A Saiyan Mother's Duty

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Written by Septia.
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Steam soared from the pots and pans on the stove. Chichi hummed a tune to herself, apron fluttering
with her tummy. “Excuse mommy for just a moment, precious,” she pardoned and smushed her
tummy against the stove, wedging herself forth to reach the rice pot. -Bwnfrslsh- Her gut ground an
uproar, son and chub alike pancaked whilst Chichi whiffed the basmati.
“Only the best for my little boy,” she confirmed and dumped the rice into a pan, mixing up
the stir fry and rolling up karaage. -Bwhoogmbl- Her gut retched sideways, to which Chichi
followed in the motion to shake up the stir fry, rallying her tottering to the best of her ability,
turning Gohan's struggle to an aid.
“Very good boy, I should bump up home-ec on your curriculum if you are already this
involved with my cooking,” -Bhrooglsh- her stomach bumped side to side, Chichi turning and
gyrating her hips in the swings, her gracious stumbling as a testament to her martial art training. “I
will take that as a yes, my helpful little hooligan,” Chichi patted her tummy -Bwmmpbfh-
-Bhrmgng- a drumming of a yoga-ball stuffed with noodle vibrating with each slap.
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-Pglnhgb- “M-mom h-elp.” -Grnmgpls- Gohan's cries drowned under the raze of Chichi's stomach.
His own sweat heated and burned with the same intensity as the froth draping over his forehead.
The child tossed like the rice in that pan, every bit of him seared against the torching interior.
-Pffbbrzh- Much of his outfit laid black under the sizzling foam of her acids, glued to his skin,
patches flaking away into the soup revolving inside her like the stir-fry. The book had dissipated
into pulp and flaps, joining the solid gruel congealing corrosion to his body. Enzymes rending
gashes along his exposed skin, thick rivers of red drape his legs, wherever he turned his back
scraped to the wall, frying patches of skin and cracking them like the shell of a karaage. The
mangling of the stomach crushed his browned skin, squeezing crimson and spurts of boiled lard
over his body, frying him in his own fat.
“M-mmoommy, I want out!” he cried out into he darkness, the pain of his own blood
brewing in his veins reducing him to a frail husk, clinging to the hope that mommy would make
everything better. Despite it being none other than mommy, who stewed him in his own dread.
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~1~
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“Mnff, ah, doesn't it smell lovely? I want you to eat your fill now, you still have to grow up into
mommy's special little man,” Chichi said after inhaling the scent of the lunch, -Bgrjtsp- her gut
rippled, “but leave some for mommy, sounds like I need a bit e as well,” Chichi joked and scooped
up some stir fry and karaage into her mouth. With her mouth clogged – as she was eating for two –
her sloppy chewing caused blotches of spittle and meat juices to stain her apron yellow. Acting
momma bird for her son with this manner of feeding made her giggle with a child-like glee through
the bits. -Ooomllgrp- She shovelled down food to rival her husband. A tail of doubt snook into her
mind, what separated Gohan from her other meals? “Mmwn, you are as tough as your father and
determined as me, an afternoon in mommy will be a singe.”
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-Fhoglsbl- -Kkpsllsh- A globule of masticated chicken and rice, chewed to porridge, splattered on
Gohan's chest.
 “Mnnghaay…,” he wheezed. The dollop was permeated by mommy drool, granulated to a
mush of watery cement clogging up the ruptures in his flesh. Juices and specks of paprika lodged
into his wounds to bing a stale chill compared to the temperature of the pressure cooking he was
doomed inside. Vapours rose from jagged abrasions, his knees compressed to his chest with the
compartment reducing the stew to a thick sauce of gut magma. One arm twisted behind his back,
one foot submerged in the chyme, acids bit into his dermis, seeping through his veins to expose his
raw meat, cooking all it touched.
