Ambitious Virgin- part 2 (the baby)

She announced her decision to Stephen one evening and put him to work on the project until the poor man
almost suffered a nervous breakdown. He was afraid too much sex would undermine his health, but Jessica was a woman of great determination. "Put it in me," she would command. "How can I?" Stephen
protested. "It is not interested." Frieda would take his shriveled little penis and pull back the foreskin, and when nothing happened, she would take it in her mouth -- "Mein Gott, Jessica! What are you doing?” --
until it got hard in spite of him, and she would insert it between her legs until Jessica's sperm was inside her. Three months after they began, Jessica told her husband that he could take a rest. She was pregnant. Stephen wanted a girl and Jessica wanted a boy, so it was no surprise to any of their friends that the baby was a boy. The baby, at Jessica's insistence, was delivered at home by a midwife. Everything went smoothly up to and throughout the actual delivery. It was then that those who were gathered around the bed got a shock.

The newborn infant was normal in every way, except for its penis. The baby's organ was enormous, dangling like a swollen, outsized appendage between the baby's innocent thighs. His father's not built like that, Jessica thought with fierce pride.
She named him Thomas, after an alderman who lived in their precinct. Stephen told Jessica that he would take over the training of the boy. After all, it was the father's place to bring up his son. Jessica listened and smiled, and seldom let Stephen go near the child. It was Jessica who brought the boy up. She ruled him with a Teutonic fist, and she did not bother with the velvet glove. At five, Thomas was a thin, spindly-legged child, with a wistful face and the bright, gentian-blue eyes of his mother. Thomas adored his mother and hungered for her approval. He wanted her to pick him up and hold him on her big, soft lap so that he could press his head deep into her bosom. But Jessica had no time for such things. She was busy making a living for her family. She loved little Thomas, and she was determined that he would not grow up to be a weakling like his father. Frieda demanded perfection in everything Toby did. When he began school, she would supervise his homework, and if he was puzzled by some assignment, his mother would admonish him, "Come on, boy -- roll up your sleeves!" And she would stand over him until he had solved the problem. The sterner Jessica was with Thomas, the more he loved her. He trembled at the thought of displeasing her. Her punishment was swift and her praise was slow, but she felt that it was for Thomas's own good. From the first moment her son had been placed in her arms, Jessica had known that one day he was going to become a famous and important man. She did not know how or when, but she knew it would happen. It was as though God had whispered it into her ear. Before her son was even old enough to understand what she was saying, Jessica would tell him of his greatness to come, and she never stopped telling him. And so,young Thomas grew up knowing that he was going to be famous, but having no idea how or why. He only knew that his mother was never wrong.
Some of Thomas's happiest moments occurred when he sat in the enormous kitchen doing his homework
while his mother stood at the large old-fashioned stove and cooked. She would make heavenly smelling, thick black bean soup with whole frankfurters floating in it, and platters of succulent bratwurst, and potato pancakes with fluffy edges of brown lace. Or she would stand at the large chopping block in the middle of the kitchen, kneading dough with her thick, strong hands, then sprinkling a light snowflake of flour over it, magically transforming the dough into a mouth-watering Pflaumenkuchen or Apfelkuchen.
Thomas would go to her and throw his arms around her large body, his face reaching only up to her waist.
The exciting female smell of her would become a part of all the exciting kitchen smells, and an unbidden sexuality would stir within him. At those moments Thomas would gladly have died for her. For the rest of
his life, the smell of fresh apples cooking in butter brought back an instant, vivid image of his mother.
One afternoon, when Thomas was twelve years old, Mrs. Chuckin, the neighbourhood gossip, came to visit
them. Mrs. Chuckin was a bony-faced woman with black, darting eyes and a tongue that was never still.
When she departed, Thomas did an imitation of her that had his mother roaring with laughter. It seemed to Thomas that it was the first time he had ever heard her laugh. From that moment on, Thomas looked for ways to entertain her. He would do devastating imitations of customers who came into the butcher shop and of teachers and schoolmates, and his mother would go into gales of laughter. Thomas had finally discovered a way to win his mother's approval. He tried out for a school play No Account David, and was given the lead. On opening night, his mother sat in the front row and applauded her son's success. It was at that moment that Jessica knew how God's promise was going to come true.
It was the early 1950s, the beginning of the Depression, and movie theaters all over the country were trying every conceivable stratagem to fill their empty seats. They gave away dishes and radios, and had keno nights and bingo nights, and hired organists to accompany the bounding ball while the audience
sang along. And they held amateur contests. Jessica would carefully check the theatrical section of the
newspaper to see where contests were taking place. Then she would take Thomas there and sit in the
audience while he did his imitations of Al Jolson and James Cagney and Eddie Cantor and yell out, "Mein
Himmel! What a talented boy!" Thomas nearly always won first prize. He had grown taller, but he was still
thin, an earnest child with guileless, bright blue eyes set in the face of a cherub. One looked at him and
instantly thought: innocence. When people saw Thomas they wanted to put their arms around him and hug him and protect him from life. They loved him and on stage they applauded him. For the first time Thomas understood what he was destined to be; he was going to be a star, for his mother first, and God second.

Thomas's libido began to stir when he was fifteen. He would masturbate in the bathroom, the one place he
was assured of privacy, but that was not enough. He decided he needed a girl. One evening, Rose Kents, the married sister of a classmate, drove Thomas home from an errand he was doing for his mother.
Rose was a pretty blonde with large breasts, and as Thomas sat next to her, he began to get an erection.
Nervously, he inched his hand across to her lap and began to fumble under her skirt, ready to withdraw
instantly if she screamed. Rose was more amused than angry, but when Thomas pulled out his penis and she saw the size of it, she invited him to her house the following afternoon and initiated Thomas into the joys of sexual intercourse. It was a fantastic experience. Instead of a soapy hand, Thomas had found a soft, warm receptacle that throbbed and grabbed at his penis. Rose's moans and screams made him grow hard again and again, so that he had orgasm after orgasm without ever leaving the warm, wet nest. The size of his penis had always been a source of secret shame to Thomas. Now it had suddenly become his glory. Rose could not keep this phenomenon to herself, and soon Thomas found himself servicing half a dozen married women in the neighborhood.
During the next two years, Thomas managed to deflower nearly half the girls in his class. Some of his
classmates were football heroes, or better looking than he, or rich -- but where they failed, Thomas succeeded. He was the funniest, cutest thing the girls had ever seen, and it was impossible to say no to
that innocent face and those wistful blue eyes.