Incest

Helpless for the Summer – Chapter 4
By
Caliboy1991

Kelly

If things weren’t weird enough, getting spoon-fed by Mom was weird all on its own. This evening she fixed some fish-sticks, macaroni and cheese, and spinach. By suppertime, I’d given up completely on trying to use my hands for anything. Even wiggling my fingers hurts like a son-of-a-gun. So, Mom fed me my food a bite at a time at the same time she ate. I guess there’s a small part of me that liked her putting the spoon to my lips, but most of me can hardly wait for my wrists to heal enough to feed myself.

After Mom finished cleaning up from dinner, she said, “I could really stand a break about now, Kel. I’m going to find something to watch in my bedroom.”

I couldn’t manage the remote control so, watching something in the living room by myself was out of the question, and what was I going to do in my own room? My face must have given my predicament away. She added, “Come on, let’s see if we can find something we’ll both like.”

While Mom’s TV is slightly smaller than the TV in the living room, her bed is tons more comfortable than the old, worn cushions on our couch. There’s hardly anything I’ll miss once my wrists are healed, but watching TV in Mom’s room is something I’ll miss.

This summer was shaping up to be so different from anything else I’ve ever known. Last year, I was riding my bike all around, hanging out with my friends who lived a couple of miles away and just having fun. Today, Mom and I hung out together. She read to me after breakfast, we watched some of her soaps in the afternoon, and now, after dinner, we were going to watch a movie; me in my diaper and her in just her tank top and panties. At one point, she mentioned about how bad she felt about me having to wear these darned wrist braces and diaper. I think the reason she didn’t get dressed was so I wouldn’t feel so bad. And in truth, it kind of helped, after I got used to seeing her in panties and tank-top.

After the movie ended and the credits started rolling, Mom turned her TV off, “Okay, Kel, time for the worst part of the day. Bath time!”

I groaned and rolled onto my side, facing away from her. I hadn’t been looking forward to a bath at all. Some of it was because I just didn’t like baths; let me take a shower over a bath any day. After all, baths are for little kids. I tried not to think about how I really felt like a little kid right then, dressed in nothing but a diaper, not even able to move my hands without them hurting. The other part I didn’t want to think about was getting naked for Mom again. Even though she already had to take the diaper off twice now so I could pee, I still wasn’t comfortable with it.

Mom rolled off the bed and came around to the side I was on, “Do you need to pee or poop before your bath?”

I thought I could take the kids for a swim, as some of my friends liked to refer to taking a dump, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You dry right now?”

“Yeah.”

Mom’s eyes roamed across me, like an inspector, “Probably easier to take the diaper off here. But it’s your call.”

Being naked in front of Mom still felt incredibly weird, but if I didn’t make a big deal out of it, maybe my body would behave. I bit back a sigh, “Here’s fine.”

Mom grabbed the changing pad, which she had stored under the bed. I rolled onto it and spread my legs. Not that I wanted to, but having heard Mom tell me to a couple of times already, I was getting familiar with the drill. Mom grabbed the rubber pants and pulled them off, then removed the safety pins holding the cloth corners together. When she pulled the front of the diaper down, in my mind I begged and pleaded for my penis to stay soft. For now, it listened to me.

Mom patted my hip, “Already Kel, to the bathroom.”

I practically ran to the bathroom, stark naked while Mom put the changing stuff away. I was about finished with my business on the toilet when she came in and started filling the tub.

Wishing I could take care of my own shit, I mumbled, “I’m done.”

Mom pulled some toilet paper from the roll and said, “Why don’t you bend over at the waist, Kel? Maybe I can wipe you here.”

The soft toilet paper inside my butt-crack tickled, and despite my best effort, I giggled. While I doubted this would get me as clean as when she had me on the changing pad, I was about to get in the tub, so I doubted it would matter.

Mom grabbed some more TP, and I giggled again when she wiped me again. I think it was an accident, but her finger brushed the bottom of my nut sack and all my effort to keep myself from getting hard went out the window.

When I stood up, I turned to face away from Mom. She said, “Hold up, Kel. Dr. Peters said we should take the wrist braces off at bath time. Let me take them off for you.”

Reluctantly, I turned and stretched my hand out. I guess this was the third time Mom saw me hard. But it didn’t make it one bit better. As she gently slid the brace from my wrist, I twisted my hips, trying to angle it so she wouldn’t see my erection pointing toward the ceiling. It was all for nothing. After pulling my second brace off, she swatted my butt and said, “Boys.”

My face was beet-red when I stepped into the nearly-hot water. It wasn’t so much that what she said bothered me. No, it was the fact that my body seemed to be at war with me. I sank into a sitting position, facing away from Mom, toward the tub’s inner wall.

Mom picked up the bar of soap, “Let’s get your back first.”

Already facing away from her, I bobbed my head. Mom’s soaped-up hands were soft as she ran them over my back. I hunched over and enjoyed the light tingling running up and down my spine from her slick, soapy touch. Maybe letting Mom bathe me wasn’t the worst thing. If I had realized how nice it felt for her hands to wash my back, I might have asked her to wash my back before now. She seemed really cool about it, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d been missing out.

From my back, her hands shifted to my arms. She was especially gentle when her hands practically glided over my wrists. Then, she picked up my left arm, and soaped my upper arms and then slid her fingers against my pits, which she tickled. Involuntarily I jerked my hand down as I laughed, “Ahh!”

I should have learned my lesson. When she washed my right arm, she did the same thing. “S-, stop,” I squealed, “That tickles!”

Finished with my arms, Mom reached around my chest and pulled me out of hunching over, almost like she was hugging me, “Come on, baby. We’ve gotta get the front now.”

All the touching and tickling almost made me forget about my stiffy, which hadn’t gone away. But I tried to ignore the fact that if Mom looked down my front, that she would see it pointing up. She washed my shoulders and then my chest, working her way down my front until her hands found my bellybutton. As a finger played with my bellybutton, my penis twitched just above the waterline. I felt really conflicted. I was totally exposed to her and if she was looking down, she’d see my quivering stiffy. But her hands felt great on me.

I sucked in a breath of air. From my bellybutton, her fingers worked their way lower.

***

Karen

Honesty, even to yourself, is hard. Given a choice between spoon-feeding Kelly or having to change his diaper, I realized this evening I’d far rather change his diaper than spoon-feed him. Oh, I love him more than words can express, but holding up a spoon to his lips is going to get old pretty quick.

I know I should dread changing his diaper, but I can’t deny Kelly is a beautiful boy. And the sight of him naked has affected me in ways I hadn’t expected. It seemed like every time I changed him, his penis would spring to attention. Perhaps I’m biased, but there’s nothing more beautiful that a circumcised boy’s erection. Kelly’s glans was gorgeously symmetric, topping nearly four inches of perfectly formed shaft. And I felt terrible for thinking those things. After all, Kelly was my son and were it not for the accident and the wrist braces, I would have remained completely oblivious to the marvelous changes his body was beginning to undergo.

