Saturday, 2 April 2016

A Trip to the Doctor’s for Oliver - Part 2


The following story was written by Tom and follows on from Part One posted October 2015.


Back in Doctor Willis's Consulting room...

“Right Mrs Evans,” the doctor began, “firstly I’m happy to say there is nothing medically wrong with Oliver. His pubic hair, from what you tell me, is very sparse for his age, but other than that he seems perfectly healthy, normal young boy in a clinical, medical sense...”

Mrs Evans face showed a mixture of relief as she wondered if it was just Oliver being wilful.

Dr Willis continued, “As you know I've made a bit of a study of this type of problem after one of my own boys had a similar problem. Like Oliver he kept playing with his ‘little friend’ from the age of about 12 or 13 but I'm happy to say, after consulting with many mums at the local mothers’ union, there are a range of measures for controlling this sort of behaviour which all mums have found very effective indeed.”

“In essence, boys in their early teen years can be very furtive and will go to great lengths to play with themselves, many do get unwanted erections but generally even the unwanted ones are not really that unwanted, it’s an opportunity for them to show off that they are becoming men in the most graphic way. This is the sort of behaviour that Oliver, being older, really should have grown out of by now...”

“Having undressed Oliver I note that he was wearing standard schoolboy's white Y fronts, generally these are okay but they don't tend to have any elastic in the legs and can tend to gape at the legs. For a man it’s generally better to have a little freedom of movement so to speak but for boys that movement can cause them to shift around causing them to want to shift their appendages through their trouser pockets which then causes erections.”

“After discussion with the mothers’ union, one Scottish mother mentioned that this problem was often solved by making boys with this problem wear girls knickers. I'm not talking about ordinary knickers here but the type of stout school knickers with firm elasticated cuff legs that I'm sure you and I remember well and are extremely effective at holding boy's appendages firmly in place. In addition to this, they realise they have been put into girls knickers for a reason and this harmless garment alone has transformed an unruly youth into a well behaved and obedient boy pretty much over night all on their own.”

“You see, in Scotland many boys would be dressed in kilts and it was often very expensive to buy matching underpants or “trews” as they were known. Many boys complained they were uncomfortable and many boys experienced “tenting” of their kilts. Mothers soon discovered that a much cheaper alternative which matched the base colour of the kilt and were readily available was girls school knickers with elasticated legs and some bright lady must have realised this also helped significantly with the “tenting problem.” In time this practice spread quickly and it soon became the norm for Scottish boys to wear girls school knickers under their kilts.”

Dr Willis paused to gauge Mrs Evans reaction.

“Why Dr Willis, I never thought it might have been an underwear problem, but now you mention it Oliver was always fiddling with it through his pockets. I had thought it was an entirely wilful display on his part to provoke me and challenge my authority but it is entirely possible you are right, I think I'll give that a try.” Mrs Evans added with some enthusiasm for a potential solution to Oliver's problem, like a light-bulb of insight into the problem.

“Oh Mrs Evans, do call me Hillary, we mothers do have a lot to put up with, perhaps you would consider joining the mothers’ union, we would welcome your input and experiences and I'm sure you would find the other ladies a mine of information and support,” Dr Willis added with a kindly smile.

“ I'm Vera doctor, ahem, Hillary, I'd be delighted to join the mother's union. I'm sure I'll find it most enlightening and a great help. Bringing up teenage boys can be such a burden as I'm sure you are aware,” Vera Evans added with a broad smile of a lady with a weight lifted from her shoulders.

“Well, that's settled then” added Dr Willis, who also smiled broadly, “but I must ask you a little more about Oliver's behaviour after today's “little episode”... is that alright?”

“Why of course doctor, I mean Hillary, ask anything you want...”

“This is slightly delicate, but I'll not beat around the bush as time is pressing. I wonder if you have caught Oliver masturbating at all, or perhaps signs that he is indulging in this terrible habit of self-abuse. I heavily suspect a boy of Oliver's age …...”

