Unlike most boys Richard was dreading the forthcoming summer
holidays. Well, not the whole of the summer holidays exactly, just the two
weeks when he was expected to join his mum on the annual Cub Camp. You see,
Richard was fifteen years old and a member of his local Boy Scout Troop; his
mum was Akela, leader of the local Cub Pack. Not that this mattered all that
much, but every year since Richard had moved up to the scouts his mum had
‘volunteered’ his services to help at the annual Cub Camp. Of course Richard
had no choice in the matter. His mum was a strong-willed woman and expected
Richard to do what he was told, so every year it was the same…
“Richard,” mum would announce in plenty of time so that her
son had ample opportunity to dwell on his forthcoming ordeal, “Richard, you’ll
be helping me with the cubs again this year won’t you…?”
“Oh but, mum… do I have to…?”
“Richard, it’s not much to ask…”
“… but, mum, I’m fifteen now…”
“I’m perfectly well aware of how old you are Richard…”
“… but, mum… it’s not fair…”
Richard’s ill-considered words were like a red rag to a
bull: “What’s not fair?” mum snapped, “I’ll tell you what’s not fair, Richard…
It’s not fair of you to refuse to help me look after the young cubs; that’s not
fair. You know the weaker Sixes need someone to help them. It’s not fair
expecting those boys to compete in cub games without a stronger boy to help
them along. Would you like to see these boys fail at everything they do? Would
you like to see them disappointed because an older boy… a Boy Scout… refused to
do his duty and help those weaker than himself? Is that the sort of boy I’ve
raised? Is that the sort of boy you are, Richard?”
Poor Richard could hardly bear it and almost immediately felt
the pressure of tears building up behind his eyes. He hated being told off like
this by his mum. He hated to see her upset; not in fear of her anger, but
because he was so often the cause of
her displeasure. So he would get upset that he had disappointed his mum; that
he had once again let her down in some way. And it was just the same during
this latest ‘lecture’ from mum. But on top of that Richard would get just as
upset with himself for getting upset in the first place! He was fifteen year
old for heaven’s sake! Boys of his age shouldn’t start to cry simply because of
a few harsh words from their mums.
Richard’s watery eyes and quivering lip said it all, but he
managed to control himself enough not to actually burst into tears. He blurted
out an apologetic, “Sorry, mum… I’m sorry… I’ll help with the cub camp again…”
“And…?” mum demanded.
Richard hung his head in shame: “I’m sorry for upsetting
you, mummy…”
“Yes, I should think so… and you’d better have an early
bedtime tonight to help calm you down, Richard…”
“Aw, but mum…”
One look from mum was enough for Richard to know it would
only make matters worse for him to say any more. Richard took himself off to
his bedroom and reflected that he must be the only fifteen year old boy who had
such a demanding mother.
In this he’d be wrong, but that wouldn’t have been much
consolation. There certainly weren’t any other boys of his age that Richard
knew of who were still being bathed by their mums; still having to endure
strict pyjama-times and bedtimes. It was only now that Richard had passed his
fifteenth birthday that he was allowed the privilege of a 9 o’clock Sunday to Thursday ‘school’ bedtime which was extended to the
previously unheard of 9.30 on Friday and Saturday evenings. However,
pyjama-time on all days was the same…
8.30. Another privilege recently gained was that Richard was permitted to keep
his bedside light on for an extra ten minutes after bedtime. These privileges
were hard won, but could easily be suspended or withdrawn completely, as
Richard knew only too well and so he tried his best to be a good boy for his
mother.
So now Richard was being dragooned into another Cub Camp by
his mum. Richard couldn’t help but reflect on events last year’s camp when he
was still fourteen and a full three years older than the oldest cub in his Six.
What was he saying? It wasn’t his
Six… he’d be horrified if his contemporaries, or anyone, thought he was a Sixer at his mum’s Cub Camp. But whatever
way he looked at it, Richard knew he was de
facto a Sixer. There could be no doubt in anyone’s mind about that. Richard
had to lead the Six and share a tent with the young cubs and what was more…
Richard had at all times to wear his
cub shorts!
