Cancer Cleaning

It was Sunday. Sunday night, to be exact. In a home far out in the countryside lived a small family known as the Youngs. A man named Samuel, a woman named Annabelle, and a young son named Eustace.  Samuel was out in the suburbs tonight with his group of friends from work, in which they all worked on home construction and improvement projects for the wealthier clients in the gated community some 50 miles away from home. They set aside Sundays to play card games with some of the “entertainment money” left over after paying the bills and the town’s taxes, along with the other necessities of life. For Annabelle and Eustance, however, tonight was not a night of leisure.

Eustace was, no pun intended, young. As with many small children, he disdained going to the bathroom for a shower. His reason was not what the majority of children in the community would have for such opposition to the dreaded cleansing sessions. You see, the reason that the Youngs lived so far out in the country was because Mrs. Young was a Cancer. Her lower body resembled that of a crab, and was as a result shorter than a usual female would be in comparison to her husband, despite the fact that Cancer’s tend to have a bulky build below the belt. Interspecies relations of this nature were also very unorthodox, to put it lightly, and it carried a heavy stigma with those whom were found to have had coitus with such creatures.

For Mrs. Young though, none of that mattered. She was happy, as were her husband and son, and bath night was always a treat for her. “Eustace, it’s time to wash up for school tomorrow!” she called, her anticipation causing her voice to accentuate ‘wash’.

“Mom, I don’t smell at all. I can just wash my face and be okay for at least two, maybe three days.” he retorted.
“Sweetie, we both know that you’re just making excuses. Let mommy clean you up, I promise I’ll make it quick.” she insisted back.
“You always say that, but you never do!” he shouted back, which earned him a scowl from Annabelle.
“Eustace Youngs, what have your father and I told you about raising your voice at us?” she questioned rhetorically.
“Not to do it unless I want a thrashing..” he mumbled back, his head nodding downward in submission.
“Good boy.” She said as she took his hand in hers and began to tug him down the short hallway to the bathroom. “I promise, you’ll thank me someday.” she finished off with, as she brought the two of them inside the bathroom and shut the door.

The bathroom, like all the rooms in a home meant to accommodate someone of Annabelle’s dimensions, was spacious for human standards, with what could be described as a jacuzzi in place of a usual bath tub. There was no shower curtain either, as Annabelle insisted on washing everyone in her household. The setup cost Samuel a lot, but they’ve recently begun to make up for it with a surplus of contract work coming in from a housing boom.

Annabelle started the jacuzzi on warming the water while her son sheepishly began to undress down to his underpants. His cheeks are flush with color as he uncomfortably held his sides, trying to cover himself. Mrs. Young smiled. She loved it when he did that; it was really the most adorable thing he does, in her opinion. She got into the tub herself and began to excrete suds into the water, preparing the water for her son’s arrival.

“Come on in, sweetie. I’ll turn my back so you can finish undressing and hop in.” she reassured him.  A woman of her word, she turned away from Eustace, and heard the soft slapping of his feet against the tile floors as he stepped out of his undergarments and into the water with a splosh. Eustace then said softly, “I’m ready now.” As if on queue, Annabelle turned herself around back to facing her beloved child, and started the task of washing him off first with a good rinsing. She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him down in front of her, until all but his head was submerged. In this position, she was reminded of his father, and how he… she shook her head. That’s not how a mother should be thinking with her son right in front of her.

“Anything interesting happening this week, dear?” she asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.
“Nah. Just more dumb schoolwork. We can’t even go out for recess because it’s cold out. I have a jacket! Let me go outside.” he responded back with a cocksure attitude dressing his face with a soft grimace.
“They’re just trying to keep you from getting sick. You know that.”
“So? If I get sick, maybe I can stay home and watch a movie.”
“Young man, if you’re sick enough to stay home from school, you better not be able to move.” Annabelle than chuckled lightly, earning a quick grin in return from the boy as he pushed himself up out of the water up to his waist, using the bubbles from his mother as a covering for his ‘special place.’

The conversation died out again as Mrs. Young began her work of scrubbing Eustace. She held a washcloth in one hand and drenched it in her fluids directly from her abdomen before she began to press the cloth into his shoulders and moving back and forth. As she scrubbed, she watched the bubbles on the cloth tint with brown and black from the dirt and oils coming off her little man’s skin. Eustace’s shoulders relaxed, arms drooping deeper into the warm waters of the tub as he simply enjoyed the sensations. Annabelle’s hands gradually went lower and lower, going over Eustace’s body inch by inch. Annabelle has begun to drool out of the corner of her mouth as she reached his underdeveloped midsection. The muscles hadn’t quite grown in yet, but she could tell there was a strong set of abs waiting for Eustace as he grew up. Annabelle’s thoughts drifted to her son’s future family. She desperately hoped that the social taboo on interspecies relationships was gone by then. She wouldn’t know what to do if she had to pose as a family friend at her own son’s wedding day.

Her train of thought ended as she felt her hands sinking below the water and feeling her son tense up and wriggle nervously. She pulled her hands away, as much as she’d love to finish washing him like she used to do when he was too young to care. Two weeks ago when she’d tried to do it, he had ran out of the tub and the room completely, streaking water throughout the home and worrying Annabelle to death that she’s made their relationship awkward. Luckily, seven year olds don’t hold grudges very long against their loving mothers. She skipped his hips and went straight down to his legs, letting her body sink deeper into the bubbly waters. She suggested silently with her hands that Eustace sit down in the tub with her, and he did. His back laying against his mother’s chest, eyes closed as she ran her fingers up and down his legs, getting every bit of grime off of them. As her fingers reached to get in between his toes, she softly spoke up, breaking the six minute long silence.

“You’re just like your father.” she said. After receiving no reply, she continued to herself. “I bet that you’ll grow up to be a strapping young man with an even happier life than your dad and I have. Maybe you’ll marry someone like your mother~.” she cooed. This last comment did receive a weak response to the contrary, but Eustace had been enjoying his mother’s touch with the water for too long, and was nodding into sleep. She pushed the cloth into his hand as she stepped out of the tub to allow Eustace to finish washing himself, and after a quick minute, bath night was done. Eustace lazily reached for a towel and began to rub himself dry, as Annabelle simply stood on the towels covering the floor, the water running off of her like her skin was oil. When Eustace had completed his final task, he dropped the towel to the ground and let out a yawn. Catching as they are, Annabelle yawned not two seconds later.

“Alright. Time for us to go to bed, honey.” she stated, her sweet devotion coating her lips with every word.
“But what about dad?” he asked, another yawn escaping his mouth right afterward.
“He’ll be home in the morning. Come now.” she answered, before picking him up and putting him over her shoulder. He made one final step to the jacuzzi to turn off the heating before stepping out of the bathroom and pulling the door to. The last thing to be heard by Eustace before he passed out clinging to his mother was her legs clicking against the scratch-proof hardwood floors.