Like Mother Like Daughter Untitled Babysitting Story (Yes That is the Real Name, Deal With it) chapter 9 by 2kfsk

It’d been three weeks since the fateful day that Franky was swallowed inadvertently by her babysitter. Three weeks since the serendipitous arrival of her neighbor-turned rescuer saved her life. Three weeks since her rescuer wound up unceremoniously crushed between the fingertips of Franky’s mother. And three weeks since Jason had babysat for the family at all.

When Ms. Jones came to understand precisely how sick Franky was, she took a few days off work to administer her care personally. Jason at first was concerned—after all, wasn’t that sort of thing supposed to be *his* job? But the mother reassured him that that this had nothing to do with her freak chicken pox episode on his watch and had far more to do with Ms. Jones feeling disconnected from Franky of late. Her utilitarian drive to simply fill the guardian role with the most cost-effective option was an abrogation of her motherhood responsibilities, and it was something she intended to correct…

Starting today. Franky was seated, alone, at the kitchen barstool, with her head on the countertop. She walked two fingers over the granite surface idly. She was also in a new bathing suit, this one a two piece, and pure white. Her tummy spilled out ever so slightly between the bikini bottom and bikini bra, but she insisted that it was comfortable enough for her, and considering the dire state she’d been in over the past weeks, Ms. Jones felt in no position to deny her. Her hair had been too patchy to grow back evenly, so they cut it into what was meant to be a pixie cut but ended up as more of a buzz cut. Her skin had gotten a better deal—once the tender welts had faded, she was left with skin so babysoft and hairless that she might as well have popped out of her mother last week.

Speaking of which.

Franky heard her before she saw her; Ms. Jones waddled out the hallway, adjusting the one-piece swimsuit that was currently carving between her bumcheeks. It’d been designed for a woman ten years younger, fifteen pounds lighter, and with one less child under her belt. Nevertheless, it was the only swimsuit she had, and while theoretically Jason had made this request in enough time for her to run to the mall and buy a replacement, Valencia’s pathological avoidance syndrome made that impossible. And as the deadline loomed, this was the result.

Franky, frankly, couldn’t care less; the girl beamed. “Mom!” She bounced out of the stool and nearly sent her mother to the ground in the tackle she inflicted on her. “You look *sooooo* cute!” This had the added effect of squeezing any self-consciousness out of the woman, who chuckled and rubbed Franky’s newly bald-ish head.

“That’s right, your mom’s still got it…” She squirmed a bit in Franky’s embrace, and the girl took the hint and let go. “Is, ahm… Jason here?”

The moment Franky opened her mouth, the doorbell rang. She pivoted: “I’ll get it!” and skipped to unlock and open the front door. When it opened, a chilly gust of wind blew into the house, along with Jason. He was wearing gloves fit for the early spring weather, and he wasted no time depositing his backpack in the same stool Franky just occupied. This didn’t stop the girl from giving her nearly as tight a hug as she’d just given her mom.

“Wh-hoa! Hey!”

Franky buried her face in Jason’s abdomen. “I missed you,” she mumbled. And that made Jason’s heart melt.

“Missed you too, little champ! And…” Jason raised his gaze to Ms. Jones, who had taken the opportunity to hide behind the kitchen bar. When they locked eyes, she blushed, and sidled into full view, displaying her body to the young man. “Ms… Jones.”

Taking a deep breath, Ms. Jones gave a strut of her hips. “Like what you see?” she asked. It didn’t come naturally to her, and the additional flab of her love handles meant there was a good deal of unchecked inertia that shaved some grace off the maneuver, but this meant nothing to Jason who would’ve had smoke coming out of his ears if he’d been on a TV screen.

“Right. Ah, well, um, uh…” When Jason realized he had no way to communicate his feelings in an appropriate way with Franky present, he simply said, “S-so… if you’re ready, this will be easier if the two of you…” He then gestured vaguely in the direction of the coffee table.

“Right!” Franky tugged her mother’s hand and pulled her to the living room area. “It’s to avoid getting lost in the carpet. Trust me, you do not want that to happen,” she said, clambering up onto the wooden table.

Ms. Jones cocked a brow. “How would you know about—"

“*Anyway,*” Jason interrupted. He gestured again, a bit more insistently this time.

“Fine, fine,” Ms. Jones relented. She needed only to lift her leg up for it to reach the tabletop. That was enough for her to hoist the rest of her onto the tabletop. Mother and daughter were now elevated about a foot and a half off the ground as the women were on auction. Jason assessed the pair, circling them from every angle, getting a visual on every crevice. Ms. Jones was feeling very exposed, and she crossed her arms and knees a bit. Franky on the other hand found her new bathing suit liberating, and she had no compunctions stretching and modeling for her babysitter.

Jason seemed to be taking his sweet time, and finally, the mother let out a sigh. “Are you going to get to the shrinking part anytime soo—”

*ZZZAPP!!*

In a flash, Ms. Jones disappeared. Franky’s mouth was agape seeing her mom reduced to size, and she had to watch her footsteps; one wrong stumble and the woman would end up as paste between the tabletop and the girl’s toe. That risk was shortly assuaged when, moments later, Franky shrank too.