-Bhflsb- Another churn clasped the gut, clasping around his contoured outline, ache of
muscles being pulled strummed into the chorus of torment, like his muscles were the strings on a
guitar reeled tense to tbe point of creaking. -Spphlbsh- Mangled heaps of food dropped onto his
form, aromas of his mother's cooking enveloped him, ginger, soy and lemon, but in the damp flesh
cave the flavours warped to witch's brew, tart stinging his nostrils like needles. -Shhfllpch-
-Ppslgsh- Gohan could not distinguish the noises of food slapping into his chest and the mulch
tearing way at his flesh, but felt pain seeping into cracks and fractures in his skin, severing meat
into chunks. Stings of chilly from the garnish flared up with the salty soy imbued tar, jabbing talons
of pain right to his nerves and preying them asunder. -Cspllgsh- His foot felt as pummelled by
sledgehammers, toasted from the inside out as rives of scarlet drained into the internal bog which
rose to engulf him. Strength became weakness, as his ki held him awake, even as the fluids
butchered into his meat, siphoned him of life fluids so his skin turned chalk, and the convulsing
scrunch him up like paper.
Tears soaked into his cheeks, following the routes of roasted sinew and scares peeling skin
from scratches and furrows.
“M-… mahmmy.”
Plumping up the mother.
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”Paaa, one day you will look back and treasures these family dinners, Gohan, eating alone can
easily get… sad.” She cut herself off, palms sinking into her gut to feel her boy's bumps, whispering
'he is fine' under her breath. “I am so glad Gohaaaamn-.” -Bbhgnpsd- The contours of a foot welled
up on the side of the stomach, hauling Chichi off her chair, belly flopping flat on the floorboards.
-Bbddnnfmslslgh- “Oh Gohan, what did I tell you… Oh, you couldn't help it my little baby,” she
scurried up on her feet, quicker to apologise than usual, “mommy promises not to let that ever
happen again.”
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A congealed wave of slurry wrecked into the boy's face, puréed chyme latching to his pores,
seeping into him, steam rising in plumes as furrows lacerated, widened and gushed spurts of his
juices in the gut. His head knocked to the ground, scrambling his thoughts, registering the molten
agony draping over his eyes. Caustic gunk sunk into his eye-white, melting tunnels through the
supple texture for the rest to flush down, lids turning milky, sloughing down his face like candle-
wax.
“Mhaw… mmaaoo…,” he whimpered, hurling mouthfuls of gunk past his lips, searing them
crispy and brittle, his whole face plagued with fractures. Chunks and sections of his cheeks and
nose drooped along the rends in his meat – his face a depiction of a reflection in a shattered mirror,
a mirror slowly melting.
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~2~
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”Mmhmm, mmh, Oo,” -Bhrlgpsh-, Chichi felt the plate battered out of her grasp by a bloat on her
belly, the porcelain breaking on the ground.
“Gohan, I know it is cramped but you will get plenty of exercise when you are done. Hope
you have the book open, I want a thorough description of the digestive system when we are done.”
-Bhrls- -Smatch- She slapped her stomach, which this time only wobbled. “Finished already?” she
prodded, twirling a finger over her gut, feeling it mush down in a crater around her digit.
Chichi rummaged out an astrophysics book from Gohan's room. “Perhaps a new subject for
my brave scientist?” she wrapped her lips around the tome, cramming both hands on the end of the
tome to send it down her gullet, which distorted in a square dome around the hard-cover, til it
submerged under her cleavage. -Blghs- A quiver. Chichi couldn't have known the hit was mere
muscle reflex from her boy.
“He is fine, just, engrossed in his work, what a clever, big, juicy boy I have.” The last part
she chuckled out, waddling off to her bed.
“Just for my nerves, I know he is alright after all,” Chichi assured herself as she plucked out
a bottle, filling a glass of white wine. -Bhrpglsh- -Kkltth- The stomach distended, knocking the
glass out on the bed.
“Mmfrf…,” She she huffed, giving the bottle a glare before practically smooching its
nozzle, -Ghllbhs- Guzzling down a healthy swig… then another.
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The surface of wine in the bottle sunk. Chichi got into a pattern: pause, pat, chug. Pause, pat, chug.
-Ghhrblsh- Her stomach rumbles, a splash of liquid pouring in. “Mmnf, no, this is mommy juice
Gohan, do not -Gulluhp- phaa… focus on your books,” she mumbled between glugs, brushing over
her stomach with his cheeks blooming rosy, -Smmch- she smacked her lips fro the wine, shaking
the smut left in the bottom with a giggle.
“Mmmooh noo, mommy juice is for mommys, s’not -Hichuurp- fo babies,” she lectured,
drumming her palms on her gut, cajoling it to gurgle, “buuht, my precious whittle boy, could have
some 'mahmmy juice' instead.” She snickered, cupping her left breast and diving her face onto it. A
few moments later she had adjusted the jug to meet her nipple, lubricating her teat and sucking
down a stream of tepid dairy.
