I may have woken up an 18-year-old man that day, but I looked anything but. I measured four feet, eleven inches tall and weighed 90 pounds. Puberty, for whatever reason, had been unkind to me: it didn’t arrive until I was sixteen. Two years later, I had some armpit and pubic hair, but otherwise, my voice was an alto at best, I had no muscle definition, and my penis was a stump that, when hard, struggled to reach three inches. I was average-looking at best, but none of the girls at school ever looked my way. Pretty much all of them teased me, talked down to me, or just ignored me.
The times may have been “a changing,” but I was not. That Saturday morning, as I buttoned my starched white shirt and put a belt around my khaki pants, I knew my peers in town were getting dressed in jeans and T-shirts and letting their hair grow out more and more. The latter was an absolute no-no for me. Mother escorted me every Friday after school to Lucile, her hairdresser, who kept my 1950s flat top looking sharp despite Beatle mania and the changing styles.
That brings me to my mother, Myrtle Louise Montgomery. I was her only child; she had me at 45, making her considerably older than all the other mothers at school. Because I was her “miracle baby,” she still treated me like a baby, controlling every angle of my life. She was a large, loud woman with little manners and an eccentric personality that drew snickers wherever we went, much to my embarrassment. As embarrassing as she was in public, I dared not correct her behavior since she was very strict and wouldn’t hesitate to reprimand me in public, not caring who heard her shrill screams.
My father was not in my life, and I knew nothing about him. The story my mother had given me was that he’d abandoned us after I was born, but the gossip around town was that he had been committed to a mental institution after marrying my mother nine months before my birth.
Despite such a dysfunctional upbringing, I lived relatively comfortably, for my mother was very wealthy. We lived with my 90-year-old grandmother and spinster aunt in a big, historic house in Savannah, Georgia, overlooking a square with Spanish moss hanging from the trees. Mother didn’t have to work, but she taught art a couple of days a week at a private girl’s school and had recently begun teaching art for a women’s club on Saturday mornings at our house.
I had just finished tying my Buster Brown shoes and went to the mirror to put on my tie because I needed to be in the conservatory in half an hour for cello practice, and they required ties for boys. I could hear the cackling voices downstairs as the ladies in her life drawing class started to arrive for their art lesson. Ugh, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I didn’t want to listen to a bunch of hens all day.
“Erwin!” I heard mother exclaim.
“Erwin! Erwin! Erwin!”
I knew I needed to answer her ASAP or else she’d only get louder, so I ran to the door and called out into the hallway.
“Yes, mother,” I answered.
“There you are,” she said with relief rushing up the stairs. “Where are you going dressed up in a tie like that?”
“I… I’m going to cello practice, mother. Remember? It’s Saturday.”
“Well, Erwin, there was a change of plans last night after you went to bed. I called Dr. Albert, and you will not be going to cello practice today.”
“Oh… Why mother?”
“Mr. Gold is sick and can’t model for my class. I need a model and can’t get a replacement on such short notice, so you’re going to pose for us today in his place. The ladies are all here, getting set up downstairs.”
My heart sank, my face flushed, and my insides began to twist.
“No, mother, ” I told her in my lowest voice. “Please, can’t you take them across the street and draw the flowers in the square instead?”
“No!” She boomed. “These ladies are paying for a figure drawing class. I need a model, and you have nothing better to do. I’m your mother. How dare you say no to me! When I tell you to do something, you do it!!!”
“But mother. Do I have to be naked?”
“Yes, you have to be naked, Erwin! What’s the problem?”
“Oh, mother, please don’t make me. Look, I’m all dressed up in thein he’s you picked out. Can’t they draw me like this?”
“No. You’ll do as you’re told. What are you so shy about? Everyone downstairs is professional, and most of these women saw you naked when you were a baby. Some of them even helped me change your diapers. Now, come with me.”
“No, mother, please.”
“Don’t talk back to me, Erwin Montgomery! Now let’s go! Move it, I said!”
Mother was a full head taller than I was and weighed considerably more. I begged and pleaded with her as she took hold of my arm and led me down the stairs to the ground level and into the formal parlor. The commotion was in the drawing-room where all the ladies were chattering like an anarchic hen house. Outside the drawing-room was a screen for the mother’s life models to use before their Saturday sessions.
“Go behind that screen right now, young man, and take all your clothes off,” mother ordered.
