In my first year of college, I rented a room from an elderly widow. Mrs. Tyler was in her early 60’s, tall and plump with gray hair and a gentle smile. I was happy with the arrangement since her house was only five blocks from campus, she was a great cook, and the rent was less than half of the dorm cost. But the primary reason I lived with Mrs. Tyler is I was only 5’2″ and weighed less than 100 pounds. The wild stories I had heard about dorm life made me nervous, and I didn’t want to spend the next four years being picked on as I had through high school.

Things went great between Mrs. Tyler and me for the first month. Because of my small size and youthful look (I still hadn’t started shaving), she treated me more like a kid than a young man. But I didn’t mind when she reminded me to stop playing video games and study or when she would tell me the snack I wanted would ruin my appetite for dinner. She would pat me on the head and smile at me. Because of Mrs. Tyler, I didn’t get homesick.

One day I was walking across the athletic field on my way home when two upperclassmen slammed into me. I was so lost in my English 101 assignment that I didn’t realize I had walked straight through a pick-up football game between rival fraternities. The collision knocked me unconscious, and I woke up in the college hospital.

The first face I saw was Mrs. Tyler smiling down at me. I tried to sit up and a pain shot through my chest like fire. I winced and dropped my head back to my pillow.

“There, there,” Mrs. Tyler whispered to me, “You’ve had a bad fall and need to take it easy.”

She patted my head like she always did. It made me feel better, and I drifted back into unconsciousness.

I woke up in my bedroom. Mrs. Tyler was sitting at my desk waiting for me to wake up. I didn’t try to sit up this time, but I smiled at her and waved. I noticed my hand was wrapped up from my fingers to my elbow.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I got caught in a frat boy sandwich,” I joked.

She laughed a little. Then she got up and sat on the bed next to me. She told me what had happened. I had two bruised ribs, a severely bruised right hand, and a sprained left ankle. It was kind of funny that as soon as she told me about my ankle, a dull ache made its way up my leg. The campus nurse suggested I stay home for a week and then come back in for a checkup.

Mrs. Tyler asked me if I wanted something to drink or eat.

“Actually, Mrs. Tyler,” I answered her nervously, “I need to use the bathroom.” She smiled and pulled back the covers. I realized I was only wearing my t-shirt and tighty-whities. She noticed me blushing about it.

“Don’t worry about me seeing you in your undies,” she told me, “I raised three sons, and you don’t have anything they didn’t have.”

Mrs. Tyler picked me up and carried me to the bathroom in her main bedroom like a baby. It was frilly and pink with flower wallpaper. “We’ll have enough room in here,” she muttered as we entered.

She gently lowered my legs to the ground, and I could balance my weight between my right foot and my injured left. She picked up the toilet lid and seat.

I expected her to leave, but instead, she stepped behind me and put her thumbs into the waistband of my underwear. I took in a deep breath and heard her shush me.

Time seemed to slow down as she slid my underwear down my legs to my ankles. I was trying to put out of my mind the image of Mrs. Tyler looking at my bare ass when I felt her pat my bottom gently. “You go ahead now,” she told me.

I held my penis with my left hand, glad she wasn’t able to see my deepest secret: my very undersized penis. Just like the rest of me, it was also underdeveloped. Flaccid I was only about an inch and half and fully erect I was about three inches and very thin. My whole groin was nearly hairless.

I peed for what seemed like five minutes. The pain in my bladder disappeared, and I started to feel better. Then everything went white, and I fell back against Mrs. Tyler’s plump body. My left hand dropped down, and I started peeing all over the place. Some hit my t-shirt, and my underwear wrapped around my ankles. Although dizzy, I felt her reach around me with both arms. Her left arm held me up, and her right hand wrapped around my penis.

“Oh, let’s just aim your willy where it needs to be,” she whispered. I relaxed and let her hold me while I finished. “There, I think you’re finally empty now.”

I recovered enough to stand and felt Mrs. Tyler pulling my t-shirt off. “We can’t have you sleeping in a wet shirt,” she told me, “now step out of your undies, too.”

I was utterly humiliated to be stripped naked by my landlady, but somehow it was even worse when she picked me up in her arms again and carried me back to my bedroom. I blushed the entire way. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her glancing down at my undersized, nearly hairless groin and trying to stifle a giggle. She put me to bed naked. I wrapped myself up in my blankets and tried to fall asleep again. When Mrs. Tyler left, I ran through everything that had happened. She had seen me naked and had held my small penis in her hand. I closed my eyes and hoped my humiliating experiences were at an end.

It was only beginning.

******

I awoke the following day from a frightening dream where Mrs. Tyler, my widowed landlady, stripped me naked and put me to bed. Pushing back the covers, I realized I was naked, and a sickening feeling hit my stomach like a horse kicked me. Everything had been confirmed. The accident, my sprained wrist, ankle, and even Mrs. Tyler holding my small penis in her fingers to help me urinate.

I pulled the sheets back over my head and wanted to die from the humiliation.

Mrs. Tyler opened my door and stepped inside. I noticed that she didn’t bother knocking or asking if she could enter.