“Mmpgh, mmpgh,” Chichi drained her breast of succulent cream, flooding her cheeks in her
hasty chugs, tilting her head back and groping along her breast as she sent a warm, fatty greeting to
her son, straight from the tap.
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Within, a twitching Gohan was doused in liquid alabaster, washed in a waterfall of molten pearls.
The aroma of mother's milk muffling the spike of odours, wadding the atmosphere like air was
replaced with cotton. It poured in rives down this scars, collecting in lakes over the tummy stew,
collecting in puddles in her son's vacant eye-sockets, giving an impression his eyes remained.
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“Phaa, ahha… mfpah, for you Gohan, do you like it?” Chichi asked rubbing over her gut, draping
her arms down its sides. “Do you appreciate me Gohan?” Chichi called out, shaking and jostling her
gut in her lap, knocking over the wine as the soup was thrown and tossed inside her pot-belly
brewery.
“I am a great moth -Huuarprh- mother, aren't I? You are getting food, milk, an that bath you
needed, some at same time, the sloshes are you having a lil’ sauna in mommy, isn't it?” She gripped
her gut again and again, heaving it from side to side -Sppglltshh- -Bhghslsh-. -Cllgrs- hearing the
muck of meal and drink simmer and tumble, in the tumultuous cement-mixer of a gutter.
“An, an no monsters, no fanged giant or meanies to hurt you, we could stay safe here, your
dad is a strong fighter,” she accentuated her statement with a clap on each side of her gut,
sandwiching her stomach to bloat up like a mushroom-cap in her grasp, hugging the outlines of her
son before sloughing back in her lap, “he handles the stupid fighting and you… you don't have to be
stupid, you can stay with mommy always.” She kept smacking her stomach, ripples swelling out
like pebbles dropped in a lake of pudding, there was no strength behind her actions, only frustration
she had long since dulled and entombed. Again and again, pledging to gift her son the world…
when she had already robbed him from it.
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~3~
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-Plch- -Ghbllith- Once Chichi passed out, there was no struggle left to be had. The boy's body flung
and chopped, butchered by her hand and body alike. -Chrllgtsh- Cutlets loosened off of his torso,
hunks of brawn glooping into the gruel with vines of sinew connecting the tissue, bubbling as it
submerged. His tail floated in a spiral around his severed foot, as his mother turned and grumbled
further hunks added to the stew. Bone laid exposed, nestled in torched sinew, toasted liquids
drippled through the gashes, the pools sipping from the cadaver in a dark mauve, long since tapped
of haemoglobin. His hair tangled in the fumes and vapours of the gut, clumping into bundles glued
by coagulated grease, floating like islands on a sea, or rosemary garnish in a stew. Gohan's face
exposed layers of overlapping meat, skin, sinew and bone, his lower jaw and gullet drooping webs
of molten sinew from hollow bone, dissolved when the boy had struggled coughing up chyme.
Myriad liquids seeped from wounds in the tatters of the corpse, all melding into the uniform dark
beige sludge, Chichi's lunch and dinner all the same.
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~4~
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”I am sorry Gohan,” Chichi said to her belly, “I do not know what came over me… of course you
are fine, will you forgive your mother's indulgence?” -Grlsh- The faint rumble brought her a smile.
“That is my special little boy, or, who am I kidding,” she batted her belly back and forth in her lap,
its sides having folded into chub curves, a detail she ignored, “mommy's big boy, isn't that right?”
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-Ghblloosh- Chichi's gullet chimed like a submerged bell as It shuttled with her steps. Each swipe
with her broom brushed over her pudge like a rolling-pin on dough, the additional space alleviating
the task. -Grrpglh- Quivers bloomed up along the churns, the previous gut storms calmed to a mere
breeze.
“Very good Gohan,” she commended her stomach, whilst banishing dust-bunnies off of her
floors, “I knew it wouldn't take long for us to get ourselves accustomed, aren't things much better
when you calm down? Safe and sound with mommy?” She gave the exposed side of her tummy a
brush with the broom, “Here you had me worried, that my precious son was turning into a
delinquent. But, of course I know you will l make me proud.”
All the while she dusted up their home, her stomach picked harvested marrow from her
special boy’s bones.
