Justin sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, which were only barely open. He yawned, glancing around the room as his eyes acclimated to the morning light peeking through the window. Looking down at the end of his bed, he could see his bedroom door was open, evidence that his mother had come and gone, no doubt in an effort to wake him up. He yawned again before kicking his feet and pushing his blankets down until they pooled at his feet.

He shuffled his body, turning to the side and letting his feet hang off the bed. The swish of the diaper secured around his waist echoed in his newly awoken ears. He still wasn’t comfortable in it. The new addition, at his mother’s insistence, had bothered him all night. He scratched at his waist where the Velcro clasps of the nappy had irritated his skin. Still, he knew better than to take it off. He knew how wrathful his overbearing mother could be, especially now.

Shifting himself forward, he placed his dangling feet on the floor and stood up, swaying a bit as the sleep began to shed from his muscles. Taking a few steps, he found himself in front of his dresser, the top of which was just under shoulder height. Laid out on top was a perfectly folded powder blue T-shirt that said “Mommy’s Little Monster” on it. It wasn’t lost on him that there were no bottoms laid out with it.

Justin had always been small for his age. He was 18 now, old enough to vote and join the military. This was supposed to be his senior year. He was supposed to be living it up before college, going wild with his friends, but instead, he was here, in his room, in a diaper, and holding a powder blue T-shirt.

“Come and eat, Jussie,” his mother called from down the hall. “Mommy put out clothes for you! Get dressed and come to breakfast!”

“Coming, Mom,” he yelled back.”

“Coming, what?!” She shouted, clearly correcting an error.

“Coming, MOMMY,” he replied to a satisfied silence on the other end.

Justin lifted the shirt over his head, sliding his arms in and pulling it down over his body. The shirt smelled new and had never been worn. Justin shifted his body, pulling on the unstretched fabric until the shirt reached his waist, leaving his diapered bottom half uncovered. He tried to check himself in the mirror above the dresser, but all he could see was his youthful, hairless face.

Walking out of his room, Justin waddled down the dimly lit hallway. He habitually counted his steps as his feet plopped on the hardwood floors. Each step echoed in unison with the swish of his diaper as he passed by beams of sunlight coming in from the windows of each room. The light would illuminate his feet and toes as he passed by before going dark again.

Once through the hallway, Justin found himself in the brightly lit kitchen. To the right was the fridge, counter space, and sink with a window that looked out into the backyard. Next to the sink was the dishwasher and breakfast bar. Directly in the middle of the kitchen was an island with counter space and a built-in stove top and oven.

Justin took a few timid steps further into the kitchen, noticing the breakfast bar had been laid out with a small, plastic, blue bowl and a light blue sippy cup with a lid. His anxiety peaked as he noticed what his mother had put out for him. There was a time when he used normal plates and cutlery befitting someone his age. These days, things are much different. They were lifestyle adjustments he hadn’t completely gotten used to, and wondered if maybe that was the point.

“Finally, out of bed,” his mother said, standing at the island stove top as he entered the room.

“Yeah, Mom,” he replied groggily.

“Yes, what?!” She asked.

“Mommy… I meant Mommy,” he said again, still bogged down with leftover sleep.

“That’s better,” she said. “You’re going to get used to this, mister. Things have to change around here. We agreed.”

“I know Mommy,” he replied. “You’re right.”

“I see you have on your new shirt Mommy got for you! And my, how CUTE you look!”

“Thank you, Mommy. I really… love it,” he said, trying to hide his discomfort.

“That’s wonderful, baby,” she said. “Mommy loves it too. It’s befitting of a boy your size. Now, what does my baby want for breakfast?”

“Whatever…” he started before being interrupted.

“Mommy knows what her baby wants,” she said, reaching for the box of Alphabet cereal and pouring a pile into the blue bowl sitting in front of him. Opening the drawer in the island, she pulled out a small blue spoon and placed it next to the bowl before pouring a small bit of milk in. 

