The sounds of his mother's breath surrounding Blake were at once familiar and alien. They lulled him out of his slumbering stupor, allowing him to slowly grasp at his surroundings. They were pink, pulsating - warbling with unfamiliar energy. He felt way more malleable than before; victim to every swaying shake and press surrounding him.

The presence around him, warm but abstract, was hard for Blake to really process... Until the horrific events that took place in her mouth came back to him. No longer a granola bar, having been chewed up... He was somewhere within Claire's abdomen! A very tight place, considering how closely his mother paid attention to her physique. And from the shifting around, she was on the move, getting something ready.

He felt ready to astrally project himself out of his body, out of her body, out of that galaxy from the sheer embarrassment. He didn't even want to use his telepathy to see what she was up to; the whole situation was making his skin crawl, and he didn't even have skin. It was like goosebumps were forming on the outside shell covering him... Making a massive hand SMUSH them back into place. The presence of his mother's palm on him made him recoil.

Pushing his voice forward telepathically, he groaned: "M-mom! In here! I'm in your fat - you're pushing on me!"

"Blake...?" He could feel a massive sigh going through her lungs; filling up his entire murky, tight cell. "I really don't have time to play games. Or hear you call me fat. I raised you better!"

"But I'm right here!" He wiggled back and forth, attempting to alert her of his predicament.

The squirming evidently had the effect Blake desired. She tapped at his spot again with that massive, manicured hand; and her breathing hastened. Claire was boiling up. "Blake? It really is... you?"

"Yes!" He was nearly in tears, feeling weeping liquid down his warbling form. "I was that granola bar you ate, and now you gotta - GH- gghmn! GHH!?!"

Whatever Blake had instead of a throat was suddenly stricken with surprise mid-sentence. It was like all air was cut out; winded at once. Only a sense of coolness remained, chaining him in place. He could move even less than when he was a granola bar. It must be a navel ring - the kind that cuts magic out.

Claire sighed. "Please. Like I said, I really don't have the time to deal with this. You'll need to stick tight with me."

Blake felt himself dreading what was to come. Her own son was less of an immediate priority than what she was about to do...