Jamie Holiday, an unhappy boy with a strict Mother [Prince Cai]

"Time to get up for school, sweetie!" Under his covers, Jamie groaned softly at his Dad's high, cheerful voice bouncing off the walls of his small bedroom. His tired eyes fluttered open. It felt way too early, but then he'd barely managed to get any sleep last night anyway. With an exhausted sigh, he sat up on the bed, his bleary gaze finding his Father, Thomas Holiday, standing just inside the open door to his bedroom. No matter how many times he asked them not to just barge in like this, his parents still totally ignored his privacy. He was eighteen now, and at least deserved a space of his own, but they just didn't care. "Oh honey, you shouldn't sleep face-down on the pillow like that." Dad chided gently, a look of concern in his soft, hazel eyes. "That's why you keep getting spots. There's a big one on your forehead. Do you need me to put some concealer on it for you?"

"No Dad, I'm fine." Jamie shook his head vigorously. "I can do it myself." Another spot! Why was his skin so terrible? Nearly every other boy seemed to have perfect complexion without even trying, while his stupid, ugly face had looked like a pizza since he turned fourteen. The horrid acne was only just starting to clear up now, and every new pimple he found felt like another punch in the gut.

"That's what you said last time." Dad sighed. "Before the party with the Williamson's remember? And when Momma called you down to meet them your lipstick was all smudged."

"That was six months ago." Jamie snapped, his freckled cheeks flushing hot. He knew how to put on makeup now!

"Okay, I get it, you're all grown-up now." Dad smiled indulgently. "I'll leave you to it then, darling. Just give me a shout if you need anything." He turned to leave, then paused in the doorway for a moment. "Oh, and your Mother wanted to talk to you before you left for school, okay? Go see her in her study once you're dressed." In the middle of sliding off his bed, Jamie froze in place, his smooth, bare legs dangling in the air. Momma wanted to talk to him? Why?

"Yes Dad." He nodded, his lips curling into a little anxious frown. As Dad stepped out of his room at last, the teenager wracked his brain for any reason why Momma would suddenly want to speak to him. He hoped he wasn't in trouble somehow. Momma was very strict even for a woman, and not at all shy about taking him over her knee when he was bad. The last time he'd upset her by wearing some pants out to dinner she thought were way too short, she'd spanked him so hard he hadn't been able to sit down without wincing for the rest of the week.

Feeling very nervous, Jamie jumped off his bed and hurried to the shower, yanking off his plain white panties on the way. He was skinny and short even for a boy, barely five foot when he wasn't wearing heels, stubby legged, weak-jawed and with a butt and thighs that were all way too round and big. When his face wasn't covered in spots, he had a spattering of light freckles dusted all over his nose and cheeks. Dad called them cute, but he thought they made him look younger and dumber than he already did. The only part of himself he liked was his eyes, rather large and green, framed with long lashes that popped out amazingly when he put mascara on.

His stupid dick was hard again, just like it always was when he woke up, but he ignored the aching need in that silly thing. Good boys didn't touch themselves, that was what everyone said, right? No matter that it got so bad he sometimes did...always blushing furiously and hiding everything under his covers, hardly daring to make a sound. It felt so good when he spurted while dreaming about a busty woman riding him hard into the bed, but when he stared down afterward at his fingers covered in pearly cum he was supposed to be saving for the girl he married one day the guilt made him sick. Only, he couldn't stop doing it. At least Momma had never found out about that. If she knew he was masturbating, she'd probably paddle his butt everyday for a week.

With a sharp sigh, he turned on the spray and leapt under the warm flowing water, hurriedly soaping up his slender boy with some peach-scented body lotion, struggling to ignore the hot throbbing of his stupid dick when he carefully washed it. With Momma waiting, he knew he couldn't take as long as he usually did in the shower, so he hurriedly moved on to his hair, rubbing in first his favorite shampoo before moving on to some expensive conditioner he'd snuck out of his Dad's drawers. When he washed out the lather and ran his fingers through his soft ginger locks, down to his shoulders now, they felt so much smoother and cleaner. Women liked that, right? Boys with good hair? Maybe one of the cool girls would actually notice him today! That'd show all the stuck-up dickhead boys who thought he was such a loser!

He had a faint, hopeful smile on his face as he stepped out the shower and hurriedly dried himself with a fluffy towel, but just remembering why he'd hurried made it flicker away in an instant. Momma was still waiting for him, no doubt tapping her long fingernails on her desk the way she always did when was annoyed with him. He'd have to be very careful how he put on his makeup and dressed today, or else she'd think he was acting like a slut and punish him even worse. No matter that every other boy was allowed to wear way cooler clothes than he was. It was so unfair!