Nervously Richard opened the drawer which contained his
scout uniform, underneath which lay the dreaded cub shorts. Cub shorts which
mum had bought for him when he was eleven and now hardly fitted him where it
mattered to a boy of Richard’s age. Mum refused to buy him any more saying
there was lots more wear left in them, which was probably true if Richard was still three or four years
younger than he was, but the fact was that although Richard’s legs were still
as perfectly smooth as they were when he was eleven, they were a now good deal
longer. Richard’s smooth legs were disproportionately long compared to the rest
of his body and this rather drew attention to the tiny cub shorts which hardly
covered anything at all!
Richard was self-conscious enough about wearing his cub
shorts but that was only part of the problem… You see, although Richard was
indeed a boy of fifteen summers, if you saw him you would be forgiven if you
thought he was younger than that. Richard certainly had exceptionally long
smooth legs in relation to his overall height, but you would have also
noticed his smooth and unblemished face, made all the more noticeable by his
short hair. Mum insisted her son made regular trips to the barber’s for a
deeply unfashionable schoolboy short-back-and-sides which Richard absolutely hated.
There really was no escaping the fact that Richard did look younger than his years and no
one was more aware of this than Richard himself. When, as quite often happened,
he was mistaken by a grown-up for a rather lanky boy of twelve, Richard would
blush and be forced to tell the person his true age… usually at mum’s insistence.
This would inevitably be met with amused disbelief and teasing which would
cause Richard’s face to go bright red as he stammered his protestations that he
was telling the truth about his age.
Richard lifted the cub shorts from drawer and held them up.
Gosh they looked even shorter than they were last year. The material was
thinner, flimsier than he remembered. Surely he shouldn’t be forced to wear them?!
He was not allowed to wear underpants with his cub shorts, although Richard
doubted that he would be able to wear underpants and cub shorts at the same time any anyway!
It was hardly worth his breath, but Richard did ask about his cub shorts, but mum was
adamant that he wore them for the whole two weeks of the camp. Richard was not
allowed to take any other shorts and longs, unsurprisingly, were strictly forbidden.
There was one concession, however; Richard was
allowed to wear his scout shirt. Richard wore this shirt for almost the entire
time he was at the Cub Camp so that anyone seeing him would know that he wasn’t
really a cub, but a proper Boy Scout!
At least that’s what Richard thought. In truth it was a desperate attempt to
distinguish himself as an older boy among the young cubs and to acquire some
respect, or so he hoped. Unfortunately for Richard it didn’t always work out
like that.
As he looked at the tiny cub shorts, Richard thought back to
the events of the last camp and the humiliations he’d had to endure under the
watchful eyes of his mum, the cub pack’s Akela.
Just to take one example, why did mum insist he study for a
cub merit badge? He was a scout for heaven’s sake! What use was a silly cub
badge to him? Besides, if anyone found out he was studying for a stupid cub
badge he’d be a laughing-stock… correction, Richard was a laughing-stock already,
because the cubs in his Six thought it was hugely funny that his mum/Akela made
him work for a cub merit badge. The ten and eleven year old boys teased Richard
mercilessly, to the point at which anyone who saw him would think he was about to burst into tears.
When Richard was
awarded the cub badge (by mum/Akela of course), she insisted he stood holding
up the badge and posed for a photo with the young boys of ‘his’ Six. Even now,
a year later, Richard’s face flushed as he remembered how one of the boys had
called out to his mum at the very moment the picture was taken: “Akela… Richard
loves doing cub merit badges… why don’t you give him another one to work for…?”
Richard grimaced as he remembered how he’d had to face the camera and smile
even though he was embarrassed beyond belief at the boy’s taunting.
Richard could have marmalised the little brat, but he was
torn between conflicting emotions; the humiliation of holding up the cub badge;
the desperate struggle he was having not to cry; the urge to strangle the cub who
had taunted him so cruelly, but capping all these emotions was the fear his mum
would slap the backs of his legs if he didn’t do as his was told. A
leg-slapping, as Richard knew from bitter experience, was to be avoided at all
costs. The thought of a leg-slapping in front of a group of boys at least three
years his junior was unbearable; far better to hold his cub merit badge up and
have the group picture taken. However humiliating it was, it would be far, far
worse to have his bare legs slapped and to burst out into tears in front of the
young cubs.