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~5~
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The clacking of knitting needles stemmed in with the milling echoing in her lap. Chichi fiddled with
yarn and giving the pattern a glance every now and then. -Bpglrht-.
“Yeah you bet, with your tail growing back you do need a new ensemble, mommy has it
covered, I will make sure to leave a gap in the bottom. Or, would you prefer a flap?” -Ghrbllsth- a
growl – as if ripping a sheet of rubber under water – trembled her stomach. “I'll, take that as a yes to
the flap, my good, safe, boy~.” Chichi's shoulders tingled with nostalgia, relaxing with son in lap,
sowing and crafting him little outfits. She put down her work, leaning back, abdomen recoiling and
oscillating, sprawled out over her knees.
“Mommy's brave baby boy,” she whispered, massaging along the curvature of her belly,
cradling her child, “soon I am going to get to give birth to you again,” she canoodled her head to the
pillowy drove of maternal chub. “Though, this time,” she stifled a joyous snicker, “it will be
through mommy's butt.” She spread her legs to let the gut bounce down on the couch, washing her
bare torso with a breath of pride, she could mother him for a second time.
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~6~
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In the cockles of Chichi's abdomen laid no sanctuary, but a grave. Even 'grave' was a kind
pseudonym for 'meat grinder'. Initial acids eating in on his sinew, fomenting his flesh and fusing
into the molten slurry, congealed into fist sized boils lodged between ribs and nestled into the
crannies of the hodgepodge known as Gohan.
-Chhrllgsh- -Cghlth- The stomach had room to contract since his spine was severed, bones
clad in polluted slabs of darkened brawn jutted up from the dunes of bile, imitating a bird's nest.
-Frchhstch- Foam fizzled through Gohan's nostrils, the bridge of his nose fermented into mulch,
showing a canal of meat juice and culled sinew pouring from the ruins of his cranium. Strains of
hair shipped along the currents of gruel, scalp balding to the bone. His head perpendicular to his
neck – jammed against the gut – connected to the rest of him by straps of jerky. A book floated in
the mess, pages littered like a scrap heap, highlighted paragraphs dissolving in the pulp. Tethers of
gut mucus webbed him to the undulating membrane, fluids collecting patches around the phlegm
vines, digging ditches through peeled off skin, as if someone had gouged out scoops of Gohan ice
cream. Whilst the bones were stubborn, his joints boiled to sludge, segregating his body by the
bones, the pupa of mom-meat shifting and compressing his frame – sculpting a meat ball from the
kid mince.
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Chichi dreamed herself a butterfly, harbouring a delicate stow-away that she would release as her
own little miracle. Engrossed in the past, she sauntered through pages of memories with a photo
album. Gohan in the cradle, his first word, step, exam, flight.
“Promise to never leave your mother again, Gohan, I have sacrificed so much for you.”
-Brlprlrb- Chichi noticed the end of the book sunk into a diver on her stomach, forming a crater, her
fingers played along the brim of the sink-pit. “All tuckered out,” she stated and groped the side of
her abdomen, compressing her fingers into her chub and feeling the pudge of her tummy well up
between her fingers. She hauled up the gut and let it slap down with a -Smmptch- on her lap,
giggling whilst she brought her arms down to embrace her stomach, folding up her legs to sandwich
the drove stable.
“Stuffing your mommy like a pig aren't you? My little Porkhan, bet you would like to see
how chubby you make your old mom. But you have to wait, glad you are doing well in there too, it
doesn't feel like you ever wanna leave. And it is lovely to have you there again, you make me
whole,” she endeared and clutched around her stomach, breathing in to shrink her tummy for a grab
and releasing for the bloat to inflate like a pool toy stuffed with butter, folds of gut billowing out
between the grasp of her arms, jiggling like pudding and moulding like batter. Her bang's whipped
whilst she doted and canoodled her child bearing gut, bun sagging and locks tangled in grease,
letting herself go to focus on who was important. Chichi kneaded her belly, sculpting pudge-clay
and submerging her hands in the droves of malleable flab, rummaging and prodding so the tummy
-Hgbrllsh- grumbled to her kneading advances, cupping her hand there to form waves of chub she
dragged her arms across, smoothing it flat with the bundle of corpulence clogging her core.