Despite sorting through where our boundaries should be, I invited him to watch a movie with me in my bedroom after dinner. In the past, that had been my time of solitude when Kelly would watch TV in the living room or play with his toy soldiers in his bedroom. Kelly started the movie lying on the other side of the bed, his arms resting on his stomach. But after an intense scene, his head rested against my shoulder. The closeness left me confused. I suppose it was because I couldn’t get the image of his four-and-a-half-inch penis out of my mind.

What kind of mother dwells on her son’s body? That thought sent me down a rabbit hole of past conversations with some women I work with at the school. A bunch of thirty- and forty-something-year-old women actually spend more time than most of us would care to admit, admiring the bodies of some of the boys in our school. But that was just talk. Right?

I knew I could never admit to those thoughts, but day two of our misadventures had been a day unlike any other I’d ever had with Kelly. It was completely unscripted and impromptu. Thinking back on it, it was around lunch time when I realized I was still in my panties and tank-top, and by that time, I figured it was so late and Kelly didn’t seem to mind, I just didn’t see any point getting dressed. After that, I felt so liberated just hanging out in my underwear and Kelly certainly didn’t seem to mind, especially when he was wearing just a diaper.

Once the movie was over, I leaned over and sniffed Kelly. He had that unmistakable smell of boy. He hadn’t showered in a couple of days, and even as uncomfortable as it might make him, I couldn’t justify letting him go another day.

Once he was in the bathtub, I had him face away from me as I lathered up a bar of soap and started working on cleaning his back. As my hands felt his soft skin, I realized I hadn’t given him a bath since kindergarten. He actually purred as my soapy hand caressed his spine. I think he enjoyed it every bit as much as I. I felt a moment’s anger at those people who told me the proper way to raise my son was to ween him off my helping him in the bathtub as soon as possible. They had cheated me out of years of baths when I could have enjoyed giving him lots more baths. At least we have the next six weeks.

I pulled Kelly back, resting his head on my shoulder, when it was time to wash his front. His shoulders held a wiriness, a hint of more muscles to come. My soapy hands caressed his chest. Part of me knew I needed to be fast and efficient, but I didn’t want to. My hands massaged his undeveloped muscles, even tweaking his immature boyish nipples until the tiny nubs grew erect under my touch. Glancing down, it wasn’t just Kelly’s nipples that were hard. His penis pointed upward from his crotch. My thoughts went back to how incredibly soft his skin felt over the blood-fueled hardness of his penis’s muscles.

I pushed the thoughts from my mind as I worked my way slowly down his chest, eventually working a finger into his inward-facing belly button. He giggled at the touch while I relished the tingling in my fingers. I let my fingers go a bit lower, stopping at his lower abdomen. Part of me wanted to go lower, and intellectually, I knew Kelly couldn’t go six weeks without washing his penis. But deliberately touching him there—that wasn’t something moms usually did.

As the battle of desires waged inside my head, I didn’t realize what my fingers were doing until my index finger touched the base of his erection, where his penis met his pubic bone. He was rock hard. We both jumped at the touch. I blurted, “Sorry about that, Kel.”

Kelly’s breaths came in quick shallow gasps, “Ahhh, it… It’s okay. I, um, didn’t see that coming.”

I knew I should stop there. Nothing good would come of touching him further. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said, “You normally clean yourself down there when you shower, right?”

His breathing remained irregular and fast, “Um, yeah.”

My mouth and brain were disconnected. “Is it-, is it okay if I clean it for you? At least until you can do it yourself.”

Kelly stopped breathing. The only sign he heard me was the twitch in his penis. After a few heartbeats he murmured, “Um, yeah. I guess.”

A rapidly shrinking voice of reason warned me against touching him. But I didn’t listen. I lathered my hands again and then ran my sudsy hand across Kelly’s pubic area, making sure to brush my fingers over his boner. Then I encircled his erection with my fingers. I hadn’t touched a guy on his junk since I was with Kelly’s dad. It had been way too many years. But I sure hadn’t forgotten how to hold a boy’s penis in the intervening years.

At some point, Kelly started breathing again and my fist slid up and down his soap-slicked erection. As I washed him in the most intimate of ways, I wondered if he knew about masturbation. At nearly thirteen, I figured he had. Still, that wasn’t something I wanted to ask him about. More than that, I was damn sure it wasn’t something he wanted to mention to me.

After a few tugs, I let go. I had wanted to wash him down there. Not make my twelve-year-old orgasm. I said, “Sorry, baby. I guess that was kind of uncomfortable.”

Kelly let out a nervous chuckle, “Yeah. I guess. I still remember the stuff about good and bad touches. I said it was okay. That makes it a good touch. Right?”

There was a tremor in my voice, “Yeah, Kel.”

As much as I wanted to touch him again, I had to retrain myself. I added, “Please tell me if this becomes too uncomfortable.”

Kelly turned his head until his lips were a couple of inches from my cheek, “You’re only touching me because you love me, Mom. My, um, my privates won’t clean themselves.”

As if punctuating it, his penis twitched again. I did my best to hide my sigh as I had him stand while I washed his legs. After which, Kelly was about as clean as I was going to get him tonight. I’d worry about his hair tomorrow. From there, it was just a matter of drying him off, putting his wrist braces on, putting a fresh diaper on him and putting him into his own bed.

He was asleep before long. Then it was my turn to take a bath. I changed out the water and stripped. While I waited for the tub to fill up, I looked in the mirror. I help up my arms and noticed a bit of stubble. Of course, it had been a week since I’d last shaved. That was one of the nice things about not having much body hair; shaving under my arms and my legs once a week kept me feeling quite smooth.

Once I sank into the bath’s hot water, I took more time than usual shaving my usual spots. Even though I knew it was a bad idea to think on it, I couldn’t keep from thinking about Kelly’s smooth legs and arms. And even though I could barely admit it, even to myself, his pubic area. I especially found that smoothness alluring.

Before long, my fingers pushed through my pubic hair. I’d never had what I considered a big bush. My pubic hair tapered off before reaching my legs. Also, it thinned considerably before it made it even a quarter of the way to my belly button, with my treasure trail disappearing a couple of inches below where my panties normally started. My thoughts returned to Kelly. I had loved the feel of his erection in my hands earlier. Despite the hot water, I grew wet just thinking about his silky-smooth penis. It was enough that I took my razor and carefully shaved all my pubes. I took my sweet time; even shaving the hair from around my labia, managing to not cut myself even once.

Once I finished shaving, I ran my fingers down my slit and I felt a thousand times more sensual and sexier running my fingers down my slit. It felt so much better with no hair getting in the way. I found my clit and rubbed it. I should have thought of someone else. Really, anyone else. But I couldn’t get Kelly out of my mind, nor his gorgeous four-and-a-half inches.