Holstering the shrink ray, Jason crouched next to the table, looking for the two women. Ms. Jones was spinning in place, taking it in as her living room went from normal family dwelling to aircraft hanger levels of massive. She only steadied herself when Franky’s cries of “Mom!!” arrived; the girl was dashing toward her. They’d been only a foot apart at normal size, but now it took a twenty second sprint for one to reach the other.

They collided into another hug, and when Franky extricated herself from her mother this time, she asked. “So, how does it feel?”

“How, I… well…” Ms. Jones had to ponder. “It’s… overwhelming. I mean, I was only vaguely aware shrinking was even possible, and now I’m I…”

“Feels pretty good, huh?” Franky was already nodding in Valencia’s stead.

The woman gulped. “After getting used to the vertigo, I must say… y-yes,” she said. And then, as if at once realizing she wasn’t merely agreeing for Franky’s sake, she repeated herself. “It *does* feel… **really** good.”

“Isn’t it amazing how it makes the world feel magical again? Don’t you want to go on an adventure around the house with me? In the backyard? Around the block? Doesn’t the thought of it make your heart go wild?”

“I… look, Franky. That sounds *terrific*. But it’s all quite dangerous as well; when you’re with Jason, I don’t want to hear about any of that. Don’t worry, I’ve already spoken to him about what you’re allowed to do, and I have faith he shall keep you sa—*AIE!!*”

Ms. Jones yelped as she was plucked from the tabletop between Jason’s fingers. She lay in the man’s palm as he lifted her before his eyes. Before it was merely objectifying; now, he seemed to be evaluating her in much the same way a god prepares to pass down judgment. “I-I wasn’t ready! I’m not ready! C-could you hold on for just a bit?”

“Hmmmm…” Jason intoned. “Nah, sorry. You’re the control, after all.” And he plopped her into his mouth, shutting his jaws behind her.

“Go, go, Mom!” Franky cheered, pumping her fists in the air. “You can do it, you can do it, go, go, Mom!” Her tiny voice had no problem carrying up to Jason’s ears, and they added a blissful bit of whimsy to the situation as he ran his tongue all up and down Valencia’s half-inch body. The tongue rubbed along the exposed small of her back, dug between her legs, threaded the needle in a gentle tread that made the uptight woman swoon from stimulation, before enveloping her face in the most aggressive, spit-saturated kiss she’d had in her life. Jason nibbled a bit on her thighs, shins, and toes, never truly breaking the skin but giving a hell of a massage. She swished her from cheek to cheek, and ferried her to the back of his throat, giving *just* enough of a view into the abyss that it made Ms. Jones shudder with fear… before ultimately pulling her back. His investigation was done; he opened his mouth and unrolled his tongue where Ms. Jones lay panting on her side for air and dear life.

“OMG, you survived!” Franky screamed in delight. Jason plucked the woman from his tongue and laid her gingerly on the tabletop, where she shivered in the cold. “How was it? Intense, huh?”

“Y-y-y-yessss…” Ms. Jones chittered. But before they could exchange more pleasantries, Jason had already picked up Franky by the torso. “Ooooh, my turn! Wish me luck, Mom!”

Ms. Jones was far too out of it to respond in any meaningful way, but Franky had no problem with that. The fact that her mom was participating with her in her special interest was enough of a gift to the rambunctious little girl.

“So,” Jason rumbled as Franky hopped excitedly from one foot to the other in his palm. “Science is all about hypotheses. You know what a hypothesis is?”

“Ah…a hyper… the… sis?” Her response become a bit of a mutter the further down the word she went.

Jason sighed. “It’s like a prediction. Here’s my prediction: I bet your mom tastes better than you do.”

Franky balked. “What!? Fat chance! I’m the tastiest girl in this household; I’m the tastiest girl in this neighborhood! I’m the tastiest girl in the WOOOORLD!!”

Her voice didn’t carry further than a couple of feet, but she screamed it with such sincerity that Jason could only assume everyone on the planet had heard such a declaration. “Well, for your sake Franky… let’s hope that isn’t true.” And he opened his mouth in preparation to subject Franky to the same rigorous testing standards to which he’d just subjected her mother.

As Jason gnawed on Franky, he couldn’t help but notice on at least one count, Franky was correct. She was tastier than her mother. But it was a close call, and he figured it was more a result of them having literally different flavors than the existence of a linear tastiness scale upon which all females exist. Franky was doubtless ‘sweeter’, even if strictly speaking she wasn’t sweet at all. There was something in the sensation her body summoned when his tongue ran over her back and buttocks, where Jason wholeheartedly believed if he were to chomp down hard, a sweet juice would fill his mouth. Valencia on the other hand was more subtle. It was clear she was older, and her flavor was a bit less consistent. Sometimes she gave him sour sensations, other times sweet, other times tangy, and even a little bit spicy. It was, ironically, a flavor profile that only someone with the gustatory sophistication of an adult could enjoy. And Jason did enjoy it.

He liked Franky more—he held her in his mouth for a good deal longer than he did her mother—but one thing was clear: if he truly wanted to test the limits of the three laws of Shrinkanomics, he would need to increase his sample size.

By a lot.