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Patrick stood at the top of the old carpeted stairs. His stubby fingers were wrapped around the white painted wooden posts. On his knees even, watching as his mother passed back and forth busily below. As usual, five or six times a week, going out to do whatever she does. ‘Business’ was always her response. Plopping him with different babysitters every time, toppling back into the house at 3 in the morning. His 18th birthday was last week. He was old enough to stay by himself but what would she know? He was still a kid to her, ordering these babysitters every single time. He’d be surprised if she even remembered his name! He was fairly tall for his age though his body was not though proportional. He had these little stout fingers, though extremely large feet. His face was pelted with an array of freckles, covering his thin cheeks, up to his high forehead. A natural redhead, well, orange head: that Irish ancestry. He didn’t make this babysitter selection easy for her though. No, he gave each new girl hell. A painful 3 bucks an hour, wasn’t worth sitting this ‘little’ monster. No, tonight was another girl, some girl that just moved into town. She was easy bait. A smile crossed his lips, revealing the straight plaque-coated teeth; like taking candy from a baby he thought.

There was a tap on the door. The mother, jogging lopsidedly as she put in an earring ran to answer it. A young woman stand there. Not even a woman, a girl almost. She was no more than 23, no younger than 21. 22 sounds like a good age. She was much shorter than he, barely 5ft tall. She was average, though the typical cheerleader skinny. Given a soft pale face, with black hair that crawled down her shoulders. Almost flawless skin, creepy if not beautiful. She had a pink halter top, perking average breasts. A pleated denim skirt overlapped her semi-chubby thighs, the bits of shorts seen below. One of those half skirt, half shorts thing. She had a small cream bag thrown over her shoulder but not much else with her. A pair of flipflops, but no jewelry seen, from at least where he was.

“Emergency numbers are on the breakfast room table and pizza money is on the fridge. Thank you so much, Eris.” The girl nods politely. The mother grabs her purse and nods, looking up at Patrick, almost longingly before closing the door without a word. Eris, so the girl was named, moved quietly into the living room, “Patrick, why not come down and meet me, hm?” She called up. What a lovely voice, hypnotic and almost alluring. Patrick stepped one foot down then placed his weight on the other. He stood and slid down the railing. He created an indifferent look as he strutted proudly towards her: an art he had been perfecting for years, “Yo. Look you don’t need to do anything. My mom is nuts, I mean look at me. So uh just watch tv or something.” Eris smiles at him, tilting her head a bit, “I was going to fix you dinner. Is that all right?” Patrick watches her but shrugs, “Whatever, I’m going watch the tube then.” He hops on the couch.

Eris walked towards the kitchen, in that silent way that she did. She so effortlessly moved her balance, disappearing so perfectly. Patrick didn’t take notice, flipping the remote over his wrist to turn on the large, wide screen television. In the kitchen, Eris took the money off the fridge and laid it to the side. No pizza. Instead, she opened the refrigerator and stuck her head inside, moseying around. She pulls out some cold lasagna, cooked broccoli, and then some bread from an opposite drawer. Oh, his mother noticed him. She noticed him as a burden. Eris was no ordinary sitter. She sets her bag on the counter as she arranged the cold plates. She then opens it to reveal a metal rack lodged into the inside of the cotton. She removes a small vial fizzling with some blue liquid. She shakes it a bit and glancing towards the living room. He was oblivious. She drips some on each of the food items. The azure potion dissolves quickly, as if it were never there. ısparta escort The babysitter puts the plate into the microwave. She then sets just a small bit on a piece of common day bread. She ingests the bread herself, smacking her lips at the odd taste. A wrinkle of her nose and a cringe of her eyes said that it must have sour.

“Dinner,” she called; only moments later when the microwave beeps its completion, “I ate before I got here, so its all for you.” She smiled, happily. She moves over to the table and lays it before him – silverware already nicely presented. Patrick, accustomed to sitting in front of the television, raises an eyebrow. He shrugs, more mooching for free food. By now, he would usually be torturing the girls. Like squirt guns, tacks in seats, whoopee coushins, even just trashing the house childishly. It was all small pranks and games that just wasn’t worth the time to these lowly paid sitters. Naw, he’ll be nice to this girl just because she’s new in town.

He inhaled the food, not bothering to use his napkin. He gave several loud burps, turning to glance at the television from time to time. She just sat across from him, watching, her wrists folded together. When he’d look to her, he would knit his eyebrows again but continued pigging out. It was within seven minutes before his plate was completely clean, “That was good,” he said, with one final belch of rudeness. A stinging then occurred, almost tingling even, at the point of his navel. It made his stomach churn, so much that he put his hand over the spot momentarily, “Whoo, indigestion,” he grinned at her. She returned a silent smile.

