With her anal tunnel walls stretched even wider now, every pump Joanne committed from her son’s head and shoulders resulted in the spurting forth of another minor gas rupture from deeper up the chute. Though thankfully not every one of these pre-emptive cheese-cut breezes was packed with sphincter-oiled flavor, as some of them hit his smell centers more like an airy belch, it was inevitable that Tommy also had to tank a few samples from the distantly-weak yet still undeniable stink-punch odor of motherly sewage. If the boy wasn’t gagging already just from the act of being driven face-first into the giantess’s asshole, these rapid billowing flatulence teases, even lightly tainted with skid-marking flavor, made him begin to wet-heave like a sick dog. There was no alleviating that feverish un-plunged pestilence musk, though, no matter how desperately he tried to hold his breath or expel the disgust through withering retches, not when he was so close to the source of that foulness that he could’ve almost licked the gaseous essence off the fleshy surfaces enclosed around him.
Outside, however, Joanne was feeling better already, and knew that with just a little more push on each of their parts, both her sexual and bowel-related comforts would increase tenfold. White-knuckling the bedsheets as she jammed her enormous sweat-streaked derriere again and again over that wonderful son-shaped probe, the giantess moaned and hooted and gorilla-grunted her way to messy victory once again, spraying yet-more orgasmic precipitation across her thighs and the mattress below, right at the height of thrusting her handsome thick perfectly-quivery all-purpose slave as deeply into her tight toot-slinging asshole as she’d yet dared to launch him. Satisfied for the fourth time tonight, and in more ways than one, she crawled gradually forward, mid-climactic panting, to excavate Tommy from her anus. After taking a few tantalizing moments to catch her breath and savor that quadruple finish, which was every bit as salacious as the first, second, and third, Joanne’s eyes lit up and her lips widened to a pleasantly-surprised grin. It actually worked. She was back in business, or rather ready to do her business. And what’s more, such an efficiently rigorous method of colon-soothing technique had ensured that there wasn’t much time to waste. Unlooping her shackled-in offspring from that horizontal faux-cock post, she dismounted from the bed and hastily marched off for the adjoining restroom.
Not skipping a beat, the naked monolithic six-foot-five colossus swung herself around and planted down so hard on the toilet seat that the porcelain groaned almost as provocatively as her insides, while still cradling a battered half-awake cum-bathed Tommy in her fist. Though the boy was briefly grateful to escape his prior sulfurous claustrophobic head-bottled anal prison, once he realized where they were headed, and the kind of show he was about to experience from a frow-row seat, his powerless revulsion-drenched dread came roaring right back. Joanne met her boy’s gaze as she rested the back of her hand across her flabby quad, but when she opened her lips, it was only to release a prolonged effort-flooded grumble as if getting ready to hoist a bar across her shoulders like a bodybuilder. With eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted, she gripped Tommy so stiffly that the impressions of her huge fingers began to pale his dark-bruised skin in the way of an improperly-lotion sunburn. The eight-incher certainly squealed even worse than if his skin had been cooked raw-red by solar rays, as his body was used as an impromptu stress ball to help Joanne through this long-overdue unburdening process above the pool. Her grimaced deep-register complaints were soon joined in gnarly symphony by the most horrific wet-thunking percussion below. And while Tommy was spared from directly witnessing his mother’s toxic digestive artifacts being pinched from the same hole he’d so recently occupied to her orgasmic unblocking relief, and then dropped into the water, the descriptive noise and horrendous odor fogging the bathroom was more than enough to paint a crystal-clear picture in his mind, and nauseate parts of himself he didn’t even realize could feel sickness.
“Ohhhhh, yeeeeeah! That… is… SO much better!” Joanne wheezed with satisfaction, no longer constipated and feeling better than ever. Fresh rivulets of sweat were descending the curves of her spacious rack and spare-tire love handles after she’d put almost the same effort into taking that dump as she had while fucking her shrunken son from every which way. Upon getting ahold of herself again, Joanne seemed to realize for the first time she was still clamping Tommy so barbarously in her hand that she was probably one slightly-stronger squeeze away from creating permanent finger-depressions in his sides, as though molded into clay. Cooing apologetically, she at last loosened her hold on him and then set the rib-crunched near-asphyxiated lad down upon the narrow span of toilet seat real estate still available between her doughily spread thigh masses. “Sorry to keep you waitin’. You’ve got needs, just like Mommy. Well, go ahead and get it out. And, gosh, sweetie, I just can’t TELL you how much I love ya for helpin’ me out back there. I needed it bad. And we’re talkin’ bad. A real traffic jam, if you know what I’m sayin’. But it’s all better now. I really can count on my man to take care of EVERYTHING, can’t I? Thank you sooooo much!”
Tired, injured, and near-delirious as he was feeling right now to such an extreme that he could barely keep standing upright, Tommy had to passively admit his mother was correct. It had been a while since he’d gone. Before he could will his systems into defensively unclenching, though, he was beaten to the punch by the uncomfortably-near pubic-curtained mound of his giant mother’s crotch gently bracing and then cascading a largely-uncontrolled golden stream down into the ruinous warzone of the commode pond below. Joanne’s piss output only gained strength as she voided her bladder with almost as much sighing respite as she’d emptied certain other openings, spraying a continuous firehose blast of whiffy urine out from her hair-curtained vag. Especially as her jet-streamed fluid evacuation unsettled the unspeakable buildup already pooled in the soiled waters beneath them, and by the sound of it there were still a few pesky objects from her plush backside left to ominously plip-plop-splat out toward the drain, Tommy found it more than a little difficult to take a whiz himself. Nonetheless, knowing it might be a while again yet before he had the opportunity to alleviate basically the one bodily need he was still allowed to handle alone, the eight-incher forced himself to follow his mother’s example.
