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.
“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?”
“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?”
“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.