He found himself lowering his glance to her breasts. They seemed to be pushing harder into that top that had been so loose when she walked in the door. He shakes his head and looks away, “Thanks.” He moves back over to the couch, dropping to lie across it sloppily. She nods and lifts the plate he had left, taking it to the kitchen to wash. That stinging continued, burning now as it spread through his lower gut. Patrick would switch positions from time to time, moving to lay his leg over the glass table. He even felt hungry. Not hunger, but a craving. He needed something. He sat up, not 10 minutes since he lay down and walked to the kitchen. Eris was still putting things up. She turns to look at him, “Still hungry?” She asks in her sultry usual voice. He rubs his stomach a bit and nods. He was looking at her breasts again. She clears her throat though and he shoots his eyes up, “Yea,” he confirmed after the nod.

She held that odd smile, “What would you like?” He shrugged. She turned towards the freezer. He naturally glances down to her bum, seeing how it was now plump and ripened into her tight denim skirt. He smacks his lips, lifting his shirt which was slumping over his shoulder. That’s odd, this was a tight ringer tee. Hm, no matter. He shakes his head, “I’m good.” He starts to walk back in the other room, tripping out of his shoes. He grunts, looking back at them before blowing it off. Forgot to tie them, he assumed. He started to watch the tv again but the burning in his navel was becoming insatiable. Eris walks over to him in, what seemed a new manner. She rubs his bangs from his eyes in a motherly fashion, “Got a tummy ache?” She asked with a soft voice. He nods, rubbing his stomach, “A nice warm bath may help.” He nods and stands, fixing his jeans which were classically hanging below his boxers. He looks to her. She seemed different. Her tankop was much tighter around her breasts. The nipples were seen, easily poking through the built-in bra. Her stomach too, had this slight slope, pushing along the pink fabric. He tilts his head but turns, quietly walking up the stairs.

Patrick moves into his room, leaving the door ajar. He takes off his shirt, to admire his bulging muscles, but there was nothing. A skinny boy stature. He tilts his head, “I need to work out more,” He said to istanbul escort himself. He drops his jeans, then his boxers, to his dismay and utter shock, he saw a lump of orange pubes fall with the cotton white boxers. He whimpers and touches the thinning hair around his limp dick. It pulls out easily, “What the?!” He had matured early, had gotten his big-boy hair when he was only 11. Eris walks into the room. Her stomach was noticeable larger. The skin was seen at the bottom of the shirt.

She smiles as he turns to her. He was her height, she stood to him at eye to eye. She leans to give a soft kiss to his cheek. Oddly this felt reassuring and his anger left him. Her hand slid tenderly across his groin, brushing fresh what was left of the orange hairs, to leave the small boyish penis, completely bare. His eyes were soon back on her large breasts, observing the cleavage across the top. He then looked towards the area of the nipple, watching dark spots slowly form. She lifts her eyes to see his gaze, smirking a bit, “Your bath is running,” She spanks the boy’s butt. He grunts and moves into the large master bathroom.

Patrick hops into the bath which was lovingly topped with purple bubble soap. He smiles and pats the surface a bit to make them foam more. Eris walks in behind him, slowly removing her shirt. This showed, what looked to be a 5 month pregnant stomach, rounding to perfection. Her breasts were notable swollen as well. The nipples were thick, pointed and reddened from the pressure building behind them. He looks to this sight, but found her no longer lover’s-look attractive. He splashes the bubbles, getting some in his eye, “Momma, I got soap in my eye.” He stops at his words, what did he just say? Eris had slid over a loose night shirt, walking over to him with a small rag, “It’s okay, baby.” She dabs his eye gently. He smiles when the stinging pain was relieved. She starts to use the rag, moving it over his body soothingly. He was soon distracted otherwise. In a child’s innocence, he was giddily playing with his penis beneath the water. He started jerking it a bit, letting the different sensation bud through his lower body. Eris stopped rubbing him and leaned back. As he jerked himself, her groin riddled with the arousal he should have felt.

Her walls quivered, sending shivers up her spine. Her back was pressed into the step of the bath; panties soon soaked with her warm moist juices, “Oh Patrick, stop that.” She said. Patrick lifts his head and looks to her. The girl leans back, licking her lips, rubbing her large stomach. Patrick gave a malicious grin. He hopped from the bathtub and suddenly ran like a little jaybird. Eris sighed but smiled, slowly standing. She lets out the bath water and picks up a towel, moving after him, “Patrick,” she calls.