“Yeah, this is what I have been missing, time all for you,” she mumbled, nibbling on her lip
as she pretended her arms to be rolling pins bulldozing a batch of dough. She sunk her fists into the
bulge, swelling out its girth and feeling the chub near enclose over her hands, mottling her fists to
feel tender embrace of her son.
“You are staying in there at least for the week, we are in no rush, everything is fine, right
Gohan?” she warped her gut over her arms, groping handfuls and trapping it between her palms.
-Phlotrt- A squirt bubbled in her pot.
“Gohan?” Chichi hesitated, letting her belly roll free on the couch. She poked it with her
thumb, thrusting deep, fondling the opposite end with her palm. There was nothing solid to be
discovered.
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'He really is dead.'
Accepting it came as a relief, the itch of realisation nagging her sated. The former mother
remained limp, with the gaze of a porcelain doll. She had smothered her worry and anger with
fabrications. When those reactions were now warranted, they had already suffocated. She had no
outlet.
“He will be the first we bring back,” she proclaimed, eyes closed, “and that is final.” 'He
must have asphyxiated, that was the struggle, it would have been quick.' Chichi chanted in her head.
It was getting late, yet Chichi lacked any appetite. She did, however, pour herself some mommy
juice by the table.
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~7~
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Lone snores echoed in the kitchen. The bottle of ‘mommy-juice’ Chichi tapped into for comfort
stood uncorked on the table, with herself passed out on the chair.
“Hawwm, phoo…,” Chichi exhaled a haze spiked with fermented grapes, “mmf, stay outta
this, mm, Gohan. Digest fooaamph… mom,” she mumbled.
-Bhrplgsh- Throughout the night her bowels rattled her abdomen, milking her son of all he
was worth, siphoning lard into her form. Since his heath her curves had developed. Proper love
handles moulding on her sides, chub grooves sculpting her stomach, stockpiling lard extracted from
her own boy.
-Crrnn- A creak ran through the legs of the chair. The wood stressed under Chichi as she
packed on kilos. Her body transmuting his ki, coalescing it into new reserves of fat. -Bwmmnb-
-Bnddch- Her thighs and rump throbbed, budding with bulk that spilled over the brim of her seat,
her bottom devouring the seat with its growth. Her baguette legs billowed into whole loaves,
pudging into stuffed eclairs of child bearing chub. -Khnriiitc- Her panties stretched, buried in the
chub enveloping their sides, rends in the fabric creeping open under Chihci's multiplying
magnitude.
“Mnf. G-good sweetie, so proumn…,” Chichi mumbled. -Chrrrrnnk- Wooden legs creaked,
the chair's supports budging as the mother packed on post-labour kilos. -Krnnrhhg- Its legs bent into
arches, submitting to the blooming bulk.
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~8~
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Plump personally I like the word Kid Mince. You might see it again.
“Mnnfaawmn…,” Chichi smacked her lips, drying the morning haze of her eyes. -Ckktch- -Kktctk-
“Whooaa-.” -Dbmmpdh- The chair crumbled, her fall cushioned by the seat, with trembles
surging their course through her body, jangling every mound of fresh flab, shocking her with the
rapid awareness of her nightly gain.
 “W-wha ok I want to know who is responsi… Gohan?” she questioned and tugged folds of
her belly, brushing over her wobbling lovehandles and stomach encasing her thighs, doubling her
width alone. “How could my little boy end up as this much… fat?” Chichi brushed over her folds of
lovehandles, giving them attention eased the weight in her chest, sandpapering a rock. -Bhrlgs-
-Chglrt- A grind and groan twisted in her stomach, culminating with a -Ppbbfrlrlth- gas muffled
under her cheeks.
“Right. How could my 'big boy' make me so fat,” she said with endearment. She proceeded
to play with her stomach, feeling out her plush form before bothering about getting dressed. Perhaps
it was the notion she could bring him back, perhaps the mommy-juice still soothing her nerves, or
maybe she reconsigned that Gohan was still with her, perhaps more than ever.
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~9~
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“You really made a number me” Chichi commented and patted her stomach, the hollow drumbeat
of yesterday's bloat replaced with the smack of batter, with her son distilled into droves adorning
her body. She felt at least thirty kilos rounder than the day before, with watches of pudge dipping
down her arms and legs, forming grooves of tucked in fat at her elbows, knees and rump. Observing
her silhouette in the mirror, she she imagined her fat coats crafted in clay and moulded onto her
figure. The thought of a tiny Gohan kneading pudge onto her tush brought fluster to her cheeks.
