Mother's Day Omen Tiny Terry chapter 3 by KoroKoroAi

"...it's Mother's Day!"

A cold chill ran down Terry's spine. Oh god. not only was it Mommy-and-Me Day - already a horrible portent - but it just so happened to coincide with Mother's Day. This was an absolute disaster just waiting to happen. Scratch that; the disaster was already underway.

“It’s Mother’s Day, Mother’s Day, oh, it's Mother’s Day!” Jenna sang, her voice a lilting, earth-shaking melody. Her smile was angelic, but there was a dangerous, eager glint in her colossal eyes. “It's the most wonderful time of the year! And you know what that means, don’t you, my squishable little lovebug?”

Terry’s tiny heart hammered against his ribs. He knew exactly what it meant. It meant the already precarious balance of his existence was about to be dropped into the deep vat of maternal, perfumed, and humiliating affection.

“It… Uh, it means you’re the best mom in the world?” he tried, his voice squeaking with forced cheer.

Her smile widened, a terrifying expanse of perfect white teeth and glossy pink lipstick. “Aww, you’re so sweet! But it also means… PRESENTS!” She brought him even closer, until her single, giant eye filled his entire world, the pupil a deep, black pool he could drown in, her eyelashes massive trees above and below. “You did get your Mommy a present, didn’t you, Terry? My little man is so thoughtful, I just know he didn’t forget his Mommy on her special day.”

As she moved her hand back in front of her face, her breath, sweet with coffee and mint, washed over him in a warm, moist gust.

“I… I, uh…” Terry stammered, his mind racing.

“Oh, Terry,” she pouted, her lower lip jutting out in a seismic sulk. “You didn’t forget, did you? On Mother’s Day? After everything Mommy did for you?” Her voice dipped into a stage whisper, laden with moroseness. “All the times I kept you safe in my bra when you were scared? All the times I let you nap in the warm pocket of my yoga pants when you couldn’t fall asleep? You wouldn’t make your Mommy feel sad on her one special day, would you?”

Her thumb, larger than his entire torso, began to stroke his back in slow, overwhelming circles. It was meant to be soothing, but it felt like being pushed by a boulder. The subtle ridges of her fingerprint ground against him like a washboard.

“I… Well…”

Terry stared up at the face of his giant, adoring, and utterly overwhelming mother. The words were stuck in his throat. To speak them was to unleash the full, terrifying force of Mother’s Day upon himself. He took a deep, shaky breath, gumming up every last ounce of his courage.

Admitting it felt like signing his own death warrant. It would be the spark that lit the powder keg of her Mother’s Day frenzy.

He opened his mouth to respond.