Justin frustratingly took the small spoon in his hand, dipping it into the cereal and placing a tiny bit in his mouth. As he chewed, he noticed his mother smile and turn around. He eyed her up and down, noticing that she was wearing a baggy T-shirt, underwear, and nothing else. This was also new. Before any of these changes, his mother would usually be fully dressed when he got up for breakfast. These days, she was much more relaxed. 

As she shuffled around the kitchen, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way her body moved when it was untethered by clothing. Each time she moved from one place to the next, her breasts would sway from side to side inside the baggy shirt as if they were lagging and trying to catch up with her body. She’d turn around again, with her back to him, and he would notice the way the back of the shirt got caught in the small of her back, revealing her thick, plump maternal butt. Her underwear struggled to keep all of the pillowy white meat inside. Each step she took sent ripples up through her soft, smooth thighs that gave him a lump in his throat and a tingling sensation in his crotch. Watching her body move made the device secured around his penis feel tight and constrict, causing him to shift in his seat.

All of this ache and attraction to his mother were new, too. She was his mom, and he always looked at her like a son looks at his mother—not the way he does now. Now, he looks at her with longing and lust—a desire to please her, to make her happy, to make her proud of him for any reason. These feelings were new to him and growing by the day.

“M… Mommy?” Justin asked, swallowing another mouthful of cereal. “Why do I have to wear this?”

“Wear what, honey? The diaper? We talked about this,” she replied, stopping in her tracks to give him her attention. “You wear it because Mommy says so. You wear it because you’re not built like a man. You wear it as a reminder.”

“No, not that,” he said. “The thing… around my dick.”

“Ahem,” his mother gasped, clearly taken aback and looking less than pleased. “Your WHAT?!”

“Come on,” he whined. “Please don’t make me call it that.”

“Call it what?!” She asked, more annoyed. “Call it what it is?! Because it’s DEFINITELY NOT a “dick” honey. We both know that.”

“Ugh,” he whined some more, closing his eyes and exhaling to assist in enduring the humiliation. “Fine. My… pee pee.”

“That’s better,” she said, slowly turning her head and not taking her eyes off him until the last possible second. “You wear the device around your pee pee because I say you must. Do you have any idea how hard Mommy had to search to find one your size? They don’t make them that small! Mommy had to have it made special… for you. A little gratitude is in order, I think.”

Justin shifted in his seat again, feeling the tight squeeze of the ring and cage around his penis worsen before finding a position less uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Thank you, Mommy.”

“That’s a good boy,” she replied. “You better learn to behave, young man. Remember, Mommy has the key.”

As she said this, she reached up and grabbed a chain from around her neck, hidden behind the hair at her shoulders. Pulling it up from inside her shirt revealed a small key dangling from the end of it. She smirked before stuffing it back inside her shirt.

“You’re not a grown man, Justin,” she said. “You just never grew up like you were supposed to. So, we’ve had to make some changes around here. Changes you’re going to have to get used to. I never wanted it to get to this point, believe me. I wanted a strong, masculine, virile son. Your father and I both did. We did not want a little boy forever. But just like you have to endure your new life, I have to endure mine. So, we make the most of it. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” he said sheepishly, lowering his head in submission to her domineering and authoritative tone. 

“You’re going to learn your place, young man. Don’t forget how we got here,” she said before turning back to the sink.

Justin sat long-faced and scolded, trying to remember his life before this. Before the diaper. Before the cage around his cock. Before the powder blue T-shirts and little boy blankets. There was a time when he had something of a normal existence. There was a time when his senior year, as earlier described, seemed to be panning out. It was football, a game he was expressively forbidden to play, that brought him to this point.

*****

Rewind twelve days. Back to when he wore boxers under his jeans. Back when he was driving himself to school. Back when he had friends and a life. Rewind to the beginning of his senior year, two months after his eighteenth birthday. 

Justin had always been girl crazy. Ever since she first noticed them as a boy, he couldn’t unnoticed them. One moment, they were invisible. And then suddenly, they were everywhere. Every time he turned around, there was another girl he couldn’t take his eyes off. He loved everything about them. He loved their faces. He loved their voices. He loved their smiles and their bodies. Their clothes. Everything. At eighteen, the feelings had only intensified as hormones began to take root.

