Sweet 21 (Chapter 2) (Patreon)

“What-oh-what will we do to celebrate this oh-so-special birthday, sweetie?” Stacey whispered, letting a hot draft of mint-laced breath wash over him in an eye-watering fog. “Twenty-one is such a milestone, after all. You can rent a car. You can gamble. You can go to a club. Does any of that interest you, hon?”

“No, Mom.”

“I didn’t think so. No, you’re thinking of the big one. Of course I’m talking about drinking alcohol,” Stacey teased. With her other hand, she lifted into view a shot glass the size of a van, sloshing with fragrant liquid that had a smoky red tint. “I hope you don’t think a strawberry daiquiri is too girly a drink for your first and last legal beverage?”

Leo shook his head. A shiver traveled up his spine; this was the first open acknowledgment of what they were really here to do.

“Feeling thirsty, Mr. Twenty-One?”

“Yes. V-Very thirsty.”

“Perfect. Well, then, by all means, drink up!”

With that, Stacey picked her son back up and deposited him like a garnish into a veritable tub of daiquiri. Splashing down into the bittersweet liquid, Leo became even more soused than he already was from Stacey’s kiss, and did his best to tread fluid while sipping from it himself. It was indeed satisfying. Looking through the distortion of the curved glass, he marveled at his gigantic mother’s approving grin, and the hungry twinkle in her eyes. She licked her lips again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. You know I always do have a hard time remembering just how small you are. I’m afraid you’d keel over from alcohol poisoning before you finished this whole glass, even though it’s not even enough to get your mother pre-buzzed. Would you mind sharing your birthday treat with me?”

“P-Please!” Leo sputtered, half-sunken in a bath of fruity, biting liquid. “I want you to!”

“Only if you’re sure…” Stacey laughed at his jubilant reaction. She brushed a dark-blonde lock out of her eyes, squinting cutely at her son floating in the shot glass, and thoughtfully puckered her lips again. “But first tell me something, hon. Since it is your special day, I think it’s only right that we give you the chance to make a birthday wish. I know they say it won’t come true if you tell, but… I think you’ll find I’m quite capable of making your biggest, or your smallest, birthday wish come true. Will you tell me what it is?”

“I wish…” Leo cheered, his words cut off as he took another accidental slurp of daiquiri. When he spoke again, it was in murmur: “I wish you’d eat me, Mom.”

“Then your wish is my command, birthday-boy.” Stacey lifted the glass to her lips, tipping in a few drops of red liquid and causing her son to bounce off her moist pursed lips. “It’s time. Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, honey. Or maybe you do. Either way… well, it’s not my birthday, but gosh, I doubt I’ll ever get a better present than this. Bottoms up!”

The giantess did just that, turning the shot glass over and pouring its remaining contents, her son included, into the waiting blackness of her ravenous mouth, down the slippery ramp of her tremoring tongue. Her organ softened and slowed Leo’s descent, her squishy taste buds adhering to his soaking body as sweet alcohol gushed over top of him. At an achingly steady pace, Stacey withdrew her tongue fully between her lips, but didn’t seal them just yet, giving her boy his final chance at light and fresh oxygen. During the interim, without being asked, Leo stripped his daiquiri-coated PJs off and hung them over the ledge of his mom’s lower lip; this of course had been the plan for years, on the numerous occasions Stacey had described in detail what would happen just before he was gulped down forever.

Now that the little fellow was bare, Stacey closed her mouth at last, compressing him in her tubed tongue and sampling his flavor unimpeded by clothing. The daiquiri shot warmed her throat and aided in creating a river-flow slide toward her throat for Leo to follow, but she wouldn’t let him go that easily. Instead, the woman “shared” the boy’s first legal drink with him for several more minutes, letting the strawberry liquor turn warm in her mouth and merge with the soupy pool of spit. She carried him in lubricated loops around her mouth, sucking on the sugar-coated lad and cuddling him to every spongy surface with the genuine love she’d come to feel for him as a mother, albeit with the all-important caveat of their highly unique parent-child relationship that probably no other giantess nor human on Earth could fully comprehend.

The woman adored her new twenty-one-year-old in his every atom, from his delightful flavor being squelched out against her exploratory tongue, to his dedication and faith in her plan that had allowed him to watch her eat people for years and yet still desire the same outcome for himself. While all those other people were just morsels, random calories to give Stacey strength with no other meaning, this birthday meal was to be the most vital of her life, and doubly so for Leo, whom she’d insisted would always be with her on the inside. She meant it, too.

The swallow itself was so tender, the boy hadn’t even realized it happened until the tunnel walls of his mother’s throat had him in a new embrace, while her spit and leftover alcohol showered from above. He still felt no fear. If anything, his heartrate slowed, like he was drifting off to sleep.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” Stacey crooned, knowing her boy could hear the affectionate song as he slid down her digestive tract. Her tongue scoured her lips and cheeks, greedily lapping up every drop of the strawberry-and-son-spiced shot. She clutched her abdomen, imagining that she was cradling her son for the last time while the drink relaxed him for the dissolution in her stomach. “…happy birthday dear Leo. Happy birthday to you.”

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THE END