He stumbles over his stubby legs, plopping naked onto the old cream carpet. She comes up behind him and easily scoops him up. He struggles for a moment but finds it useless. He looks up to her, grinning as she rubbed the towel across his little body. He could feel her stomach pressing into his back; that soothing and warm touch. It made the constant stinging in his navel just disappear. He smiled contently, leaning into her. She walks to his room and sits him down on the bed. Patrick rolls to his back, kicking his little fit, observing his toes. In the back of his mind, he knew something wrong but, he just couldn’t get it to his active conscience.

Eris unbuttons the front of the large shirt, revealing a large breasts, “Come now dear.” Patrick shook his head, “I’m a big boy now!” She lifts up the reluctant male and he squirmed with all his might, “You were a big boy,” she corrected. She pushed his face to the ripe nipple, pushing it into his mouth. She then used a finger to tease it inside, like one would do with a baby, tricking him into the addiction. The sweet milk poured into his mouth and it only took a drop on his tastebuds for him izmir escort to become ever so greedy. He turns to her, suckling gently at first. No, he’d knead his paws into the breast, wanting more and more to come.

She leans her head back, moaning softly, enjoying as the pressure was relieved. It wasn’t until she felt a tingle between her legs that she forced him to stop. She set the infant down on the bed and stood up. She struggled to undo her skirt, the 8 month pregnant belly, obviously hanging over top. She did though unbutton the denim, pulling it down, followed by the drenched purple panties. The sensation was stronger and she sat back down. A slithering snake vine pulled from the folds of her sex and all she could do was groan with the pleasure. It moved across the bed until it connected with the small figure’s navel. The stinging was finally gone and as the umbilical cord snaked into her womb, connecting him to her; the milk flowed endless into his rounded flub.

This was when realization hit. Patrick understood what was going on. He tried to struggle, to pull but it was too late. She was giggle from the raw sensation, leaning her head back still, licking her lips, “It’s okay, sweetie.” She said, “Your mother hired me, paid me off, to be your new mom. I’ve always wanted a little one for myself.” Patrick shook his head, feeling the draw and tautness from his stomach. She lifts one hand, directing his feet to her dripping sex.

Before he could flail them, the pulsing folds overwhelmed the flesh to his ankles. He tried to move at his knees but it only caused her to enjoy it more. She pulls the shirt over her head, revealing the entire swollen form – the 9 month pregnant body. How it had filled in her hips, rounding her slim cheerleader form to that of such a seducing mother. With a short scream, a painful contraction, he was brought up to his thighs. His little penis disappearing, following by his flat hips.

Patrick violently swishes his upper half, desperately to move his arms. It was to no avail. Another contraction, a scream, before a short pleasurable moan. He was pull to his stomach, hiding the umbilical cord. He moved his feet inside her, feeling them being directed upwards, inhaling into her womb. Her sex was stretching so easily around him, her cum just oozing over his body like the placenta it was no doubt forming. Patrick’s eyes winced and he threw his little fingers at her, whimpering. His body no longer able to produce words.

He tried to move though, flail, anything. It only helped. In moments, up to his neck. She struggles to lean herself forward, lifting a palm to blow him a kiss, “See you soon, baby,” She said before her last contraction. The most longing screech, and the burst of new liquids pooling over the bed. He was vacuumed into her birth canal, towed upwards, slowly into the womb. The umbilical cord pulled him closer to the wall, carefully feeding him with his precious nutrients.

At first he was scared, his old memories though fading. He forgot of that time at school where his girlfriend had dumped him or how often his mother left him alone. All he could think now was of the warm place he was in and what adventures tomorrow would bring with his new mother. Eris remained on the bed for some time until he was situated and sleeping.

She moves to the counter where she had set her bag, pulling out a new pair of underwear and maternity dress she had brought. Both fitting her buxom body beautiful. She stuffs her dirty clothes into the bag, rubbing her hand over her stomach, “Maybe not a boy. A girl would be better,” She nods her head as she steps down the stairs. She moves into the kitchen and picks up the money that was for the pizza. Way more than any one pizza would ever cost. She puts it in her little bag and smiles, thinking as she slid on her flipflops.

She turned off the lights and made her way to the front door, nodding her head, “I like that better,” She said aloud, agreeing with herself. Maybe even he heard her within his peaceful dreams. She opens the front door, rubbing her swollen stomach, “Patricia.” Eris gives that odd, knowing grin before slowly closing the door, leaving the large house in silence. For now.

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