“Even now, you manage to make me love you all over,” Chichi confessed, patting her
stomach to feel the ripples echo over her turbid torso, for longer than intended.
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~ 10 ~
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-Bhraaullpgh- Chichi arched back from the sudden gullet gust, flapping from her maw flew a few
sheets of paper, soaked in sog, clapping like used toilet-paper onto the table.
“Very good, knowledge bears repetition,” she fondled with the divot her cheongsam made at
her navel, “though you should be repeating it, and not me-hhhoaarrrp-,” another batch of work
sheets lobbed into the air, a few plastering over her cheek, resembling a bib.
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Chichi set up the table with a feeling of absence from her family, one she had grown used to.
However, it had altered. Gohan would not sit by her, but his presence laid all throughout her, a
dispersed sense of comfort – Gohan… would sit with her. -Fllrsss- The splatter of moisture on her
crotch rippled tension through her body, in that instance her son announced his presence in her
colon. Chichi dropped a spoon – rolling down her tummy – doubling over at the assault of
sensations.
“My water broke,” Chichi blurted out with urine stains sprawling over her hips and backside
quaking with the gaping and contractions of her pucker. She suckled on her lip, conflicted about
releasing her boy.
“Baby, what are you doing?” she huffed out whilst – despite her efforts, her pucker morphed
to frame the girth of her her ingested infant, -Ghbrlltsh- -Frthlrrg- Crinkles of grime popped under
the veil of her dress, clumping out into the fabric. In the reflecting of the fridge, Chichi witnessed
her cheongsam sprout a third cheek, broadened in the middle with bulk smudging umber on the
zenith of the lilac hill.
“Hmnf, don't fret,” Chichi assured the bump, fidgeting to reel up the back of her dress and
scooching her rear to the counter, hoisting up to slap her juicy hams on to the marble, dropping a
bowl at her feet. “I'll get you out, mmnf, mommy has done this before.”
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-Lrtch- Panties snapped as muck welled out, an orb of undie-compacted butt fudge, projected
through the groove of flab. A tail wound after the tadpole of sludge, curling up behind it when the
two smacked into the counter with a -Glbsplgsh-, like dropping a sack of toads. Bronze clashed
against the sterile kitchen, unblemished surface met with dirt riddled with furrows, cracks sprouted
along the mounds surface and forming a puzzle of smoothed dung chunks, all forged from the
remains of her offspring and cobbled into colon clogs.
Fingers hooked around droves of booty, buried in pudge as she broadened her Gohan hole.
Her dress clutched her gut like a pouch and spanned diagonal up to her shoulders, safe form the
sewage pit. “Phha, phoaa,” Chichi panted in rhythm with her pucker gaping and protruding around
an auburn hunk. With her panties gone, a stream of urine poured from her crotch, splattering the
bottom of her gut and trickling into the bowl on the ground. “Mmph, my grea-mmgp, great
-Bhouraalpg- boy. You are mush easier on me than last time,” she mumbled between moans and
belches quivering past her lips, whilst her son crowned out between her bottom mouth.
The patch of umber prodded through the walls of flesh enveloping its form, -Frrbbrlprbrllth-
Honks of steam blew out a fanfare over the loaf of Gohan dough oozing out of mommy's oven.
Fumes from the flatulence wafted tangs of a botched cream, onion and leather stew through the
kitchen. -Brfpspth- Scents which Chichi drank in with gusto, the odour of her son coming home
from playing outdoors.
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Chichi absent-mindedly kneaded and scooched her bottom as the muck billowed in droves out on
the counter, diving in a brief arch until the mulch sprawled into dunes of caramel congealing over
the polished surface, sprinkled with tanned shards nestled in the rivers of cracks. Her rugose brim
hugged every bit of her son as he plunged through her, smudging over pocks and warping over
crags barging out her back-door. His girth fluctuated between lengths, Chichi sensing quivers peak
out at every chunk of her flab when her brim disgorged a thick segment of dung, suckling on her
lower lip while her brim latched into fractures in the brown gunk and snapping back -Spptlch- with
a crinkle and splatter of rectum grease squeaking between flesh and filth.
