening. To her great shame, she could also feel the familiar sensation of heat between her legs. A fiery churn burst in her gut as she attempted to reconcile these feelings as they were happening. A war raged within her inland empire. The vibration under her skin reached her eyes as her line of sight appeared as though it were buzzing.
Time slowed down as Amanda’s focus became razor sharp. Everything else other than the twisting strands over the fork became so irrelevant to her, her brain blacked it out. The sight of the writhing, sauce-covered hands, feet, and faces all tied up in the tornado of pasta added an uncanny, freezing sensation to the brilliant light already emanating from her deepest core. Each subtle motion was caused by a real human life reduced to nothing but a topping, a spice for her mother’s dinner. A spice that only she knew she added.
As the fork itself left the plate, Amanda could see at least three people slithering around in the carb-ridden mess on her mother’s fork, as well as a fourth hanging from the stray strand dangling below. Gazing upon the fork rising up to a pair of parted lips, Amanda threw any sort of shame out the window, she subtly slipped her phone out of her pocket under the table. Letting out a sigh, she unsilenced it with a “click,” pressed it up against her crotch as hard as she could, and squeezed her thighs. In spite of the fact that she was wearing jeans, some tactile sensation was better than none.
She had never seen her own mother this way. Before this event, she was just “mom,” but now, due to her own actions, she transformed her into some kind of frigid death-goddess consuming living beings with no care. The cocktail of emotions mixed within Amanda were both confusing and awe-inspiring. Not only could she use the shrinking device to transform herself into an insatiable beast, but also whomever she pleased.
Bringing her hands over the table itself, Amanda twisted the pink ring over the skin of her ring finger. Though she knew this was almost like playing with a gun, with all its intricate triggers and deadly potential, it was unavoidable given how quickly her heart was beating.
Seeing the strings themselves come into contact with her Mother’s tongue, Amanda couldn’t help but grunt. Pretending she was suppressing a cough, it was the closest she could get to fully suppressing the desire to let out a sexual moan. With her mother. At dinner. The putrid guilt that spiced her emotions gave an added sting as she watched the twisted cylinder of spaghetti slide away from her mother’s fork with only one stray strand remaining outside the reach of her burgundy lips. With a little sucking sound, she watched the last string slither between the pair of lips, her mother’s wet, glistening mouth gliding over the tiny, naked woman with a heart-pounding quickness.
Coinciding with this slurp, Amanda’s phone buzzed as she received a text. “G’nh.” Amanda couldn’t help but grunt again as she gripped the edge of the table hard enough with her fingernails she could feel them sink into the hardwood. Why did that have to happen at the exact wrong moment? The warmth within her crotch grew to levels that couldn’t be ignored. She could feel her own body heat radiate from her torso. A thin sheen of sweat grew on her forehead as she watched her mother’s jaw lower, her cheeks puff out rhythmically before a low, wet gulp.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Her mother asked.
Amanda, knowing she was blushing, squeezed her knees together as hard as she could. “Yeah, I, uh.” She sighed. “I’m just nervous giving you my cooking.” Her heart was pounding within her chest as she thought of the four people now traveling down her mother’s throat, who were now inevitably landing into the fetid pit of her stomach. She had just doomed several human beings to a disgusting, painful fate and her main goal was to behave normally. Failing to suppress any thoughts of the tiny people writhing in her mother’s gut, Amanda gave her mother an extremely fake-looking smile. Neither her eyes, nor brows, moved whatsoever, but she knew she had to at least try.
Her mother shrugged, her dyed blonde hair bouncing slightly on her shoulders. “Well, okay! It tastes fine so far!” She rolled her hazel eyes as she lowered her fork towards the plate of spaghetti the second time. “There’s no reason to freak out, Mandy.”
As the fork clearly scooped up a couple, a man and a woman in a terrified embrace, Amanda responded “Oh, I know. No reason to freak out at all. Everything is fine. Normal.”
The fork quickly ascended towards her mother’s mouth. Amanda could see the scattered bits of red sauce and pasta splattered over her tongue. Her teeth were very white, especially for her age. Every detail of her face appeared in bizarre clarity as Amanda experienced another trance as the couple were lifted closer and closer to the cavernous, damp mouth of her own mother. Seeing the contours of her mother’s face shift as her jaw lowered, Amanda’s eyes scanned the rest of her upper body. The very body that this couple was going to become one with.
