In an earlier story, one of the ‘Cowboys and Indians’ series, I wrote about how Christopher was taken to the boys’ outfitters to have the rear flap of his (or rather his friend David’s) Red Indian costume removed. While standing on a stool as an assistant attended to the unstitching of the flap, Christopher “saw a couple of girls walk in followed by a tall lanky boy of about sixteen or seventeen who turned out to be the girls’ older brother.” [Christopher’s Story: Part 4]
Later, in the next story, we are told:
“The girls were sisters Sam (13) and Sarah (14) a they were pulling along their older brother, Francis who was seventeen. Christopher had guessed correctly the identity of the newcomers and he’d been right in supposing Cindy might have had something to do with their involvement. Sam and Sarah had been charged by their mum to get their brother Francis out of the house and into the fresh air. Mum was fed up with her son moping about the house all day and as far as she was concerned, he was spending an unhealthy amount of time in his bedroom. She had a good idea what Francis was doing and she thought it high time she did something about it and so co-opted her daughters to help out. On pain of unimaginable sanctions Francis was told his younger sisters were to be obeyed. They had full authority over him… the same authority that she had as a mother, she was bestowing on them. Did he understand? Francis understood.”
The following story records the events which occurred before Sam and Sarah entered the shop with their brother Francis in tow.
Francis & His Sisters
“Every time I go to your school it’s the same story. You never learn, do you? You never ever learn. You know how much those school fees are. And yet term after term it’s the same old story…”
Standing outside, close to the open window, five girls could hear Mrs Park’s voice drifting out as she berated her son Francis. Their eyes were alight with excitement. The two younger sisters of Francis, thirteen year old Sam and fourteen year old Sarah, had promised their best friends Anna, Louise and Bev something special. Something really special. From the way Sam and Sarah grinned slyly, the implication was it would be something prurient, something about the girls’ shy, lanky and slow-witted brother, Francis. And here the five girls were eavesdropping- almost literally- on a fiery exchange between the girls’ mum and Francis coming from the window of the boy’s bedroom.
Their mother had just arrived home; as it happened from a school parent meeting discussing pupil performance. Sam and Sarah had guessed at the outcome and their mother’s anger. It happened every term.
The problem was that seventeen year old Francis was a chronically poor pupil. As it happened he was poor too at everything else, even sport. Poor at everything, except staying in his bedroom for longer and longer periods. This drove his mother to seek guidance from other mothers; from a female doctor friend and even from the girls’ own female principal. It was just so much easier, Mrs Park thought, to discuss her son’s behaviour with other women. The advice she received resulted in a stepped-up discipline regime and this she had recently begun to apply.
And it greatly thrilled his two sisters.
“Listen to what's about to come,” whispered Sarah. She put a finger to her lips to silence the girls’ party. Her own eyes were blazing with excitement.
Her mother’s voice was clearly increasingly edged with anger: “Well, it looks as if I'm going to have to teach you a lesson again, doesn't it? Now stand up straight.”
A hand raised and forefinger pointed to the window, Sam mouthed, “Here it comes.”
“...Now untie that cord, ” mum was heard to tell Francis.
With a crocodile grin Sarah acted out a pantomime, hooking her fingers into an imaginary cord knotted at her waist.
Their three school friend mouthed their joy. From inside, came a boy’s whingeing protest.
“Ohhhh, mum…” Francis’ voice was filled with woe, “Pleeease… don’t...”
“You won’t? You won’t? Well, then I’ll do it…”
“NO! don’t, mum… NO! please… I'm too old…”
“Let go of that cord this minute!”
Their mother sounded furious. Sarah pretended to be reaching out for her sister’s waist. Sam pretended to be fighting her off.
There was a loud CRACK! Followed by the boy’s whimper and more pleading. Sarah gave Sam a little tap with her open palm on the leg. Sam squirmed and mimed being in great pain.
“Now... both hands right up on your head! You wonder why I put you in pyjamas as soon as you get home from school…”
The three friends gaped at Sam and Sarah with wide open looks of incredulity as they realised Francis had been put into his pyjamas. Could this be true? At seventeen years of age? A boy put into pyjamas? The sisters nodded.