So Richard stood and smiled as best he could as he held up
his cub badge. The photograph was taken and Richard prayed that it wouldn’t
find its way into the hands of his scout troop. However, it was almost as
embarrassing when mum decided she liked the photograph so much she had it
mounted and kept it on display on a shelf in the hallway. Every day Richard saw
himself holding up the cub merit badge and every day he was reminded that his were the shortest of all the cub
shorts in the picture. Whenever mum had a visitor Richard would try to position
himself in front of the incriminating photograph; he wasn’t always successful
and many were the times when he would be forced to stand red-faced and explain
that, yes, he was entitled to wear a
scout shirt because he was a boy scout. Then he would have to explain how old
he was; that, yes, he really was fourteen at the time the photograph was taken.
And then Richard would have to put up with more comments from mum’s friend
about how he looked so much younger than fourteen, “Why… you look about the
same age as that nice young boy at the other end of the line…”
“Err… that was my, err I mean that was a Seconder, Paul… he
is… was, err eleven,” Richard explained.
“Paul was nearly twelve though wasn’t he, Richard?”
“Yes, mum…”
“Paul went on to join the scouts not long after Cub Camp,
didn’t he Richard?”
“Yes, mum…”
Then mum dropped a bombshell.
“You’ll be seeing Paul at this year’s camp I shouldn’t wonder…”
Richard’s face fell. Why would he be seeing Paul? Paul’s in
the scouts…
“Yes,” mum continued, “Paul’s scout troop will be having a
camp in the field next to the cubs this year. I’ve told his mum that Paul’s to
make sure he comes over to say hello to his old Six…”
This was all news to Richard. He thought he’d seen the last
of Paul when he went off to join the scouts and was doubly relieved to hear
that he’d joined a troop on the other side of town. It was Paul, Richard
reminded himself, who called out to his mum that he loved doing cub merit
badges. Richard also reminded himself that Paul had also seen him getting his
legs slapped…
It would be safe to say the fact that Paul would be close by
during the forthcoming Cub Camp did not augur very well for Richard… not at
all well!
oooOooo
Soon enough, but far too soon for Richard, the summer
holidays came and he found himself leading a Six at the annual Cub Camp. As
predicted the scouts did strike camp in the field next to the cubs. Richard
spent a nervous couple of days anxiously waiting for the scouts to introduce
themselves, but for whatever reason they were heard but not seen.
On the third day after the scouts arrival Akela/mum
announced that she was taking a group of cubs on a visit to see some birds of
prey. Richard was to remain at the camp and look after four cubs that were not
going on the outing. Richard was given a number of tasks to complete and told
on no account was he to leave the cub camp.
That was all very well, but unknown to Richard the scouts in
the adjacent field had other plans…
The patrol that Paul was in had planned a raid… a raid on
the cub camp… a raid to capture and take a prisoner. No prizes for guessing the
name of the intended prisoner!
Paul had told two of the older boys in his scout patrol,
Russell who was sixteen and Max fifteen (the same age as Richard), that there
was a boy in the cub camp who wore a scout shirt all the time. He egged on
Russell and Max to organise a raid to capture this boy and take him prisoner
for ‘questioning’ and the older scouts agreed. As Russell explained, it was
definitely a breech of uniform rules for a cub to wear a scout shirt and it
would be their duty to investigate.
As you might have gathered, Paul was a mischievous young boy
and as he left Russell and Max to plan the assault, he grinned at the prospect
of seeing his erstwhile Sixer forced to explain why he was wearing a scout
shirt.
Not for the first time Richard found himself ‘babysitting’
young cubs. He was sat cross-legged unenthusiastically relating some cub-lore
to his charges when without warning he was rushed from behind by three stealthy
scouts. Before he knew what was happening Richard was blindfolded, rolled over
onto his front and had his hands expertly tied behind his back. Next he was
gagged and then hoisted to his feet. To his astonishment he heard the little
cubs cheer!
“That’s not fair!” he thought, “They should be trying to
help me… not cheering…”
It didn’t take long for Richard to realise it was some
scouts from the neighbouring camp who had trussed him up. As he was marched
off, stumbling every now and then, he guessed he was being taken to the scout
camp. Once there his hands were untied only to be retied in front of him and
then for his arms to be hoisted upwards until Richard was forced almost onto
tip-toe. Richard felt extremely vulnerable and very exposed. He knew his little
cub shorts would have ridden up even further and could already feel them
pressing tightly between his bottom cheeks, never mind what might be happening
at the front of the shorts! His gag was removed.
