On their way back through the clinic waiting area Mrs Browne stopped as she wanted to speak to the busy receptionist. There was a queue and while mum chatted to some ladies she knew, Luke was made to stand still and wait. He didn’t think it would be possible to be so embarrassed as he felt at that moment. The waiting area was full of mums and their children… and all of them had heard what had so recently happened to Luke in the little cubicle. Luke knew everyone there had heard mum ticking him off for masturbating and everyone had heard him getting a red-hot spanking that had left him in tears, pleading for forgiveness. They knew the price Luke would be paying for his naughtiness, indeed they could see that already as Luke had been dressed in the most hideously humiliating clothes. The little boy underpants were very tight, but as Nurse Pilbeam had noted, it wasn’t as if Luke needed that much support, so he had been squeezed into a pair of nylon Boy’s Playtime UnderPanties which featured a colourful design based on action figures popular with young boys. Although the tiny underpants were desperately uncomfortable, Luke was just relieved no one could see them.
The shortalls Luke had been put into by Michelle and Nurse Pilbeam could not have been any shorter. Indeed there were no legs to them at all to speak of and so the lower curves of Luke's well shaped bottom were visible to all, which meant his long, smooth legs were bare all the way down to the humiliating red plastic play sandals and the frilly little ankle socks which were decorated with tiny lambs. The lamb motif could also be seen on Luke's singlet where little lambkins gambolled across the thin cotton top. Michelle had followed Nurse Pilbeam's instructions and had made sure the shortall braces were done up nice and tight.
"We don't want Luke leaving here and making an exhibition of himself... make sure the braces are done up properly, Michelle," Nurse Pilbeam had said, "If the straps aren't tight they can easily slip from Luke's shoulders... yes, that's excellent, Michelle. Remember that when you're dressing Luke in future..."
By the time mum did at last reach the receptionist, Luke, trussed up as he was in his shortalls, began to feel the need for a pee. At first he thought he would be able to hold on, but it wasn't long before his bladder became more insistent. The tight-fitting little boy underpants hardly helped Luke's predicament, neither did the shortalls which Luke was ever more aware did not possess a fly-front. Then another aspect of their design to which Luke hadn't given much thought, suddenly hit him... the buckles that held the straps in place were at the back of the garment! Luke couldn't reach them let alone undo them on his own and, as Michelle had done them up so tightly, simply pushing the straps from his shoulders was not an option.
Luke began to panic and naturally this made matters worse. Almost unconsciously he started to dance from one foot to the other. He squeezed his thighs together. Before much longer Luke was pressing his hands between his legs.
Mum was talking to the receptionist and was quite unaware of her son's predicament. Luke tried to gain her attention:
"Mum... mummy... I need… I need to..." he said urgently.
"Not just now, Luke... You can see I'm busy..." mum replied sternly.
"Yes, mummy... but..."
"That's enough, Luke."
Luke hunched forward a little and crossed his legs. The more he thought about needing a pee, the more intense his need became. The shortalls and the little boy underpants pressed against Luke’s bladder until he thought it was ready to burst. Children sitting with their mums started to giggle as they watched the big boy dancing about in front of them; they knew the signs.
Luke stood in silence and squeezed his legs together some more. His hands were pushed between his legs and now Luke could hear the children behind him teasing him. At first they made s-s-sissing noises and when they saw this made Luke dance even more they talked loudly about tinkling bells that go tinkle-tinkle-tinkle! The more the children teased, the more desperate Luke became, until he simply had to get mum’s attention.
"Please mummy.... please, I need to... I need to..."
Finally Mrs Browne turned round to face her son: "What's the matter with you, Luke? Can't I leave you alone for two minutes without you pestering me?"
“But, mummy… I need to…”
Before Luke could say any more the loud voice of a little boy squealed: “He wants a wee-wee! He wants a wee-wee!! Wee-wee!! Wee-wee… he wants a wee-wee...”
The boy’s mum simply laughed and explained to Mrs Browne that Luke had been hopping about behind her back as she stood at the reception. “It does look as though he needs to be taken to the little boy’s room... Would you like me to take him if you're busy?”
“Oh that’s very kind of you,” Mrs Browne said, “I’d be most grateful if you’d take him before he wets himself…”
If Luke had been blushing before, it was as nothing to the colour he went as it became clear he was to be taken to the toilet by this stranger. Luke’s obvious embarrassment didn’t bother mum at all. Neither did it trouble the kind lady who offered to escort Luke to the toilet. Mrs Knight, for that was the lady’s name, took a firm hold of one of Luke’s wrists and tugged his hand away from the front of the shortalls:
“Come along now Luke, let’s get you to the little boy’s room before you go wee-wees in your nice shortalls,” she said as she pulled Luke along, “Has mummy let you go wee-wees in the grown-up’s toilet yet?”