Every moment of his life was flooded with feelings of angst. Everywhere he looked, his mind was accosted with desire and wanton feelings—feelings he didn’t even entirely understand, but the drive was suspiciously strong in him. 

All of the boys his age were going through the same cycle. Some boys were luckier than others, scoring girlfriends and indulging in the kinds of behaviors that would make those feelings subside, albeit temporarily. Others weren’t so lucky. Others did what they had to do. Justin was another. Justin went home every day after school, and before he did anything else, he would cum.

Justin had never been with a girl, but the desire to do so was so overwhelming that he would simulate it as often as he could. He would sit on his computer before his mother got home from work and browse the social media pages of whatever girl at school caught his eye that day. Before long, he’d be filling a Kleenex. 

During these furious, daily masturbation sessions, Justin never noticed anything different about his cock. He’d never seen another one to compare it against. All boys his age were probably using two fingers. That’s just how it’s done. When it’s soft, the head stays close to the body. He’d learned in health class that this was to protect it. Surely, that’s what this was. Surely all boys were just a head when their dicks weren’t hard. He was no different. Still, he wanted a girlfriend.

“Absolutely not,” his mother said, slamming the permission slip down on the breakfast bar.

“Mom!” He exclaimed. “Please! I want to play!”

“What do you know about football?!” She asked with a hint of sarcasm and ridicule in her voice.

Justin knew she was right. He knew it in his bones. He didn’t love football. He liked it just fine, but his real motivations weren’t for love of the game. They weren’t for exercise, a stronger physique, or a letterman’s jacket. It was girls. All the girls he was crazy about, they all dated football players. The blondes. The brunettes. The redheads. Their perky, firm bodies. Their soft legs. They drove him insane. Football was the key. Something about the jersey made them flock to it like a beacon. It was their siren song. Even if he didn’t play, it would put him in ‘the game.’ He was willing to do the work. To go to practice. To take the beatings if it meant he’d have a better chance at not having to jerk off alone anymore.

“I love football! What do you mean?! I watch Ohio State every week!”

“Recently,” she said. “Up until a few weeks ago, I’d heard no such interest. It’s too violent, Justin. No way!”

“Let the boy play, Connie,” a manly voice said, entering the room. Justin looked over, met his father’s eyes, and smiled at the support.

“Mike, it’s too violent!”

“He’s not a kid anymore, Con,” he replied. “Boys his age are soft these days. You should be glad he wants to get outside instead of sitting on Xbox like every other kid in America.”

“I still say it’s violent. What if he gets hurt?!”

“He will!” Mike replied. “He should be getting hurt! Stop hovering, Connie. Let him play if he wants to play.”

Justin’s mother reluctantly stepped back up to the slip of paper, grabbed a pen, and pressed it to the dotted line.

“Fine,” she said exasperatedly. But when you get hurt, I get to say I told you so.”

*****

Fast-forward two days. Justin had turned in the permission slip to the football coach. He didn’t say it at the time, but the coach couldn’t believe Justin had gotten the thing signed. He was so little. He had some definition, but he was still much smaller than the rest of the players. Permission slip or not, there was no way he was playing on the varsity team.

Justin didn’t care. This wasn’t about competing at the highest level. This was about girls. Plain and simple. So when he ran home to tell his mother he’d made the junior varsity squad, he couldn’t have sounded more excited.

“Just try not to get yourself killed,” she said with a groan. 

“I won’t! There are so many pads. It’ll be amazing if I even feel a thing. Oh, that reminds me. I need a cup.”

“A cup?” she asked, confused.

“Yeah… you know… a cup. For my…”

“Ohhh! That’s something you’ll have to talk to your father about.”

“Dad’s away on business, Mom! I have my first practice tomorrow! I need to get one today. Can I borrow the car?”

“Justin, no. Just because you have your license doesn’t mean you can just take the car whenever you want,” she replied.

“I just figured I’d go so you don’t have to,” he said.

“I have to go out anyway,” she replied. “I’ll take you to the sporting goods store, and you can get one, okay?”