Sixteen year old Russell began the interrogation: “You have
been brought to our camp to answer some questions…”
Still blindfolded, Richard pleaded with the scout: “Please…
I haven’t done anything… let me go… I haven’t done anything wrong… Please… It’s
not fair…”
Russell ignored Richard’s pleading and pressed on with the
questioning: “What are you doing wearing a scout shirt?”
“I’m a scout… I’m allowed to wear a scout shirt…” he said
and tried to affect an air of defiance.
“Then what’s a scout doing in a cub camp?” Russell continued.
“I’m a boy scout I tell you… it’s my scout shirt… I can wear my scout shirt if I want…”
“Take off his blindfold…” Russell said sharply, interrupting
Richard.
The blindfold was removed and Richard found himself
surrounded by half-a-dozen young scouts, two of whom looked to be about his own
age or perhaps a year older, these were Russell and Max, but when he twisted
his head round he saw Paul grinning from ear-to-ear.
Richard was about to say something when his interrogator,
Russell snapped: “Why are you wearing cub shorts then?!”
“I… my… I am a scout… but I have to wear them for cub camp.
Mum… Akela… she’s my mum, lets me wear my scout shirt… honest… it’s the truth!”
Richard was beginning to panic. He wasn’t sure, but he
thought being caught wearing a uniform you weren’t entitled to wear was a
serious business. How could he convince these scouts that he too was scout and
therefore fully entitled to wear a scout shirt?
Richard twisted himself round to try and look at Paul, but
every time he managed to face the younger boy the rope would untwist itself and
cause Richard to swing back again. This swinging to and fro caused much
merriment, but Richard was frantic; he needed Paul to back him up and to help
him out of this desperate situation.
In the meantime Russell continued the grilling:
“Well then… if, as you
claim, you’re entitled to wear a scout shirt… you can’t be entitled to wear
those cub shorts!”
“But… but… mum, I mean Akela, doesn’t let me bring my scout
shorts to camp,” Richard replied, not realising where this interrogation was
heading.
Paul watched as Richard twisted and turned, his arms
stretched high above his head. Paul grinned from ear-to-ear as Richard tried to
explain his position at the cub camp.
“Paul…” Richard implored the young scout, “Paul… you were in
the cubs last year… tell them I’m a scout… Paul, tell them, please tell them
I’m a boy scout…!”
Paul remained silent. Russell ignored Richard’s pleading and
carried on: “So… let’s get this straight… you claim
you’re a boy scout and therefore you’re entitled to wear that scout shirt…”
“Yes… yes, I am, honest…” Richard was desperate, but still
unaware of the implications of his insistent pleadings.
“…If you’re a boy
scout, then how old are you?”
“Fifteen… I’m fifteen. Please… I’m a scout, that’s why I’m
wearing my scout shirt. Please let me go… Mum, err I mean Akela left me to look
after some cubs…”
“The cubs are alright. One of the scouts from our patrol is
looking after them,” Russell paused and then resumed Richard’s interrogation, “Okay…
let’s agree that you have the right to wear your scout shirt…”
To Richard’s astonishment all the scouts noisily agreed.
“Yes… yes… Now will you let me down?” Richard said quickly.
His arms were beginning to ache and he arched his back to try and relieve the
stress of his ‘tie-up’ which had the effect of pushing Richard’s bottom out and
drawing everyone’s attention ever more closely to the ridiculously brief cub
shorts.
“Then…” Russell smiled benignly, “you have to agree that you
are in serious violation of uniform regulations…”
The scouts surrounding him tittered, but still Richard remained
unaware of his parlous situation.
“What… what do you mean?” Richard asked, unsure of his
‘offence’.
“By wearing cub
shorts and a scout shirt… Surely
that’s obvious?” Russell remarked casually.
“I… I suppose so…” Richard replied as noncommittally as he
could.
“Answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’… Are you or are you not in breach of
uniform rules?” Russell asked bluntly.
There was more sniggering to be heard as Richard was forced
to answer in the affirmative.
“Yes,” he said.
“Then it follows, does it not, that adjustments to your
uniform are required in order to bring it into line with scout regulations… is
that not so?”