By the time I finished my bath, the water had gone cold.

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

Helpless for the Summer – Chapter 3
By
Caliboy1991

Kelly

I awoke to the pain in my wrists; the medication was good, but it didn’t last forever and in the dimness of the early morning my wrists dully ached, a constant reminder of how my summer was ruined. Something else penetrated the pain. I was wet.

My fingers touched the plastic-like material of the pull-up, but the pain in my wrists left my fingers numb and I couldn’t tell by touch how wet I became. I wanted to take one of those magical little pills that numbed my pain. The problem with it, it made me sleep so soundly, my bladder seemed to fail when I slept under its influence. I vowed, as I moved over to the edge of my bed, not to take the pain pill the next night. Better to deal with the pain than to wet myself at night.

When I scrambled out of bed, I looked back and breathed a sigh of relief. From what I could see in the dim light of early morning, my sheets appeared dry. It was bad enough I had to ask Mom’s help to change the pull-up. How much worse my humiliation would have been if she had to change my bedding too.

I wasn’t sure when I peed my pull-ups during the night, but thinking about it was enough to trigger something inside me. I had to pee again, and soon. Worse still, I also needed to take a dump. A quick glance out my window showed the sun wasn’t quite up. It was still very early. But any thought of lying down died when my intestines gurgled. I really had to go.

I was wearing a diaper; I toyed briefly with the idea of letting Mom sleep and taking care of all my business in the pull-up. But the idea of sitting in my own filth turned my stomach and with another groan from my intestines, my discomfiture overcame my embarrassment and I headed toward Mom’s bedroom.

Her door was open. She always slept with her door open. I guess it was so that she could hear me if I called during the night. There was a bit of light filtering through her curtains, letting me see her sleeping form on her bed. The clock on her nightstand showed it was halfway between six and seven in the morning. No wonder she was still asleep. We were not early risers in the summer.

At some point, Mom had kicked the covers off her bed, and I found myself staring at her sleeping form. I was mesmerized by what I saw. She wore a tank-top with my school’s mascot and a pair of peach-colored panties. That was it! I was stunned. Mom dressed modestly around the house and usually expected the same of me. While it was true, she really didn’t care what I slept in, the rest of the time she expected me to wear at least a pair of shorts around the house. And until that moment, I had never seen her in less than shorts and a t-shirt.

She looked so peaceful. Without meaning to, I stared at her chest. The thin cotton of her tank-top let me see the outline of her nipples as well as the swelling of her breasts. I don’t recall ever seeing her without a bra on before, and I couldn’t keep myself from staring. I’d never seen my mom like this. The way my school’s mascot bent around her boob was hot. It reminded me of Tonya Reese. She was a girl I sat next to at school. She was in my homeroom through the end of the school year. I liked Tonya. Or more accurately, I liked looking at Tonya, even though some of the other guys gave her a lot of crap about her boobs, because they weren’t very big. Still, as I gaped at Mom’s chest, even though her boobs weren’t that much bigger than Tonya’s, they looked sexy to me.

I let my eyes fall on her panties. This was unfamiliar territory for me. I’d never seen Mom so exposed. The particular shade of peach nearly matched her skin, making it almost look like she was naked below the waist. I’ve seen some pictures at school and I knew women had a thick bush of hair down there. But if Mom did, her panties hit it from view. The last thing I noticed as I stared at her underwear was the indention at the bottom of her panties. One of my friends in school would have called it her camel toe. I’d seen girly magazines before, so I knew the crease was her slit.

I felt some pressure in my pull-ups. Oh, no! This wasn’t good. My dick stirred to life, poking at the wetness of the front of my diaper. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Not when I had to pee and take a dump.

I don’t know if I made a noise, but Mom shifted and stretched on her bed as she woke up. I don’t think she noticed how long I had stood there, so I tapped the open door, “Hey Mom, you awake?”

“Mmm hmm,” she murmured. Then her eyes opened, “You need to go to the bathroom, baby?”

I nodded, even as I tried thinking of something other than my mom’s boobs or panties. I was reaching a crisis point; Even though she’d seen me once the previous day with an erection, that wasn’t something I wanted a repeat of. But my bladder and bowels would not the be denied. “Yeah. Gotta go.”

Still waking up, she slid off the bed and followed me into the bathroom. I don’t know if she even realized at that moment how little she wore.

When I reached the toilet, I turned toward her as she asked, “Is it wet?”

Feeling my cheeks turn hot from shame, I nodded, “Yeah. And I gotta do number two, too.”

Mom’s sleepiness seemed to fall away as she grinned, “A number two, too? That’s a lot of toos.”

After another yawn, she shook her head as though trying to get rid of her sleepiness, “It’s like yesterday, baby. I’m going to need to take this off. Is that okay?”

No, it really wasn’t. I was still erect. I couldn’t get Mom’s boobs or panties out of my mind. My body had other ideas. My intestines made a loud noise and even though I clenched my butt-cheeks, I farted. Rather than wait any longer, I nodded silently.

She grabbed the pull-up’s waistband at my hips and tugged them down. She didn’t say anything when my erection popped free, although when it did, it swung up and slapped my abdomen before pointing upwards. As soon as the pull-ups were at my feet, I sat down and scrunched over my groin, resting my elbows on my knees.

Mom retreated with the wet pull-up as my bowels opened up and my butt made wet farting noises. As she disappeared out the bathroom door, she said, “I’ll let you finish that up.”

I tried to clear my mind as I kept going to the bathroom. But when Mom had hurried out, my eyes had glanced at her butt. I don’t understand why, but the way her panties clung to her backside was better than anything I had seen in one of the sexy magazines my friends and I had stolen glances of in the bathroom at school. When clearing my mind didn’t work, I tried thinking about Tonya Reese. That should have been easier. Since discovering how much fun jacking off could be, Tonya had been a favorite fantasy of mine. But every time I tried to imagine Tonya, I saw Mom. That only made my erection all the harder. It seemed like it took forever for me to finish peeing. Mom was back at the door by the time I was done.

I was still hunched over myself when she said, “You finished, Kel?”

I wanted to shake my head. My penis wasn’t behaving itself. But my bladder and bowels were empty and I could see she knew it. I don’t know why, but my eyes began to water. Sure, my wrists hurt pretty badly right then, but that wasn’t why I was tearing up. I didn’t want Mom to think I was some kind of perv, getting erect around her all the time. What would she think?

Mom came over, “Hey, Kel, it’s okay. We’ll get you cleaned up and into a dry diaper, then get you some medicine for the pain.”

She flushed the toilet, “Unless you were planning on taking a picture of that, no reason to let it stay.”