“Mommy's brave knights, I can really feel how you have grown, and how much you have
helped me grow,” she huffed out with beads of sweat in her forehead. The width of her son's dung
trembling through her rim with curls of dung elongating, reaching out her ass valley and sloughing
into the hill of fudge submerging the counter behind her. Loaves stacked and moulded to the wall, a
slope of molten clay caricatured with divots, cracks and crevices melded together from the surface
and the interspace between each dune. -Spbbrlflth- A gust barged out with the barrelling gruel,
knocking off slop from a protuberance jutting out from the umber colon, revealing chunks of a
pelvis tarnished by dung and digestion. Chichi shuddered as she passed knobs of bone and osseous
matter embedded in the compost, humping up her rear further back on the counter, the curve of
urine washing the floor, arms slowly roaming from the bottom to cradle her stomach, wavering on
the edge with the ballast she balanced. -Bshgrgs- Her stomach churned as it pumped her son
through the cocoon of her intestines. Trembles shook her dress down her shoulders, fluttering down
on her haunches. Her flow turned congested, throbbing around her fat load jamming up her rectum,
swelling muck packed down from her depths. A chocolate caked flap hung under the hunk,
flittering like a tongue with her motions.
“Wmmgns,” Chichi huffed, panting in mouthfuls of the fermented fumes, muting her senses
with tangs of dried gutter-mushroom, garnished with innocence.
“You can, nhnfm, make it Gohan, mommy wilmgff, support you no matter, what,” she
wheezed and glanced to the buxom batch of manure at her back, ragged and contoured like a
mountain-face, droves of clotted gutter gelato meandering down like dollops of candle-wax. “It
doesn't matter how much I have to suffer, no matter ow stubborn, I will mmnf, never give up,” she
swathed her belly with the cheongsam, colon fluids drooping at the exit with the hunk severed by
the convulsions of her rim. “Mmnhfa,” she hauled up her dress, chugging up her paunch
compressed against her torso, -Bbwhhgrn- a jangle of the blubber quaked through her.
-Sbrpfltshtkrryl- A splutter off rectum lube fanning between her waving buns and erupting
in a chorus of cracks, rumbles of gas and mush grinding out her gutters. -Lrppscl- -Bwffrfbhth-
-Skglush- The brim bloated, birthing the butt baked baby. Muck globbed through her dung chute.
Waste – tempered to a consistency of taffy in her bowels – disgorged through her pit, contorting
around the chubby slab's march. Around the loaf laid straps of a once azure onesie, swathed to a
cocoon of ochre and auburn splotches sealing in the stuffed trunk. Its exterior laid slobbered with
fluids, drool and liquefied fabric bubbling at the chute as the column of dung barrelled free. A
casing of Gohan's boot has his mother heaving for her rump to mould over it, the leather husk
jutting out as an oil drenched shipwreck sailing the ocean of mommy-mud. Ravines gaped open as
it folded over the counter heap and sunk with its firm density, solid murky umber submerging like a
harpoon in the milk chocolate droves, flabs of dung sloughing down to drench the oncoming muck,
entombing vertebrae and ribs. -Shhnnrch- -Kksgk- Crumbles of wet crackers crinkled from the
clumps, muffled under the bulk of the dung as the frail skeletal matter caved under the avalanche of
grunge.
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Chichi grasped in liters of air, fondling and kneading over her gut chub, her stomach receding as the
maternal-mulch vacated her bowels, yet her balloon of fat still peaked past her knees. Her hands
delved deep in each grope of her corpulence, head angled to witness her son's second birth.
-Frklslpc- -Shlrlphlg- Sheets of ivory muddled to brass came pout plastered over her load, forming
into the grooves and curves of the filth with leaflets. The book’s pages clung to the mulch like a
wetsuit, sentences describing anatomy and astronomy indistinguishable with black over the darker
hues of coffee umber fudge.
-Sppvhhrlsth- “Mmfn, phaa, that is not how you absorb learning,” she teased with a
tarnished breath, tongue hanging out as pages glid over her brim, smooth as rags of silk. Her chute
pulsated to spread the colon fluids over the slab on its journey, buffing the dung to a shine of
marbled glass, which warped and melded as it compared into the building droves of baby boy
batter. Its texture brought back memories of when she had bathed him, how his tail had grown slick
and matte in the water like cotton glazed with caramel.