When they were both finished, Joanne burned through close to half a roll of toilet paper wiping down her entire undercarriage – though Tommy still had a sneaking suspicion there would be some hint of this lavatory carnage present for a while after, if only in the form of a riper bouquet or particularly fetid streaks of anal sweat. After flushing everything down in a single load that fortunately didn’t overflow, despite the odds, the much-happier bold-and-bountiful giantess heaved herself fully off the toilet seat, its surface moist now with the steamed-in memory of her tush, and stood before the sink to get them both cleaned up. This happened to be one of those rare occasions where a supposed-break for Tommy didn’t secretly involve a consequence almost as dire as his last unwilling sexual escapade into one of his parent’s holes, and Joanne showed a fleeting glimpse of actual maternal nurturing by thoroughly rinsing, soaping up, and massaging her son’s vaginal filth-encrusted figure through the suds and warm sink water. Despite his better judgment, and the knowledge of what these very same gigantic hands currently bathing him would later do to humiliate, violate, and break him down in every manner conceivable, the shrinker allowed himself to enjoy the therapeutic benefits of – even for a brief time – feeling clean, safe, relatively-unharmed, and not wearing a semi-dried skinsuit made of his own mom’s pussy dribblings.
“Someone’s been SUCH a good boy for Mommy lately, and such a sexy big man for her too, hasn’t he, baby?” Joanne slurred while washing and fondling her most prized possession through the soapy depths. “That’s it. Feels good, doesn’t it? Well, this is only a tiny fraction of how amazing you’ve been makin’ me feel. So it seems like the least Mommy can do, huh?”
With her eight-inch spawn cleansed and refreshed, or as much as possible considering his many compacted layers of mind-breaking trauma and probably-unhealed internal wounds, Joanne returned to the bedroom. Tommy thought she might slip him straight back into the suction-bottomed toy husk before finding another creative location to prop him, which would inevitably be followed by greasily undoing the wash she’d just gifted him. But instead Joanne only settled back under the bed covers, got tucked in, and absolutely beamed ear-to-ear with saccharine motherly pride as she gazed upon her greatest deeply-beloved creation splayed across both hands.
“Mommy’s never felt so close to you, baby. Did you know that? Can you feel it, too? How… strong… our connection is now?” the woman amorously pontificated out of the blue, sounding as if she was partially lost in a stickily-romantic dream. “It’s like we’re all knotted up together all snug, just like we were before I brought you into this world. Only… better than that ever was. We’re the same. You’re a part of Mommy. Aren’t you?”
Realizing she expected an answer, Tommy stammered out the most-convincing ‘yes’ he could, which still came out entirely dubious. He’d had to become very talented at lying in order to avoid firing up his mother’s temper, but there were certain things too abominable for him to speak aloud without a troubled croak infecting his voice, despite his best try. Joanne seemed to notice his hesitation, knowingly smirking as she shook her head, but thankfully didn’t burst into a fit of scorned-lover frustration.
“That’s sweet of you, baby. Not wantin’ to hurt Mommy’s feelings. I’m tough, though. I can take the truth. And I want you to know it’s perfectly all right to not feel the same way yet. You can’t rush those kinds of feelings, you know. Can’t force ‘em. But you’ll get there soon. See, good Mommies just have this special power, to see what’s best for their children, and know what they want, and what they need, a long time before their little ones ever do themselves. And the closer they are, the better they can tell. You’ll come around, though. You’ll see,” Joanne replied, generously forgiving of her son’s emotional shortcomings, before her words devolved into a slobbery lip-popping make-out with her eight-inch little-big man’s whole head. By this point in the day, and his shrunken life at large, Tommy was too weathered and beaten-down to even marginally resist having his face kissably sucked upon until the giantess paused to continue her loving sermon: “A Mommy might know best, and I’m always goin’ to be your Mommy, sweet-cake, but what makes this even more special… and what makes us really meant to be… is that I’m your lover, too. And you’re mine. Which means I know even better than the best. For example, baby, a good relationship thrives on routines that bring you closer. Just like this. When it’s gettin’ dark and sleepy out, and Mommy shows her lover just how MUCH lovin’ she’s got to give.”
Slipping in heavier drool-coating flesh-suctioning smooches between these heartfelt declarations, Joanne had begun to work her way down from Tommy’s face, along his chest and abdomen, and necessarily arrived back at his groin, which she faithfully carried on blowing until his abused member began to stiffen back to a salute, as it always did.
“It’s just you and me, big man. All we’ve got to worry about from now on is takin’ care of each other, and bein’ everything a Mommy and her son, and a couple of perfect lovers can be. Oh, just think of all the places we can go, the things we’ll see and do together. You know, as much as Mommy loves a good lay from you, sweetie, it’s not ALL about that. There’s goin’ to be some real ROMANCE in there, too. Nice and sappy. So you know it’s the real thing.” Joanne, artfully speaking this message in between full-mouthed pulses around her offspring’s mini-erection, brought his spasming frame to completion in record time, licked away the evidence, then almost immediately wadded him back into what had become his primary nighttime residence in the form of her mammary gulch. Tommy didn’t have the strength to fight this, either. “Don’t worry too much yet about thinkin’ up all the ways you’re going to be Mommy’s favorite little romantic, though. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, ya know. A lifetime, and hell, maybe even longer than that. That’s how much of a believer in true love you’ve made me. Now, get cozy for Mommy. It’s been a long one. A good one, but a long one. And I want you having nothin’ but sweet dreams tonight, my sweet-sweet baby boy.”
Giantess World
Chapter End Notes:
Whew, and there's the conclusion to the final epilogue of this story. If more of these characters ever gets commissioned, expect it to show up here, but for now, that'll be all. Thanks for sticking with the mother-son debauchery.