The penny was beginning to drop and Richard started to
panic. But what could he do? With his hands secured in best scouting tradition
and with his arms stretched right above his head, there was very little Richard
could do. Russell stepped forward to
lift Richard’s scout shirt clear of his ludicrously small cub shorts. Suddenly
Richard realised what was about to happen:
“No…! No… Please…!” he yelled and twisted himself violently
in a vain attempt to thwart his tormentors.
“Are you a scout or a cub?” Russell persisted.
“I am a scout…
but, please… no don’t… please!”
Russell stepped back and looked Richard in the eyes: “I’m
going to give you one last chance to explain yourself…”
Richard hung his head. He knew what was going to happen. He
was helpless. But even in extremis, he couldn’t but tell the truth.
“I am a scout in 1st Homebridge Troop, Kestrel
Patrol… Please, that’s the truth… only don’t…”
“Then you leave me with no choice. As senior scout present I
would be failing in my duty to my fellow scouts if I didn’t take action,”
Russell spoke ominously as he prepared to pass sentence, “There’s only one
thing I can do, since I cannot allow you to disgrace the good name of your scout
troop by wearing your uniform incorrectly… you agree?”
Richard had never felt quite so helpless as he nodded:
“Yes…”
The scouts around him cheered. Had he bothered to look up he
would have seen Paul was cheering loudest of all as he prepared to watch
Richard’s humiliation.
This time it was Max who stepped forward. He took hold of
the tails of Richard’s scout shirt and hoisted the shirt all the way up over
Richard’s chest until it was scrunched up around his noticeably hairless
armpits… a fact that did not go unnoticed. The shirt was then pushed into
Richard’s collar to keep it in place and the tiny cub shorts were completely
revealed. This drew howls of derisive laughter from the boys who couldn’t
understand why a boy, any boy, who
claimed to be a scout would allow himself to be caught dead wearing a pair of
cub shorts… never mind that this particular pair of cub shorts could be seen to
be at least three sizes too small for the boy who was strung up by his wrists
in front of them.
Now the boys were getting really excited as boys do when there’s a debagging in the offing.
To cheers and whistles of encouragement from the younger boys, the two older
scouts, Russell and Max, placed themselves either side of Richard. Helpless, Richard
knew it was pointless to plead with his tormentors: but put yourself in his
position; imagine yourself strung up by your wrists, unable to do anything, wouldn’t
you beg shamelessly, wouldn’t you plead to be spared a public debagging? Of
course you would and that’s just what Richard did, and he watched in horror as the
scouts started to pull at his cub shorts.
Eager eyes watched as the flimsy little shorts were tugged
and pulled down low enough to reveal the base of Richard’s penis. An almighty
cheer went up as it became apparent that there was not a single hair to be
seen… not a single boy-hair anywhere! The further down the cub shorts were
pulled, the more Richard’s humiliation grew as everyone saw that he was completely
smooth and utterly hairless where it matters so much to a growing boy.
Now everyone saw why Richard looked so young with his velvet
smooth face and hairless legs. The fact was, despite his growth spurt, Richard
to his immense shame had yet to grow any pubic hair. He wasn’t going to win any
prizes for the size of his penis either; although it was of reasonable length
it was still noticeably slim for a boy of his age and waggled amusingly as he
was debagged. Richard was never more conscious that whereas any other boy of
his age would by now be proudly sporting a conspicuous tuft of boy-hair at the
base of his penis… he, at fifteen years old, had nothing.
The cub shorts were pulled right down to his ankles and left
there. Richard was, for all intents and purposes, bare-nude; just his scout
shirt rumpled up and pushed into its collar and his little cub shorts pushed down
around his ankles where they formed a perfect restraint for his feet. The
cheering and laughter continued with the boys teasing Richard over his lack of
boy-hair, crying: “Baldy! Baldy!! Baldy-balls!! Baldy-balls!!”
If he expected to be let down and untied after his ordeal,
Richard was in for a surprise as the scouts hadn’t finished with his
humiliation. Richard’s unexpected complete lack of pubic hair offered the
chance for some more fun. Russell stepped forward to face Richard once more.
“How old did you say you were?” he asked in clear reference
to Richard’s bald pubes.
“Fifteen… honest, I’m fifteen. Please untie me now.”
“Not just yet,” the scout said dismissing Richard’s request,
“You see, looking at you now… now we’ve taken down those cub shorts… well are
you really fifteen?”