Mrs Evans interjected, “you don't need to say any more, Hillary. Really, I'm at my wit's end with Oliver. I know he was playing with himself when he was 14 going on 15... I very nearly let him move up to long trousers as he was doing well at school and was generally well behaved, but one morning whilst making his bed I came across stains on the sheets of a rather sticky nature.”

Vera Evans paused but received a knowing pat on her knee from Dr Willis and Vera Evans continued: “As you can imagine I was outraged and disgusted, so when Oliver returned from school I confronted him with the evidence, he initially denied knowing anything about it of course but as he couldn't think how else the stains got there he quickly had to confess. I told Oliver there and then I would not tolerate such behaviour in my house and that it was the typical act of a naughty little boy and if he wanted to act like one then his punishment would be to be treated like one…”

“... I immediately stripped him and dressed him myself in his old school uniform from the year before which included his school shorts with knee socks and junior boy’s underpants, vest and T-bar school sandals. What's more, he was informed that until such time as he had proven he could act as an adult he would wear that uniform until I was satisfied he was cured of his obsessive, childish desire to masturbate…”

“... however Hillary, although Oliver has tried to hide his filthy habit, it saddens me to say that quite often I've found tissues stuffed down the back of the bed and he regularly keeps fiddling with himself at other times... he even seems quite happy to do so in public. Why sometimes I've never felt so ashamed... and if I'm going to be shamed in public then I see no reason why Oliver shouldn't be until he learns to grow up,” Mrs Evans said with a degree of desperation in her voice.”

Dr Willis listened intently to the account of the distress Oliver had caused his poor long suffering mother. Initially she had felt a deal of sympathy with Oliver's predicament but after listening to the heart-rending story of a mother at the end of her tether, Dr Willis knew she had to offer Dr Willis all the help she possibly could.

“Vera, it sounds as if Oliver is playing with himself regularly. So, to cut a long story short, I'm going to recommend Mrs Karen Holmes to you. She has a small dressmaking business in the town but has often helped the mothers’ union with the sort of problems that Oliver and sadly a number of other boys in the town are prone to. Karen will happily give you a free consultation on the problems you are having with Oliver and can provide a bespoke suite of problem solutions that many mothers in the town say are the most effective around. Here's her card. When you go, feel free to take Oliver with you. In the front of the shop her daughter Jenny frequently serves, just ask Jenny if you and Oliver can have a consultation in private.”

Dr Willis pressed the business card firmly into Vera Evan's hands and with a smile and added: “Please feel free to come back and see me after a month with Oliver to see how he's getting along. I like to stay involved with these cases and I can't ask Karen to give me any details as it would break patient confidentiality so I'll have to ask you and Oliver to update me. See the receptionist and make another appointment on your way out...” she paused before adding, “Don't worry, Vera, between us we'll soon have Oliver cured of his naughty little habit.”

With a broad smile on both their faces, the two ladies parted; Vera Evans happy that a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and Dr Willis felt she had really helped Mrs Evans and young Oliver... although he didn't know it yet


Meanwhile in the Waiting Room…

Oliver's heart had been put through the wringer, he was quite exhausted from the embarrassment of the doctor's surgery and the array of eyes on his smooth legs around the waiting room and the near constant glances with a knowing smile from the young receptionist just a few feet away.

Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin when the warm hand of the girl next to him dropped onto his upper thigh.

“It’s Oliver isn't it? I nearly didn't recognise you in your lovely shorts... You know me don't you” the girl added with a broad smile as Oliver looked up in shock.

“Ummmm, I'm not sure I....errr, think, I errr…” Oliver stammered, blushing profusely to a shade of crimson hitherto unknown as the girl smiled back at him, still stroking his leg rather too close to his groin.

“It’s Emily... you know me, of course you do! I'm a couple of years below you at school,” she added with a light squeeze of Oliver's thigh, “you're in the Sixth Form aren't you?”

“...umm, er, well, that is...I, err Y..Y, Yes,” Oliver stammered.