Knowing she looked very similar to her mom, she saw almost the same nose she saw in the mirror every morning, complete with the attractively flaring nostrils and low bridge. Though she knew she mostly inherited her father’s eyes, her mother’s eyes were pretty nonetheless. A beautiful green color, Amanda saw a few subdued splotches of brown in the mix. The slight crows feet at the corners betrayed her age, but Amanda understood that her mother looked beautiful for her late forties. Her high cheekbones and defined jawline all combined into a bewitching allure.
A twisted sickness fluttered within Amanda’s gut as she watched the tiny couple scream as they were held before the wide-open mouth. Squeezing her legs together, Amanda grit her teeth, knowing she was experiencing a deeply forbidden oedipal attraction. Seeing the cords of saliva stretch and break within the deep pink mouth as her mother’s breath wafted over the two tiny victims, she couldn’t help but feel envious of them. To be able to caress her mother’s - Georgina’s - mouth with their nude bodies. To slither against her wet heat.
Her mother’s mouth closed without placing the forkful inside. “Normal.” The older woman stated. With the tiny human beings still stuck to the end of the utensil, strings swinging below, her mother continued. “I’m not gonna lie, you’re acting a bit weird. Are you on your period?”
“Mom!” The shock of the question snapped back Amanda’s mood like a broken rubber band. Gasping as she watched the mass of food enter the mouth unceremoniously, her mother continued, talking with her mouth open.
“What? I mean you’re acting weird is all.” She still hadn’t swallowed, the couple were still splattering around within her mother’s hot oral chamber. With her mouth still full, the blonde woman stated “It’s spaghetti. You can’t fuck up” She gulped loudly. “Spaghetti.”
Amanda couldn’t help but trace their path down her mother’s throat with her eyes. Landing behind her mother’s busty chest to join their fellow victims. To be digested and become one with a complete stranger.
“I know, I know. I’m just new to cooking is all.” Amanda smiled.
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Is what?”
“I’m new to cooking! That’s it. I’ll get better soon, I promise!” She smiled back, regretting that she wore a low-cut shirt.
“Yeah, but your chest is all red and you’re acting all hormonal. The pads are under the sink.”
Amanda scoffed, now feeling a sense of offense at how her mother was now weirdly probing into this specific subject. “I know where the pads are! I don’t need them right now, anyway!”
“So what you’re telling me is that you’re pregnant.”
Amanda’s upper body darted so far backwards, it almost felt as though her head was going to roll right off her shoulders. “WhaaaAAAAaaat!” She almost screeched. “I’m not pur-egg-nant!” Her voice was tinged with such indignation that she couldn’t help but mispronounce the dreaded “P-word.” Her heart now twisting in its chamber, Amanda almost stood up and pointed a finger, but like her arousal, she knew better than to express it openly. “I resent the imp-uh-li-cation, too, maaahm!” She crossed her arms and looked off to the side, furrowing her brow. As she heard another one of her mother’s quick, throaty gulps, a shiver down her spine raised up the hairs over the back of her neck.
“Yeah?” Her mother asked. “Then why haven’t you even touched your plate yet?” Raising her eyebrows, the blonde woman said “I know. It’s ‘cause you’re feeling nauseous.”
Turning her gaze back upon her mother, she furrowed her brow. “The only reason I’d be feeling nauseous is because you’re bringing up periods and shi- er stuff at the dinner table. That’s rude, y’know.”
As her mother lifted her glass of wine, Amanda noticed the two little swimmers she placed in there begin to really thrash hard as the deep red fluid bounced from side-to-side. A series of low gulps shook Amanda to her core. Seeing her mother’s throat bounce several times caused her to dip back into the trance-like state she experienced earlier. “Any one of those gulps could be someone sliding to their death inside mommy’s tummy.” She thought, embarrassing even herself.
Clinking the wine glass back on the table, empty of any tiny human beings, but still half-full with wine, the mother gripped her fork yet again. “Oh, come on. We’re both girls here. We can talk about periods and shit.”
“Fine, you want me to prove I’m not nauseous? Watch.” Amanda lifted up her own fork, spun a rather large wad of spaghetti through the tines, and shoveled the heavy bale of pasta between her lips. As she worked her teeth through the big mouthful, she watched her mother take in her own. To her amazement, she saw a tiny person embedded within a red blob of sauce on her mother’s lip. Amanda stopped chewing.
As her mother’s tongue slipped out of its wet chamber, Amanda couldn’t help but choke a few times as she watched the soft, pink, warm, bumpy surface drag the miniscule woman into the hot darkness. Holding her breath, Amanda attempted to suppress every single one of her emotions, trying to find some element of calmness within herself as she swallowed her own chewed mouthful. In spite of this, she couldn’t help but think of the people who had passed through her own throat. Or of that woman she met that morning, thinking of how she writhed and screamed before she was lodged between a massive pair of tits. She pondered how much different her mother’s stomach was from her own. If they felt different. If they even smelled the same.