“Yes, it's true… pyjamas… in the last few months. Francis looks soooo funny,” whispered Sarah, “Mum had them especially made... one with choo-choo trains and some others with bunny-wunnies all over them.”
All five girls doubled over in silent laughter. A six foot grown-up boy! Put into childish pyjamas straight after school!
“... well, for one thing,” mum continued as she scolded Francis and took hold of the pyjama-cord, “it’s to make this easier… there! Down they...come! All the way! I hope you feel the silly little boy you truly are. You certainly look it. A very silly little boy. Now step out of your pyjama-bottoms!”
Louise mouthed, “Bare bottomed?”
Sam nodded and said, “More… it gets better.”
From the inside of the house their mother’s voice ordered firmly, “Arms up… right up… come on, just like last time… and we’ll have this pyjama top…”
Anna, Louise and Bev looked close to fainting with excitement.
In the silence the girls’ imaginations raced.
The whispered questions came from Bev and Anna.
“Completely,” pronounced Sarah, with a wide grin.
“Not a stitch!” said Sam.
From inside they heard their mother, “Well… you are a sight… aren't you?”
The girls leaned further towards the open window and heard Francis as he snuffled.
The girls’ minds raced as they imagined Francis, completely nude, standing with his hands on his head in front of his mother.
There was a brief silence before Mrs Park spoke:
“Well, Francis… what are you waiting for? You know what to do, don’t you?”
Outside, the girls strained to hear Francis as he barely whispered his answer: “Y-yes, mum…”
Then there followed faint sounds emanating from the window that might have been consistent with a long, thin, awkward teenage boy easing himself over his mother’s lap, sans pyjama-bottoms and pyjama-top. There might have been a sort of settling sound. Even sound of bare flesh moving over fabric. An exhalation of breath.
Then… without any further warning:
Anna, Louise and Bev jumped with shocked surprise. Sam and Sarah giggled at their friends response to the distinct sound of a flat wooden hairbrush being applied with force to bare flesh, quickly followed by a drawn out whine of “Owwww.”
“Hands away, Francis, or you know it will only be worse.”
“Owww! Pleeease, mum… mummy… it’s HURTING!!!”
WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!
“Francis, I said hands… out… of...the… way!”
Francis was panting, almost hyperventilating and totally unaware that anyone might be outside listening as he shouted: “Oh mummy… mummy… mummy.... please stop… STOP… I can't take anymore… PLEASE!!”
The cycle was repeated. A half dozen more whumps and another pause.
“Francis, what have I said to you before about hands? What have I told you would happen if you persisted in putting your hands in the way?”
Outside, under their brother’s bedroom window, Sam and Sarah bounced with excitement. In whispers they assured their three friends something was about to happen.
“Listen to this,” the girls told their friends, “You’ll love this…!”
From inside the house the girls heard Mrs Park loud and clear: “Francis! Answer me! What have I said would happen if you continued with this silly behaviour?”
“You said… you said, if I keep putting my hands back… then you would make me… make me go outside and… and get Sarah and Sam to… to help you…”
The sisters’ three friends gasped. They looked wide-eyed at Sarah and Sam and mouthed: “Oh, my god!”
Sarah put a finger to her lips to signal her friends to stay quiet and listen to what else her mother had to say.
“Help me in what way, Francis?” his mother prompted.
“They… they would hold me down… while you spanked me, mum…” Francis said, choking on the words.
“Yes, Francis, that’s correct… and there was something else, wasn’t there? What else did I say would happen if I had to send you outside to fetch your sisters? Come on, Francis… tell me what it was.”
There was a pause before Francis answered in a youngster’s squeaky voice.
“You… you said... I’d have to go and get my sisters… exactly as I am now…”
“That’s right, Francis, exactly as you are now… and would you mind telling me what that means precisely?”
There was another pause, during which the girls outside were on tiptoes with excitement, before Francis answered his mother: “I… I wouldn’t have any clothes on… I… I’d be bare…”
“... in what is colloquially called your ‘birthday suit’,” his mother added helpfully, “Imagine that… a big seventeen year old boy, bare as a board, completely nude.” There was a pause as she let this sink in, before adding, “Right now I believe those sisters of yours are playing in the garden... somewhere in the garden…with their friends Anna, Louise and Beverly…”
Francis’ anguished sharp intake of breath could be heard clearly outside.
“So if you want to keep protecting your bottom… okay, that's better. Yes, grasp the chair. Somehow I didn’t think you would like to go outside without a stitch on and fetch Sarah and Sam dressed your birthday suit. But if you move your hands back once more… you’ll be out of the front door just as you are...”
“No… no mum… please no. I'll keep my hands away. Honest…”
So the spanking of Francis continued. So too did his whimpers and squeaks and yelps and squeals.
When it came to an end Francis could be heard sobbing.
His mother’s voice could be heard as she laid down another punishment: “You will lie face down on your bed, Francis. Your door will be left open… wide open. Oh no, young man. I don't trust you on your own and I think you know exactly what I mean…”
Sarah and Sam nodded knowingly at their friends.
“...and if your sisters happen to walk past and see your blazing bottom then you will accept that as part of your punishment,” Francis’ mum continued, “Just be grateful they won’t see anything else.” The girls then heard the unmistakable rustle of clothes, “... I'll have your pyjamas ready for you out in the kitchen… and, if you're lucky, I might let you have them back before we all sit down to dinner... but only if you behave yourself!"
Flushed with the highly charged development the five girls retreated panting to the other side of the house where, gathered under the big copper beech, Anna, Louise and Bev pressed the sisters, Sam and Sarah, for more information.
How long had this been going on? Oh, only in recent months… a new, tough discipline regime for their stupid big brother. Yes, absolutely… full nude spankings. No, they hadn’t actually been allowed to watch them, however one time their mother caught Francis playing with himself when she sneaked into the bathroom on a surprise check. The girls were able to peek from the hallway as she walloped him with a wooden bathroom brush while he leapt around and around, howling as his bottom reddened.
Did they see… y’know all of him? Anna, who had never seen a naked boy, was flushed with some nameless emotion as she asked the question. It meant a lot to her.
Not properly, Sam had answered truthfully, because “... he was jumping about all over the place” but, “...his thingy looked...” and then Sarah elaborated by making a wide gesture with both hands, rather like boasting a fish catch, while beaming a lubricious smile.
Sam mouthed “Big.”
She added, “It was so funny. As mum carried on spanking away, Francis kept up this dance… and his thingy was flying around... in all directions… making a sort of slapping noise.”
All five of them assumed a far-off look, filled with prurient awe.
“What’s his bottom like?” asked Louise a moment or two later. The others giggled.
“Two tight globes... a real boy’s bottom,” Sam pronounced.
“... just asking to be spanked!” Sarah added to her sister’s description.
“Mum thinks he spends too much time in his bedroom,” Sarah continued, “Sometimes all day at weekends. And every evening after school,” She leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Sam and I heard mum talking to Mrs Harper about Francis. She… Mrs Harper, thinks he’s got a ‘masturbation addiction’...” The girls all sucked in their breaths as if they were shocked to be told this. Sarah added, “Mum’s started inspecting his sheets and pyjamas...”
“What for?” Anna interrupted.
“Y’know… stuff… emissions…!!” Sam informed her, “From when he plays with himself…”
“Semen… sperm… boy-stuff… don’t you pay any attention in biology class?” Louise asked, “Boys squirt it all over themselves when they masturbate,” she added leering at her friend.
“Oh gross!!” was all that Anna could think to say in reply.
“It’s true! Slimy, sticky goo… loads of it…” Louise elaborated, “Messy…”
Sam picked up on what her sister said: “Now mum makes Francis put on pyjamas when he gets home, we keep catching him trying to hide his erections…”
“They stick out of his pyjama-bottoms,” Sarah explained helpfully.
“... once mum saw it poking out of his pyjamas when we were sat down for dinner!” Sam continued, “She hit the roof and ordered him to leave the table…”
“What did it look like when it… his penis, poked out of his pyjamas?” Anna asked.
“Hilarious!” Sam and Sarah said in unison.
“... but, like… we had to be dead serious about it, didn’t we, Sam?”
“Yes… I saw it first and squealed, ‘Mummy Francis has got something sticking out of his pyjamas!’” Sam explained, “Like I didn’t know what it was…”
“So then I said, ‘Oh that’s so gross! Mummy, Francis has taken his penis out from his pyjamas… is he allowed to do that, mummy?’” Sarah added.
“Tell them what mum said, Sarah...” Sam urged her sister.
Sarah mimicked the hectoring voice her mum used when she scolded her son: “‘Francis!! What are you doing with your penis? Making it stick out from your pyjamas like that where everyone can see. Have you no shame? In front of your sisters too... I’m sure they don’t need to see your penis waggling about like that. Haven’t you learnt how to control yourself yet, Francis? I’d expect this sort of behaviour from a 13 year old, not from a boy of your age. I don’t know what’s got into you. What are you thinking of? It’s not funny… showing off like a silly little boy… well I know what to do with little boys who show off at the dinner table… Go to your room at once and get ready for a spanking!’”
“Francis’ face was on fire… red as beetroot,” Sam informed the girls.
“I wish I had an older brother like Francis,” Anna said wistfully, “It’s not fair you two having all this fun…”
“Mum’s started a campaign now to get Francis to spend more time outside in the sun…” Sarah explained.
“Yes, stripped to the buff here in the garden,” Bev interrupted, “Let's pray we never have to see that!”
The girls all laughed, knowing that that was precisely what they would pray to see... and as soon as possible.
“Mum’s getting stricter with Francis all the time,” Sam added.
“Yes, running out of patience as you just heard,” Sarah continued, “She gave him his bath one day last week. Says she might have take charge of all his baths. She says she’s heard that other mothers do it. Before a spanking she sometimes makes him stand stripped off, in a corner of his bedroom with the door open or in the corridor with his pyjama bottoms around his feet, facing the wall. He hates it when we walk by and presses himself in so we can’t see anything… or so he thinks.”
“She threatened him yesterday saying that now that we were acting grown up, far more grown up than he is, she was thinking of putting us in charge as sort of baby-sitters for him,” Sarah continued, “Mum’s very busy at the moment and is out most evenings…”
“What did she say?” Louise asked.
Sarah smiled: “You’re not going to believe this, but mum looked Francis straight in the eye and said, ‘your sisters would have complete authority over you and I would expect you to do exactly as they say, or face the consequences from me.’”
As one the mouths of Louise, Bev and Anna fell open: “WOW!”
“Will you get to pick his pyjamas… put him into them?” Bev asked.
“Will… will you give him his bath?” Anna queried breathlessly.
They all dissolved in laughter as they thought of other humiliations for Francis to endure.
“Why don’t we come over and help you?” Louise asked, “You'll need lots of help to bath a big boy like Francis.”
“Big in every way!” Sam joked to yet more laughter from the girls.
Then Anna held them all spellbound with some news of her own: “You know that girl, Cindy Harper? Apparently her mother is looking after the son of a friend… he’s staying with the Harpers while his mum’s away and… get this, he’s stark naked... all the time!”
Jaws dropped at this news. Anna continued: “Yes… it’s true. This boy is fourteen years old! That’s right, fourteen years old!”
Gasps of astonishment interrupted Anna and she had to hush them to be quiet.
“Now this is where it gets really interesting,” she continued, “Cindy helps her brother, Terry… you know him… devious little so-and-so... She helps him to organise boys in games of Cowboys and Indians. Here’s the thing: the Red Indian costumes are hilarious… at least I think so, but I don’t think the boys do. You should see their outfits… they’re unbelievable, just a tiny little flap at the front that only just about covers their ‘bits’ and an even smaller flap at the rear, so you can see most of their bottoms… But that’s not all! There’s been some talk about removing the rear flap because that's how young Indian braves went around: bottoms totally bare!”
The buzz of excitement was palpable. The girls wanted more information.
No, Anna said, she had never actually seen the boys dressed in their Red Indian outfits. That was just like totally frustrating. But how she longed to! Twice she dropped by Cindy’s house but she wasn’t there and Mrs Harper didn’t invite her in. Although she did catch a fleeting glimpse of a slender nude boy as he shyly disappeared, vanishing up the staircase beyond the hallway… no she didn’t see much at all. Then she had waited in the meadow to see if any Red Indian braves appeared, but she had been disappointed. No games.
Anna said she had spoken to one of Cindy’s friends who told her how they had seen Cindy put war-paint on the near-naked boys. The boys were really embarrassed about being watched and it was easy to see how much they hated having to dress up and play in those tiny little flaps. The girl Anna spoke to reckoned she saw much more than the boys wanted to show her! Then, when Cindy’s finished putting on the boys’ war-paint, she makes them wear headbands with feathers and moccasins and they’re given bows and arrows and… get this, kids’ toy plastic tomahawks, which makes them look even more ridiculous.
“These costumes... the loincloths, with the tiny flaps?” Sarah asked, “Where do you get them from?”
“Apparently they’re sold in the boys’ department of the clothes shop on the High Street,” Anna informed them, “I’ve not seen it… more’s the pity.. but the lady in the shop makes boys strip completely and then the boy has to stand on a stool so she can measure them up and fit them out… with mothers and their sisters waiting to inspect them,” she grinned.
There was a pause.
Then a burst of enthusiasm. Then everyone spoke at once...
“Just the thing…”
“Yes! We have to tell mum!”
“Can we talk to Cindy? Surely she will take a new recruit! And a seventeen year old at that!”
“We have to get mum to let us take Francis…”
“... to the store, to get fitted!”
“In one of those loincloths! With the tiniest flaps possible!”
“Then we’d make sure he gets outdoors… gets heaps of sun… playing at being a Red Indian, with the other little boys!”
Louise nearly fainted in anticipation: “OMYGOD!! A seventeen year old boy… in a tiny loincloth!!”
Anna could resist fanning the flames of feverish excitement: “Oh let me tell you... Cindy’s friend said those flaps so small! Itsy-bitsy…” She gestured with her fingertips.
“... teeny-weeny!” Bev joined in.
“Oh... my... god!” Louise gasped once more as she struggled to contain her emotions.
Sam and Sarah were determined to get Francis to play Cowboys and Indians… and for that he had to be fitted with the appropriate outfit.
The very next day the girls explained to their mother how they had spent a lot of their own time trying to think up ways of getting Francis outdoors and into the fresh air. The very fact her daughters were taking their new responsibilities so seriously impressed Mrs Park. The girls went on to explain how they had found some local boys who regularly played team games.
“What sort of team games?” Mrs Park asked a bit hesitantly, “I wouldn’t want Francis to play anything that was too rough or violent… just some games where he can get lots of exercise and fresh air…”
“Oh, he’ll get lots of fresh air!” Sam said grinning.
“It’s nothing rough and besides the other boys are all younger than he is… but we’ll need to take Francis to buy a proper outfit,” Sarah said, holding her fingers crossed behind her back for luck that mum would agree to their plans, “They play Cowboys and Indians in the meadow… all good fun… apparently the boys have a great time…”
“That sounds like splendid idea!” their mum said beaming at the girls, “Is Francis going to be a Cowboy or a Red Indian?” she asked.
“Oh, he’ll be a Red Indian,” Sarah answered nonchalantly, “That’s why Sam and I need to take him to the clothes shop to get Francis a proper Red Indian outfit.”
“Well you girls certainly have been busy,” mum said, “I really don’t know what I’d have done without you. I’d never have thought to get Francis involved playing games with other boys and certainly not Cowboys and Indians. I think it’s a splendid idea! Girls, I want you to take Francis to the shop and get him sorted out with a Red Indian costume just as soon as possible. The sooner he gets out into the fresh air, the better!”
For Sarah and Sam this was a dream come true. Mum’s blessing meant Francis would have to do what he was told by them… and no arguments!
So it came about that a very animated Sarah and Sam, one on each side of their big brother Francis, were to be seen escorting a very apprehensive boy, who towered over them, from their home and up High Street.
Francis was on his very best behaviour, obliging the girls in every way... even allowing them to take his hands and swing along, as if he were a kind and considerate older brother taking the innocent younger sisters out for a bit of shopping… rather than the other way round!
Sarah decided to make sure Francis understood the reason for their outing: “Mum’s told you why you’re coming shopping with us?”
Francis nodded. Yes, he knew the reason.
“It’s to buy a costume for you, isn’t it Francis?”
Francis gulped. Yes, he knew it was to buy a costume for him to wear.
“It’s so you can join in with some boys and play Cowboy and Indian games, isn’t it?”
Francis agreed he had been told.
“And mum told you that today we are absolutely in charge?”
“Y… yes,” Francis managed to croak out as the three of them walked along. On each side of him a sister held one of his hands.
Then Sarah, genuinely curious, asked, “What exactly did mum threaten you with if you didn't follow our instructions?”
Francis blushed and hesitated before he blurted out: “I… I don't want to…”
“Oh come on, we're your sisters, Francis. We see you in your little boy pyjamas every afternoon after school. And when you've been lazy or naughty we see you in the corridor with your pyjama-bottoms around your feet…”
Francis blushed even deeper.
“...and those pyjamas don’t hide much, especially when you get excited like the other evening when Sam and I saw your penis had poked out and mum had to take you away and spank you. And the other day we really did enjoy that view of you naked as a jay… lying face down on your bed with your bottom blazing.”
Francis felt as if his legs were turning to jelly. Like any boy his age, Francis thought, at seventeen years old, he was properly grown up. To be reminded of such acute embarrassments by his young sisters was humiliating in the extreme. It reminded him that he was still very much under the control of his mother who insisted on treating him like a little boy.
Sarah put the boot in.
“We might as well tell you, big brother, that when you got into trouble in the bath recently…”
Francis nearly choked.
“...and mum took that brush to your bottom… well, Sam and I were peeping in through the door…”
“...and we saw EVERYTHING!” Sam squealed.
Francis staggered to a halt. He looked close to fainting.
“Suppose we could tell Bev and Louise and Anna what we saw...” Sam said, “Then tell them how you were jumping about so much… in the nude!”
“... but instead you might tell us… what’s mum's threat?” Sarah interrupted before her sister got too carried away.
The last thing Francis wanted was for girls at school to know what he got into trouble for in the bath... how he was punished and what his sisters might have seen. It was a bit late in the day for regrets, but nevertheless Francis cursed himself for not being careful enough when he was caught by his mother playing with himself in the bath.
Slow-witted as he was Francis realised his sisters had the upper hand. All he could do was to make matters worse for himself. After a short pause he burst out:
“Mum told me to follow your instructions today and if you said I didn't… she said something about nude punishments… like she’s heard other mums are using with their boys…”
“Like..?” Sarah prompted.
“ Like losing my pyjama bottoms as a punishment. Or having one of mum’s friends watching one of my spankings. Or…” Francis felt his stomach knotting up, “Or getting bathed…”
“Getting bathed by her?” Sarah asked.
“No, not by her…” The knot in Francis’ stomach tightened, “She already does that sometimes...”
“Getting bathed by who then?”
Francis couldn’t bring himself to answer and stared fixedly at the pavement. He was so ashamed.
“Come on Francis, tell us,” Sam urged her brother.
Francis looked up, his eyes glistened with moisture. It was all he could do not to burst into tears as he explained who would be bathing him in future if he didn’t do as he was told:
“By you…” Francis blurted out finally, “Mum said she would rearrange things so that I would have to do some extra chores of yours and in return you would… on my bath-nights, undress me and give me a bath.”
The girls turned and looked at one another with beatific smiles on their faces.
More than happy with the outcome of their little ‘talk’ with their big brother, the girls squeezed Francis’ hands and pulled him along the High Street. In a few moments they were standing in front of the outfitters.
“Come on, Francis… let’s go in and get you a nice new Red Indian outfit,” Sam said.
They entered the outfitters and headed for the boys’ department where the most hilarious sight greeted them.
The sisters suddenly choked and giggled, for there, on a stool right in front of them, stood a boy with his back to them. On his head the boy wore a Red Indian headband, on his arms, armbands with pom poms. There were moccasins on his feet... but what really caught the girls eyes was that around the boy’s waist was a narrow cord, from which a small, thin flap was hanging. The little flap was intended to cover the boy’s bottom, but in reality it was so small that it only just covered a few inches of the boy’s intergluteal cleft.
When he saw how tiny the boy’s Red Indian costume was, Francis’ jaw dropped and he stood gawping at the sight. He hadn’t realised the outfits were so flimsy and brief. Up until that point, Francis had thought his costume would consist of buckskin trousers and maybe moccasins and a feathered headdress. Okay, he thought that maybe he would have to take his shirt off and he could just about cope with that… but what Francis saw in front of him in the shop took his breath away. Was he going to be expected to wear something like that?!
Worse was to come, because it became clear to Francis the reason the boy was in the shop was for an alteration to be made to his Red Indian costume.
It seemed as if everyone in the shop was watching as one of the lady assistants told the boy to keep still while she began to unstitch the rear flap of his Red Indian costume. It was a delicate operation requiring great concentration, but it wasn’t long before the flap started to hang loose.
The boy was facing a large mirror. In the mirror he could see how customers in the shop were looking in his direction… watching as the stitches that fastened the small rear flap of his outfit to the cord around his waist were slowly unpicked. The boy’s embarrassment was obvious.
In the same mirror the girls could see clearly the front view of the boy and how a narrow strip of buckskin barely covered his privates. Sam nudged her sister as their eager eyes caught sight of a narrow, wrinkled foreskin that was just visible below the front flap and a hint of a loose hanging scrotum to one side.
The effect on Sarah and Sam was electric. They grinned and moved in closer.
Francis was frozen to the spot. Overwhelmed, the full horror of his situation sank in. This is what his sisters, with their mother’s full approval, had planned for him!
Meanwhile, the unstitching of the rear flap was finished and the shop lady handed it to Mrs Clarke who had brought Christopher to the outfitters, telling her to keep it safe.
Christopher twisted on the stool to view his now completely exposed bottom in the mirror. He looked shocked. In twisting around on the stool Christopher inadvertently gave Sarah and Sam an even better view, generous in profile, of his penis and testicles hanging behind the token covering. Christopher stroked his bottom cheeks and then looked back at himself in the mirror. He caught the eyes of Sam and Sarah staring at him. They smiled… he blushed an even deeper shade of red than before.
“Come along Christopher… we haven’t got all day,” Mrs Clarke called, “We don’t want to keep all the other boys waiting, do we. I expect you’re all eager to play Cowboys and Indians again, aren’t you?”
Whatever Christopher felt about playing in another of Terry Harper’s games, he wasn’t going to say so. Besides all he wanted to do at that moment was to get as far away from the shop and the ogling eyes as possible. “Yes, Mrs Clarke,” he said politely.
Sarah went and spoke to the sales lady: “Miss, I think we spoke on the phone. We've brought our brother, Francis… to be fitted with one of those Red Indian costumes.”
The lady looked at the lanky seventeen year old. Then she looked down at one of the tiny flaps in her display cabinet, then back up at Francis again.
“Really… are you sure? He’s a very big boy and the costumes are... very small,” the lady said.
“Oh, that doesn't matter,” Sarah replied, “Anything will do. Mum insists Francis has his own Red Indian costume so he can join in and play Cowboys and Indians with all the other boys. Isn’t that right, Francis?”
“Oh yes, anything will do. Absolutely whatever mum wants…”