As the automatic doors to the sporting goods outlet slid open, Justin and his mother were met with a gust of cool air and the smell of retail. A cardboard cutout of a famous athlete greeted them as they walked in, encouraging them that there was no better place to spend their money. Justin was so taken in by the atmosphere. Other boys his age were walking this way and that, carrying all manner of sports equipment. Some carried baseball gloves and aluminum bats adorned with the trademark logo of whatever manufacturer made the thing. Another pair of boys were wearing cleats and looking at themselves in neighboring mirrors as if the aesthetics of the shoes were just as important as the function.

“Can I help you guys find anything?” a voice called out.

Justin and his mother turned around to see the smiling face of a beautiful young retail employee standing behind them. Justin’s mind began to take in her appearance, the hormones flooding his brain like they’d done so many times before. She was wearing a polo the same colors as the store’s trademark and a pair of jeans as well as a name tag that read Jocelyn. Her jeans were tight, hugging a youthful frame, indicating that she was at least Justin’s age, if not slightly older. The polo was stretched at the chest, forming three lines between the girl’s obviously perky breasts.

Justin’s interest peaked before he remembered what they were there to buy. Embarrassment suddenly filled every inch of his body as every instinct inside him told him to deflect her question and continue the hunt on his own. Unfortunately, his mother, unburdened by his hormonal thoughts, spoke first.

“Oh, thank goodness,’ she said. “Yes, you can. We’re new to this, admittedly. My son wants to play football and needs a cup.”

“Mom!” Justin groaned.

“What? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically.

“I can find it on my own,” he replied, annoyance in his tone.

“Nonsense,” she said, with a twinge of spite in her voice. “She works here. Who better to show us than her?”

“Your mom’s right,” the girl replied. “It’s really no problem at all. Right this way.”

The girl walked past Justin and his mother, leading the way down various aisles and past various displays. Justin was stewing inside, but at least he’d be able to find what he was looking for faster and dismiss the girl quickly. He was so focused on what was going on internally that he failed to notice the smirk on his mother’s face. She wasn’t pleased that the decision for him to play football had not gone her way. She intended to make it as unpleasant for her son as it was for her.

“Here we are. This whole aisle is athletic supporters. Products for lower ages are at the far end. What you’ll need will mostly be in this section, I should think,” she said, motioning toward the high school and college-aged equipment.

“Thank you so much,” Justin said politely but dismissively.

“Let me know if you need anything! I’ll be right over here.”

“She was nice—and pretty, too, don’t you think?” Justin’s mother asked.

“What? Yeah, I mean, sure. This should work,” Justin said, grabbing a cup aged 18+ and heading for the front.

“What are you doing?” his mother asked. “Aren’t you going to try it on?”

“Try it on?” Justin asked, embarrassed. “It’s a cup, mom. I don’t think you try them on.”

“That’s ridiculous. Miss?”

“MOM!” Justin wrenched, but he was too late.

“Yes, ma’am,” the bubbly employee said, bouncing back over to help.

“My son needs to try this on to make sure it fits. Is that okay?”

“Well, not the ones in the box, I’m afraid,” she said.

“See? I told you. Now let’s just get this one and…” Justin said before being interrupted.

“But we do have some disposable ones. They’re designed for single-use measurements, and then we discard them. They’re exact replicas of the ones we have on our shelves,” she said before gently taking the box out of Justin’s hands and analyzing it. She did a quick look at Justin, eyeing him up and down and then looking back at the box. “THIS is the one you want?”

“Yeah. It says 18+, and that’s me, so…” Justin said, slightly annoyed at the obvious question of his age.

“Oh, okay! I’ll be right back!”

“What was that about?” his mother asked.

“What?”

‘The attitude,” she replied. ‘The nice girl was just trying to help.”

“The one I picked out was fine. She doesn’t even need to be here,” Justin replied.

“Okay! Got it. I also got the 15+ one. I know it probably won’t fit, but I grabbed it just in case. If the one you picked fits, you won’t even need this one,” the girl replied.

“Why did you…,” Justin started but cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Forget it. Just give me the one I picked, please.”

