My 13th birthday begged the question out of me that I knew other unfortunate late-pubescent boys had. The stool that gave me the boost I needed each and every morning to reach the mirror, and ask; "What's wrong with me?"
From there, every birthday brought the same question, until it numbed me. I would be stuck in my pre-pubescent, child like state for the rest of my life. I was a wonder to doctors, how I never evolved in the slightest; my soft skin, present cheeks, and boyish hair. It all stayed the same. There were no signs of a deformity in me; not in my blood, my bones, my genes. It was like my age had paused completely.
I struggled to learn to accept it, and that only became harder upon the death of my father-- of old age ironically. He was a rich man, and was no stranger to the young women he spoiled; my mother being his final example.
Monica was only 22 when she married my elderly father and became pregnant with me. Despite her young age, she already had two kids; a set of fraternal twin daughters, Allison and Alyssa. My father was so enticing to Monica, as he promised her college, and followed through with that promise, quickly buying her way to the top of the biological research food chain. To be blunt, her and her daughters treated me the way I always felt; like the runt of the litter.
As much as it doesn't pain me to say, I never knew my father that well. We were more like acquaintances, than a family. He was always away on business, if not cooped up in his office. Which is why-- this may be insensitive to say, but-- his death could not come at a better time in my life: my escape to college.
But that escape was shortlived. Fitting in was hard enough as a college student who looks like he's seven years young. In an unhealthy method of coping, I turned to drugs; specifically cannabis. The way that goddamn THC sticks to your body for a month is what got me kicked out, as my desired field of study-- medical-- required a drug test, unbeknownst to me.
So of course, mom had to pick me up due to my inability to drive at this size. The car ride stayed quiet, as I hoped it would, until she spoke up, "I can't believe you, Ethan."
I didn't respond, keeping my eyes out the window in the backseat, (as I can't legally sit in the front seat at this height).
"You know you're going to have to find a job if you want to live with us," she explained. "Money's gonna be tight with your father gone, so everybody's gonna have to pull their weight."
To which I replied in a bitter sigh, "Okay, mom," not even worrying about who the hell might hire a (seemingly) seven year old boy.
Any and all interviews I booked laughed me out of the room. The one establishment that took pity on me gave me a drug test, which I still could not pass.
I'd return home to find Allison and Alyssa lounging by the pool-- y'know, pulling there weight like mom stressed.
Allison peered from behind her sunglasses. "Hey kid," she often mocked me with that nickname, "Mom wants to see you. Dad's office."
Alyssa chimed in, "Mom's office now!" and laughed with our sister, as I sulked to the office.
The long hallway felt eternal as I approached my dad-- sorry, my mother's office where she actively boxed away his old books; the last of his belongings in this house. My footsteps carefully met the polished wood floor, as I snuck for no other reason but dread.
"M-mom?" I muttered in the doorway. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Ethan. I wanted to hear about your interview," she requested, sitting in the leather seat my father once sat, waving me to take one of the seats opposite of her at the desk. "I understand you got a bit farther with this one."
"Yeah..." I avoided eye contact with her, kicking my feet that dangled over the chair. "I didn't pass..."
Mom was dumbfounded, "Didn't pa-- you mean you failed ANOTHER drug test?!"
"Y-yeah..." I shamefully answered. "B-but I just don't understand how! I should be past the month it takes to flush out of your system!"
"Well obviously," mom concluded that, "you're still going out partying."
"That's not..." I knew she wouldn't believe me, "that's not what I did!" she never believed me.
"Oh I'm not dumb. I was your age once. I played dumb and partied. I drank like kids your age do, I had sex like kids your age do." I shifted in discomfort at the info my mother decided to share with me. "I can't even imagine the disgusting women who would sleep with you!"
It hurt my feelings, but I got what she meant; what woman my (actual) age would want to sleep with a seven year old boy? If not a real one, an adult that looked like one.
"Mom," I pleaded, "none of these things are happening. I'm not going out partying and sleeping around. I should have passed that drug test!"
"Oh really?" mom questioned. "Well then, why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" She shuffled through the desk drawer to pull out a little plastic jar, "If you REALLY believe you should have passed that drug test, then show me. I have one right here, good and ready."
"Okay, I will!" I snatched the cup and hopped off the chair to walk out.
"Hang on, Ethan," my mom stopped my exit, "I'm not done."
I turned to see my mother standing, opening another drawer. "If you refuse to take the test, I want you out of this house."
She stunned me with her audacity; threatening to kick out her only son. "I'm gonna take it, mom."
"If you're sure," she shrugged, toying with something in the drawer, hidden from me, "But you better be damn sure, because if you fail..." a pink, plastic tube with a lock was placed on the desk, unfamiliar to me.
"W-w-what's that?"
"Oh this?" she held it up and fondled it as if to inspect. "This is what we women who know how to discipline a man call a chastity device."
The shape of it started to clear up for me as she toyed with it in her fingers. "W-what uh... what does it do?"
"You don't know?" I didn't. "Well... pass the drug test and you won't find out."
I gulped at the possibilities this device could hold. "And if I don't I-"
"You'll have to find somewhere else to mooch." She smiled wide enough to squint her eyes, and tilted her head to the side, "Understood?"
I weighed my options, darting my eyes from the device to the cup in my hand. But I was confident that I could pass a drug test, and that my failure at the interview was a fluke. So I decided, "Okay, mom... I'll go take it."
Her voiced pulled me back in, keeping me from walking out with an, "Ah, ah, ah... come back here, young man." She curled her finger to direct me back in to the office, "I obviously can't trust you to take this test in private. You'll take it right here, right now, with me watching."
"A-" I turned bright pink, "are you serious?! I-I don't want to take my dick out in front of my mother!"
"Watch your mouth, young man!" she snapped at me. "Don't go thinking I haven't seen your little peepee before. After all, I am your mother."
The pink in my face darkened to red. I closed the office door and didn't speak, nor did I make eye contact as I unzipped my pants to take this drug test.
Which I failed.
I expected her to scream, but instead, mom gently, "Tsk, tsk, tsk,"ed at me as she circled to the other side of the desk. With the chastity device in her hand, she crouched down to my level, unbuttoning my pants and pulling them down.
"M-mom!" I protested.
"Do you want a place to stay, or not?"
"M-maybe I can just stay with aunt Paige!" I pleaded, crossing my knee to pathetically hide my dick from the device.
"She'll send you right back to me. I guarantee it," my mother negated my offer and took my dick in my hand, "Now, hold still while we start your punishment."
Even being the smallest size available, there was still some space in the device, due to my pre-pubescent state I was stuck in.The intricacies of this device's design equally amazed and worried me; that somebody at some point went to such great lengths to create the perfect prison for a man. It made me fear what else was out there.
The click of the tube and the clink of the key made me jump like a horror movie. My mother tapped it with the key to tease me. "There... that's perfect." She very inappropriately cupped my balls, ensuing excitement in my member that would never be fulfilled. I closed my eyes and tinged at the sensation, tearing up over what I'd gotten myself into. "That's the proper state of a hard-working little boy in this household."
"H-how long are you gonna make me wear this?"
"Until you can pass a drug test. No matter how long that takes. So for now..." she peered over her shoulder at the jar of my failed urine, not actually able to check anything from here but eyeing it as if to run a calculation in her head, "it's looking like you'll be locked up for a month."
My lip quivered at the reality I faced. While her assumptions of me being some sort of hardcore-sexed up partier were inaccurate, and while my aging seemed to stop before puberty, that didn't mean I didn't have needs; needs that I could fulfill on my own. That is, until today.
"This is..." a single tear dripped down my soft cheek, "this is so humiliating."
My mother stood from her crouched position in front of me, and swayed to her desk. "Well, you shouldn't have to worry about humiliation from anybody other than me-- well, and your sisters--" (I tried to interject here but she kept going), "because there will be no more partying for you. No more going out, unless I say so."
"B-but... but how am I supposed to find a job?!"
"Find a job?" my mother barked, "Ethan, you've proved to me that you CAN'T find a job! You need to detox, and you need to keep the possibility of failing another drug test out of your plans. And the only way we can do that, is by keeping you home."
"So what am I supposed to do then?! Wait around the house for a month with my dick locked up until I've detoxed?!"
A hard slam of mom's fist on the table made me shut up and jump as she demanded, once again, that I, "Watch. Your. Mouth. Young man." She took a deep breath in the collect herself, and bring her temper back down to zero, "There's plenty of work to do around the house. And with me and your sisters out working-- actually making a living-- it's only fair that you keep up with the chores while we keep up with the bills and what-not."
"Chores?" I prodded, dreading the idea like an aggravated child, "What kind of chores?"
"Well," my mother started, "with your father gone, we couldn't afford the maid service we had."
"Maid service?!" I protested, "Nuh-uh, I am NOT going to be the maid of the family!"
"Aw, what?" mom teased as she stood, "You don't wanna get all dolled up in a frilly French maid outfit, and dust all my books?" With her high heel raised behind her, she pretended to feather dust the biology books that would take over my father's former bookshelf.
I looked to my feet, unable, but trying to ignore the bulge of the chastity device from my pants, "Please don't make me do that..."
She stepped over to me and place her hand on my head, pulling me in for a half-assed hug that acted more so as a display of power. "Don't worry, son. I won't make you do all of that." Relief came and went over me as she followed up that comfort with, "If you're good."
My heart sunk deeper, well-beyond worrying over what she might put me through as I spiraled into desperation for sexual release.
"You'll be a good boy from here on out," my mother questioned, looking down at me, "won't you?"
I paused, but answered, "Y-yeah, mom..."
"I like mommy better," she smiled, "Call me mommy from now on, okay, son?"
I gulped down my fragile pride and obliged, "O-okay... m-mommy."
"Hm," she brought a finger to her chin in thought, "no. Try 'Yes, mommy,'" she demanded in a childlike tone.
I begrudgingly obliged, "Y-yes, mommy..."
"No, no, no," she was still displeased, "Daintier. Nicer. Sweeter."
I looked up at my mother, then back down to my imprisoned member. I took a deep breath, in almost a reverse sigh and in a sweet, colorful tone I uttered, "Yes, mommy," so excited and innocent.
She pat my head, "Good boy. Now," she took a step back to display her high heeled foot to me in an attempt to display her power, "kiss mommy's foot, son."
My jaw dropped, and quivered at her request, realizing what my role in this family would be now. Mom really was going to turn me into the new maid if I was bad, I just knew it. Her impatient eyes and just the tilt of her head toward me made me drop to my knees in fear, and debase myself toward my mother.
"That's it," she cooed as I kissed the top of her foot visible out of the high heel. "Now, say thank you. Always be sure to thank your mommy for everything she does for you."
Awful what-ifs passed through my mind, putting me into a sort of autopilot that made me say; "Thank you, mommy," as I kissed her feet, in a symbol of all my power being passed on to her.
I remained on my knees before her, hands in my lap, tears down my face, composure well kept in fear as I answered, "Y-yes... mommy..."
"Good boy," she responded. My mother strolled to her desk, where she took out two pills, one red and one blue. She approached me, and commanded me to, "Open."
I was hesitant, and had to ask, "W-what are you going to do to me?"
"Oh, calm down," she scoffed as she pinched the blue pill over my face in two fingers, "this is going to help the detox process."
I still questioned her request, but ultimately obliged, opening my mouth for her to drop the pill into my throat. I eyed the red pill she held, assuming that was coming next, but was surprised watching her take it herself.
"I want you to understand something, Ethan. Everything is going to be a privilege for you from now on. You no longer have any rights in this house, so long as you remain," she pressed her foot against the chastity device, "grounded." She smiled at my cringing face before crossing her arms and walking away. "Now, when I say that everything is a privilege, I mean it. Your sleep, your speech, your clothes, your food," she turned back to face me, "even your height."
With that, I began shrinking-- clothes and all. This is when I started freaking out; when my grip on reality shifted, and warped under her control. My mother shrunk me down to an inch tall, and stomped over to me fallen back on my ass, looking up at the awful wonder that was my mother. My gigantic mother. She looked like a skyscraper to me.
What'd you do?!" I shouted from what felt like miles beneath my mother. My tiny scream barely met her ears.
"Don't you know, Ethan? Your mother's one of the top ranking researchers of molecular biology." She lifted her foot, looming her high heel over me, casting me in a shadow. "And I've been experimenting." Her foot lowered, summoning a blood-curdling scream from me as her foot pressed me to the ground, slowly applying more and more pressure. Only my chastised penis was safe.
"I'm excited to see the first trial of a new drug I've created work so well," she continued, "You're going to be mommy's guinea pig. But before I can further my experiments on you, I have to test your durability." The pressure from her foot increased immensely. "How does it feel, Ethan? Does it hurt? Does it feel like you're gonna die?"
I screamed as well as I could with the little air I had left in my lungs, "Yes! Yes... Please... mommy..." For a moment, I thought I was going to die. For a while, I wanted to.
She lifted her foot, and stared down at me to see how well I could get back on my feet. Sure enough, I could. No broken bones. No burst organs. I was fine.
My breath shook, in and out as I tried to process what just happened. When she realized I was alright, my mother pushed the envelope further. "Time for test two," and lifted her foot to stomp onto me. She smashed me down so fast, I didn't even have time to scream before my world went dark, and the pressure jumped from zero to a hundred.
But again, her foot rose to reveal my undamaged form, weeping.
"Aw, what's the matter, Ethan?" mon cooed as she crouched to get a closer look at me. Her bent legs looked like behemoth structures unconstructable by any means. "Does it hurt?"
The pain subsided quickly, but, "Yes! It hurts so bad!" I wept and fell to my knees, "Please don't crush me! Please!" I scrambled to her heel and began kissing her foot, "I'm sorry!" and kissed, "I'm sorry!" and kissed, "I'll be good, mommy!" and kissed, "I promise!"
Mom pinched me by my shirt and lifted me up to her eye level. My body rose high off the ground in a matter of seconds like an amusement park ride. I screamed at the sensation.
"That's what mommy wanted to hear," she cooed with her red lips encompassing my entire field of vision. I felt her warm breath and she spoke, "So you understand now, don't you?"
"Yes!" I screamed, "Yes! I understand! I'll be good! I'll be good!" I wept through my cries of anxiety.
"You're going to do everything mommy says now, aren't you?"
"Yes, mommy!"
"And your sisters?"
"Yes, mommy! I'll do anything you say! Please don't hurt me, mommy!"
Her pearly teeth emerged through her curly, red smile. "That's mommy's good boy."
And with that, I grew back to my normal height; traumatized and ready for obedience.
"Now, come along," she gestured me to follow her out of the room, "it's time to fill your sisters in on your punishment."
I stood to follow until she stopped me.
"On your knees," he commanded, dropping me back down to crawl behind her. "Good boy."