Lauren continues mindlessly staring out the window, enjoying her pancakes, when she is startled by Becky’s laughter.

"O.M.G. Sammy, check out this meme," Becky giggles and holds out her phone out to Sammy's spot in the middle of the table, where Sammy is... missing? "Hey, where did Sammy go?" She scans the table, but sees no sign of him.

Nikki rolls her eyes. “Who knows. Maybe a gust of wind blew him away.”

Lauren, with a mouthful of food, grunts disapprovingly at Nikki, but realizes she hasn't seen Sammy in a little while either.

But before she could panic, she feels something hard and foreign in her mouth.

"What the..." Lauren muttered, reaching a finger into her mouth and feeling around. Her eyes widened as she felt the tiny object. At first, she thought it was just a hard speck of food that had gotten mixed into the pancake somehow, but her many years of experience with her puny son told her otherwise. She realizes it wasn’t a poppy seed – it was the small, struggling body of her son.

"Sammy!" she exclaims, spitting you out onto her hand. You are barely conscious, covered in saliva and chewed-up pancake, your body heaving with gasping breaths.

Becky lets out a gasp, while Nikki shrieks and laughs, spitting out her coffee.

Lauren stares at you, mortified and wide-eyed at first, but her shock morphs into an expression of laughter.
"Not again, sweetie!" She chuckles. "You know, if you wanted me to eat you, all you had to do was ask!"

You struggle to catch your breath and try to compose yourself as she lifts your mush-covered body up to her eyes.

"Is my little boy alright? I didn't scare you, did I?"

"I-I'm okay, Mom," you manages to stammer out.

“How did you even end up there, sweetie? You know that’s not safe.”

“I… I just wanted some of your food,” you lie.

“How many times have I told you not to do that?” She frowns, and shakes her head. “This is the second time this week!”

“Maybe he wants you to digest him, the little freak,” Nikki smirks.

“Nikki!” Becky says. “Yuck.”

Lauren sighs and picks up her napkin. She covers you with it, trying to wipe off the chewed-up pancake mush. Her huge fingers pinch you between the white paper napkin, rubbing your body back and forth. The paper is scratchy and hard, and it’s painful against your body and your still-throbbing dick.

More or less clean, Lauren sets you back down in the center of the table, and sighs. “Just what am I going to do with you, sweetie?”