“See? You choked. You’re definitely not yourself tonight, Mandy. I know you.” Her mother dragged her fork across the red sea of red pasta sauce on her plate. Three lost souls were waving their hands, as if trying to signal an SOS in an open ocean. Now they were on her mother’s fork.
In less than one second, Georgina lifted up the tomato mixture and dumped it over her tongue, swallowing immediately. Bouncing between both reality and her imagination as to the machinations of her mother’s inner workings, Amanda couldn’t help but try to picture herself in the position of those poor people. In the light and thrashing one second and pressed through a tight, slick tunnel the next, never to see light again.
“I just took more than I can chew because I’m being rudely pressured.” With an emphasis on the word “Rudely,” Amanda reached over and found her own wine, gulping it with a noisy fervor. Immediately feeling the alcohol reach her head, she couldn’t help but feel her arousal grow. Watching her mother swallow another mouthful, her throat jumping, she couldn’t help but feel attracted to her. To her beautiful face, to her curves, to her shiny hair that glinted under the light fixture of the family kitchen. She knew this emotion was as close as one could get to inherently wrong, but in the privacy of her own mind she knew she was safe. Taking in another mouthful of her own meal, she thought of how intoxicatingly sick it was that she was forcing those people to sacrifice their own bodies. Their blood would become her mother’s sweat. Their tears would become her saliva. What she couldn’t use of them would become her --
“Shit. Look. Amanda. You keep zoning out, as if you want to tell me something. I know you’re not pregnant, or whatever. But something else is going on.”
“Can we talk, about, like, anything else, mom?” Amanda replied as her mother looked at her quizzically. Though she was now off the peak from the beginning of the meal, Amanda’s heart kept pounding in her chest, noting that her mother didn’t call her ‘Mandy’ as she usually did, instead calling her by her full, preferred name.
“Okay, well. We can do that, I guess. How’s school?” She asked as she slurped up another tiny woman, ironically holding on to one of the spaghetti strings for dear life as she was sucked into the fleshy abyss.
Amanda rolled her eyes, though still careful to keep focus on her mother’s plate. Way more than halfway done. Her stomach must be a churning Hell for at least a dozen people at this point. “School’s, y’know. Fine. It’s whatever. I’m doing fine. I’m getting A’s. It’s graphic design. You know how I am with that, it’s easy for me. Some professors are assholes, but that comes with the territory.”
Her mother furrowed her brow as she sent the bulge under her cheek down her throat with a low, resonant gulp. “Yeah? They’re mean to my girl? Bring them to me and I’ll take care of ‘em.”
Amanda grinned. “You know, I might just take you up on that offer.”
As her mother scooped up the last bit of spaghetti in her fork, Amanda breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the final toppings were along for the ride. Three women. Intently staring at the trio, she noticed how differently the three were behaving on the way up to the gaping maw. One was completely freaking out, thrashing and possibly screaming, another was laying completely still, and the third was literally crawling towards the end of the fork. “Soon they’ll be swimming in an ocean of spaghetti for the rest of their lives” Amanda thought as she felt another pulse of warmth between her legs.
“Yeah? I’ll kick their ass.” Her mother said as she effortlessly slurped up the remainder of the pasta from her fork, swallowing the lump whole. As her mother sat backwards, she sighed, rubbing her stomach. “You know, for all your worrying, this was really good for your first time making spaghetti. The sauce really clung to the pasta. I’m stuffed!”
The word “stuffed” echoed between Amanda’s ears. She had to actively prevent her eyes from rolling back into her head. The tingling, electric sensation returned within her veins as she vividly pictured what must be going on within her mother’s stomach. A hot, churning cauldron of vomit. The dark chasm from which at least fifteen people will never return from alive, all writhing, possibly screaming in a sea of slithering strands of softening pasta. Bubbling, mucus-laden acid now inevitably building up as the fleshy, wrinkly sack stretches around them. Some even sinking below the surface never to return. Any splash or thrash they make would be in complete vain, not even felt by the woman who consumed them. To her mother’s knowledge, she had just eaten a perfectly normal meal. To the people in her stomach, it was their final destination.
After taking her phone from between her crotch, she slipped it back into her pocket. She knew the idea of soaking through her jeans was ridiculous, but she knew her panties were so damp that it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. “I’m so glad you liked it, mom! Let me take your plate!” Amanda stood up and leaned over, revealing her busty cleavage more than she otherwise would have. Her nipples now so erect that they poked through her shirt, she walked over to the sink with the messy plate and noticed something strange. A final straggler.
