Sweet 21 (Chapter 1) (Patreon)

“Happy birthday, sweetie!” Stacey’s booming voice rattled the walls of her son’s house. His residence, parked as usual on his parent’s bedroom vanity, was in fact fairly spacious for a home by human standards, though when faced with the melodic volume of his eight-hundred-foot-tall mother, it seemed rather flimsy, and more like a dollhouse.

Coincidentally, that’s also exactly what it looked like to Leo when the walls of his bedroom were plucked apart like cardboard, revealing his lovely parent in all her glory towering above him. Fit, sandy-blonde, and ever-smiling, Stacey was a vision of beauty in her green nightgown; though in her mid-forties, the woman was quite gracefully approaching middle age, akin to a fine wine. The anticipation and promise of this day had in some way kept her sunny-faced all this time, a fact she’d cheekily confirmed to Leo on more than one occasion while hinting to her son of their one-day eternal family togetherness.

“Well? Are you ready to come out of there, or what?” Stacey questioned impatiently, though a hint of a smirk showed it was all in mischievous spirit. She drummed her manicured fingertips on the floor of Leo’s quarters. “I swear, hon, it seems like you’re planning to sleep the whole day away, when we know full-well we’ve both been waiting for this for so very long.”

They certainly had been waiting. Half his life, in fact, and even longer if they counted the time it took Stacey to gradually convince her son of her plan and eventually bring him to be nearly as excited about the occasion as her. Leo was tingling just at the mere reminder of this momentous occasion, but couldn’t bring himself to speak while looking up from the cocoon of his bedsheets, enraptured as he was by the sight of his giantess mother, especially her plush pink lips deliberately flapping to address him, occasionally granting flashes of her pearly whites and glimmering tongue deeper inside.

“After all,” she cooed. “It’s not every day my young man turns twenty-one, now is it? And as everyone knows, the day a boy turns twenty-one comes with a number of new privileges to be enjoyed. First things first, though. Would you like to get out of that bed?”

“Y-Yes, Mom.”

“Wonderful. Let your mother give you a proper birthday greeting, then. A hug and kiss. Just like always. Don’t forget that you’re never too old to show affection for me.”

Stacey stopped thrumming her fingers on the house and reached for her son. Delicately she peeled back the blankets, revealing her fully-grown six-foot-one offspring at the center, though by comparison to his monumental parent, the boy was the size of her thumbnail. Gingerly she collected him between warm fingerpads, then cradled Leo into her palm, where he received a “hug” in the form of Stacey’s pinky curling down and nuzzling against most of his body at once. Her expansive, lilac-scented hand ascended, past the woman’s slender tummy and bountiful bosom, all the way to her cheerily grinning countenance. Despite what he knew was coming very soon, Leo felt totally at peace, if not thrilled.

Stacey closed her eyes and puckered up, her damp pillow-soft lips furrowing to an “O” as they descended on the cushy bowl-shape of her cupped palm, right for her miniature lad. There was no hint of shyness between them. They’d each gotten over that long ago. She dipped straight for him, parting her lips ever so slightly as the sticky brunt impacted the boy, pinning him down to her hand even more firmly than her pinky had. Despite some gentle restraint, the woman succeeded in sopping her son’s pajamas in a gloss of spit while smothering him in a lip-smearing smooch that lasted nearly ten seconds before she let him come undone from her mouth.

His heart racing, the boy wiped Stacey’s saliva from his face, and stared transfixed at his parent’s widening smile. Hovering this close to that generous mouth now was so full of meaning for Leo. He’d been this near to her many times before, of course, and even passed through the barrier at his mother’s gleeful behest, bouncing off her trampoline-like inner cheeks, dangling off her molars, and swimming in her bubbly froth under her tongue as she swished him around. Yet those were just playdates, a series of wet preludes to the main purpose of his being. Today was significant, different than ever before. He could feel it in the air, and so apparently could his mom.

This was only right, seeing as this day was more than two decades in the making.

The woman blushed rose, licking her lips as she studied her boy for his final-ever birthday in the waking world. Every time she got him close to her mouth, let alone put him all the way inside as so often happened due to her lack of self-control, Stacey was absolutely electrified. Not just by how delicious it would be to swallow her son, though she certainly knew it would be tasty given how many chances she’d had to taste the boy, swirling him around her mouth and massaging him into her slobbering tongue. The importance of this day was just as impactful as his scrumptious flavor, though, which even now was making the woman salivate more than usual after the happy-birthday kiss.

As a member of the race of giants, Stacey had expected to raise equally-scaled children. She was dismayed and frustrated, then, to have created an ordinary human instead, the size of an insect in her hand, a race good for little more than casual snacking. Just when she thought it would be impossible to love or mother such a pitiful insignificant creature as her own, a strange distortion of her parental instinct nevertheless took over, and Stacey reached a compromise that allowed her to deeply care for the boy.

It would seem wrong to raise him only as a person, as his own man. If she could raise him to be the ultimate meal, though, forming a relationship and getting to know him as this diminutive helpless entity, only to make him a part of her on, say, his twenty-first birthday, well then, it would be time well-spent, far more meaningful than any standard mother-son relationship, prone to ups and downs or “equality.” This seemed a fair trade, to give him twenty-one great years, then to have him return the favor by becoming the food he was already destined to be.

Once she’d made this decision, Stacey never looked back, effectively apprenticing her son in the concept of his eventual consumption like a religion. Naturally, humans were a regular part of the woman’s diet, and she had no plans to slow her pace in eating them, aside from temporarily sparing the one she’d given birth to. Though she kept her tastes hidden at first to help ease Leo into the idea, in time, she began eating them in front of him, even making a show of it, placing their writhing shapes on her tongue and retracting it back into her slimy maw. The boy showed apprehension at first when, during most dinners, his eighty-story mother dramatically swallowed at least one if not a half-dozen screaming strangers, either straight down like a pill or drowning them in her spit first.

Soon, however, her carnivorous preference became routine, and then Leo went from mere acceptance to curiosity, even fascination at watching people like him vanish down his parent’s gullet. He became excited at the notion of venturing inside his powerful mother’s mouth. Stacey had responded as any indulgent mother would, and shortly thereafter, she’d put him in her mouth for the first time to get a preview of his fate, drifting in a moat of gummy drool and twisting in the bulging contours of her tongue. On that first attempt, as well as every other “preview” which often took place moments after Stacey had actually eaten some nobody, both mother and son weren’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t simply toss her head back, gather up the saliva, and let her boy plunge down her esophagus several years early, then and there. Nevertheless, Stacey was serious in her vow to wait, and with serious willpower, she’d managed to fish him back out of her cheek each and every time, still savoring his flavor for an hour after as her tongue wandered in circles around her lips, lapping up every last trace.

The rest was history. And in a short while, Leo would be too.