“Nooo,” I whined one last time.
She popped my butt with such intensity that I bucked. My fate was sealed. I was about to spend my 18th birthday in my birthday suit, humiliated by my mother in front of a bunch of middle-aged and elderly women I saw every week around town. I hung my head in shame as I walked behind the Victorian screen, right in front of the entrance to the drawing-room.
“Hello, ladies,” I heard her exclaim as she entered the drawing-room like a dazzling movie star, making a comeback. The hen house erupted again, with everyone in the adjacent room talking and cackling as if they’d never met each other.
I slowly removed my tie, and freshly pressed shirt, hanging them carefully over the chair to avoid wrinkles. Mother spent every night ironing my clothes to her satisfaction. Next up were my shoes and socks and then, what I didn’t want to remove, my pants. I had to fold them carefully so as not to get them wrinkled, for mother would be very cross if I did. I stood behind the screen in my undershirt and my boxers trembling with fear. My mother’s loud voice explained how her model would not be available, but her son, yours truly, Erwin Montgomery, would be filling in.
“Oh, little Erwin!” I heard an older woman exclaim. “What a treat.”
“Oh no,” I said as I pulled off the undershirt.
“My granddaughter goes to school with little Erwin,” another woman said.
I stood horrified, wearing only my boxers. Despite the summer heat, I was covered in goose bumps like the coldest day of winter.
“Erwin,” mother called. “Are you ready? We need to get started.”
I nervously slid down my boxers, wishing it were my last move before dropping dead.
“Erwin. Erwin! Errrwwwiiinnn!!!!”
I reluctantly stepped from behind the screen, naked as the day I was born, and walked into the theatre of hell for everyone to see.
Walking into the drawing-room with my head down and my hands over my genitals, I was determined not to make eye contact with anyone. My peripheral vision, though, had other ideas, and I noticed 15 women in the room, sitting in front of easels with their drawing pads up and ready to go. There was Sally Taylor, the wife of a prominent Baptist pastor, in the front row. (Bet her husband thought she was doing something else that day.) Next to her was our next-door neighbor, aging socialite Mabel West. Aunt Hazel and Grandmother were in the front as well. Oh, this was going to be hell!
Mother motioned me inside and directed me to the stage she had built where I’d be on a platform, four feet off the ground, so that they could see everything. I kept my hands across my crotch and my head down.
“Ladies,” mother began. “Last week, we studied the female form with Maria as our model. Today we were supposed to have Anthony, but we have my son Erwin due to him getting sick at the last minute. Please say hello to Erwin.”
They all called out “hello Erwin” in unison. A couple of the voices sounded not quite right, so I looked up, and much to my horror, in the back row were Kelly Carter and Colleen Alexander – two girls in my class at school. Oh, this was horrific, and I had to fight myself extra hard not to pass out from all the stress I was going through. Kelly and Colleen were horrible girls. They had teased me pretty much all of my life, which was about to get a lot worse as they sat in the back, away from their mothers, snickering and pointing at me.
“I’m glad Erwin agreed to do this,” mother continued.
I did not agree to do this, you evil witch!
“From Maria’s flowing curves to Anthony’s chiseled body will be quite a contrast. So, Erwin allows us to study an in-between state of androgyny.”
Mother joined me on stage, pulled my hands away from my crotch, and positioned them at my sides. She also tapped my chin, indicating I needed to look straight ahead or else.
“Before we begin to sketch, I’d like to point out a few things,” she said. “Note how the shoulders point down rather than stretch out on a horizontal scale, a very androgynous feature in a young man.”
Colleen and Kelly both put their hands over their mouths and laughed.
My mother carried on, oblivious to the disrespectful teen girls in the back.
“The chest area is completely flat, something we didn’t see with the female, nor will we see in the fully-developed male with pectoral muscles that we’ll hopefully see next week. Now I direct you to an unusual feature: Note how Erwin’s upper torso stays relatively straight and narrow from his shoulders down to his waist. Then, his hips begin to bow outward, creating an almost pear-shaped that, while not as profound, has similarities to the female lower torso.”
The agony was unbearable as the ladies looked at me with scrutiny and nodded in agreement to each other.
“Turn around, Erwin.”
I did as I was told. I had already been humiliated enough, and now they would hear all about my rear end. Oh, mother, how I despised you for doing this to me.