“Hoaamf… ho… my boy is giving me my own tail,” she mused in a haze of enjoyment,
scooching over the counter to wag her 'tail', sagging and coiling the globules of compacted bottom
pudding into the nebulas of nougat. Snickers of an adolescent sounded throughout the desolate
house.
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~ 11 ~
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Plump secret, Chichi’s reactions warped and developed while planning the story.
Were the start sweet as chocolate, the aftermath was bitter cocoa. Chichi observed the ribbons of
auburn sausages piled over the counter, outlines melting together to obscure the fat slope to a
uniform hunk of fertiliser. Her stack littered with patches of bones partly submerged, craters pivoted
around their shape to form craters in the buck like scrap floating on a lake, with the pages of
homework and teachings melded like plastic here and there, reminiscent of lilly-pads. The bulging
hunks of muck dressing its side even mirrored her lovehandles.
“M-my p-precious little boy. Y-you will be fine. F-fine. The other will, with the dragon balls
we…” Her reasoning was sound, but her eyes didn't listen. She bowed to her maternal instincts, and
embraced the heap into a hug -Pkflsgflff-, muck melding to her form. “M-my baby boy… H-he will
never forgive me, even if we bring you back, how can I be your mother?” she whimpered with her
arms sinking into the globules of dough. It reeked of fermented monkey jerky, oozing heat from
every crack and here and there were tufts of tail-hair. A fuzzy, fermented teddy bear.
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-Kbllgs- Her digits latched onto something, Chichi tugging a wedge of nougat from the heap, it felt
familiar. Chichi bathed the nugget in the urine bowl, seeing socks emerge in the mess.
“You sure are your father's son, getting dirty from a bath,” she snivelled, as she soaked off
the filth caking his cranium.
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~ 12 ~
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Chichi held the skull close to her bosom, humming in the stank of the kitchen, brushing her naked
cleavage with the bony lump.
“I know, mommy shouldn't cry, you are still with you, always will be,” she whispered to the
skull, nabbing a few of the regurgitated study pages on the table and wiping them through her crack,
the drool lubing up her cheeks to clap together with a -Cllpth- after each brush. Her cleavage
bobbed with his skull at each step she took, leaning over to nuzzle her nose against the smooth
chalk.
“Mommy never wanted this to happen to you,” she reassured, kneading her bosom m around
the cranium, mushing droves of plumped breast-fat over the last solid chunk of her boy, each mush
dragging him deeper, sinking into a mire of maternal milk lard, “but I am still glad it happened, you
were amazing my son, the entire time, had I only been more careful,” she lamented and hugged over
around her chest, chugging down another section of the skull. She planted her lips on the dome of
bone, tasting a hint of salt from her tears.
“I am sorry, they could never find out, I can't keep a single trace of you with me,” she
smoshed her head down into her chest, entombing his skull between her plush jugs, “mommy is
doing this for your own best, no butts,” she lectured, kneading her breasts over the skull, feeling
them mould and smothering him, as if he was there for her hug.
Previously, she had dampened her frustration, but here she let it blossom, grasping a firm
hold of her tits, and compacting them, thrusting from each side, the skull – brittled from acids – was
pistoned between the bulk his body helped create.
-Krkkrclmfdd- His cranium crumbled like dry bread, -Chhrn- -Krrkg-grks- Chichi sustaining
the gripes and grinds, milling him into powder, teeth clenched frustration ans she smothered the life
out of his remains. Bread braking turned to crinkles of cereal, as she took out her frustration on
mincing him into tattered shards. Angry at herself, at Goku, at the creep Bulma… but also at
herself. For in her core, she relished this relief.
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~ 13 ~
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-Cvvrrc- -Thng- “127.3 kg,” Chichi memorized her weight, thinking of this as a reunion between
her and her sons body, pondering over how much of it she could work off before burning… his
addition. -Smmatch- Her palm drummed at the side of her gut.
“I could get used to a bit of padding, as long as it is you, my big Gohan.” Chichi jotted down
in her mind how she had to inform Bulma that Gohan had perished in the woods, only finding some
tatters of his clothes. It wouldn't take much to summon some feeling of devastation for the phone
call, since they wouldn’t be an act.
-Frsshlsst- Meanwhile she set some oil in the fryer, cooking up tempura for lunch, the batter
given an extra crunch and pearly alabaster hue by the main ingredient, in a variation she called:
twice baked baby batter.
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A beginning.