“I’ll hold on to the other one. Thank you, Miss,” his mother replied.

“No problem! Holler if you need anything else,” she said before walking away.

Justin stepped into the dressing room, closing the door behind him and dropping the cup and strap on the small bench in the corner. He dropped his pants and underwear, kicking them into the corner before sliding his legs into the spandex strap. He pulled it up to his waist, feeling how tight it was, tucked up underneath his butt. The straps rode up and under his legs to the front. The pouch where the cup was supposed to go was baggy and loose. Justin naively brushed this off, taking the single-use cup and sliding it into the pouch.

Once it was in, he pulled the waist hard to tighten the strap and bring it closer to his body. Still, it felt loose. The inside of the cup felt very spacious. It felt very much like he wasn’t filling it. It felt very much like he wasn’t filling it AT ALL. It felt like a person would feel standing in an empty gymnasium. When he shook his hips a bit, he could still feel his penis moving back and forth, not touching the inside of the cup at all. This couldn’t be right. He began moving and trying to adjust the fit to make it right. He thought he might be wearing it wrong. As he shifted, his mother called out to him.

“Justin,” she yelled over the door. “How’s it going?”

“Uh,” he said, uncertainty in his voice, which he tried to correct quickly. “Everything is… uhm… fine.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” she replied. “Do you need help?”

“No!” he yelled quickly. “No… I do not need help.”

“I’ll go get the girl.”

“Mom! NO!” he yelled after her, all but jumping over the door. Before long, he could hear his mother and the girl talking outside. He scrambled to try and make the cup fit properly. Sweat was beginning to pour down his head as he battled, confounded as to what he was doing wrong.

“Justin,” his mother called out. “Step out here and let us see.”

“Are you crazy?!” he called back. “No way. Let’s just get this one and go.”

“Justin!” she snapped back. “If you insist on playing football, then I insist you have the proper protection. You don’t want to get hurt, do you? Now step out here right this minute.”

Justin began to tremble. He really didn’t want to step out into an open space like this. Even if he had been wearing the cup correctly, he wasn’t thrilled about being in the middle of a shopping center wearing it and nothing else. Reluctantly, he slid the door open and stepped out in front of his mother and the girl who’d been helping them.

“See Jocelyn? I knew he needed help,” his mother said. The girl nodded in agreement while biting her bottom lip. “That thing looks so loose and cumbersome. He must have it on wrong.”

“Okay, so…” Jocelyn started before Justin interrupted.

“I think I just have it on wrong. That’s all. This is a stupid mistake, and I would have figured it out,” Justin said.

“Ohhhh no,” Jocelyn replied. “You have it on correctly.”

“I do?!” Justin replied, confused.

“If he had it on correctly,” his mother began, clearly confused as well, “then why doesn’t it fit?”

“Uhm…,” the girl started before slowly turning to Justin’s mother. “It doesn’t fit because… it doesn’t fit.”

“Oh,” Justin’s mother said, thinking for a second. Suddenly, it clicked. “OH! Oh, okay. No problem. This is no problem, honey.”

Justin’s mother turned to him, stretching out her hand with the other cup Justin was sure he wouldn’t need.

“Wait,” Justin said. “I just have it on wrong. It’s supposed to be snug.”

“Yes, it is,” the girl replied. Yours isn’t, and that’s okay! It’s no problem. You just need a different size. That’s all. It’s no big deal. Here, try this one.”

The girl took the cup from Justin’s mother, who looked slightly concerned, placing it in Justin’s hand and ushering him back into the changing room. The door closed behind him with a click. Justin was so confused. He was so sure he was just wearing it wrong. Still, in a daze, he slid the cup out of the pouch and replaced it with the second one intended for 15+ boys. He yanked and pulled at it and still, it wasn’t snug. He shook his hips again, and still, he couldn’t touch the inside of the cup. Panic began to set in. Something was wrong here. This couldn’t be true.

“Jussie,” his mother called out. “Is that one any better?”

“Uhh,” he replied, trying to mask his panic. “Y-Yeah. This is much better. This is the one. I’ll get dressed, and we can go.”

