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"So what went wrong? I thought you said it would 'drop' — is that the right word? — of its own accord. ... Ok, so it should have been pushed out as the body went through its changes. So the question still is, what went wrong?"
I tapped my foot and twisted back and forth as I listened to Dr. Killen's explanation.
"Does he masturbate? Well, I don't know, I guess so. ... No, I never caught him. ... Well, a couple of times there was evidence on his sheets, but not often."
Dr. Killen spoke for a long stretch.
"Oh, I see. So he probably didn't feel the typical urges as strongly? ... Ok, then. So there's still hope?"
"More than that," I echoed his voice. "A very good chance ... just a little encouragement ... I see. So, then why, um, wouldn't have ordinary masturbation worked?"
I laughed out loud. "No, Doctor Killen. I didn't think just yanking on it would do the trick." I laughed again. "Speaking of tricks, what do you suggest? Should I hire a hooker to dance around in front of him to provide this 'encouragement' you're speaking of?"
"Well, ok. I'll give it some thought, not." I laughed again. "Thank you so much, Dr. Killen, you've been so helpful. ... Yes, I'll tell him. We'll talk about it tonight, don't worry. ... Yes, I'll get back to you and let you know how it goes. ... Yes. ... Thank you. Goodbye."
So, I needed to talk to Tommy to assure him everything would be ok, in time, but first I had to make sure that size was the problem. That night for supper, I would crush a couple of sleeping pills and spread the powder over his dinner in case he didn't hang around after supper for our traditional hot chocolate before going to bed. I wanted Tommy to sleep deeply tonight.
Tommy tried to avoid supper and Jim didn't make him come downstairs which was quite out of the ordinary for him. I was furious with him but more concerned about Tommy.
"Jim, if you want this problem to be fixed, you treat your son the way you always do. I talked to the doctor today and this is a problem we can sort out. It will take a little time but he said Tommy will get back to his normal self."
"He said that?"
"Yes. He told me what to do and said it may take a week or two or it could also be months, he didn't know for sure because every case is different."
"But he ... you ... can fix it, right?"
"Yes, I can fix it."
"Great. Ok, where's that kid." Jim walked to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, "Tommy! Get down here for your dinner."
"I could have done that myself," I said.
At the dinner table, Tommy seemed nervous at first but his father was unexpectedly friendly, almost too friendly. Obviously, I hadn't said anything to him about what happened and moreover, I clearly wasn't as upset as he thought I might be. Gradually, he relaxed and we had a nice dinner together, one of the most pleasant for a long time.
*****
I crept down the hallway toward Tommy's door late that night, a small flashlight in my right hand. At the door, I turned to look back at the open doorway of my own bedroom to make sure it was still dark. So far, so good. I listened with my ear against the Tommy's door. Turning off the light, I carefully twisted the knob and pushed gently, opening the door a couple of inches. My ears strained to capture the sound of Tommy's breathing. Great. He was asleep. Quietly, I opened the door and stealthily approached his bed, crouched over, one cautious step at a time.
I hovered over my son, making sure his breathing was deep and regular. He was definitely sleeping heavily. Carefully, I pulled the covers down and folded them over his legs, leaving his upper body naked. Shielding the flashlight from Tommy's eyes with my hand, I turned it on and directed the light down there, at his private parts.
Damn! He slept in his shorts. I shone the light right where his dick should be but could only discern a lump under the black shorts. It seemed large enough. Maybe this was all for naught. No, I reminded myself, he may be big enough but not well-formed. He's super upset about something down there. Shit. I would have to actually look.
Steeling myself, I put the flashlight down on the bed, carefully inserted my fingers behind the waistband of Tommy's shorts, and tugged. Two minutes later of timid tugging, I had my son's shorts almost down to his thighs. Only the part over the lump remained. Strangely, I was elated with the difficulty in getting the shorts over the lump, which now seemed larger than it had originally looked. Size wasn't going to be a problem. Whew! I wasn't facing an insurmountable issue. The shorts suddenly gave way. I picked up the light and, after checking to make sure Tommy was still sleeping, illuminated the problem.