Richard couldn’t believe it. He had been made a complete
laughing-stock in front a group of boys most of whom were younger than he was. His
feeling of disgrace was intense, but he knew that as a boy scout he had to show
that he could stand up to all the jibes and teasing; that he could take it like
a true boy scout should. He knew all the boys were looking at his hairless
penis and he had no choice but to listen as they mocked it, but he told himself
to be brave; that his ordeal would come to an end at some point.
“Yes… I’m fifteen,” Richard answered and twisted round to
face Paul, “Tell them Paul… you know I’m in the scouts… tell them how old I am,
Paul… please…”
At last Paul spoke up. He looked at Richard hanging almost
bare-nude by his wrists and then he turned to Russell and Max: “He was my Sixer
at cub camp last year, but I don’t know how old he is…”
“Paul! You know I’m older than you…! You know I’m fifteen!”
Richard was beside himself. Even though he knew Paul could be a little…
so-and-so, Richard never expected this blatant betrayal.
“Did he wear this scout shirt?” Max asked as he pulled at
Richard’s crumpled shirt.
“Oh yes… but he never said if he was a scout or not…” Paul
answered with a look of innocence that left Richard speechless.
“What about these cub shorts… did he wear cub shorts?”
Russell asked as he pointed to the cub shorts around Richard’s ankles.
“Oh, yes all the time,” Paul replied and then unprompted
added, “He wore them when he was awarded a cub merit badge. I never saw him
wear scout shorts…”
“Paul!” Richard was shocked and tried to lunge towards the
young scout, but was hobbled by the tiny cub shorts that clung tightly to his
ankles as much as being strung up by his hands tied above his head. To the
immense amusement of the scouts, Richard’s penis jerked, waggled and slapped
his legs as he struggled in front of them. “Paul…” he pleaded, “you know my
mum… I mean Akela, made me study for the badge…”
“But you liked doing cub badges… you said so… you told
Akela…”
“Only because you
told her I liked doing them…”
“If you didn’t want to study for a cub merit badge, why
didn’t you say something to Akela?” Max asked “I’m sure Paul wouldn’t have told
her you liked doing cub badges if you didn’t…”
Richard hung limply from the rope. You don’t know Paul, he
thought… and you don’t know my mum either…
“I… I…” Richard couldn’t think of what to say and this
seemed to confirm his questionable status in the eyes of Russell and Max. Would
a boy scout really allow himself to get himself into a situation like Richard
had done? Was he even old enough to be
a boy scout?
Paul laughed. Seeing his former Sixer helpless, strung up by
his wrists and with his cub shorts pulled down in front of all the scouts in
his patrol, was more than he could have ever hoped for. Paul had long suspected
Richard had something to hide and now he knew what it was and as he looked at
Richard’s hairless penis he laughed even louder. This was priceless! He knew
very well how old Richard was and now he knew the fifteen year old didn’t have
one single boy-hair to his name… priceless!
But of course all good things must come to an end…
“Richard! Richard!” It was the unmistakable voice of Akela
who was attempting to find out what had happened to her son.
“Richard… If I find you’ve been playing with the scouts when
I told you to stay with the cubs…” Akela’s voice drew closer.
Richard was beside himself: “Let me down… please let me
down… don’t let Akela find me like this…” he pleaded in desperation, but to his
horror the scouts thought discretion the better part of valour. “Oh, please…
no… don’t leave me like this!”
“Come on,” Russell said to Max, “Let’s hide. We’ll keep a
watch and listen… this should be fun…!”
Richard’s eyes were out on stalks as he watched the scouts
slip away into some nearby bushes. He twisted this way and that, but it was no
use and he hung there with his scout shirt pushed right up and his tiny cub
shorts at his feet, bare from chest to ankles.
One last forlorn word escaped Richard’s lips: “Please…”
before he turned to see his mum, Akela standing a few feet away. She had placed
her hands on her hips and did not look at all happy to find her son tied up and
virtually bare-nude with his cub shorts
pulled down to his feet.
“Richard!! What do you think you’re doing?! I thought I told
you to stay in the camp and look after the cubs. Have you been playing with the
scouts?”
That mum was not pleased was obvious.
“You’ve been playing silly games haven’t you? And why have
you pulled down your shorts?”