Pursing her lips upon clinking the dish into the ceramic basin, Amanda used her pointer finger to scoop up the little one and stared at the spattering of sauce clinging to it. In the center of the splotch was a tiny, naked woman. Her hair soaked with sauce, embarrassingly covering up her nude crotch and breasts, her face tinged with both sorrow and horror. Perfect.
Sticking her tongue out, Amanda smeared the sauce over its center crevice before ridding the rest of it with a loud sucking sound. “Mm! I am pretty good at this sauce stuff, aren’t I?” Swallowing hard, Amanda attempted to feel any sort of struggling down her throat, experiencing a tinge of disappointment in the fact that she couldn’t. She sighed and turned towards her mother as she picked up her own dish, pouring what she didn’t eat into the garbage.
In the back of her mind, she really did know that she needed more practice. The sauce itself was a bit thin and sour and the pasta itself was a little al dente. However, that wasn’t necessarily the point of the meal. She sighed. Amanda knew she needed to break the news to her mother, who was already polishing off her wine, no doubt causing it to rain down upon the already-suffering people thrashing within her gut.
Seeing her mother’s throat jump rhythmically until the wine was gone, Amanda’s heart continued to pound. For what felt like the tenth time, she leered at her own mother, now staring at her chest, knowing that just behind her boobs contained the final Hell that she had doomed several strangers to. This strange, sickening attraction was beyond what Amanda expected. As her mother’s breasts jiggled subtly as she clicked her wine glass back on the table, Amanda remained shocked at her own sexual desire. It was as if her mother was now a completely different person. Bonded to her through the consumption and digestion of living, breathing human beings. She almost felt “one” with her, just as she had forced those tiny people to become one with her. In a way, Amanda felt as though she were closer to her than she had ever been. Even in spite of this, she wished to become closer.
Crossing her arms nervously, Amanda fiddled with her pink ring yet again, feeling the powerful, eldritch object slide effortlessly over her finger. “Gliding smoothly, just like those people down mom’s throat” she thought. Now contextualizing every single one of her inner voices to her most recent act, Amanda understood that she had to admit what she had done.
“Y’know. Mom. I…” Amanda caressed her hair behind her ear as she looked downward towards the floor. She twiddled her toes under her black socks. “I…”
“I knew you had to admit something! You’re about to burst. What is it?” Her parent leaned forward, placing her hands under her chin, smiling widely, raising her eyebrows. “Is it a boy?”
“No! It’s not a boy. I’m not pregnant. It’s nothing like that!”
Her mother sighed. “You know I won’t react badly if you tell me you’re gay or something. It’s fine! Whatever you have to tell me, it’s fine. I’m your mom. You can trust me.”
Her heart now felt as though it would crack through her sternum. She knew what she had to admit was beyond the universe of possibilities her mother was considering at that moment.
Amanda, her jaw almost quivering, opened her mouth, but no sound came out. How could she admit to her mother that she had just inadvertently caused her to murder over a dozen people? The thrill of this moment was undeniable, as if she were on the cusp of a roller coaster’s biggest drop.
“I…” Amanda gulped, splattering the person she just swallowed with another bubbly cluster of saliva. “This is weird, but…”
“But?” Her mother responded, still leaning forward, intently listening to every word that sputtered from Amanda’s mouth.
“It has to do with this ring.” Amanda raised her right hand, showing off the bright pink band that wrapped around her finger. “It’s special.”
Her mother’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Please don’t tell me you got hitched.”
Amanda widened her eyes and pursed her lips, feeling an ice cold sensation burst through her veins. She hadn’t even considered that implication. “No! No. I didn’t get married! It’s much stranger than that.”
Her mother’s face turned from happily listening to concernedly following. The tone seemed to turn more serious. “I wonder if the people dying in her stomach can hear the words she’s saying or if it just sounds like a general booming” Amanda thought as she tried to suppress the voice inside her head.
“This ring is.” Amanda sighed, feeling some tension melt away from her shoulders. “Maybe I can just show you.”
Raising her right hand, she pointed the pink torus towards her mother’s wine glass. Pressing the delicate button on the palm-side of the band, a bright pink flash lit through the room for a split-second. The wine glass was now only a centimeter tall. Still proportional, light glinted off of it in a strange way, as if it were a shining shard scattered from a windshield after a car crash.
Her mother jumped in shock, craning her back away, and slammed the chair into the wall behind her. “Oh my God! What did you do?” Her mother almost shrieked. “How is this possible? Where did you get that?” Georgina’s chest raised and fell several times as she sputtered out the questions.
Amanda tried to keep her voice calm and reassuring. “It’s okay. Believe me. No one knows I have this other than the person who gave it to me.” She almost felt as though the roles were reversed, as if she were now the one mothering.
“But that’s so fucking dangerous! It’s… what do you even do with it?” Her mother’s voice was frantic and stilted. The voices emanating from her throat had a certain terrified quiver to them.
Amanda sighed as she walked back to the table, pulled the chair in, and sat down. Staring at her mother’s eyes intently, she felt the bizarre shame that came with the obvious and undeniable sexual attraction she now felt.
Now leaning forward, Amanda placed her elbows on the table and opened her palms. “Here. Take my hands.”
Shivering, Amanda’s mother scooched forward slightly, still clearly experiencing a slight tremble. As she watched her mother lean forward towards her, she pondered that the people within her stomach must be listening to her heartbeat grow quicker. As she felt Georgina’s intoxicatingly soft hands touch her own, she interlocked their fingers and caressed her skin with her thumbs.
Whispering in an almost sultry way, Amanda continued. “You know you can trust me, right?”
“Y… yes, of course.” Her mother’s quivering voice actually calmed Amanda down. It reminded her of the power the ring itself bestowed upon her.
Still staring into her mother’s hazel eyes, Amanda bit her lip before stating “I kind of used the ring to make dinner tonight. I added a special ingredient I couldn’t get otherwise.”
Her mother’s face stopped quivering, replaced with an uncanny stillness. “What are you talking about, Amanda?”
Standing up, Amanda leaned as far forward as she could, crossing her upper body over the table before placing her lips so close to her mother’s ear, she could feel her body heat. The very same body heat now radiating upon the people within her stomach.
Whispering loud enough to waft her hot breath over her mother’s neck, now close enough to smell her perfume, Amanda puffed out “We’re both maneaters now, mom.”
Some shivering gasps emanated from her mother’s mouth. “Wh.. wha?”
Now so close that her lips were physically caressing her mother’s ear, Amanda continued. “I said ‘We’re both maneaters now, mom.’ Goddesses. I used the ring to add people. Little, tiny, pathetic people, into that dinner you said you loved so much.” Amanda unclasped one hand from her mother’s shivering grip, raised one of her arms, and pressed over her own mother’s belly. Rubbing it with an oddly sexual passion, making sure to use the opportunity to glide under her breasts. “They’re in here now. They’re yours. Forever.”
Bringing her face up to her mother’s so close that their noses touched, Amanda couldn’t help but feel a pulsing lust. She wished to throw away all pretense and just lock lips with her mother and taste the slickness that sent all those people to their deaths.
Her mother stayed perfectly still, gasping lightly. “I… ate…”
“Whole. Alive. Screaming. They probably still are.” Amanda pressed her hand further into her mother’s belly, feeling how full it was under the weight of her touch.
Georgina’s eyes almost looked glazed over. Amanda couldn’t read the emotion she was expressing. Terror? Awe? Disgust? She knew it was time to show her how it worked in earnest. Pressing two fingers between her own blushing cleavage, she retrieved the final, writhing woman. The one who was checking her phone in front of the house earlier. With another smooth motion, Amanda reached into her pocket and slipped out her mother’s glasses. “I found them. Take a look.”
Her mother, still motionless, remained still as Amanda placed her thin-framed glasses over her round, hazel eyes. As the tiny, nude woman squirmed between her middle and pointer fingers, her mother’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Letting out a long, sexually-tinged breath, Amanda slowly lowered the two fingers towards her mother’s mouth, feeling the tiny person’s writhing intensify the closer she came. Biting her lip, she felt the warmth of her mother’s tongue as she slid the tips of her fingers along the slick, wet surface. As Georgina wrapped her lips around Amanda’s fingers, Amanda’s knees almost gave out as she felt a subtle suction as the tiny woman slipped from her grip.
They slowly slid out of her mother’s mouth, wet and warm, as her mother swallowed hard, giving Amanda intensely passionate eye contact. As Amanda slid back into her seat, away from the warmth of her mother, an uncanny silence fell between them. They stared at each other for what felt like several minutes to both of them, but was likely not more than a few seconds before the stillness was broken.
“How does it feel, mom?” Amanda whispered.
Looking down, rubbing her belly just as Amanda had just a few minutes before, Georgina replied “It’s…” She gasped. “It’s incredible.”