“I thought so!” Emily squealed in delight, drawing attention to herself and all the others in the room. The receptionist’s ears pricked up immediately and it was obvious she couldn't wait to hear what was coming next.

“My you do look nice in your school uniform... and these lovely shorts... I didn't know boys in the Sixth Form still wore short trousers… but you have such nice smooth legs Oliver...” Emily added, hardly suppressing the glee in her voice as she continued to stroke Oliver’s bare thighs.

Oliver was left speechless and gawping like a fish.

Emily smiled sweetly and continued: “Why are you wearing your school uniform during the school holidays, Oliver... and why are you wearing those lovely short trousers? Do you like to show off your legs when you dress up smartly, is that it?” With furrowed brow Emily, as if deep in thought added, “Well I think it’s very brave of you to wear short trousers and your school uniform in the holidays when you don’t have to. It’s nice to see such a smartly dressed boy... so much better than the scruffs you often see outside of school with dirty jeans, I'm very impressed with you...”

Oliver could feel everyone in the room lean in to listen, the silence was electric, not that Emily appeared to notice as she patted Oliver's thigh, looking expectantly, as did the receptionist and the rest of the waiting room for his answer.

“I… I… er, don’t wear short trousers to school,” Oliver said, trying to make it sound like an act of defiance: as if it was his choice to go to school in longs.

Emily looked up and looked straight into Oliver’s eyes: “... but that’s not what I asked, is it Oliver?”

Oliver felt even more uncomfortable than ever and squirmed in his seat as Emily continued her questioning. He had little choice but to blurt out: “Mum… er, Mummy… that is… likes me to be smart when I see the doctor… and it’s, er… um… easier if I’m wearing… my short… er, that’s why… um short trousers…”

Emily smiled pleasantly at Oliver’s evident embarrassment and was about to ask the Six Former whether that meant he had to undress for the doctor when a voice came over the Tannoy:

“Oliver Evans to Dr Willis please.”

Oliver jumped up as if he'd been touched with a cattle prod but stood transfixed; the hell of the waiting room or Dr Willis. It was not much of a choice… either way he hoped the ground would swallow him up.

“Off you go, Oliver… mustn’t keep the doctor waiting,” Emily said, quickly patting Oliver on his bottom like a small boy who needed encouragement.

Oliver bolted like a startled stallion towards Dr Willis's Consulting Room. He started to panic. Would Emily tell the other boys at school he had to wear school uniform out of school and with junior boys short trousers? He'd never live it down. Then he almost began to hyperventilate as he wondered what on earth was Dr Willis wanted him for now?

Oliver tapped lightly on the door.

“Come in, Oliver...” Dr Willis called.

Nervously Oliver went through the door and saw his mum sat chatting with Dr Willis.

“Come right in and stand here next to me Oliver, I've a few things to tell you,” Dr Willis said breezily.

Oliver did as he was told and the doctor continued: “That's it... now, after your examination I'm pleased to say that you don’t have anything medically wrong with you, but I am concerned that you do have certain behavioural issues that need to be addressed and about which I’ve discussed with your mother...”

Oliver stared blankly at Dr Willis with a deep feeling of dread as she continued:

“The good news is that there is plenty of help I can provide with your little... difficulties, Oliver and I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that. I've given your mother the name of a lady who can help you deal with these issues... There’s no need to worry, quite a few boys of your age have troublesome erections and like to play with their little toy… their, ahem, winkies...”

Oliver, made to feel like a little boy, was wide eyed at what he was hearing but Dr Willis continued:

“...but we'll soon have all that under control... I'll see you in a month and we’ll give you a check-up to see how you are getting along… you might even be ready for the next part of your treatment. Is there anything you'd like to say?” Dr Willis enquired.

Oliver looked like a gawping fish out of water again, bright red in the face and fiddling with the hem of his junior shorts. He wanted to speak but just couldn't form the words.