“It wasn’t me, mum… honest… I was captured… and… and… please
let me down, mum…”
If being practically bare-nude and revealing all had been
bad enough in front of the scouts, being in the same position if front of his
mum was totally mortifying for Richard. He knew the scouts were secretly
watching him and he also knew they would soon put two and two together and realise
that mum was quite used to seeing her son in the bare.
“Showing off in front of the young cubs in your Six…” mum
continued, ignoring Richard’s protests. “It’s just as well one of the more
responsible scouts saw they had been left unattended and stayed to look after
them…”
Richard swung and twisted from the rope. He had the distinct
feeling things could easily get a lot worse. Then, from behind him, he heard a
voice:
“Can I help, Akela?”
It was Paul who had stepped out to offer his assistance.
Richard twisted round in an attempt to face the young scout, but it was no use
and he ended up swinging back on the rope to face his mum whose face had lit up
at the sight of her former cub.
“Why, if it isn’t Paul…” she said, “Hello Paul… perhaps you
can explain why Richard has got himself all undressed and tied up?”
Paul stood his ground so that Richard couldn’t see him
easily. “Please, Akela… Richard wanted to play with us… wasn’t he supposed to?”
Richard was livid. Of course he didn’t want to play with the
scouts… and certainly not if it meant being tied up, stripped of his cub shorts
and publicly humiliated!
“But mum… I didn’t… want to…” he pleaded as he swung
suspended, as good as bare-nude in front of mum, from the rope above his head.
“Be quiet, Richard… I’m sure Paul can explain why you are
hanging there on display like a silly boy with your shorts pulled down. I
suppose you think you’re being clever…” Clearly there was going to be no
sympathy from mum.
“Please Akela, Richard was always telling us about tie-up
games when I was in his Six at cub camp last year. Telling us about when boys
got debagged and stripped bare… Maybe he just wanted to show-off in front of
this year’s Six, seeing as there was a scout camp in the next field…”
“… but that’s not true!” Richard yelled, “That’s not true!
The scouts captured me… you know they did…”
“That’s what you say… maybe you arranged it to look like
that…” Paul insisted.
“But, I didn’t… I didn’t… Mum, honest I didn’t… the scouts
jumped me and tied me up…”
“… so you could show off in front of the young cubs,”
Richard’s mum finished her son’s sentence.
“It’s not true…” Richard whimpered, “It’s not true…”
Paul moved round to face Richard: “Then how come you made
the scouts pull down your cub shorts?”
Richard was incandescent: “Me!! I didn’t want my shorts
pulled down!! Why would I want my shorts pulled down?!!” he raged, but all this
did was to make him even more aware that his cub shorts had indeed been pulled
right the way down to his ankles… where
they remained!
Paul turned to Richard’s mum and explained: “Richard
wouldn’t tell them why he was wearing cub shorts and a scout shirt. The scout said Richard was… something to do with
uniform regulations or something. So the scout didn’t have any choice, ‘cos
Richard refused to give them a proper explanation…”
“But it’s not true… I didn’t… I couldn’t… please… mum…
please let me down…” Richard didn’t know what to say. What Paul said was true…
in a way. However, Richard’s view of what had transpired was, unsurprisingly,
at odds with Paul’s interpretation of events. But Richard could hardly call the
young scout a liar. It was all so unfair!
Akela turned to Paul: “Do you know how to let Richard down?”
she asked and Paul nodded. “Richard,” she addressed her son, “If you’re sure
you’ve finished playing your silly game, then I think you’d better ask Paul politely
if he would be kind enough to let you down.”
Richard couldn’t believe what he heard his mum say. Why
should he have to abase himself to Paul? Paul was three years younger than he
was. It was so unfair! But what choice did he have? None at all really, since
he was still swinging helplessly from the rope, his hands tied above his head,
and with his cub shorts at his feet he was still bare and feeling very
vulnerable. No he didn’t have any choice, so he stuttered…
“Please, Paul… Please will you let me down?”
Paul couldn’t resist dragging things out for a bit longer:
“Are you sure? Akela says I’m only to let you down if you’re positive you’ve finished
playing your game…”
“Yes, Paul…”
“Yes… what?”
“Yes, Paul… I’ve finished. I don’t want to play anymore…”
Richard replied, sounding for all the world like moody twelve year old, “I
want… please, Paul… please let me down…”
“Okay… if you’re sure that’s what you want,” Paul said and
walked over to where the rope holding Richard up had been expertly lashed to a
tree. Paul soon had the knot untied and Richard’s arms fell forward. Richard’s
hands remained tied together.