Luke was beside himself, trapped in the shortalls and being pulled along by a woman who seemed to think he was no older than her own child: “I’m… I’m… nineteen…” was all Luke could think to say. Of course he used the ‘grown-up’s toilet’, he said to himself, didn’t everyone?
“Oh… a big boy are you…?” Mrs Knight said, but the tone of her voice was one of transparent disbelief, “Well perhaps you are a big boy… but big boys can’t always be trusted, can they…? Little tinkles go splishy-splashy all over the floor, don’t they…?”
"I can go on my own… honestly. It's just these... these straps..." Luke was desperate to pee and Mrs Knight’s baby-talk was driving him mad.
"Of course you can go wee-wees on your own," Mrs Knight said using the most patronising tone Luke had ever heard, which was something! "Of course I’m sure mummy lets you go wee-wees on your own... but mummy isn’t here to clean up your little tinkle-drops..."
Luke didn't understand Mrs Knight. Surely she must realise I'm a big boy now, he thought, hardly aware of his situation and the people passing by in the corridor who gave him withering looks of contempt. The only thing Luke could concentrate on was the increasing pressure on his bladder and his desperate need to relieve himself. If it wasn't for these stupid shortalls... and why doesn't this woman hurry up, I'm bursting?!
"Now let's see... where are those little boy tinkle-toilets?" Mrs Knight said as she steered Luke past the grown-ups’ toilets, "Here we are..." she announced as she pushed open the door to the children and babies changing-room. To Luke's consternation, there was no toilet to be seen.
"But... but, this isn't..." Luke said, his eyes on stalks as he squeezed his hand between his legs to stop himself from wetting his shortalls.
"What's wrong, dear? You want to go wee-wees don't you?" Mrs Knight said, her voice full of concern for Luke.
"Yes... but I... yes, yes, please..." Luke said as the pressure grew. He couldn't' bear the thought of wetting himself. Anything was better than that, so he said the words he knew Mrs Knight wanted to hear, "Please... I want to go wee-wees... Pleeease, I want to go wee-wees now..."
"Well then let's get you ready shall we?"
Luke was beyond caring. All he could do was groan in response.
Mrs Knight, used as she was with dealing with little boys, treated Luke no differently. It was as if he was just another overgrown little boy. She pulled Luke's hand away from the front of his shortalls and soon had the buckles loosened. The front bib of the shortalls flopped forwards and the two side buttons were quickly undone. Before Luke could say anything, Mrs Knight had tugged both his shortalls and the tight little Boy’s Playtime UnderPanties down to his ankles... just in time.
"Please... please... I need to wee-wee..." Luke said as he became almost hysterical at the lack of a toilet or urinal in the room. He heard a rattling noise and looked over his shoulder to see Mrs Knight had opened a cupboard. She was holding a brightly coloured plastic potty!
"Here we are," she said still using the patronising voice that Luke found so irritating, "Are you going to do a little tinkle for me?" Then she came round to face Luke, looked down and caught sight of his penis, “Oh my! What a little tinky-winky! Oh isn’t that sweet?! Are you ready for tinkle-time?”
Luke was shaking. He’d do anything, say anything… but he had to relieve himself, so he dutifully replied: “Yes… yes… please… I need to go wee-wees… pleeease may I go wee-wees…?”
"Alright then... now be a good little boy and sit nicely on the potty for aunty..."
Mrs Knight placed the plastic potty, stenciled with a variety of Peter Pan characters, on the floor at Luke's feet. Luke could hardly believe what he saw, but what choice did he have other than to crouch down and sit on the potty? This he did under the maternal smile of Mrs Knight.
"Oh what a clever little boy! That's it... now a nice little tinkle for aunty... good boy..."
Luke sighed with relief as he released the pressure on his bladder. For an all too brief moment he was lost in his own world as the panic subsided. He hung his head let his stream of pee drain into the plastic potty.
As the noise of the splashing liquid echoed off the solid walls of the room, Mrs Knight saw fit to encourage Luke:
"Are you doing a nice little wee-wee for aunty?"
Luke glanced up at Mrs Knight. The humiliation he felt was intense. He saw his shortalls and little boy underpants scrunched up at his feet. He felt the plastic potty on which he was sat. He looked around the room at the cartoon characters which decorated the walls.
"What are you doing in your potty for aunty?" Mrs Knight prompted Luke when he failed to answer her question.
"A... tinkle... I'm doing a tinkle..." Luke said, utterly ashamed of himself.
"Oh that is a clever little boy... just wait 'til I tell your mummy what a clever little boy you are..."