“Well that's settled then... I have to say that your mother was quite right to bring you in to see me,” Dr Willis concluded, “Mummy obviously cares deeply about your moral welfare and she does dress you very smartly. You do look very nice indeed in your school uniform and short trousers. It’s such a shame that more mothers don't take the same sort of care with their son's appearance. Shorts are so practical for growing boys,” Dr Willis added with a little pat on Oliver's bare leg.

“Right, well thank you very much indeed Dr Willis, I'll sort out your recommendations immediately, we may as well strike while the iron is hot so to speak… Come along, Oliver,” Mrs Evans added as a parting thank you and stood up to take Oliver's hand.

Oliver knew better than to cause trouble as his mother held his hand tightly as they left the surgery and walked back into the waiting room with butterfly's running through his stomach as he spotted Emily wide eyed at Oliver led by his mum's hand to the reception desk.

The receptionist, still somewhat surprised at the sight of the tall seventeen year old dressed in his school uniform and junior boy’s short trousers, found it hard to disguise a smirk behind her broad smile.

“Oliver, ask the nice lady to make you another appointment to see Dr Willis in a month's time,” Mrs Evans instructed.

“Em, please Mi...mi....Miss, can I have another appointment with Dr Willis in about a month please” Oliver said, still beetroot red and  knowing Emily was watching his every move behind him.

“Certainly Oliver,” the receptionist replied as she looked at the appointment diary, “Now let me see… what is the appointment for Oliver? only I have to make a note for the doctor…”

Oliver blushed fire-engine red. He knew the Emily for one was bound to be listening, eager to find out why Oliver had been to see Dr Willis. He glanced at his mother as if to ask whether he had to answer the question.

“Come along, Oliver, answer the lady… or would you like me to explain?” mum said.

Fearing his mother’s voice being heard by everyone in the waiting room, Oliver quickly told the receptionist: “I… er Dr Willis… It’s for my… my pe… my thing…” He fell silent and then, in a very quiet voice, added: “ winky…”

Mum felt that she should explain for the benefit of the receptionist: “Oliver’s been having problems with his little winky… Dr Willis called them troublesome erections and you know what boys are like… they think it means they can play with themselves… The doctor understands I can’t have Oliver playing with his little winky all the time and making a mess everywhere…”

Oliver was horrified to stand there listening to his mother… and what’s more he could see Emily sat only a few feet away listening to every word as well!!

Finally the receptionist was able get Oliver booked in: “Don't worry, Oliver, Dr Willis will sort out your little problem… she’s very experience in dealing with boys with similar problems… oh, and I see she's just enrolled you on the program, aren't you a lucky boy? Now let’s see Tuesday 23rd at 2pm… will that be okay?”

Oliver looked at his mum who nodded in approval.

“Yes thank you, miss,” Oliver whispered.

“I can’t let you go without saying how nice it is to see such a smart young boy like you, Oliver, dressed in proper short trousers…” the receptionist said as Oliver prepared to leave the doctor’s thinking his humiliation was over. He muttered a barely audible ‘thank you’ under his breath.

“Don't mumble Oliver,” Mrs Evans said in a clear voice that everyone could hear, “what have I told you about thanking ladies when they give you a compliment?”

Oliver hung his head in disgrace as he realised his ordeal at the doctor’s was still not over.

“I’m sorry miss,” Oliver apologised, “Thank you very much indeed for your compliment on my school uniform,” he added cringing as he knew Emily could hear everything he said.

“Oh, Oliver, that's perfectly alright,” the receptionist smiled, “It’s just that it’s so lovely to see and older boy like you dressed in short trousers these days. Short trousers are so much better for growing boys... and they don't grow out of them anywhere near as quickly as longs and no knees to wear out either as well as plenty fresh air to the legs. So much more healthy I think; you're a real credit to your mummy!”

Mrs Evans blushed with pride while Oliver felt that today he had landed in hell and it wasn't over yet he feared. Mrs Evans pulled Oliver away and towards the door where young Emily sat.

“Bye-bye, Oliver,” Emily said as he passed, “It was really nice to see you today. You do look very smart in your school uniform and short trousers... See you back at school next term...” she added as her eyes wandered down from Oliver's face to fix her gaze on the well filled shorts and Oliver's long smooth thighs.