It was such a relief to let his arms down that for a moment
Richard forgot that he was hobbled very effectively by his cub shorts which
were of course still crumpled, pushed down around his ankles. He stumbled
forward and nearly fell in front of his mum.
“I think we’d better have those shorts off before you fall
and hurt yourself, Richard…”
“No, mum… please…”
“Stop this at once, Richard…! Now hold still… Richard, I’m
warning you! If you don’t hold still…”
Paul was mesmerised and his mouth fell open as he watched
Akela’s hand move upwards. In rapid succession she gave three sharp smacks to
the back of Richard’s bare upper left thigh that must have really stung.
Richard’s hips pushed forward instinctively, but he was trapped by the cub
shorts around his ankles. Each time mum’s hand slapped his legs Richard’s whole
body jerked and his slim penis bounced and jiggled between his legs.
Paul stood rooted to the spot as mum gave Richard another
three smacks on the backs of his legs. Richard bit his lip, determined not to
give way and cry, but he couldn’t help but let out some loud squeals as mum’s
hand stung his legs. Gosh mum knew how to give a boy a good leg-slapping and no
mistake and Paul was glad just to be an observer of the older boy’s
chastisement. He could see clearly the red marks on Richard’s thighs as the
smacks continued. It was a leg-slapping such that he’d never seen before and it
suddenly occurred to him that his fellow scouts must also be watching as
Richard had his legs smacked.
“Now… are you going to let me get your feet out of your
shorts, Richard?”
“Yes mum…” Richard replied, well aware, like Paul, that his
smacking had been seen not just by the erstwhile cub, but also by the scouts
hiding in the nearby bushes.
“Paul…!” mum called over, “Paul… come over here and help me
take off Richard’s shorts. You hold him steady while I untangle them from his
feet…”
“But…” Richard was about to complain at the further
indignity of having the youngster help when he thought better of it, besides he
still had his wrists tied and so had no choice but to stand still. Paul reached
out and held Richard’s shoulders firmly as mum crouched down and pulled
Richard’s cub shorts from his feet. Standing as close to Richard as he was, Paul
was afforded the opportunity of having a really good look at the red marks left
by mum’s hand on Richard’s legs. Paul would later swear that he could feel the
heat given off by the red-hot hand-smacks!
Paul continued to hold Richard’s shoulders tightly as mum
got back to her feet holding the cub shorts. There was a pause. Richard looked
at his cub shorts being held by his mum; then at his mum; then turned to face
Paul. It seemed as if mum was waiting for something, but it was Paul who broke
the silence:
“Isn’t there something you want to say to Akela… to your
mum?”
Richard stared at the former cub. He couldn’t believe what
the youngster was suggesting.
“I think your mum’s waiting…” Paul persisted.
Richard, his legs still stinging from his very public
leg-slapping, looked at his mum and his little cub shorts. To his abject shame
he heard himself say the words:
“Thank you for helping me off with my… my… cub shorts, mum…”
He looked back quickly at Paul and knew that he would never be able to live
down what had just happened. He knew it wouldn’t be long before boys in his own
scout troop found out. For now Richard could see that Paul wasn’t entirely
happy with his response; Paul was expecting him to say something more.
“I’m sorry I left the cubs… I… I…” Oh, how Richard how hated
himself for saying it, “I shouldn’t have played with the scouts, mum… I’m
sorry.”
“That’s better,” Paul said quietly, “Let’s get you back to
the cub camp where you belong. Those little cubs will be wondering where you’ve
been and they’ll want to know all
about your adventure with the scouts.”
Akela smiled at Paul. It was clear that she thought of him
as a far more responsible boy scout than her son Richard. So still with his
hands tied and bare from his shoulders down to his feet, Richard was led off
back to join the cubs.
Yes very good Mogg. Excellent in fact.
ReplyDeleteThanks wincy
DeleteKind of a shame Richard's mother did not own a leather strap like Mrs Evans from another story does. The Cubs and other mothers could hear the echoing of leather striking bare bottom into the evening as Richard is leathered by his mother.
ReplyDeleteThe blue cub scout uniform with those nice shorts were the only reason I wanted to join so many years ago!
ReplyDelete