"Um... err, I've... um, finished my tinkle now..." Luke announced, unsure of whether he should get up without Mrs Knight's permission.
Michelle popped her head round the door.
"We were all wondering where Luke had got to..." she said.
"Little Luke was taken short and needed a little tinkle-time... didn't you Luke?" Mrs Knight informed Michelle.
Luke, still sitting on the potty looked up at Michelle: "Yes... I, I needed to... do a... wee-wee..."
"Oh... you should have said... oh, Luke, what a silly boy... if you'd have said something I could have taken you to the toilet..." Michelle said.
Luke sat still on the plastic potty as Mrs Knight told Michelle that it’d been no trouble and that Luke had behaved very well during tinkle-time. Michelle looked down at Luke; at the infantile clothes scrunched at his feet; at his little willy, clean and smooth; at the plastic potty.
“We’d better get you cleaned up again, Luke,” Michelle announced.
Luke again suffered the indignity of being cleaned up by Michelle, a girl two years his junior. And, after being strapped into his shortalls once more, he faced yet another indignity as Mrs Knight told him to pick up the potty. Michelle led the way back down the corridor. Luke followed holding the potty. MIchelle held open the door to the 'Mens' toilet and Luke dutifully emptied the potty as he wondered why he couldn't have been taken there in the first place. If it hadn't been for these stupid shortalls I could've gone on my own, he thought.
Finally, after the potty had been rinsed and returned to its cupboard, Luke was escorted back to the waiting-room. Mum had finished her business with the receptionist and now listened as Mrs Knight's related her detailed report of Luke's tinkle-time. Once more Luke squirmed with embarrassment as Mrs Knight mentioned how small his bald penis was and how it was just as well Luke was sat on a potty as she was sure Luke's little willy would have sprayed wee-wee all over the floor if he'd been allowed to tinkle on his own.
Sheepishly Luke had looked around the busy waiting-room and it seemed to him that everyone was listening to what Mrs Knight and his mum were saying. Luke was glad when the time finally came to leave the clinic. It certainly had been an appointment he wouldn't forget in a hurry.
Luke thought he’d seen and heard the last of the sort of short-trousered discipline he’d been subjected to during his formative years at school. His mum had always been strict with him during that time, but since leaving school Luke had slowly been given more freedom even though he still lived at home. Nonetheless mum had kept a close eye on him, as mums always do, but it had been with a noticeably lighter touch. That was not to say that mum had given up on her duty to bring up her son in a manner she saw fit, but she was also aware that Luke was, strictly speaking, quite able to make up his own mind whether to stay at home and live under her roof, or to go his own way.
Unfortunately for Luke moving out was not an option, since he lacked the financial means to do so. When Mrs Browne mentioned his ‘pocket-money’, she was referring to the pitifully small payments Luke received for undertaking little jobs for his mum’s friends. In the summer months Luke could be seen carrying out a variety of gardening tasks; in the winter there were always plenty of jobs to be done around their houses. Luke was conscientious and competent. He might have made himself a proper little business from his practical skills, but mum would never hear of her friends giving her son more than a token amount in payment for his labours. Between them, mum and her friends kept Luke very busy and this state of affairs ensured Luke never had the wherewithal to leave home, let alone set up on his own as a handyman. Luke stoically accepted that while in his mum’s house, she made the rules, as had always been the case of course.
Life for Luke was highlighted by privileges earned and the biggest and best of these had been the day he was allowed to put on his very first pair of long trousers. It had been his sixteenth birthday and it was mum’s special birthday surprise for Luke. On his card mum had written an unexpected, extra special birthday message that Luke’s pyjama-time was to be put back to 7 o’clock… a whole hour later! And at sixteen years old Luke would now be put to bed at 8 o’clock, half an hour later than before. Luke was thrilled and kissed his mummy ‘thank you’. It was the best birthday he could remember.
But privileges earned can just as easily be withdrawn and Luke often found himself suffering a suspension of long trouser privileges, sometimes for a weekend, a few days, or even longer if it was warranted by his behaviour. Pyjama-time or bedtime could be brought forward and sometimes Luke found himself coming home from school to find his pyjamas warming in front of the fire and knew he was in for an early bedtime. It never mattered to mum who else was present as she undressed Luke in the front-room and took him, bare-nude, through to the kitchen for a strip-wash by the sink. After toweling him dry, Luke would be led back to the front-room and put into his pyjamas. All very embarrassing when you’re a sixteen year old schoolboy.
