"W-wait!", James managed to stammer out, interrupting whatever disturbing idea his mother had for him. "I do NOT feel that way about you!", he yelled to Paula, hopping back off of his mother's lap. "I just tripped and fell, and somehow my pants got caught on the door", he said, looking around and pointing to where he found them. "See, there they are right there." He then walked over and grabbed his pants and squeezed into them. A lot of his clothes were one or two sizes too small, what with Paula being a bit of a penny pincher when it came to his needs. Since he was able to be squished into tight spaces, James' clothes being too tight wasn't that big of a problem, even if he did complain about it quite often. "Look", James said as he walked back to the living room to confront his (obviously inebriated) mother. "I don't know how much you've had to drink, but maybe it'd be best if we avoided each other for the rest of the d-"
His words were silenced as he felt his lips being pinched together. When he looked up, he saw Paula standing over him, an scowl on her face as she squeezed his lips shut. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!", she yelled. "Do you think it's okay to play with my emotions like that?!", she yelled.
"Mom, I'm sorry! It was just an accident!" That's what James wanted to say, but his mother was still squeezing his lips tightly shut.
"I really thought you cared about me, James", she said, letting go of his mouth. "But it turns out you're just like all the other guys out there. Just playing with my feelings for kicks", she said. James wanted to tell her that it was just an honest mistake. Sure, she was a huge bitch, but she was still his mother and he never wanted to do anything to actually hurt her. Paula then put her hand on top of her son's head and squeezed tightly. "Let's see if you find this funny." With that, she shoved her hand down, pressing James' malleable form together until it was a small, fleshy pancake. She then peeled him off the ground and began squishing James even more. He began to mentally panic, having no idea as to what she had planned for him.
After about a minute of squishing and molding, she had molded her malleable son into a little ball. "Ya know, James", she said, licking her lips. "I've always wanted to see what you tasted like..." Now this was really bad. James' biggest fear was being digested by someone. The thought of dying, or worse, continuing existence as nothing but a layer of fat was terrifying. Ever since he was a kid, James had always been afraid that his mother, in her drunken stupor, might wander into his room while he were asleep and mistake him as a piece of taffy.
James was forced to watch as his mother extended her tongue and gave him a lick, covering his ball form with her wet, sticky saliva. "Mmm! Just like sour taffy!", she said as she gave her son another lick. Even in his current state, James could smell the alcohol on her breath, and would gag if he still had a mouth. "Snack time!" All James could do was watch as his mother opened her mouth wide, her breath reeking of alcohol as she stretched her tongue out and held her son over her gaping maw.
"Please, mom! Don't do this!", James mentally cried. However, Paula didn't seem to care about what her son wanted as she dropped the tiny ball that was her son into her mouth and chomping down on him, bringing an audible *SQUISH!*. James was in hell as his mother chewed him up, soaking him in her saliva as her teeth pounded his squishy body into oblivion. He wished he could rewind time and simply stay in his room, or checked to make sure Sandy hadn't gotten out before he left. He wished his mother at least tried to listen to him, but she seemed to have her mind made up on turning him into her snack.
After about a few minutes of chewing her son up, Paula tilted her head back and...
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