“And who is this delightful young lady, Oliver?” Mrs Evans enquired, “do you know her?”

“Ahem, yes m, mu...mummy, this is Emily, she goes to my school,” Oliver answered.

“... and what do we say when we get a compliment Oliver…?” Mrs Evans added sternly, clearly exasperated at having to remind her son yet again how to behave.

Oliver rolled his eyes thinking his mother hadn’t seen. However, he should have known mum had eyes in the back of her head.

“Don't you roll your eyes like that young man!” and before Oliver knew what had happened three very sharp, stinging smacks had landed on his left thigh. Oliver was startled and tried to pull away but was dragged back with tears welling up in his eyes.

“Now what do you have to say Oliver and be quick about it!” Mrs Evans further admonished him.

“Emily, thank… thank you very much for the compliment,” Oliver, tears streaming down his face and with a big red patch starting to form on the top of his left thigh, said to Emily as she sat, barely able to take in what had just happened to the Sixth Form boy right in front of her.

Before Emily could regain her composure Mrs Evans had dragged Oliver out of the waiting room back into the street where the cool afternoon air immediately became apparent to Oliver's thighs.


Oliver followed alongside his mother, head bowed against the strong early autumn breeze, ever conscious of the cold air that seemed ever more apparent since his thighs had been warmed. Straggling two steps behind his mother thinking over the terrible embarrassments he has suffered at the doctor's and wondering what on earth the doctor wanted to see him about in a month's time. All he knew was that something was going on and that it was likely to involve him in further cringing humiliation. Couldn't his mother see he was a nearly a grown-up and already a Sixth Former! To most mothers that's a time when boys don't get treated... well like boys! It’s so unfair he thought!

“Do hurry up, Oliver, we haven't got all day,” mum said as she yanked Oliver's hand and pulled him along, “I really don't know why you are being so petulant Oliver, you know EXACTLY why I had to take you to the doctor's, how else are we going to cure you of that filthy habit of yours? Self-abuse isn’t funny… I saw you sniggering!”

Oliver looked up aghast, just as two mature ladies past, who obviously heard Oliver's admonishment and gave him a ‘disgusted look’ that cut right through him.

“I wasn’t, mummy… I wasn’t laughing, mummy,” Oliver protested.

The two ladies merely ‘tut-tutted’ at his juvenile behaviour, which made Oliver feel even worse. Then one of them said to the other: “... and kept in short trousers too… that little boy ought to know better… playing with himself… the very idea!”

If Mrs Evans heard these exchanges, she was hardly bothered as she pulled out the business card Dr Willis had given her. ‘Karen Holmes Dressmaking and Bridal Wear, 42 Bridge Street’ was printed on the card in a decorative typeface.

Mrs Evans held Oliver’s hand tightly as the two of them turned into Bridge Street. They walked past a few other shops before Mrs Evans spotted the sign above Karen Holmes’ dressmaking establishment. She stopped to double check they were at the right place as Oliver stared through the window of the shop. A girl stood behind the counter who was certainly no older than twenty. The girl looked slightly bored. Oliver saw another older lady, who he guessed to be about forty, who was packaging up a small parcel for a customer.

With a jolt mum pulled Oliver's arm again as she dragged him through the door. The loud tinkle of the shop bell sounded as they entered. Both the lady and the girl turned and looked towards the door.

“Good afternoon madam,” the older lady said.

The younger girl took in the sight of Oliver who stood sheepishly, head bowed, still holding his mother's hand and staring at his T-bar school sandals. Oliver’s cheeks were flushed red to match the colour of his recently smacked upper thighs.

“Good afternoon, I've just been to see Dr Willis who recommended I come to seek a consultation with a Mrs Karen Holmes… it’s with regard to my son, Oliver here,” Mrs Evans explained, “Are you Mrs Holmes by any chance?”

