Bug Boy

by Tha Wrecka

Greg opens his mouth, disconnects his jaw, wide enough to suck her in. She is his mother and she had formed him from herself, his body wrenched from her insides. Ironic, now, that he will suck her gooey insides out, ingest them.

She is gluggy going down, fat chunks pushing against his throat. Her arms flail pointlessly, her eyes red and wide. He drains her dry and the remaining husk is dry and wrinkled, grossly shrunken. He preserves her, held to the wall by web, a memorial.

Mother, I absorbed you.

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