As a child, I was rather sickly. My mother knew there was something wrong with me and after dozens of appointments with doctors and countless tests, it was determined that I had a pituitary issue. My mother took me to an Endocrinologist who prescribed several different pills to correct for my damaged pituitary gland. He also put me on growth hormone and taught my mother how to perform injections. I was far smaller than other children my age and the doctor warned my mother that I would probably never grow to a normal height. And with my low functioning adrenal glands, I'd never have the energy of a normal person.
Very early in my education, mother decided home-schooling would shield me from the other children and their teasing. She had always been overprotective. But once I began staying home with her every day, her idea of looking out for my safety went to new levels. She never let me do anything strenuous, the only time I was allowed outside was when she was with me and she banned me from playing with other children. My entire childhood was spent at my mother's side.
Two things happened on my nineteenth birthday. My doctor took me off of growth hormone and announced I was as tall as I was going to get. At 5 feet even, I was still small, but thrilled I wasn't 4 feet tall! The second important thing that occurred was my doctor determined I would not begin puberty without assistance. I should have begun going through puberty years before, but everyone hoped my body would do it on its own. It didn't happen. So I began getting weekly hormone injections.
My body began to slowly change after 3 months. By the time I turned 20, we learned my body had begun producing its own low levels of testosterone. After being taken off the injections, my body completed its transition on its own. I'd always been fair skinned with wispy, light blonde hair. And even after going through "the change", I had to search really hard for pubic hair!
At 20 years old, I was 100% a virgin and completely naïve about sex. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing erections and struggling to find private time so I could play with it. Mother seemed to always know when I tried to masturbate. She would knock on the door or barge into the room. She caught me with my skinny, little, three-inch erection between my fingers on dozens of occasions. She would tell me it was a natural thing and I shouldn't be embarrassed. But every single time I tried to masturbate, she would interrupt. It was so frustrating!
For the next two years, I lived under her roof but knew I'd have to leave someday. I couldn't live with my mother forever. But I had no clue what living on my own entailed. I still got ill very frequently, and when I was sick, I got really sick. So sick I could never hope to care for myself. My energy level was still far below a normal person. I'd never had a job, nor would I be able to work a normal 40-hour work week. I would be dependent on others my entire life.
So when I told mother I thought it was time I moved away from home, I was shocked when she agreed. She didn't agree right away. She had to think about it for several days. But she did eventually agree I should try moving away from home. Of course, she insisted on helping me find a place to live. She wanted me to move in with one of her lady friends a few blocks away, but I wanted to move further away than that. I whined and pouted until she finally gave in.
She and I packed up two suitcases with my belongings and made the 2-hour drive to the next town. Before we left, she and I had searched the internet for rooms available for rent and made appointments with three people. The first two ladies were very nice, but for some reason, mother didn't approve. The third lady we met with, Bessie Ackerman, was exactly the woman mother hoped to find.
Bessie was in her mid-fifties and was a substantial woman. She stood at least 5'10" and had to weigh more than my mother's 250lbs. She had giant boobs, thick thighs and wide hips I briefly imaged her carrying me around on. Bessie was a widow, her husband had been a doctor while she was his nurse. She had retired a few years earlier. She had a daughter who ran away from home when she was 17 because Bessie was so controlling and overprotective.
Bessie hadn't seen her daughter in more than 15 years. She told my mother and I she'd always hoped her daughter would return home. And only recently had she finally accepted that she would not. It had taken a long time, but she was ready to close that chapter in her life.
After Bessie had told us about her situation, I sat silently beside mother while she went into great detail about my life and special condition. Bessie interrupted mother shortly after she'd started to get a pen and tablet so she could take notes. After reviewing my medical history and going over each of my medications, mother told her about my lack of education and general upbringing. The last piece of information she shared was that I absolutely no experience with girls and she preferred it to remain that way. She told Bessie that I wasn't mature enough to deal with a typical boy-girl relationship.
Bessie finished scratching down notes and when finished, looked at mother and smiled warmly. She asked if I had any food allergies and wrote down each item as mother listed them off. Bessie then asked about activities I was not allowed to perform. Mother began with all outdoor activities and sports. She said I could assist with some household chores, but I would get tired easily and mother was willing to pay an increased amount of rent to make up for that. Bessie told her that wouldn't be necessary.
She told Bessie I could watch movies and television shows as long as they weren't violent, had sexual references, or foul language. She didn't approve of the horrible things that could be found on the internet and had never allowed me access. Mother told Bessie I didn't have a cell phone for that very reason.
Bessie smiled again while still writing down notes and told mother that she had a corded land-line that I could use to call home. Bessie went on to promise that she'd have me call home every single day. She also promised to call my mother directly if she had any questions or concerns about my health or behavior.
Bessie and mother exchanged phone numbers, email, and home addresses. The two of them discussed the rent amount and due date. They were talking like they'd known each other for years. All the while, I sat right beside mother, not saying a word. But I was terribly excited to finally move out on my own. Sort of. I was also afraid of not living with my mother. I'd spent my entire life with her. The entire experience was bitter-sweet.
After a pause in their conversation, mother said, "Bessie, I believe you are the perfect woman to look over my special boy. With your nursing background and maternal nature, I can't think of anyone more qualified. I know it is a lot to ask, but are you interested in having Finley as your tenant?"
Bessie looked right at me and smiled warmly. She spoke to mother, not me when she answered, "Yes, I'd be happy to look after this precious angel."
There was no lease to sign, it was a verbal agreement. Mother wrote out a check for the first month's rent and all three of us then walked out the driveway to retrieve my suitcases. After closing the trunk, Bessie told mother she had a long drive home. She didn't need to stay any longer.