Balls. The lump was all balls. That's all I could see. Holding the light with one hand, I used an extended index finger to push Tommy's balls this way and that looking for the cyst. I leaned closer, my face almost touching him. There. On top of his balls was a lump that looked to be the normal size for the head of a cock, maybe even a bit larger, but there didn't appear to be a shaft underneath it. Could this be the cyst?
I touched the cyst with my finger. Tommy murmured in his sleep and I froze. He resumed sleeping and I chuckled to relieve my tension. How would I explain this if he woke up? His mother, sneaking into his room at night with a flashlight to fondle his cock? I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. That did it. I collapsed into a fit of giggles, stepping back, crouching over to hold my stomach with one hand, the other over my mouth, and settled on the floor, silently wrenching my guts out.
Eventually, I got myself under control and hovered over my son again. Gingerly, I pushed the cyst about and was shocked to see the shaft of a penis beneath it, connecting it to his body. Oh my God. The cyst was the tip of his penis, averaged sized or better, but it was supportee by this tiny little shaft no more than an inch long. Oh, my poor boy. How he must have suffered in those locker rooms. No wonder he quit sports. Can you imagine, every day, going to school, knowing the other kids were laughing behind his back. It made me so mad.
In my anger and anguish, I forgot that I was pushing Tommy's little cock around, almost like I was stirring a pot. Under my attention, the little guy stiffened up proudly, like a cartoon boner. Well, he functioned correctly, it was just a matter of degree.
I pinched the head between my thumb and index finger and slipped down to the thin little stick underneath. I tried to jack the poor little thing but there wasn't really enough room to slide up and down, so I just rolled it back and forth, as if I were pinching my own nipples.
What the hell are you doing, Leslie? I asked myself.
I'm being his mother, I responded defiantly. Somehow, there must be a way to make this right. The doctor said most of his penis shaft had been abnormally tucked up into his body at birth but it should have fallen sometime during puberty, rendering it to a normal length. Obviously, that hadn't happened. The doctor had said repetitive, extreme excitement, as typically experienced during puberty, should have done the trick and may still do but ordinary masturbation wouldn't work. It had to be pushed out, naturally, under extreme titillation. So, I'll excite it a bit. No one will ever know so what can it hurt? And it might help.
Tommy's breathing had changed. He was murmuring, probably having one hell of a dream, I thought, smiling wickedly. Surprisingly, I was enjoying this. I let my fingers slip gently up and over Tommy's normally sized head — no, it really was larger, bigger than Jim's anyway. He seemed to really like that, judging by his dreaming sounds. It didn't take long for him to become quite excited and I knew he was about to come.
Shit. I hadn't meant to go this far. Well, the doctor said extreme excitement. That meant coming, at least for a male. I cupped my palm over the tip and continued rubbing the tip with my fingertips. No sooner had I covered it than a blast of warm, sticky goo landed on my nose. Another and another. Fuck. In the dark, I had missed his shooting hole and the big balls behind his tiny cock blasted several ropes of goo all over my face.
Now, look at the mess you've made, I chuckled, then burst out laughing.
I fell back onto the floor, one hand over my sticky mouth, trying to suppress further giggles. Mother of fucking Murphy. What it takes to be a mother.
I got up. Tommy was still sleeping and breathing normally. I retrieved the light and went into the hall to get a towel out of the bathroom. Returning with a warm and wet facecloth, I cleaned my son up as best I could and pulled his shorts up. As I crept back into my bed, I severely admonished myself, That was a silly, silly thing to do, you stupid woman.
I would have to sit down to have a long talk with Tommy and broach the topic of his problem. I had to let my son know what the doctor had said, at least that it was expected to be a problem until he was eighteen or so. There was no reason to mention the original prognosis that it should have been resolved during puberty. Tommy wouldn't know that and it would just upset him. I would just act as if his behavior the other night had reminded me about it and we needed to talk, that everything would be ok.
*****
The next morning I put on a nice dress and threw a cardigan sweater over it which I buttoned up before going down to make breakfast. I was glad to see that Tommy hadn't felt the need to escape the house like he'd done the other day. He was actually chatting amiably with his father who had already finished a bowl of cereal and was drinking his morning coffee. Tommy continued eating his own cereal while I prepared myself some toast.
Normally, I would do other things while waiting for my toast to pop up but this morning I got my coffee first and then pushed the toast down and waited for it with my back to the table. Tommy said something but I ignored him as if I couldn't hear him over my humming. I could feel eyes on my legs and knew it wasn't my husband since he had turned his attention back to the newspaper when I first entered the kitchen. I bent my legs slightly to put more weight one calf to emphasize its lines and to stress the back of my dress on the one side, or rather, buttock. Tommy didn't repeat himself, so I imagine he was content to eat his cereal and admire his mother — I could see him looking at me in the reflection on the side of the toaster.
I sat on the chair between them, swinging my legs in from Tommy's side, but apparently wasn't comfortable and made a big deal of lifting myself up to rearrange the chair, somehow managing to pull my dress up high on my thighs before I could get settled in. Before starting on my toast, I laid my hand lightly on top of Tommy's and asked him to tell me what he was up to that day.
Tommy made a valiant effort to fill me in with details of what he was doing at school while I concentrated on putting jam on my toast and chewing it carefully. I detected several glances at my thighs which were still quite exposed because the dress had remained high on my legs as I sat down. Jim finished his coffee and got up to go, leaning down to give me a peck before he bid his son a hearty farewell which was quite uncharacteristic for him.
I waited until I heard Jim start his car and pull out of the driveway before I complained about how warm it was and removed my sweater. What a clichéd, awkward performance. After unbuttoning the sweater, I struggled to get my arms out of the sleeves, twisting this way and that with first one breast and then the other pushing hard against my dress. I kept my eyes on the task at hand to let Tommy to watch me struggle which should have been rewarding given the plunging neckline no longer covered by the sweater. When I finally finished and raised my eyes, I caught him staring at my cleavage, causing him to blush profusely. Quickly thereafter, he picked up his dishes and mumbled that he had to get going too.
As Tommy passed behind me on his way out, I insisted on a kiss goodbye which was not typical of me either. Nevertheless, Tommy leaned over my shoulder to give me a kiss when I bent backward with my arms stretched out to guide him into place directly behind me. This put him in a perfect position to stare down the front of my dress, within the safety of my closed eyes, at the contents which were nicely displayed without the encumbrance of a bra.
There was a significant pause before the first light kiss on my forehead so I knew he was taking advantage of the view. The kiss on the cheek followed quickly but lingered, letting me know he wanted to prolong his observation, and the crowning achievement was the soft touch of his lips to mine before he half ran out the door.
I poured myself a new cup of coffee after Tommy had left. I was quite pleased with myself and smiled spontaneously several times for no apparent reason before the cup was empty. I wanted to build Tommy's confidence and also give him something to imagine at night when he was alone, something that would make his masturbation experiences more extreme. That bodily process should have occurred during Tommy's puberty when boys experienced intense sexual urges among other things. As his mother, I meant to see that it happened, and the sooner the better. I couldn't rely on him seeing other women in alluring poses so I resolved to do it myself and hope it triggered the necessary changes. After all, despite being his mother I was still a woman.
*****
For the rest of that week, I dressed in sexier clothes whenever Tommy was around. Sometimes I had to wear a sweater to hide my revealing attire from Jim but always removed it as soon as he was gone. On a couple of days, I actually went upstairs and changed my clothes after Jim had left. I realized this must have been obvious to Tommy but then that should have helped stimulate his dreams. I knew how powerful the Oedipal urge could be and meant to use it attain my goal. Whatever happened in the mind wasn't wrong or illegal so dirty thoughts were a useful tool. I hoped to make my son perpetually horny, the way he should have been at puberty.
At night, and sometimes during the day when Tommy went to his room, I crept down the hall and listened intently at his door. However, I never heard the telltale sounds of masturbation, nor did I see any signs on his sheets or in his laundry. My plan wasn't working. I needed to come up with a different plan. Dressing even more provocatively wouldn't work. It would probably just make Tommy uncomfortable and make him wonder about my sanity. So much for the vaunted Oedipal Complex.
I racked my brain. Maybe I did need to hire a hooker. No, that was too weird. What would work then? Why hadn't he reacted to my display? Was he weirded out by it? No, he was definitely looking, I knew that for sure. What then? I knew he was excited that night I touched him. I mean, he blew his wad in no time like one would expect from a teenager. I tilted my head forward and rubbed my knuckles on my forehead. What? There was something, almost there, but I just couldn't quite grasp it.
That's it! I've got it. I crooked my arm and made a fist. Yes! Physical excitement connected to me. Ok, so seeing me in alluring clothes during the day didn't have a sufficiently strong impact by the time Tommy masturbated in the afternoon, if he did, or after he went to bed. So, I needed to bring my Oedipal presence into closer proximity with the act. That might do it. But how?
Just like the other night, I thought. I've done it once and I can do it again. I'll sneak in and do what I did before but this time I'll speak to him. The sound of my voice, talking like the woman he'd want rather than his mother, coupled with physical stimulation, just might do the trick in the no-holds-barred world of dreams.
Ok. So, I'll need to prime his mind just before bedtime with an alluring display, and I'll have to make sure he doesn't wake up — that would be disastrous — so more sleeping powder, for him and his father — it won't do to have Jim causing a disturbance either.
Things were good. I had a plan.
*****
After dinner, I went upstairs to change early, coming down half almost an hour later covered in my full-length robe. I took a long bath and applied moisturizing creams and perfumes in appropriate places. I wanted to be appealing when I had my talk with Tommy that night to provide him with suitable imagery for his dreams. Unfortunately, I took too long and by the time I arrived downstairs, Tommy had gone to his room.
Darn! I had forgotten to put sleeping powder into Tommy's meal so I made some hot chocolate, put three mugs on a tray, and took one into the living room for Jim.
"I'm going upstairs to talk to Tommy," I said, straightening up and turning away with the tray.
"You smell good," Jim remarked, reacting to my perfumed presence.
"Don't get ideas," I responded. "It isn't Saturday night."
"Are you going to be long?"
"You probably shouldn't wait up for me. I'm going to talk to Tommy about the scholarships. If we get into a deep discussion, I don't want to be disturbed."
"Oh. Ok," Jim seemed happy with that and looked back at the TV.
"This may take a while, Jim."
"Uh huh," he nodded, paying his usual attention to what I said.
"Maybe a few weeks or more."
That made him look up.
"But he'll still be in time to apply for the scholarships, right?"
I smiled to reassure him. "Yes, I think so."
"Ok then," he replied, already back to the TV.
I walked slowly down the hallway, being careful not to spill the hot chocolate and repeating to myself that the one on the right was for Tommy. I had put some stuff in Jim's as well as Tommy's.
I was pleased to see that Tommy's door was open a few inches. Perhaps I was wrong about the failure of the Oedipal Complex and I'd actually been doing my job too well. Maybe Tommy had gone upstairs hoping I would come up to see him without his father around, or maybe he thought there would be a repeat of what had happened the other night. If so, I would have to find a way to deter his advance without diminishing his confidence.
"Hi. It's me," I called cheerfully, pushing the door open.
Tommy was playing a video game like the other night but this time he stopped and turned around to greet me. I made my way to the bed and sat down after putting the tray on the bedside table.
My plan had been to stay in Tommy's room to drink my hot chocolate while he drank his. On the one hand, I wanted to make sure he drank it, and on the other, I wanted to take the opportunity while he played his game to strike various alluring poses while letting my robe become slightly displaced to better display my charms, thus providing him with what I hoped would be suitable imagery for the second stage of the plan.
However, Tommy didn't stay at his computer. As soon as I sat down, Tommy got up and, after sliding his chair over near me, picked up his mug.
"Thanks, Mom," he said, sitting down.
I picked up my own mug and we sipped our hot chocolate in awkward silence with Tommy openly eyeing my body. He seemed strangely pleased and a nervous tingle zipped through my chest, exacerbated by his constant glances at my robe where it had fallen off my knees, exposing my legs to mid-thigh like my dress had done every morning this week. I now thought my displays had been a mistake. I pulled my robe together but it fell apart again as soon as I let it go and I left it like that because I didn't want to make it an issue.