“Step out here now and let us see,” she called back.

“Mom,” he replied. “I’m telling you, this is fine.”

“And I’m telling you, I’ll call that coach and rip you off that team so fast it’ll make your head spin unless you step out here and let us make sure you’re protected.”

Justin took a deep breath before pushing open the door. He took a step out to a slight gasp of disappointment from his mother and Jocelyn, the employee.

“Oh jeez,” his mother said. “You’re sure he’s wearing it properly?”

“He’s got it on right,” Jocelyn said, stepping up and pulling at the elastic hip band. As she pulled, the cup bounced freely up and down. “See? It shouldn’t do that. I don’t think this is the right fit either.”

“This is bullshit,” Justin said out loud, clearly trying to mask his embarrassment. “Your cups aren’t formed to my body and somehow this is my fault?”

“Justin!” his mother explained. “Watch your mouth! No one is saying this is your fault! We’re trying to do what’s best for you.”

“Look,” Jocelyn interjected. “I understand you’re both frustrated. I get it. I’m here to help, okay? Let me just try something else.”

Jocelyn walked away, disappearing behind a display, when Justin’s mother began scolding him calmly.

“I can’t believe you used that language in front of your own mother. It’s not her fault the cups don’t fit. There’s no reason for that attitude. Now clean it up and be nice.”

“But Mom,” Justin replied, “This is kind of humiliating! I don’t want to be standing here like this with these weirdly formed cups. We should just go to a different store.”

“This place is the best,” she said. “Everything online says so. Just keep your attitude under control.”

“Back!” Jocelyn said, bouncing back with a lot of energy, clearly trying to cut the mood. “I have a new size that I think should work. Try this one.”

Jocelyn handed Justin a cup that fit in the palm of his hand. The base of it was the same size as the others, but the well in it didn’t start to form until close to the center. Justin looked up at her and then at his mother in astonishment. The look on his mother’s face was haunting. Her skin had turned bleach white when she saw the cup. She put her hand to her chest and then to her mouth before lowering it back down and trying to put on a strong, confident demeanor.

“This isn’t going to work,” Justin said, still holding the thing in his palm.

“Just try it,” Jocelyn said. “If it doesn’t fit, then I know I can only go up from here.”

“That’s good, Justin,” his mother added, trying to hide her growing concern. “A good plan. Go ahead.”

Justin stepped back inside the changing room, his chest riddled with anxiety as he listened to his mother and Jocelyn speak in hushed voices outside. He couldn’t get his mother’s expression out of his head. The way she looked when she saw the cup. The way she looked at him after. It seemed so foreign. As he’d never seen that person before, she looked at him the way a person might look at a stranger, like someone might look at a homeless person. The look was full of pity and fear. With each new cup, her expression seemed to deepen and sink. With each loose fit, her face would loosen a bit. Her expression became more and more void. Emptier. More foreign to him.

Justin felt his shoulders hunch. Disappointment started to wash over him. Something was happening. A realization was starting to form not just for him but for his mother, too. It terrified him. He really didn’t want to step out in front of them again. He removed the cup from the pouch, took a deep breath, and slid the new one in. To his sudden delight, it felt tight. It felt secure. He shook his hips, and he could feel his penis touch the sides of the well. Suddenly, he felt better. Suddenly, he began to think this nightmare was finally at an end.

He pushed the door open on his own, stepping out in front of his mother and Jocelyn. His mother’s face was white as a ghost. Jocelyn was a bit more together, stepping toward him and analyzing the fit.

“Oh God,” his mother gasped, looking away.

“How does it feel?” she asked.

“It feels good,” Justin said. “It feels tight. Secure.”

Jocelyn reached down, grabbed the elastic waistband again, and pulled it. The cup bounced a bit, albeit far less than before.

“Ugh,” she groaned before turning back to Justin’s mother, who put her face in her hands. “Still just a touch loose, I’m afraid.”

“No,” Justin exclaimed. “This is tight. This is the one. This is fine. Mom! See? It fits just right. We can go now.”

“It still bounces too much, hon,” Jocelyn said. “If it’s not 100% secure, you could get injured. I’ll be right back.”

Jocelyn stepped around the display, disappearing again as Justin’s mother never looked up at him. She turned her face away in what looked like disgust. Justin began to panic again. He couldn’t bear the thought of his mother being this upset. He didn’t even know why. He was the one standing here having to deal with this. He was the one on display in front of the entire store. He responded to his mother’s clear disappointment in the only way an eighteen-year-old knows how: with anger.

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” he said. “You’re not the one standing here being embarrassed in front of a stranger. I am. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

Justin’s mother darted her head back to him, a cold anger in her eyes.

“YOU’RE embarrassed?!” She seethed. “Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? Do you have any idea what age the cup you were too small in was meant for? The cup you have in right now is meant for an eight-year-old, Justin. And it’s too big for you. Jocelyn is going to get you the next one down if they even make one. This entire experience has been beyond humiliating for me. I can’t even look at you right now. Just…finish up and meet me in the car.”

Justin’s mother snapped her head back around, grabbing her purse and standing up. Without looking at him, she walked away toward the front door. At just that moment, Jocelyn reappeared.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We don’t have any more cups. I thought we had some in the tee-ball section, but we’re out.”

“It’s fine,” Justin said, lowering his head. “I’m going to get dressed. Thank you.”

“Sorry,” Jocelyn said, biting her lip. Clearly aware of the awkward tension. “I wish there was something more I could do.”

*****

Justin sat in the passenger seat while his mother drove. He watched as the neighborhood houses whizzed past the window, going by much faster than normal. His mother had one hand on the wheel and the other on her brow. They hadn’t said a word to each other since leaving the parking lot.

It was obvious there was something wrong. Something had changed between them. Somewhere, things had gone off the rails. She couldn’t even look at him, and when she did, he didn’t feel like it was his mother looking back. Suddenly, she was a woman and not his mom. Suddenly, she was a grown adult woman and not the person who had given birth and raised him. The way she looked at him felt scary and intimidating. It was not nurturing and protective. Not anymore.

The car ride was quiet until they were almost home when his mother broke the silence.

“You wanted to play football,” she said in a slightly mocking tone. “You wanted to play football, didn’t you? You just HAD to play.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he began, but she cut him off.

“You wanted to be a big bad football player, and you can’t even fill up a cup made for an eight-year-old.”

“Mom,” he said, slightly more whiney than usual. “Please… I’m sorry.”

“You were always such a whiney little boy,” she said. “Nothing has changed. You haven’t made any progress as a man. Here I was, thinking you were finally growing up, but you haven’t. Not at all. Not emotionally or… physically.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, lowering his head amidst her clear disgust.

“I mean, you have a tiny dick, Justin. To not even fill a cup for an eight-year-old?! Are you kidding me?! I can’t even believe it! It didn’t come from my side of the family, and it DAMN sure didn’t come from your fathers.”

“I’m… sorry, Mom,” he whimpered. “It’s not my fault.”

“Well, it’s not mine! And your dad… let’s just say he needs two hands just to get him started. This is a problem, Justin. Do you understand?! This is a problem. You’re not the same person you were when we left the house. You’re not the same son I thought I had. Do you understand how information like this affects a woman’s perception of you?! How it effects MY perception of you?!”

“Then how do we fix it?” he asked. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Firstly,” she said. “You’re not playing football. I’ll tell you that right now. We have much bigger problems than that. Secondly, we’re going to have to make some changes. We’re going to have to make some serious changes.”

“What kind of changes?” he asked timidly.

Her face suddenly lifted—not joy, excitement, or happiness, but revelation—like something had just occurred to her. She flipped on the turn signal, pulled up to the first stop sign, and slowly turned the wheel—she was turning the car around.

“Where are we going?!” Justin asked.

“Do you think the toy store is still open?”

 

To Be Continued…?

 

*This story has been edited by AI to fix spelling, punctuation, formatting errors, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed (That’s the author’s job). The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free sites and is now public domain, which is why we can publish it here.