“More so than we saw on the front, we have a more feminine rear view now that the penis and the testicles are no longer visible. With Erwin’s body, we do not see the muscle definition that comes naturally to the developed male, nor do we see the voluptuous buttocks associated with the female sex.”
“OK, ladies,” mother continued as she stepped down from the platform. “We’re going to start with our quick sketches. Erwin, turn around.”
“Bend down on your left knee with your right foot on the floor. Rest your head on your right elbow.”
I got into position. This one had its comfort limitations, but at least I could maneuver my leg to conceal my genitals from their charcoal strokes.
After a few minutes, my mother ordered me to get into another position, standing flat on my feet, legs apart with my hands in the air. I was shaped like a big X, and there was no way to hide anything from them. I tried not to look into my audience, but Colleen and Kelly had a field day.
I had a few positions where I had to hold a pole and get into all sorts of uncomfortable squatting, one-legged, and stretched positions. She saved the best one for last, though.
“OK, Erwin. Turn around and bend over to touch your toes.”
Well, this was just great, and I now had to fight back the tears I wanted to gush as my mother humiliated me again. I did as I was told and bent over so all the ladies could get a full view of my butt hole. I had no padded buttocks, so my anus was visible. Peering through the opening between my legs, I had an upside-down view of the class. Colleen and Kelly both had their mouths covered and were laughing hysterically.
After five minutes, my mother instructed me to stand up, turn around, hold the pole in one hand and put my other hand on my hip. I hated to face them again after they’d all stared at my anus for the past five minutes.
“The quick sketches are over,” mother told them. “We’ll now spend the next hour illustrating Erwin in this pose.”
Mother looked over to the window at my side with the sun peering through the curtains. Oh no, please don’t.
“Eunice,” she said to the mousy woman closest to the window. “Would you draw open the curtains so the light can shine on Erwin? That’ll make for good light and dark contrast as you sketch him.”
If she were a decent woman, Eunice would have told my mother that opening the curtains would expose her son to other people outside, which might embarrass him, but she didn’t go there. She pulled the curtains open, letting the sunlight flood the room and shine a spotlight on me.
By this point, I was pretty much out of it. My mother didn’t even remember it was my birthday – a birthday that was the worst I’d ever suffered through. As I stood there like an idiot while the hens took their time drawing me with their pastels, all sorts of thoughts went through my head. Who other than Colleen and Kelly would run around town, telling everyone about how they saw me naked and what an ugly body I had? And what would they do with these drawings?
Oh no. No. No. No. Not now!
I was in the most un-erotic situation possible and was getting an erection without doing or thinking about anything to prompt it. I tried to fight it, thinking about everything unsexy (like the women in this room), but my penis rose up and up. I soon had an almost painful erection, and all the women in the room took notice as their muffled gasps started to spread. Only Colleen and Kelly didn’t gasp as they covered their mouths and were laughing so hard they were red-faced. On the other hand, Mother did notice and walked onto the platform, stood in front of me with her back turned to the ladies, and shot me a look that said ‘get rid of it.”
Oh, mother, how I tried and how easy it should have been considering I was posing naked for a bunch of ugly women in your life drawing class. But, for whatever reason, life chose to be cruel to me today. You think you’re embarrassed because your naked, unwilling son has an erection in your stupid art class in front of a bunch of hens. Give me a break.
Oh no. My testicles pulled up and tingled. As the inevitable came, I gritted my teeth and ejaculated onto the floor in front of me without aid. Mother’s stance blocked my action from most of the audience, though Eunice, grandmother, and my aunt all witnessed what had happened. If looks could kill, my mother’s eyes could have been a firing squad, but she didn’t dare embarrass herself in front of her peers. She stood there steely-eyed until I had de-erected, then backed off.
Getting an erection and ejaculating in front of my mother, grandmother, aunt, and friends was one thing, but now, thanks to all the stress, my intestines were boiling. I started tearing up, and my mother finally realized I had to exit. I had stood there for over an hour, which was long enough. She dismissed me, I ran to the toilet in the adjacent bathroom, and my agony was over. Well, at least temporarily, because after I had finished, I had to walk back from the restroom, still naked, past all the ladies and across the parlor to my clothes.
It was from that moment when I decided I hated my mother.
*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Remember, even with limited editing. It doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed. The opinions/views expressed in this story are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech.