Post-Traumatic Schlong Disorder

@mini

I push the bathroom door open.

Inside, Theo’s put his clothes back on…more or less (his shirt’s inside out, and his pants look like they’ve found extra joints and crevices between his knees and hips). He’s kneeling slumped over the toilet bowl. His hair is mussed. There’s vomit running down his chin.

“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, stepping between puddles of puke (and what I sincerely hope is hand lotion) as I make my way to Theo’s side.

“I threw up,” he mumbles, dazed, half asleep, strung out on endorphins and rich, potent embarrassment.

“A less common way of finishing off a wank, I’ll give you that. You did finish, right?”

“Yeah.”

Mazel tov.”

“I’m going to die.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I mean, what kind of mom sleeps naked in this day and age?”

“New Age crossfit moms, apparently.”

Theo lifts his head from the bowl, glares at me with bloodshot eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You suck.”

“Dude, lots of guys get caught jerking it. Fact of life. Rite of passage. You’ve just earned your first merit badge.”

“I didn’t just get caught. My inexplicably naked mother walked in on me with my pants around my ankles and my dick in my hand. It was worse than the bathroom scene from Grandma’s Boy.”

“It was not.” I think for a moment. “You didn’t, er, finish on your mom…did you?”

Theo rests his head on the toilet again. “I may as well have. She saw everything. Moms aren’t supposed to see their sons’ everything once the diaper years are over and done with. They’re definitely not supposed to see their sons’ everything while it’s activated and in the fully-upright position.” He spits; a viscous thread of saliva and puke hits the inside of the bowl with a loud plop! “Oh, this is it. The is the end of all life as we know it. I’m going to hell. Mom’s going to therapy. Dad will probably drive his car through a convenience store window or jump off a bridge or something.”

“Okay. You very well may be the only dude in the entire world whose first wank turned into some kind of socially apocalyptic nightmare, but there’s a silver lining here: you’ve now scored three out of three on your mom’s parental checklist.”

Theo lifts his head and looks at me suspiciously. “What parental checklist?”

“You know,” I say, “the three basic things every parent wants for their son: good grades, wholesome friends, healthy wang.”

“I highly doubt my parents have a checklist on which my dick is an item.”

“Oh, but they do. It’s not a physical checklist. It’s not something they’ve scribbled on a piece of paper and stuffed into their wallet or purse between their driver’s license and health insurance cards, but it exists all right. Your parents, like all parents, want to be grandparents someday, and your dick is the delivery system through which their future offspring will be released-to-manufacturing. So, naturally, they have a deeply vested interest in its working state.”

“Enough about my wang.”

“Second silver lining, then—”

“Mini, no more silver linings, please—”

“—ever since the New Eyes incident, you’ve been having to deal with your mom’s excessive mothering, her continuous butting into your business, looking over your shoulder—trying to keep tabs on her darling little boy. Except now her little boy isn’t so little anymore. Now he’s a hormone-ridden preteen toting a giant, god-knobbed weapon of mass insemination.”

“Your point?”

I kick Theo in the shin. “You’ve got your privacy back, dumbass. I can guarantee you from here on out your mom will never, ever enter your bedroom without knocking or making an appointment first—”

“—because she’s now going to assume I’m masturbating furiously every time my door’s closed! It doesn’t matter if I’m doing homework or listening to Asia or gaming or just taking a nap, the image in my mom’s head will always be the naked, sweaty, out-of-breath version of me fapping myself into oblivion.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“No, the fact that instead of thinking about my New Eyes my mom will now be thinking about my wang is not a good thing.”

“You’re missing the fine print. Your mom walking in on you while you’re jerking it means she’s got you. But your naked mom walking in on you while you’re jerking it means you’ve got her too. She can’t tell the story to anyone without risking embarrassing herself in the process. Hence, she’ll never, ever bring it up. You’re off the hook.”

For the first time, something like hope flickers behind Theo’s eyes. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Obviously. Now, hand me a washcloth. I stepped in some hand lotion.”

Theo gives me a blank stare. “What lotion?”

Oh, dear God.

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jesse

Book designer and formatter based in southern California. Supreme overlord of the SuperMegaNet pseudoverse.