Mum had also developed a 'pyjama code' by which Luke came to know how early his punishment bedtime would be. The more childish the pyjamas mum laid out for him the earlier Luke's bedtime. By the time Luke was in his mid to late teens mum had allowed him to wear striped winceyette boy's pyjamas, but if Luke saw his 'Transformer' pyjamas, he knew his bedtime was to be at least an hour earlier; 'Spaceships' and bedtime was earlier still, and so on. If Luke saw his 'Care Bear' or 'Peter Pan' pyjamas, he knew it was to be straight up to bed and no tea. From experience Luke knew it was pointless to protest, on being taken up to beddy-byes, that it was only four-thirty.
When Luke heard about the vacancy at the boys’ swimming club, he was keen to volunteer his services. It was a golden opportunity to do something he wanted to do; something different. Something that didn’t involve being ordered about by mum’s friends and patronised by their daughters. However Luke had a shock when he was told he'd have to undress in front of the young boys aged between twelve and fourteen. Emma, the coach, made it quite clear that showering with the boys was the only way to ensure they washed and rinsed themselves properly. It was important that boys didn’t leave the changing-room smelling of chlorine, Luke was told. The reason for this, Emma explained, was that chlorine damaged the boys clothes if they didn’t shower properly after swimming in the pool. Luke would also have to make sure the boys rinsed their swim-trunks properly in the sinks provided. To set an example Luke would be expected to remove his trunks first and lead the way to the sinks.
As all this was explained, Luke began to have reservations.
It is perhaps understandable that Luke was very conscious of his small penis. He had of course been teased by his classmates at school, but over the years and as they grew up together, everyone accepted 'nobby', giving Luke the sort of ironic nickname of which boys are sometimes capable. It was only when new boys saw Luke's miserable little nubbin, that anything was said. The last thing Luke wanted was to draw attention to himself, so he tried his best to remain on good terms with his contemporaries at school and for the most part it worked. But being told he would have to spend what sounded to be considerable periods of time bare-nude in front of young boys... now that was something altogether different. Luke spent many sleepless night worrying about whether he should volunteer for a job that was bound to bring with it the sort of humiliation he knew from bitter experience was best avoided. In the end though it was mum who made the decision for him.
Luke had been prevaricating, refusing to commit himself whenever Emma asked him if he was going to help out at the club. The boys' swimming club was due to meet again after a break and Emma needed an answer, so she called round to Luke’s house. Before Luke knew what was happening, Emma had explained to his mother how her younger brother Phillip, who everyone knew as ‘Pip’, was a member of the swimming club…
“Pip’s fourteen, nearly fifteen… the oldest boy in the club. He does his best to make sure everyone showers properly after the club meetings… but it really needs an older boy with a bit more authority… Luke would be ideal. When he came to see me he was really keen to help out, but for some reason he seems to be having second thoughts. I’ve no idea why, so I came round to see if I could make him change his mind…”
By this time Luke was standing out of sight in the in the hallway next to the door to the front-room. He was listening with a growing sense of unease. It wasn’t long before Luke heard his mum promise Emma that he would help out at the swimming club. Luke made himself scarce.
As she was escorted to the front door Emma turned and thanked Luke’s mum: “You’ve been so helpful, Mrs Browne. I’m sure Luke will enjoy helping out at the club. Those young boys need someone like Luke to look up to… thanks again.”
The front door closed. Mrs Browne turned and called out: “Luke! Luke! Come here!”
Sheepishly Luke joined mum in the front-room where mum asked him why he’d made such a fuss about helping out “that nice young girl” at the swimming club. In the absence of any explanation, Luke quickly found himself agreeing with mum’s wishes. Ironically enough mum’s reasons were the same as Luke’s when he’d first heard of the job; that it was something different for him to do; that it would give him a break from “all us old folk”; that swimming was something he enjoyed. But what Luke couldn’t tell his mum was the real reason he’d had second thoughts about things and why he’d fought shy about giving Emma and answer.
So it was that Luke, rather against his wishes and certainly against his better judgement, came to help out at the boys' swimming club. As he feared, Luke was teased mercilessly by the boys he was nominally in charge of when they were all in the changing-room. Pip, in particular, thought it was very funny that Luke, in spite of being the oldest, had such a tiny penis. Pip himself, although still without any sign of pubic hair, had an impressively large penis and waggled it in front of Luke at every opportunity. At first the boys simply laughed at Luke's small penis, but soon enough the teasing began. Before long Luke was relying on Pip to keep order in the after club showers. But even as Pip kept the boys under control, Luke could see he was not averse to encouraging the younger boys to tease him. However, when the boys were in the swimming pool training, Pip was careful to give his sister Emma the impression that Luke was the one in charge once the boys were in the changing-room.
Finally the teasing and name-calling became too much and one evening, as we have seen, Luke told his mum why he was so upset. Reluctantly Luke left it up to mum to “see what she could do.” Little did Luke realise mum would decide to make an appointment with Doctor Livesey and what that would involve...