Despite the horrible discomfiture we felt, I couldn’t help smiling at Mom’s attempt at humor. At least until she took me by the arm and pulled me to my feet. My erection popped back into view. Her eyes went to it and a look of sympathy filled her face, “Don’t worry about that, baby. It’s just your body dealing with itself. We’re going to get you cleaned up and then put one of the cloth diapers on you.”

Hearing the words cloth diaper, I temporarily forgot about my boner and I groaned, “Mom, do I have to wear a diaper? It’s so embarrassing.”

Mom guided me toward her bedroom, where she had set up a changing station, “I’m afraid so, Kel. Between the way your pain meds are messing with your bladder and just the entire issue of not having use of your hands, I don’t see another option.”

In her bedroom, Mom patted the changing pad on the edge of her bed, “Climb on up here, babe and roll onto your back for me.”

My butt was still a mess, so I was careful climbing onto the changing pad, and even more careful as I shifted myself around until I was lying on my back. I felt vulnerable, lying helplessly, waiting for Mom to clean me and put a diaper on me. Worse, my penis was still as hard as ever, although now that I was on my back, it lay against my abdomen.

Mom said, “Pull your knees up, Kel. I need to wipe you clean.”

I followed her instructions, pulling my knees against my chest. I felt something wet and cool touch my backside as she said, “Heavens, Kel. I’d forgotten how messy spaghetti was on the back end. Give me a moment more.”

Mom’s fingers, or maybe it was the wet wipes, touched my nut-sack a couple of times as she cleaned my back door. Then she sprinkled some baby powder on my butt and on my front. She took a large rectangular towel and folded it a few times before she slid it under me, “Almost finished, Kel. Just need to fold it over and pin it in place.”

It was when she folded it over that my erection got in the way again. Exasperated, Mom said, “Does it ever go down, babe?”

I flushed three shades of red. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Mom had just talked about my erection! The horror. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her what I did to make it go away. Not on my life. I mumbled, “Eventually.”

Mom shook her head, “Boys!”

Then she pinned the cloth diaper on the right side. Next, much to my surprise, she took my erection and pushed it down enough to pin the left side of the diaper closed. It was her turn to mumble, “Sorry, sweetie.”

***

Karen

I woke up that morning to an angel. The dim light from my window seemed to cast a halo over Kelly’s head as he stood at my door. As I woke up, I realized he was practically dancing in place as he pointed toward his diaper, which sagged between his legs, a sure sign I recalled from when he was little, of a soggy diaper.

My voice sounded scratchy, “You need to go to the bathroom, baby?”

Kelly nodded, “Yeah, gotta go. And also, number two, too.”

The homophones sounded silly in my ears as I finally woke up. “A number two, too? That’s an awful lot of toos. Still, I followed Kelly to the bathroom and added, “Sorry to say, sweetie, it’s going to be like yesterday. I’m going to have to take your pull-up off.”

Instead of a normal response, Kelly farted after his body made a loud intestinal noise.

I couldn’t help but smiling at his nervousness. I certainly could understand. I barely remembered changing his diaper as a baby. It had been so long ago. He didn’t have any recollection at all and had to find the whole thing completely disconcerting.

Taking his body’s response as a yes, I pulled his pull-ups down. Just like the previous day, Kelly’s boner popped into view when it cleared the elastic waistband. I kept a serious face when it loudly slapped his smooth pubic area. Once I pulled the soggy diaper off, he sat down as fast as possible before hunching down, trying to hide his embarrassment.

I turned to leave with the wet diaper when I realized I hadn’t gotten dressed when Kelly woke me up. I was way off my morning routine, even for a summer morning. Normally, even in the summer, I was up well before my son. And I had plenty of time to get dressed and take care of my morning routine. And as I slipped out of the bathroom, leaving behind the stench of a bowel movement, I felt a bit scandalized in just a tank-top and panties. I could only imagine how Kelly must feel. He had no choice but to let me see him in the most uncomfortable of situations. That’s when I realized, as bare as I felt, what I wore and what I was experiencing paled compared to what Kelly was going through.

I found some plastic bags in the pantry and dropped the diaper into the bag. After tying the bag and tossing it into the garbage, I went back to the bathroom where Kelly hunched over, hiding himself from my eyes.

After getting him into my bedroom and onto the changing pad on my bed, I had Kelly pull his legs up to his chest, exposing his backside to me. It took several wet-wipes to get him cleaned and I could see his pinkish-brown sphincter winking at me. A couple of times, by accident, my hand brushed against his scrotum. That did nothing to stop his erection, which remained hard.

I grabbed a cloth towel and folded it over. It was when I was pinning one corner of the towel to another that I quipped, “Does it ever go down, babe?”

The look on his face told me I had said the wrong thing. Instantly, I regretted it even as he mumbled, “Eventually.”

I wanted to hide my shame at making him so embarrassed, I just muttered, “Boys.”

Still, my eyes were drawn to it like a compass. It’s impossible to not make comparisons. And Kelly was smaller than any of those boys I’d seen when I was eleven. But not that much smaller. From base to the tip of his circumcised glans, he was all of four and a half inches and his little scrotum hung under his thin pole. Would I be happier if my son was closer to the fifty-percentile? Sure. What mother wouldn’t? Even so, exposed like that, I found myself thinking that he was simply beautiful.

I needed to be done. Seeing my son’s penis wasn’t good for my mental health. I could not pin the last part of the cloth diaper closed without doing something about Kelly’s erection. Quickly and gently, I touched the fleshy tube and pushed it down. Then I pinned the cloth diaper closed, trapping Kelly’s erection inside the diaper.

I couldn’t shake loose of what Kelly felt like when I took hold of him. He was at once hard as steel and yet soft and smooth. But I had to put those thoughts aside. I grabbed a pair of rubber pants I’d found in the attic and slid them onto his legs and around the cloth diaper. The rubber pants had been a gift from some ladies at a nearby church when Kelly had been a baby. There had been various sizes in the collection, including a couple of pairs big enough for Kelly even now.

Kelly slid his legs down, letting them drape off the edge of the bed. The shame of his body’s betrayal and of being seen naked by his mom had taken a toll on him. Right then, I wished he hadn’t broken his wrists, and that this wasn’t necessary. I pulled him to a sitting position before I joined him on the edge of the bed. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug, “You’re the bravest boy I know, Kel. All this has gotta be difficult, but you did great, baby.”

He shuddered and sighed, “I’m trying, Mom. When you saw me, um, lying down just a moment ago, I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull it in with me. Even when I got pants’d in the fifth grade, I wasn’t as embarrassed.”

Mentioning the pantsing in the fifth grade brought back the tears and shame Kelly had felt when I found out that day nearly three years earlier. If this felt worse, I could hardly imagine what he was going through. And this was only the start of the second day. We still had six weeks with those splint braces. I rubbed his back, “It’ll get easier, Kel.”

“Really?” his pure soft voice sounded earnest. I could tell he wanted to believe me, even feeling as bad as he did.

“I promise, Kel,” I said as I rubbed his bare back. Feeling his soft skin under my fingers reminded me we needed to get dressed. I was about to mention it when I thought about how difficult it would to get him into and out of his shorts or jeans. It was pretty clear, if Kelly needed to go to the bathroom, I was going to be the one taking his diaper off. Maybe more clothes were a bad idea.

I followed up on that idea, “You know, baby, one thing we can do now to make things easier is to do away with your summer dress code. If you don’t want to wear anything more than what you’ve got on now, that’ll be fine. You can leave the shorts and shirts for when we need to go out.”

Kelly leaned into my hug. He seemed to enjoy the contact as much as I was. “Thanks, Mom. Even though I feel really weird wearing this, shorts over it would feel even weirder. The room fell silent for a bit before he glanced at me with an inscrutable expression. “What about you?”

I wasn’t wearing much more than him, sitting in just my panties and a tank-top. That scandalized feeling I had earlier returned. What must my boy be thinking about me wearing so little? I wasn’t sure how to answer him. On one hand, it had been years since he’d seen me in as little as I wore now, and I was most comfortable around him in shorts, a t-shirt, and bra. But on the other hand, I was relaxing the dress code for Kelly and there wasn’t any harm in relaxing it for me too.

I nodded, “Yeah, maybe I’ll relax the dress code for me too.”

Then I thought about Kelly’s earlier erections. Could his reaction be because of me? Uncertain, I added, “Well, as long as you’re not uncomfortable about it.”

Knowing my son better than anyone else, his silence caught me off guard. Perhaps he was even more worried about his body’s reaction than I’d thought. After the uncomfortable silence dragged on longer than it should have, Kelly said, “What? You’re going to wear a diaper too?”

That wasn’t what I expected. I sucked in a breath in surprise, “What? Me, wear a diaper?”

For the first time since bringing Kelly home from the doctor’s office, he giggled, “Oh, that would be so cool, Mom.”

But after another long, uncomfortable moment, the shamed look returned, and he tilted his head when he looked up, “Would you? If I asked?”

It was my turn to contribute to the uncomfortable silence. I opened my mouth to offer a resounding no. Hell, I’m twenty-eight years old and way too old for diapers. The only reason for Kelly to wear them was to keep accidents to a minimum. But the look of humiliation and shame in his eyes held my tongue. He had nobody with whom to share this embarrassment. As much as I tried, perhaps even I didn’t fully understand his humiliation. Even though I was the only person who would be there for him, I was also the one person who would see his every humiliation, his every shame.

I felt ashamed about how I nearly slammed his request. It was my turn for tears to pool in my eyes as I softly nodded, “Yeah, baby. If you asked, I suppose I would.”

A tear spilled down Kelly’s cheek as he tried to lean in even closer. His hands stretched around my waist, “I need another hug, Mom.”

The silence that descended now lacked the awkwardness of before, as we sat on the edge of the bed hugging one another. We might have gone on, save that Kelly’s stomach rumbled, reminding us we had yet to eat.

I stood, “Come on, Kel. Let’s get some breakfast in us.”

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

Helpless for the Summer – Chapter 2
By
Caliboy1991

Karen

The most stressful day of my life was when I found out I was pregnant at fifteen. Thirteen years ago. This was the second most stressful day of my life. My son, Kelly, is my moon and stars. And he gave me the scare of my life. He was racing his bike down the country road in front of our house when he hit a pothole and went flying off his bike. He tried to stop himself from hitting the ground too hard and ended up breaking both of his wrists.

I called his pediatrician, Dr. Peters, who was able to get us in right away. If we lived in a larger city, I’m not sure that would have happened. Thank God for country doctors. Anyway, the doctor x-rayed Kel and discovered that he’d fractured both wrists. My baby would have to wear wrist braces for six weeks.

Dr. Peters was direct and honest about Kel’s situation. It was going to be bad. My baby wouldn’t be able to do anything for himself for first six weeks of summer. That meant I’d have to spoon-feed him three times a day, help him with going to the bathroom, and even give him baths.

So, what’s a girl to do? The first thing was to go by Wally-world and pick up some diapers for my little man. But heaven help me, I’d forgotten how expensive they were. My job as a teacher’s aide at the local elementary school doesn’t pay much, but between public assistance and a housing voucher, we get by. A month’s supply of big boy diapers was going to put a real dent in our summer budget. Across the aisle from the disposable diapers, I saw some old-style cloth diapers, and I remembered I had never thrown out or given away the cloth diapers I’d used when Kelly was a toddler. I decided to pick up a single package of disposables and then see what I had available at the house.

When we got home, Kelly laid down for a bit while I climbed into the attic. I went through three boxes of baby clothes before I found a stack of cloth diapers. There must have been twenty or more thick white square towels that I’d folded up and wrapped around my baby when he was little. I picked one up and eyeballed it. Not really knowing what I was doing, I’d bought them larger than I’d needed to more than a decade ago and folded them down to his size. I might not have to fold it as many times as I had when he was two or three, but my little boy could still wear them, and that would save a lot of money this summer. Setting the towels aside, I also found baby powder, safety pins and a box of wipes I had never opened.

Even though I knew I would do lots of laundry, I felt better knowing I’d been down this road before and felt as though I could handle it again. After all, it would only be for a few weeks. After hauling all the stuff I’d need out of the attic and into my room, I fixed spaghetti and meat sauce, one of Kelly’s favorite meals, before going into his room and waking him up.

Imagine my surprise to find the front of my son’s shorts already wet. I hustled him into the bathroom and then undressed him, which had to be humiliating. After all, Kelly was just a couple of months short of his thirteenth birthday and already about three inches taller than me. And I’m the one who has to change his diapers! He was so embarrassed.

He sat down and finished what he’d started in his underwear. I figured the pain medication had to be affecting his bladder control when asleep. If that were the case, the next few weeks would be torture, changing wet diapers every morning or after naps.

I got the shock of my life after wiping the urine from around his groin. His penis sprang to life. I think the last time I have seen Kelly erect was when he was a toddler and I was still potty training him. What a difference a decade makes. Kelly was about halfway between four and five inches when erect. Seeing the long nail of flesh pointing into the air made my stomach flutter and left me feeling confused. Living in a small town, and staying away from the bars, I hadn’t been with a man since I got knocked up and pregnant with Kelly. It really had been too long since I saw my last erection.

I looked away and told my son to step into the pull-up. Maybe if I didn’t make anything out of this, Kelly wouldn’t either. It was embarrassing enough for the both of us. “Come on. Step into it and we’ll be finished in a jiffy.”

Kelly tried to hide his erection behind his wrists. The pleading look he sent my way left no doubt he still wasn’t sold on wearing the pull-ups. But what choice was there, if he had already peed on himself when he took a nap?

I swear, his erection quivered, hardly hidden behind his wrists. Ignoring the fluttering in my stomach, I repeated, “Come on, Kel. Step into the diaper and let’s get you dressed.”

Finally, he responded by stepping into the legs. I pulled the pull-ups up his legs and ignored the fleshy pole protruding from his groin. Until the waistband smacked it. “Ouch!”

I felt about two inches high when I realized I’d hurt Kelly’s penis. I grumbled, “Oh, shit!”

I didn’t know what to do. Panicking, I pulled the elastic band away from his skin and then, as gingerly as possible, pushed Kelly’s erection back inside the pull-up; I felt surprised at the warmth and steely softness of his skin. I was awash in self-doubt and shame as I stood and said, “Sorry about that, baby. Let’s go eat.”

Dinner proved to be a challenge. Spaghetti is the wrong first meal to spoon-feed someone else. I should have picked mashed potatoes. Anything but spaghetti. I twirled the noodles around a fork and had to feed Kelly every bite. I was uncomfortable with Kelly’s handicap. But he was embarrassed beyond words. We spent the entire meal with him sporting crimson cheeks even as he took every bite offered. I guess it was one of those things where his needs outweighed his shame.

After dinner, I let him join me in the living room where we watched one of my TV shows. He was almost asleep when I finally rousted him to bed. Usually, Kelly would be the last person to crawl onto the couch next to his momma and watch TV. But if the day had been tough for me, how much worse had it been for him? His wrists lay by his side and his head propped against my shoulder. I couldn’t help but study my son for the first time in I don’t know how long. Kelly was a boy of contrasts. Even though he was only a couple of months shy of turning thirteen, he still loved playing with his GI Joes, even though he had passed me by height-wise earlier in the year. His face had never had much baby fat, always being a bit angular. But it was more so now, not unlike a teenager’s.

I nudged him awake at the end of the show, “Time for bed, baby.”

“Alright.” His voice was clear and unbroken. He didn’t sing often, but when he did, he could melt my heart with his soprano voice. I knew the day was coming when that delightful voice would break, and it would fall in pitch. Part of me hoped that time was a long time coming.

I followed Kelly into his bedroom and helped him undress, pulling off a pair of shorts. When he refused anything but the pull-up, it was just another reminder of how close he was to leaving childhood behind. I visited with him for a bit before tucking him into bed. Before leaving for my bedroom, I gave him a kiss on the cheek, “Good night, Kel.”

When I turned off the light, he replied, “Good night, Mom.”

Once in my bedroom, I undressed, replacing the torture device called my bra with a loose fitting tank-top I got from school where I work. I was emotionally exhausted; All I wanted was to crawl into bed and pretend the day hadn’t happened. I guess Kelly wasn’t the only one who had given up on pajamas—at least tonight.

Once under the bed covers, I couldn’t shut my mind off. It was still spinning a mile-a-minute. Even though I thought I’d done well ignoring certain things when I put Kelly in a pull-up, I had only delayed thinking about it. Now, with the light off and the house quiet, my mind wouldn’t turn loose of the smooth tube of flesh poking out from Kelly’s middle. Maybe if I hadn’t wiped the urine from his penis, Kelly wouldn’t have become erect.

But he had, and putting his penis from my memory was proving difficult. Kelly is tall for his age and I guess that makes his penis look small on his growing frame. I barely knew his father when he was Kelly’s age to know how my son compared. And his dad hadn’t been in the picture since making his little contribution, leaving me to raise my son alone. Still, as I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, I recalled a memory from my childhood.

I had been eleven. My older brother and his friends were going to the movies, and I wanted to go too. At first Jules told me there was no way I could go. But I was persistent and wore him down until he threw up his hands in frustration and said, “Fine, Karen. You can go. But only on one condition. You’ve gotta show us your pussy.”

I’m sure he thought I’d be too embarrassed to do what he wanted, or to tell our parents. And truth be told, I nearly refused. But I had an epiphany. I said, “Fine, but only if you boys show me your dicks.”

Growing up with an older brother, I knew the lingo. After all, Jules had a bit of a potty mouth. When I countered my older brother’s demand, I wasn’t sure what would happen. Would he refuse or tell me to forget it and let me come along anyway? At fourteen, my older brother was the oldest of his little clique of friends. Paul and Thomas were both twelve and followed my brother around like little puppies.

“Fine,” Jules said with a smirk, “You go first.”

I really wanted to hang out with them, so I dropped my shorts and panties and exposed my hairless slit. My brother shrugged and unfastened his belt and pulled the front of his pants down until his penis popped out. He was soft, perhaps three inches, although it was hard to tell because a thick bush of hair partially hid it. Paul went next. He was staring at my slit when he pulled his shorts down.

I gasped when his penis appeared. It sprang from his underwear, coming to attention, pointing toward the sky. He was somewhere between five and six inches long. Unlike my brother’s bush, Paul only had a smattering of pubes, leaving his erection fully exposed. My brother may not have reacted to my slit, but Paul’s erection made Jules’ penis spring to life. Fully erect, my brother was almost six inches. Last to go was the shortest, Thomas. He was a few inches below five feet tall. When he yanked his pants down, he was just as hard as Paul and Jules. But he was smaller. Not quite five inches long with a few stray strands of hair over his shaft.

My baby was older than two of those three boys from my childhood. I couldn’t help but remember how smooth Kelly was when I pulled his wet underwear down. Apart from the near-microscopic baby hairs he’d always had, there had been no other hair around his groin. Not a one.

Kelly had been just as erect as Jules and his friends had been all those years ago. His erection had been smaller than even the youngest of those boys from my childhood. I rolled over in my bed, pushing my sheets aside. As a mother, even though I would never talk about it, I’ve always hoped Kelly would be well endowed. What mother doesn’t want that for her son? But for now, at least, Kelly wasn’t.

It was a long time before I fell asleep. My mind kept replaying that moment after I cleaned him when Kelly’s penis swelled and became erect.

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

Helpless for the Summer – Chapter 1
By
Caliboy1991

Kelly

The doctor’s eyes stared at the back-lit x-ray image of my wrists and said, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Leaning back against the uncomfortable reclining chair in the sterile exam room, I rested my head on my mom’s shoulder, tears streaking down my face. My wrists were in such pain I forgot I was twelve-year-old and that big boys don’t let their moms see them cry.  

I glanced up at my mom. She brushed a lock of brown hair from her face, clearly worried about me. She said, “How about the good news.”

The doctor pointed at the bones on the screen, “We’re not going to have to reset any broken bones. And that means that Kelly won’t have to spend the entire summer in a plaster cast.”

My effort to smile through the tears brought even more as the sharp pain shot through me from both wrists. My smile looked like a grimace. “W-, what about the bad?”

Doctor Peters had been my pediatrician my entire life. In the past, he’d always had a great sense of humor, and I hoped against hope the bad wouldn’t really be very bad.

He pointed at the image of one of my wrists. There was a line across the bone. “This is a hairline fracture. You’ll notice it on both wrists. When you fell off your bike and used your hands to brace your fall, as you can see, you broke both wrists. Luckily, your bones remained aligned. That means we don’t have to reset the bone or use a plaster cast.”

He opened a drawer and retrieved a couple of black wrist braces. “To give the bones time to heal, they still need to be immobilized. That’s why you’ll need to wear these braces for the next six weeks. But after that, you’ll be back to riding your bike and enjoying the rest of your summer. So, the bad news isn’t really all that bad.”

Despite the doctor’s soft and delicate touch, it still hurt when he put the braces on my wrists. He velcroed the brace over my right wrist and I tried wiggling my fingers. But if they moved, I couldn’t sense any movement through the incredible pain.

“Take it easy, Kelly. There’s a lot of bruising. That’ll keep your fingers from moving much for a while. But give it a week or so, and the swelling should be down enough for you to get a little bit of motion back in your fingers. Find a good book to read because your Gameboy is going to be next to impossible to play for a few weeks.”

Then he patted me on the head and turned to my mom, “Miss Jackson, a word, please.”

It irritated me Dr. Peters had patted me on my head. After all, I’d be thirteen around the time the braces could come off. Those thoughts flew from my mind when he and my mom stepped over to the door and lowered their voices. I had to strain to hear them.

“You still work over at Austin Elementary, Karen? You off for the summer?”

“Yeah.”

“Kelly’s going to be out of commission for a while. It’s good you’ll be able to take care of him while he’s recovering. Those splints need to stay on all the time, at least through the Fourth of July. Even when he’s sleeping.”

“All the time?” My mom’s voice was sharp, like she was surprised.

Dr. Peters glanced toward the x-ray, “I guess it’ll be okay if they come off when you give him a bath, but yeah, otherwise, all the time.”

Mom’s voice was low, but I still heard every word, “I haven’t given Kel a bath since he started grade school.”

Dr. Peters gave an apologetic smile, “I bet you haven’t spoon-fed him since he was a toddler either. But Kelly cannot dress or feed himself for a while. He’ll also need your help to go to the bathroom and with bathing too.”

Mom glanced at me and gave me a pensive smile. Then Dr. Peters lowered the boom, “You ought to swing by Walmart on the way home. You’ll need to pick up to pull-ups. Kelly’s going to need them.”

He picked up a clipboard and scribbled something on a sheet of paper, “Take this by the pharmacy. This’ll help with his pain.”

After propping the door open, he smiled at me apologetically. “Sorry about your summer, Kelly. We’ll see you in about six weeks.”

My summer was ruined.

***

I was in too much pain to think about everything Mom and Dr. Peters had talked about. By the time we dropped off the script at the pharmacy and were walking the aisles at Walmart, it came back to me why we were looking at diapers. I was about to turn around when I saw Mom’s face getting longer and longer.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

Morosely, she shook her head, “It’s been so long since I’ve needed to buy diapers, I’d forgotten how expensive they are.”

I looked at where she pointed her finger. The sticker on the shelf announced the price on the diapers was almost ten dollars. And that’s before tax. It was only for a package of a dozen. Even I knew that was expensive. The thing was, things have always been tight financially, as far back as I can remember. Mom was a teacher’s aide, and that didn’t pay much. Even though Mom tried to hide it, I knew why she made all those trips to the public assistance office. I’d never complained, after all, she got all the same holidays I did and that meant she has always been there for me.

For a moment, I forgot about the mortification of wearing diapers, “Ten bucks? That’s a lot of money. What’d you do when I was a baby?”

Mom picked up the box and looked at the back. “I used cloth diapers, kiddo. And did lots of laundry. As a matter of fact, I think I still have some of your things from when you were little. I’ll look into that when we get home.”

I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull it in on me. Big boy pull-ups and cloth diapers? I only thought my summer was ruined before. Now, it surely was. But seeing the look on Mom’s face, I blinked back the tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks, “Maybe we won’t need any of these things, Mom. Why can’t I try to keep things normal?”

She gave me one of those ‘we’ll see’ looks as she said, “I don’t know, Kel. Just to be on the safe side, we’ll get one package of these. But we’ll try it your way first. How does that sound?”

I returned the skeptical look. “I dunno, Mom. It’s a lot of money.”

Mom stuff the bag of pull-ups under her arm, “I think we can swing a package of twelve. If you decide to go to Timmy’s birthday next week, you might want some pullups. That way you can go without anyone needing to help.”

***

By the time Mom stopped at Sonic to order some ice cream, I had pushed aside any thoughts about how difficult my life was about to become. That was until Mom had to put the soft-serve on a spoon and feed it to me. What could I do? My hands were worse than useless. Until they’re gone, you don’t realize how much you do with your hands. Or, as was my case, out of action until the middle of the summer.

If mom had to help me every meal, that would be a lot of meals. My mind did the math; three times seven. That’s twenty-one meals per week. Times five if I get them off by the Fourth of July. That’s over a hundred meals Mom would have to spoon-feed me.

My mood turned even darker as we drove home. I realized Mom was going to have to get me dressed at least thirty-five times until the braces could come off. This was going to royally suck. Then I thought about how many times a day I had to go pee. That was four or five times a day. Holy crap, that’s like a hundred-twenty times! God, no wonder Mom wanted to get some diapers.

I was nearly in tears by the time we got home. Even if I only got a bath twice a week, that would be at least ten times she would have to undress and bathe me. I don’t know who felt worse when we got home. Me or Mom. It had to be a close thing.

By the time I walked in our front door, the medicine Dr. Peters had prescribed kicked in and my wrists weren’t hurting as much.

Our home wasn’t much to look at. We’d rented it when Mom started working for the school. It was an old farmhouse, at least a hundred years old. It was the last house on an old gravel road with a couple of other weathered houses and some cornfields. Still, it was home. After all, it was all I knew. In the spring or fall, I loved sitting next to my mom on the old swing hanging from the roof of the covered porch.

The living room was a mess. I had scattered my action figures across the floor. I felt awful about it when I saw them. Mom had told me before I went bike riding to clean my stuff up. Now, I couldn’t. Instead, I just followed Mom through the living room and through a formal dining room we seldom used and into the kitchen at the back of the house.

Mom glanced at me, “You want any more ice cream?”

I fought back an enormous yawn and wondered what was in the meds we had picked up from the pharmacy. I was dead on my feet, “No. I’m gonna lay down for a bit.”

