Mother May I? by Thomas Stewart



Warmth passed over Mark’s chest with the baby-soft skin of her palm, causing him to shiver. A light moan escaped his lips. She chuckled, leaning in close to his ear. 

“You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Mother,” he replied with shaking breath. Her nails began to dig into his flesh and another moan, louder, erupted from him. This elicited a giggle from his mistress. 

Her hips slid so smoothly against his, the bottoms of her thighs massaging his hips. “Tell me what you want, dear,” she whispered, pushing her nails further into his chest. His heart tried to push itself against her palm with every palpitation. Her nails were dangerously close now to piercing his flesh. 

She wouldn’t allow that, though. 

Not yet.

Mark’s chest heaved and fell in rapid quakes, hyperventilating almost. She took him by the lobe of his ear, delivering a sharp, firm, yet playful bite while cooing to him. His breath seized altogether for about five seconds before returning to his hyperventilation. 

“What do we say, Mark?” 

He didn’t reply. Her nails started to pull away from their chosen divots in his chest. 

“P-Please…” he cried through his breaths. 

“Aw,” she teased, “Please what, baby boy?”

“Please… Please bleed me, Mother.” Her nails dug back into his skin. His gasps burst in large, desperate gulps. Further and further, her nails pushed until finally, a small crimson stream flowed from his left breast. The thumping of his heart wore at his ribcage as it continued quaking, climaxing blood from the punctures. 

She smiled, dabbing one of the streams with her index finger and bringing it to her tongue. “Mmm… You know how much I love the taste of you, baby boy.” His eyes met hers, yet he couldn’t see her through his blindfold. Nonetheless, he could mentally picture the exultant grin she must’ve wore when she spoke. This was her favorite thing to do with him– which made it his by extension. 

His chest pushed outward, presenting itself for her to access even easier. A needless gesture, but an appreciated one. Her obedient little boy.

His hands started to move up her body from her thighs. She promptly stopped them before they could reach her hips. Her hips likewise ceased moving. “What do we say if we want something, Mark?” she asked sternly. 

“M-Mother… Mother, may I?” Chuckling, she slowly released her hold of his hands. 

“You may, baby boy.” 

His hands snaked up her hips, savoring the feeling of the tight satin dress she wore, something she did just for him, trying to feel her skin through it. Whilst he explored, she leaned in close to his chest and fixed her mouth to his punctures. Her tongue was a snake, burrowing into each and every opening her nails had created. Her teeth acted as a steel vice, forcing the blood to ooze from the punctures. 

In this, their moans synchronized with one another, her’s being muffled around his skin whilst his projected throughout the room. Mark’s heart punched against her nose, as though it were trying to force her off of him. As if her penetration of his breast was in molestation of him. A rape of his very heart. 

Whether his heart wanted her molestation or not, though, he would not remove her. His hands grasped her buttocks, reigning her closer to him. She rose up, her lips now lined with crimson. Moaning, she asked him “You want to look at me?” Her palms rubbed gently across his chest. “You want to see how much you please me?” 

“Y-Yes please. I-I want to look at you. I want to see you!”

“Then all you need to do is ask,” she replied, her grin stretching even wider. 

“Mother, may I please see you?”

Giggling, she replied “Of course, baby boy.” She then removed his blindfold. His sight was slow to recompose, but when it did, his eyes grew to twice their size. On his lap was Mother, the beautiful balm he’d idolized from birth, but now with her lips torn from one ear to the next, parted upward in a glasgow grin. Her eyes pierced into his, whilst her tongue wormed around outside of her mouth, eager like his twitching hips were now. 

Her hands’ movement across his chest then passed to his nipples, gently encircling them with her index finger. This made his chest thrust upwards. Her voice, now no longer warm and seductive, more eager and animalistic to match her new beastial appearance, goaded him “Go on, baby boy, I know you want to touch, don’t you.” 

“Yes, Mother. I want to, no, I need to feel you!” Her palms moved slowly from his chest to his throat. There, she began to squeeze. 

“Mmm… Yes… Yes, I can feel it.” Her hips resumed their earlier motion, this time with increased speed and intensity. Her hands guided his from her hips up to her torso. 

On their own, Mark’s hands moved to the top of her dress. For just a moment, he allowed his hands to brush ever so slightly over her exposed cleavage, allowing himself a small taste of the ecstasy lying under the dress. Seeing this, Mother laughed. Her baby boy’s innocence was always so adorable. The same was true for all her children, all her little baby boys, born from her, and taken back into her. They’d all satisfied her hunger, and now Mark, the youngest of her children, would be the last. She would be whole again with him, and he would belong to her completely again. 

“Mother, may I…” His gasping breaths, brought on by Mother’s constant caresses, hindered him from finishing at first. She giggled again. 

“May you what, baby boy?”

“Mother, may I touch you?” 

“You may,” she replied with a demonic sort of cackle. Her eyes when she said this changed into those of serpents, slitted and jaundiced. He could feel a distinct heat bear down on him when he looked into them. “Oh, my sweet baby boy… All grown up now, and you’ve never been able to touch a woman like this, have you?”

“No Mother,” replied Mark. “The others bore me. They could never be as beautiful as you.” His words cause the torn ends of her mouth to split even further, ending just below her ear canals on either side. His hands begin to remove her dress. Before they were even exposed, his hands were kneading her breasts. She let out a soft moan that goaded him to knead even harder. Her hips now moved in a rapid cycling motion on his lap. She leaned down and lapped out her snake-ish tongue. 

Its movement across his lips almost felt ticklish to him. Suddenly, her palm was pressed into his chest and she whispered “Give Mother a kiss, baby boy.” Without missing a beat, he leaned in and their lips took hold of one another. They held for almost half a minute, her tongue tasting every inch of the inside of his mouth whilst he simply let her play, before she broke away. He went back to kneading her breasts while she finished undressing. 

Fully nude now, she pulled his head in between her breasts and asked “Are you ready, Mark? Once this is done, you’ll always be with me, and we’ll never be apart again. Our family will be complete.”

For a moment, Mark was silent, taking the moment to enjoy her flesh against his. He wasn’t lying when he said no other was as beautiful as her, after all. Sure this wasn’t his first occasion at intimacy, but only the first where his heart felt as though it belonged to whom his body was being given to. He could feel her nails slowly and softly drag down his back. 

“Have I told you, baby boy, how it felt when I gave birth?” He responded by tightening his embrace around her. “It was painful. I had to tear myself apart to give you all life. Because I’m not like the rest of them, I can’t give birth the way the others do. I can’t love a man and produce offspring of his, you see?

“But I wanted someone I could hold. Someone I could love and lust with. That’s why I gave life to you and your brothers, by tearing my own flesh apart.” She pushed him back in his chair again. She pointed then to her left side, revealing three long scars that reached all the way from around her back. Two of them were faded almost completely, but the last was still fresh, a deep red slash across her otherwise perfect bodice. 

“Your brothers have joined back with me. Now it’s your turn, if it’s what you truly want, baby boy.”

“Yes please, Mother. I want to be with you again!” Her hands fell to his chest and began once again massaging just above his heart. 

“Say it, then.”

Mark took a deep breath then and asked “Mother, may I join you again?” 

Without another word, Mother’s jaws unhinged before sinking back into his skull. A sharp cry of pain echoed throughout the room, but Mark did everything he could not to struggle. This was it, everything he ever wanted. To be one with the one that loved him, truly loved him. His scalp was ripped from his head, even taking chunks of his brain with it, and spat out. Mark instantly became dizzy. Mother was now little more than an albino blur amidst a sparsely lit void. 

A red filter quickly overtook what little he could see. Dark curtains formed at the outer edges of his eyes and slowly crept closer and closer to the centers. Mother focused now on the rest of his body: his chest, shoulders, and waist. All of it was quickly flayed open with her nails and teeth, exposing all of his inner organs, which she gleefully devoured. No part of them was left untouched either. Even his bones were broken and gnawed upon until tender enough for her to swallow. 

By this point, Mark had lost consciousness, his eyes hanging half-open and his lips frozen in a half-hearted smile. Mother had just managed to break open his rib cage when she found his heart, still faintly beating. Wasting no time, lest she run the risk of it failing before she have the chance, she lunged forward and ripped it straight out of his chest with her jaws. It gave a further 500 beats while she crushed and ground it with her teeth before finally swallowing it. Once this was finished, she rose up again and took in a deep breath. 

What remained of her baby boy was not more than a tattered carcass. For just a moment, Mother’s eyes burned. Her baby boy, the one she’d nurtured for over eighteen years now, was no longer there, no longer able to nuzzle and nurse with his dearest Mother. But now, she knew, he was always with her, always a part of her again. She looked at her side again and smiled at the sight of the last scar now faded. 

It was what he wanted, after all. It’s what he asked for, and Mother always provided for her baby boy.


Thomas Stewart is 22 years old with a fascination with the art of terror and the macabre. When he’s not watching horror movies, or reading horror novels or stories, he’s always crafting his own chilling gospels of horror to terrify and eternally rob you of a peaceful slumber. Currently he publishes most his work to Reddit under his pen name “Corpse Child”. Many of his horror stories have been featured and adapted to audio narrations by a wide variety of YouTube narrators — including some of the bigger names in the field — as well as the ones commissioned on the ChillingApp and was featured in the debut issue of IllAdvised Records’ “The Dark Door” E-zine and has recently published his debut horror novella.

You can follow him for more of his work through his Facebook and his SubReddit; “r/CorpseChildGospels” or his website; “Corpse Child’s Sanctuary” as well as purchasing a copy of his books, “Damned Whispers” and “The Other Side” on Amazon, as well as his debut horror novella, “Mortimer”. 

F.B. —



(“Damned Whispers”): 

(“The Other Side”):


Corpse Child’s Sanctuary (Author website):


Published 10/31/23


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