“Mom, I’m so sorry, it’s starting to… I’m starting to.. I’m going to need you to throw me up!” You try to remain as calm as possible but you could feel your skin burning. You were no closer to finding your ring and were now submerged up to about waist level. Your mothers experienced digestive system seemed to be upping the intensity.
“Oh really? Um, okay.. um.. are you sure? It’s just, shit… I really struggle to do that now. I can’t do my party tricks anymore. I don’t really have the gag reflex I used to, if you know what I mean, but I’ll go try..” Trina could feel dread and panic suddenly arising within. She’d been happy to offer her body for science but had not expected to be called upon for any interactions.
“You’re telling me this now!?” You can’t believe this was not information she didn’t think relevant at the start. “Mom sorry but I’m in trouble, there’s just too much in here and it’s all becoming too wet and mushy! I can’t find my ring anywhere! I think it’s too deep. Also I’m burning up, the stomach acid is really effecting me now.. It’s really painful.”
“Oh shit, is it? Okay! I’m going to go get something to throw up into.” Trina had remained perfectly still in the living room throughout the whole operation, but having to move was making her very aware of the fact she had someone struggling inside her. She slowly walked into the kitchen firmly holding her abdomen, being careful not to slosh or rock things around inside. Once there, she carefully reached for a large container to catch her son when, and if, he did make his exit from her body. She placed it on the floor and carefully kneeled over it. She had to take a few seconds to compose herself before tying her long hair back into a tight ponytail and attempting to reverse her breakfast.
For four long minutes she forcefully shoved her fingers deep into her throat in an attempt to expunge her doomed offspring but as she had expected, historic experiences was now preventing her from having any kind of active gag reflex. She was starting to panic, time was ticking away and she could feel and hear a gurgle deep in her stomach that seemed to be telling her it had its own solution to this problem.
“Mom please hurry! You’re digesting me!“ you cry desperately into the darkness. You could see the skin on your arms were red and starting to swell in places. The air seemed to be getting thin and the caustic cocktail was now getting pumped more heavily into the slimy pit.
“I know!!! I’m freaking out!! I told you I struggled with this!” She shouted back with a matching level of frustration. It’s at this point you realise that her panic is probably not helping the increased activity.
“Please try and relax a bit mom! Your panic is only adding to the chaos in here, you know what stress does to your belly!” You try to keep your own voice lower this time.
“Yes but… Okay… yes you’re right.. hold on, give me a second! I’m going to just sit down for a few and have a think” Her voice showing sudden understanding and an unexpected tone of reason.
You could then feel your world manoeuvring around again, causing a small storm to slosh around your prison. The consistency of the once brown solid mass seemed to be changing before your eyes. The upside to this was you were now able to release your body from the swamp due to the increased viscosity. The downside was you were now swimming in a mix of liquified pancakes and your moms home brewed gastric juices.
Trina sat herself down on a chair. She was out of ideas. She leaned back and lifted her vest to reveal the soft skin of her well worked abs. She was still a little bloated, with a small pooch clearly visible, but it was nowhere near the swollen food baby it was when her son decided to venture in. Before she even realised what she was doing she was rubbing it sensually with bother her hands. A strange idea of an inconceivable reality was forming in her head. She was starting to accept that the satisfying feeling she had pretended was just her shrunken sons tiny movements, was actually part of a more procedural action and it was merely her gut providing her with the feel good hormones she deserved for providing such a unique meal.
You float calmly in the swaying ocean waiting for your mother to come up with something. Some of the pain had now turned into a numbness. If it wasn’t for the concept of being actively turned into a nutritious paste you would be finding the cerebral experience quite a pleasant one. It was like being in a living jacuzzi. Your mothers booming heart was slowing to more regular pace. The persistent gurgling had quietened in response to a much more settled belly. You could even hear your mom’s hands rubbing the outside of your prison. Something you remember she always did after a large meal. Wait, this is something she did to aid her digestion..
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