“Let’s get you up before you wet your bed,” she said as she pulled the covers all the way down to my feet and exposed my naked body. I fought the urge to cover my groin with my left hand, and a chill ran over me. She noticed my shivering and laughed, “Looks like a certain little boy has to use the potty!”

“I’m not a little boy, Mrs. Tyler,” I groaned as she picked me up in her arms again.

I caught her looking at my undersized genitals as she answered, “Well, you’re certainly not a ‘big’ boy.” She openly giggled now, not bothering to contain herself anymore.

Again, I felt totally humiliated to be naked in front of her. But what could I do? I was helpless.

We entered the main bathroom, and Mrs. Tyler started to put me down. However, as my feet touched the cold tile, she turned me and pushed me so that I sat down on her toilet.

“What are you doing?”

“We can’t have you falling and piddling all over the place again,” she answered, “now can we?”

She stood in front of me and crossed her arms. I couldn’t look her in the eyes, so I let my gaze fall to her fat hips and belly. They looked like soft pillows in her house dress. Just when I was about to start peeing, I made the mistake of looking up to large breasts. They were round and beautiful. I could see the indentations on her dress of thumb-sized nipples barely being held in by the fabric, and I started getting an erection.

Mrs. Tyler watched my small penis intently and noticed it moving slightly upward. “Oops, we can’t have you making a mess,” she said, kneeling and taking my penis in between her right thumb and forefinger, aiming my urine stream down into the toilet.

It was a strange sensation feeling the hot urine flowing out of me and her calm, smooth fingers holding my penis. I closed my eyes, unsure of why I was starting to enjoy her touch.

After a few moments, the stream turned into droplets, and then I was done. Mrs. Tyler took some toilet tissue in her left hand and wiped the last urine away. I closed my eyes and didn’t move, unsure what would happen.

Mrs. Tyler didn’t take her right hand away. Instead, she slowly moved her thumb and forefinger in a rubbing motion. My penis grew to its full size in response, 3 inches long and as smaller in width than her thumb.

“Honey,” she whispered, “do you like when I rub your peepee?”

I nodded without opening my eyes.

“I”m going to ask you a few questions,” she told me, “and as long as you answer, I’ll keep rubbing your little willy, okay?”

Again, I nodded without opening my eyes. She changed from her rubbing motion to a very small stroke.

“Did you know you have a very, very small penis?”

“Uh, huh,” I whispered.

“Say, ‘Yes, Mrs. Tyler’ like a good little boy.”

“Yes, Mrs. Tyler.”

Her left hand reached up and touched my bare right hip. “Do you know that you can’t please many women with such a tiny little thing?”

“Yes, Mrs. Tyler.”

“Good,” she whispered, “we don’t want you getting hurt by some college girl.”

The fingers of her right hand kept stroking as her left hand moved from my bare hip up my naked body to my lips. She ran her fingers over my mouth a few times before sliding a single finger inside. My reaction was to start suckling on her finger like it was a nipple.

Pleased, she giggled loudly. “My little boy likes that, does he?”

Her stroking increased pace, and I started wiggling my hips in response. I was going to ejaculate soon. The combination of being naked and stroked off by my elderly landlady while I sucked on her finger was too much. My breath quickened.

She began teasing me by dragging her wet finger along my bare upper body and with her soft voice. “Is my little boy going to make a mess with his little penis? Tell Mrs. Tyler, honey…”

“Yes, Mrs. Tyler,” I whispered, “I’m going to cum soon.”

“I don’t think so, little boy,” she continued teasing me, “men cum, but little boys with baby-sized dicks just make little messes.”

That did it. My hips shot forward, and a single glob of semen shot out of me and landed on her dress. I collapsed back and tried to catch my breath. After a moment, I heard the water running, and Mrs. Tyler was at the sink, soaping up a small washcloth.

She started humming to herself as she washed the cum off of me, even reaching under and running the washcloth over my anus several times. She noticed that I jumped a little when she did it, and she smiled.

Without a word, she picked me up again. However, she didn’t carry me back to my bed this time but to her king-size canopy bed outside the main bathroom. She gently laid me down on my back and pulled the covers up. She was being so quiet that for a moment, I thought I had imagined everything in the bathroom. But then I felt her reach her right hand under the covers and cup my entire groin.

“Rest now, honey,” she said, leaning toward me, “my little boy needs to get better soon so we can have more fun.”

“Yes, Mrs. Tyler,” I answered.

“Hmmm, that doesn’t quite work anymore, does it?” She kissed me on the forehead, then whispered in my ear, “Call me ‘Mommy’ from now on.”

When I didn’t reply right away, she closed her fingers on my groin and squeezed my testicles.

“Yes, Mommy,” I whimpered.

Her hand relaxed its grip. “That’s my good little boy.”

Then she quietly left the bedroom. I closed my eyes and wondered where all this was going. I was utterly humiliated, but now all I could think about was Mrs. Tyler’s — Mommy’s — big suckable nipples and her smooth, cool fingers. I wanted more of both.

What I got was even worse… and better.

 

THE END

 

*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.