My room was at the front of the house, just off the living room. But you could get to it by going through my mom’s bedroom and down a narrow hallway, off of which was our bathroom. It wasn’t much. I was too embarrassed to let my friends see it. But back when it was built in the first part of the twentieth century, I’m sure it was an enormous improvement over log houses and outhouses, or hauling water from a well.

I fell into my bed fully clothed and was out of it before Mom turned on the A/C window unit.

***

I was warm, floating on a bed of air when something reached from the sky, striking my shoulder. It didn’t hurt as much as I expected. Then it happened again.

My eyes fluttered open, realization flooding into me. I had been dreaming. Mom tapped my shoulder, “Hey baby, let’s wake up. Dinner’s ready.”

Two things assaulted my senses. The first was the incredible pain in my wrists. They felt as though they were on fire. Wave after wave of pain washed over me. Whatever meds Mom had given me had worn off, and reflexively I curled into a fetal position.

That’s when the second thing assaulted my senses. My lap was wet. Just as quickly as I had curled into a ball, I scampered out of bed and looked down. There was a dark spot slowly spreading from the zipper. I had felt nothing in my sleep, but now I was awake and my bladder wasted no time in letting me know it was full and overflowing.

As if my day could get any worse, Mom saw it too. She said, “Ah, let’s get you into the bathroom, quick.”

She ran her arm around my back and guided me toward our shared bathroom as tears overwhelmed me. I had pissed myself and felt utterly humiliated. She took me over to the toilet and turned me around, facing her as she knelt before me. With quick fingers, she unbuttoned and unzipped me. As tears flowed down my cheeks, she tugged my shorts down, revealing the yellow stain spreading across the front of my tighty-whities.

She glanced at my face, “I’m sorry, baby.”

Then she pulled my underwear down. I had leaked a little, having stopped when I awoke, otherwise, Mom might have gotten a bit of a shower. I don’t think I could have handled that shame. Still, my shame was almost overwhelming. Despite being taller than average for my age, part of me hadn’t caught up with the rest of me. My penis, cold from the urine soaking the front of my underwear, hug soft between my legs. It hadn’t caught up with the rest of me. I was a good three inches taller than Mom’s five feet, but down below, I still looked like a little kid, without even a hint of pubic hair. And now my mom had seen me in all my pathetic shame.

She didn’t waste any time, gently pushing me onto the toilet, “Oh, jeez, Kel. I’m so sorry. Go ahead and finish and we’ll get you changed.”

With Mom standing in front of me, my shy bladder refused to finish what it had started. After a moment of deep concern, she turned and said, “I’ll be back in a moment, sweetheart. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

Alone in the bathroom, my bladder opened up, and I felt relief wash over me, despite the torrent of tears. By the time I glimpsed Mom by the door, I was finished. Whether it was from the hellish pain radiating from my wrists or from the complete shame I felt, I sobbed when I saw the pullup in Mom’s hand. “N-, no! N-, not that!”

She returned and knelt before me, “Hey baby, It’s okay. The meds probably made you too groggy to realize you needed to go. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Then, to make the situation worse, she grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the sink until it was soaked in warm water. She said, “Stand up, baby. We’ll have you cleaned in no time.”

Once I was on my feet, Mom rubbed the warm, wet washrag over my junk, wiping the piss away. I’ve never felt anything like that before. Sure, I was almost thirteen and have been jacking off since before I was twelve. But the electrical shock of her hand, even through the wet rag on my flaccid penis, ran through my body. It also had an unfortunate side effect. No sooner had Mom taken the washrag away than my penis stirred. In a few heartbeats, my two flaccid inches stretched and grew until I was four and a half inches.

My wrists, enclosed in their black braces, flew to my crotch, too late for Mom to not see what I’m certain she didn’t want to see. How could it possibly get any worse? One thing I’d learned over the past few months in PE is that I was lagging behind the other boys in the seventh grade. Of course, with a July birthday, I was one of the youngest boys in my class and I guess that’s to be expected. But I was the only kid to not have even a little bit of hair downstairs. I’d even caught a couple of guys jacking off in the shower a few times. Those boys had easily sported five inches below a bush of pubes. I didn’t look much like those older boys aside from the fact we were all circumcised. I was shorter and lacked even a hint of pubic hair.

Mom had seen my penis. Worse yet, she had touched it with a washcloth and I had gotten hard. I was terribly embarrassed. Nothing was going to make this experience good. But at that moment, I wished I was more like those other boys in my PE class. I wished I was bigger, longer and had hair. At least then Mom would know I wasn’t still a little kid.

But Mom ignored my boner. She just held the pullup at my feet, “Come on. Step into it and we’ll be finished in a jiffy.”

I didn’t want to wear the diaper. They were for babies and I was almost thirteen. I sure didn’t want Mom seeing my little dick. God, what would she think of me? I must have dawdled. There was a note of exasperation in her voice, “Come on, Kel. Step into the diaper and let’s get you dressed.”

Wishing I could disappear, I put one foot, then the other, into the pullup’s legs. Mom tugged the pullups up my legs. I had no choice but to yank my wrist-brace encased hands away as she pulled my pullups to my waist, trapping my erection against the waistband. “Ouch!”

Mom’s cheeks turned a bright red, “Ah, shoot.”

She eyed the pullups, which did nothing for my erection. After too long a moment, with one hand she grabbed the elastic band and pulled it away from my waist. With the other, she gently pushed my stiffy down, trapping it inside the big-boy pullups.

She pursed her lips, “Sorry, baby. You hungry? I’ve got dinner ready.”

After dinner, she gave me another pill. That helped with the pain and I was able to join her in the living room where she put some kids’ show on the TV while she picked up my toys. Even as the pain abated, I felt terrible she was cleaning up something she had asked me to take care of before I got hurt.

After a while, I was nodding off and Mom eventually said, “Alright, kiddo, it’s bed time.”

She followed me into my room where she helped me take off my shirt and shorts. Then she said, “You dry?”

I nodded, “Yeah. I’d rather sleep in my underwear. These aren’t very comfortable.”

The truth of it was, they really weren’t uncomfortable either. It was just humiliating to be in something babies wore. I think Mom saw through it. She shook her head, “Let’s see how you handle tonight. I’m concerned the medicine may cause you to lose control of your bladder in your sleep.”

Then she went over to my chest of drawers, “Pajamas?”

I sat on my bed in a huff and shook my head. I stopped wearing t-shirts or pajama tops to bed more than a year before. I’ve slept in just my underwear since the beginning of the seventh grade.

She returned to my bed and knelt beside me, “I’m sorry about your wrists, Kel. Truly. The next few weeks are going to be tough on the two of us. I know twelve-year-olds don’t want to wear diapers and they sure as heck don’t want their moms changing those diapers or giving them baths or wiping their butts. And moms don’t really want to do those things for their boys, either. But you know what, baby? I love you more than you can ever imagine and if I have to do those things, then I’m going to do them because I love you.”

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved