Angela stepped forward and took Anthony’s hand, “Come on,
Anthony, your mum’s waiting,” she said breezily.
As she guided a rather overwhelmed Anthony through the door Angela
turned to his mum and offered to help: “We can use the bathroom…” she suggested.
“What a splendid idea. Anthony will need a bit of a wash
before we put on his pyjamas. That’s very kind of you…”
Anthony was horrified, but of course he was ignored as the
three of them made their way to the bathroom. It hadn’t passed his notice that
mum had blithely used the word ‘we’ when she spoke to Angela about getting him
dressed in his pyjamas.
Mum, however, thought the Angela was a most considerate and
mature young girl. Though only a year older than Anthony, she acted and behaved
towards him with a natural authority which impressed the boy’s mother. As it
was Anthony, dressed in his ludicrously small boy’s lederhosen and white
embroidered blouse, looked for all the world as though he was Angela’s little
brother, the way she held his hand and led him upstairs to the bathroom under
the watchful, approving eye of his mother.
Anthony couldn’t have felt much more self-conscious as he
was taken upstairs.
“We’ll soon have you dressed in your nice clean pyjamas won’t
we, Angela? And then you can go back downstairs and play with your friends for
a little while longer,” mum said as they ascended the stairs.
“But… but, mum… does Angela have to come into the bathroom?”
“Oh, don’t be so silly, Anthony. I’m sure Angela won’t
mind.”
“But, mum, Angela’s a… a girl!”
“I’m perfectly aware of that fact, Anthony,” mum said
firmly, “And I’m also well aware that you are a little boy for whom it is well
past pyjama-time! I’m sure you wouldn’t mind helping me, would you Angela?
Only, as you can see Anthony is getting a little fractious. It always happens
when he’s allowed a pyjama-time extension.”
“Of course not, Mrs Green, I’ll be glad to help with
Anthony. Sometimes mummy would let me help bath Ryan when he was little.”
“Well you can help me give Anthony a good wash before we put
him in his pyjamas.”
“Mummm!!” Anthony protested, but his objection quickly
turned into a yelp as mum landed a sharp, stinging smack to the back of his
right leg.
“That’s enough of that, Anthony,” mum remonstrated, “You’ll
do as you are told, or you’ll be going straight home and no more pyjama-time
extensions…”
Angela interceded. She wasn’t about to pass up the
opportunity of taking Anthony back downstairs to the party dressed in his
lovely winceyette pyjamas: “Oh, don’t be too hard on him, Mrs Green. I’m sure
Anthony will behave himself. He’s just a bit over-excited, going to his first
proper party aren’t you, Anthony?”
Anthony had little choice but to mumble a reply in the
affirmative however much he resented the way Angela was treating him as if he
was a little boy.
“Perhaps you’re right, Angela. I’m quite prepared to give
Anthony the benefit of the doubt so long as he does what he’s told.”
Then mum turned to her son: “I don’t want to see anymore
fuss from you, Anthony. Angela is going to help me get you washed and into your
pyjamas… You’ve heard what she said, that she’s helped her mother with Ryan…”
They had reached the bathroom. Angela pulled Anthony through
the door. It was a large, well-appointed bathroom. Mum followed them into the
room. She didn’t bother to close the door.
Angela looked Anthony up and down: “It’s such a lovely costume. I’m surprised Anthony
doesn’t wear it more often, Mrs Green… It’s such a shame…”
“It’s nice to hear you say that, Angela. Anthony doesn’t
often get the chance to show off his lovely lederhosen… and it’s one of his
favourite outfits, isn’t it Anthony?”
Anthony rubbed his bare thighs together. He was dreading
what was going to happen to him in the very near future. What was his mum
thinking about, allowing Angela to come upstairs with them? Anthony’s little
leather shorts felt even more constricting than ever, having ridden up even
further as he’d climbed the stairs. His lederhosen were now biting into his crotch
and were most uncomfortable. He so wanted to get out of them, as he did his
sissy Mary-Jane shoes, the white ankle socks and the embroidered shirt that was
more like a blouse than anything else… but not here, not now, not with Angela
standing right next to him.
“… Err, yes, mum…” Anthony replied to the question without
much enthusiasm. He hated his
lederhosen, but he wasn’t going to say that in front of mum and risk another
leg-smack in front of Angela. So he settled for feeling like an idiot… How anybody
could think he actually liked to wear
such humiliating clothes was beyond him.
Anthony’s obvious reticence and palpable embarrassment
didn’t seem to bother mum one tiny little bit. Mind you it never did. Anthony failed
to understand how his mum never seemed to notice him blushing and as for his
nervous ums and errs, why she just put that down to Anthony being a little bit
on the shy side. Yes, mum would tell people, Anthony was a shy little boy, but
that it was best to ignore it as he would grow out of it soon enough.
“Would you mind helping Anthony out of his clothes while I
get his flannel ready, Angela?” mum said just as if they were getting a six
year old ready for bed.
Anthony was thunderstruck. He simply couldn’t allow Angela
to take his clothes off without saying something… anything… anything that is
that didn’t get him into trouble.
“Please, mum… I can get undressed myself…” was the best he
could think of, but just made it sound as though he didn’t mind Angela’s
presence in the bathroom.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Anthony… Angela doesn’t mind helping me
to get you ready for your jimmy-jams, do you Angela?”
“Of course not, Mrs Green,” Angela replied and turned back
to face Anthony, “There’s no need to be shy, really there isn’t. I used to help
mum get Ryan undressed and ready for sleepy-byes when he was younger, so I know
what I’m doing… Now let’s get these buckles undone shall we?”
Angela proceeded to demonstrate that she did indeed know all
about getting little boys ready for pyjama-time as she loosened the buckles on
Anthony’s lederhosen. The straps fell down and before Anthony knew what was
happening Angela had undone a couple of buttons on the leather shorts and had
pulled the shirt out. Mum had hardly squeezed out Anthony’s face-flannel before
Angela had Anthony’s new bow-tie off and the shirt unbuttoned. Angela leant
forward, almost pressing herself against Anthony as she pulled the shirt back
from his shoulders and down his arms.
“Turn round, Anthony so I can take your right shirt off,”
Angela ordered as mum advanced with the soapy flannel. “I think we ought to get
Anthony properly undressed before we wash him, don’t you think, Mrs Green?” she
added.
“Yes, you’re quite right Angela. I wouldn’t want to risk
getting any water marks on the leather… it stains so easily,” mum agreed. “Yes,
better get Anthony properly undressed before we give him a good pyjama-time wash.”
Anthony didn’t know what to do. Faced with his mum and
Angela, what could he do? He didn’t want Angela to see him without any clothes
on. It was bad enough his mum seeing him in the bare… but Angela… that was too
much. Despite all her worldly-wise knowledge of how to get little boys ready for
bed, Angela was still a girl; a girl moreover who was hardly more than a year
older than Anthony; a girl for whom Anthony had schoolboy crush… And a girl who
was now about to see him bare-nude!
Anthony’s shirt was soon off. He stood bare-chested and
meekly waited as Angela proceeded to finish undoing his little leather shorts.
He felt her fingers brushing his bare thighs as she gripped the legs of the
tight lederhosen. Angela tugged and tugged, yanking at the soft leather as they
gradually slipped over Anthony’s bottom. The shorts were so tight they dragged
Anthony’s little underpants with them as they descended. Angela knelt down as
she struggled with Anthony’s lederhosen. Moving her hands from the legs to the
waist of the leather shorts, she slipped her fingers inside and drew the shorts
over Anthony’s hips. Simultaneously the underpants were also lowered, much to Anthony’s
considerable consternation. Then, of course, the inevitable point was reached
when Angela could clearly see the base of Anthony’s hairless penis.
Angela feigned unconcern, but she watched from the corner of
her eye the unveiling of Anthony’s not-so-private parts. It has to be said that
she was somewhat surprised Anthony had yet to show signs of any boy-hair at the
base of his penis and she wondered whether she should enhance Anthony’s obvious
embarrassment by drawing attention to it.
A couple more tugs and Anthony’s slim, hairless penis popped
out, did a little waggle and came to rest in such a position that made it quite
clear Anthony was feeling a bit ‘flustered’.
Angela smiled sweetly at the visibly aroused penis. Anthony
sucked in his lower lip. Mum glared at him.
Now that his lederhosen and schoolboy underpants had been
lowered, Anthony looked even more like Angela’s erstwhile little brother about
to be washed and dressed in his pyjamas, and made ready for beddy-byes. And there
was also about to be a crushing blow which would put paid to Anthony’s wistful
schoolboy thoughts about the girl who was slowly undressing him.
Angela lifted up her eyes and looked directly at Anthony:
“How old did you say you were?”
Her question made it quite clear she had been examining
Anthony’s hairless genitals.
“Err… fourteen,” he replied.
Angela looked down at Anthony’s penis again: “Really?”
“Um… yes... I’m fourteen… really,” Anthony said.
“Oh…” Angela said as a puzzled expression formed on her face
that was clearly designed to prompt a response from Anthony’s mum.
It did.
“Is there something wrong, Angela?” mum asked, “Only you
seem a bit puzzled about something.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Mrs Green…” Angela said as she affected indifference, “It's nothing at all… well, it’s just that… no… no it’s nothing.”
Anthony knew that Angela was going to draw attention to his
lack of pubic hair. It was hard for him to recall when he had been as
embarrassed as he felt now, standing there with his lederhosen halfway down his
legs. He felt like an idiot to have even thought he could be anything more than
a silly little boy in Angela’s eyes. What chance did he have for his schoolboy
crush for her to be requited? He knew every time he stepped into showers at
school; every time he compared himself to his classmates, how like a little boy
he looked. He knew that no girl would ever take him seriously who could look on
him as Angela was doing at that moment.
“What is it, Angela,” Anthony’s mum insisted, “It must be
something… I hope you’re not upset by Anthony’s naughty little penis… I’ve told
him enough times that he should be able to control it…”
“No… no, it’s not that, Mrs Green.”
Anthony couldn’t believe it. Why was it that his mum seemed
to have no idea how humiliating it was for a boy to be treated like this? But
his heart-rending pleas simply fell on deaf ears. No matter how many times he
tried to interrupt with: “Mum… mum, please, mum…”
The response was the same: “Keep quite Anthony! I want to
hear what Angela has to say.”
“Now, Angela, what is it that’s bothering you?”
“Well, Mrs Green… it’s just that… well Anthony says he’s
fourteen… and… well, I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t got any pubic hair yet…”
“Yes, Anthony is a
bit of a late-developer, isn’t he…?”
“Has he seen the school doctor about it, Mrs Green?”
“Oh, yes, I insist that Anthony has regular check-ups, but
the doctor assures me that there’s absolutely nothing at all to be concerned
about…”
“So everything’s okay then?” Angela was enjoying this
immensely. It was as though Anthony’s mum were talking to her as one adult to
another, so Angela kept a solemn look on her face as she continued to discuss
Anthony’s very personal secrets quite openly.
“The doctor told me that some boys have to wait quite a few years before they show any signs
at all of pubic hair growth,” mum continued, utterly ignoring Anthony’s
blushing, “Apparently the start of hair growth around the penis is quite
independent of puberty… isn’t it Anthony?”
“Yes, mum,” Anthony replied. This was so humiliating! He
knew all about his lack of boy-hair as Doctor Vicky and his mum had discussed the
subject at considerable (and embarrassing!) length during his last check-up.
“Do you mean that Anthony might not get any hairs around his
penis until he’s much older?” Angela asked, as she was keen to know more.
“Yes, that’s right… isn’t it Anthony?”
“Yes, mum,”
“The doctor… that’s Doctor Vicky, you might know her… she
says that Anthony could be as old as seventeen before he gets any little hairs…
It’s not unknown apparently… isn’t that so, Anthony?”
“Yes, mum…”
“Well I think Anthony looks really sweet as he is and I hope
he stays that way for a long time yet,” Angela concluded as she finished
pulling down Anthony’s lederhosen. “Shall I take off his shoes… they’re Mary-Janes,
aren’t they? You don’t often see boys wearing Mary-Janes…”
“Oh yes… shoes and socks off as well please, Angela,” mum
said, “No you don’t often see boys wearing single-strap shoes these days… I
don’t know why… they look so nice with white ankle socks… and they go so well
with Anthony’s lederhosen of course…”
“… I brought Anthony’s slippers with me,” mum added.
Anthony was now bare-nude in the bathroom and ready to be washed.
It was embarrassing for him to be dealt in this way. Not to have any privacy.
To be treated like a little boy… it was simply too shaming.
Mum set about him with a face-flannel and Anthony stood as
impassively as he could as first his face, then his neck, arms and chest
received a good soapy scrub. Angela stood by and watched as mum, without any
concern for Anthony’s modesty, carried on talking. Angela revealed that her
older brother, Ryan, was in the Boy Scouts and that he hated having to put on
his scouting shorts, but that his scoutmaster insisted on the older boys setting
an example to the younger scouts by wearing extremely short scouting shorts.
“Ryan simply hates being made to wear them… says only the little boys should
wear scouting shorts, but I think he’s being silly and besides he’s got nice
smooth legs like Anthony, so I think he should wear them. What do you think,
Mrs Green?”
“If you want my opinion, I don’t think there’s an upper age
limit for the wearing of boy’s shorts… for school, scouts, or for play. I’ve
always kept Anthony in short trousers because they’re far healthier for growing
boys. Besides, if you think about it keeping a boy in short trousers works out
far cheaper in the long run. Anthony has been going through a very noticeable growth
spurt recently… if I’d bought him a pair of longs when he asked me to a couple
of years ago, do you think he’d be able to wear them now? Of course not; the
legs would be far too short for him. Anthony would look ridiculous going to
school in trousers that weren’t long enough and with the bottoms flapping
about, three or four inches above his ankles. I’m afraid he’d look very untidy… and I’d have had to buy him
another pair of trousers even though there was plenty of wear left in the
original pair!”
Angela nodded sagely as she listened to Mrs Green lecture on
the economics of boy’s trousers.
“… When a boy is kept in short trousers the problem simply
doesn’t arise. The boy’s legs can grow as much as they want and he will still
be able to wear the same pair of short trousers… isn’t that so, Anthony?”
Once again Anthony was forced to acknowledge the
conversation as he stood bare-nude in the bathroom in front of his mum and
Angela: “Yes, mum…”
“In fact Anthony often still wears the same pair of short
trousers to school that I bought him when he entered the 1st Form and
I should think he’ll still be able to wear them to school in another three
years time too… won’t you, Anthony?”
This was news to Anthony and the thought of spending his
remaining time at school in short trousers sent a shiver up his spine: “Err…
um, yes mum…” Anthony replied and muttered under his breath, “… if you say so…”
“What was that, Anthony?”
“Err, nothing, mum…” he replied hesitantly. The trouble was,
Anthony thought, mum didn’t seem to realise that although his school
shorts certainly were hard-wearing and long-lasting, the fact was that the longer
his legs grew, the shorter his already short shorts appeared to get. Now aged
fourteen, Anthony was displaying considerably more bare thigh than he had done
a couple of years previously which gave the impression that his short trousers
must have shrunk, but as he was forced to explain, it wasn’t his shorts that
had got shorter, it was his legs that had got longer.
“… And besides, short trousers are so practical for active
boys, Angela,” mum continued, “Consider when a boy goes for a ride on his
bicycle. Now if the boy is wearing short trousers, he just gets on his bike and
off he goes, but a boy in long trousers has to tuck his trousers into his
socks, or find his bicycle-clips… Do you see what I’m getting at, Angela? Long
trousers are a positive hindrance to an active boy and that’s why I’ve kept
Anthony in short trousers and why I intend to keep him in short trousers while
he is growing up.”
“There was something else…” Angela said… rather ominously,
Anthony thought.
“What was that, dear?” mum answered as she finished with the
wash-cloth.
Angela handed a towel to Anthony’s mum and asked her
question:
“Well… how short
do you think boy’s shorts should be, Mrs Green, if you don’t mind me asking…
only Ryan says that his scouting shorts are too
short for him wear. He says it’s embarrassing for a boy of his age to wear very
short shorts and that now he’s sixteen, the scoutmaster should excuse him from
wearing shorts altogether…”
“I don’t think a boy’s shorts can ever be too short, Angela,” Mrs Green replied as
she rubbed Anthony dry with the towel, “I’m sure Ryan looks very smart wearing
his scouting shorts. It sounds as if Ryan thinks it’s beneath his dignity to
wear shorts for scouts. If you ask me, Angela, a lot of boys complain and make
a big fuss about wearing short trousers just for the sake of it. The whole
point of wearing short trousers is for the boy’s legs to gain the maximum
benefit from lots of fresh air and sunshine, so it would be foolish for a boy
to wear shorts that were baggy and over-generous in length…”
“Well, I think we ought to get this little man into his
pyjamas,” mum concluded as she handed the towel back to Angela, “The other boys
and girls will be wondering what’s happened to Anthony…”
With these words Anthony was helped into the pair of his
blue and white striped winceyette pyjamas his mum had brought along. A pair of
tartan slippers completed his change of clothes. Although it was upsetting to
have to put on a pair of pyjamas and for everyone to know how early his bedtime
was, Anthony was at least relieved that mum hadn’t chosen a pair of his more
juvenile pyjamas.
“Thank you so much for helping me get Anthony changed into
to his pyjamas, Angela. Boys do benefit from a regular pyjama-time. If I leave
it any longer Anthony’s inclined to become fractious… and I do so like to avoid
tears before bedtime.”
So it was with a slight sense of relief that Anthony went
back downstairs. Ryan had put some more music on and Anthony could hear the
sound of laughter coming from the other side of the door.