“Em, no madam, Mrs Holmes keeps the offices through the back of the shop. If you would give me a moment I’ll see if she's free.” With that the older lady disappeared to the rear of the shop. The young assistant, a tallish attractive girl, continued to stare at Oliver. Her eyes wandered up and down, taking in every detail of Oliver’s school uniform which made him feel very nervous indeed. When the girl’s eyes focussed on Oliver’s bare thighs it made him want to run from the shop before anything else happened to humiliate him.

After what seemed like an age to Oliver two ladies appeared. The second lady, a somewhat stout late middle aged woman with a rather jolly demeanour was wearing a knee-length tweed skirt and a merino wool cardigan, with her hair neatly done in a tight bun.

“Good afternoon, madam” Karen Holmes introduced herself, “I believe Dr Willis has sent you to see me regarding your, er boy, here...” As Karen took in the sight of the rather tall boy neatly dressed in his school uniform... his junior school uniform, complete with his very short short trousers, neatly pressed and his tan T-bar sandals.

“My, he does look very smart indeed... a real credit to you Mrs er...?”

“Evans, Vera Evans, and this is my rather naughty son Oliver,” Mrs Evans said introducing herself.

“I'm very pleased to meet you Mrs Evans,” Karen Holmes replied as she looked Oliver up and down, “Yes, he looks a real credit to you. It’s so nice to see boys smartly dressed and in that regard there is nothing smarter than a proper school uniform, with of course, short trousers. Short trousers are both practical and healthy for boys and it does stop them getting too many grown up ideas about themselves doesn't it?”

Mrs Evans positively glowed with the praise heaped upon her: “You are so right Mrs Holmes. Short trousers are much smarter and as you say young boys today seem to think they are so grown up... well in my opinion there's nothing like short trousers for reminding boys they are still only boys and not men. Men don't go to school do they? But boys do... and boys should wear short trousers and there's an end to it in my opinion.”

“Mrs Evans, I really couldn't agree with you more on that topic. I can see we are of one mind in that regard. Would you like to come through to my consulting rooms? It might be best initially if Oliver waited here.”

“Of course Mrs Holmes... and please do call me Vera,” Mrs Evans turned to Oliver and changing the tone of her voice, spoke to her son. Addressing him firmly she ordered him to “...go and stand in the corner over there with your hands behind your back... and don't you dare move until I come back. Is that clear?”

Oliver blushed as he replied: “Yes, mummy…”

Under the gaze of Mrs Holmes and the wide eyed young girl assistant, Oliver slunk off, head bowed, face flushed and on the edge of tears, to the corner of the room. At least he thought he wouldn't have to face the girl staring at him.

Mrs Holmes turned to her daughter “Helen, I think it’s time you changed. You know we are going to the school tonight to see the Sixth Form tutor about your A levels for next year. I want to see you in full school uniform in precisely one hours time.”

“Yes mum” the slightly crestfallen girl responded, knowing better than to answer back

“Right, Vera, please follow me… Oh and please… do call me Karen,” Mrs Holmes said as she led the way. The two ladies proceeded to the rear of the shop, through the cutting room and into a small but comfortable office.

“Perhaps we could start with the reason for your referral to me, Vera and we'll take it from there,” Mrs Holmes suggested.

“Well, it’s er, difficult to know where to start,” Vera Evans said as she braced herself. Then, taking a deep breath, she continued, “Oliver seems to have a problem controlling his err, penis,” she said and paused.

“Vera, you shouldn’t worry about offending me. I've heard many a tale that would make your hair curl about naughty boys and what they get up to, so there's no need to pick and chose your words for fear of shocking me... please do continue.”

Vera Evans, reassured, continued: “Well, as I said, Oliver seems to have a great deal of trouble controlling his penis. He keeps getting erections all the time and it seems to me that he's just showing off or deliberately trying to offend or disobey me. For example, just the other day we were visiting a friend’s house. Oliver was playing with my friend's son and for no reason at all that I can fathom his winky went very stiff inside in play rompers and was, well, leaking if I could put it that way...”

“Naturally I admonished him in the strongest terms,” Vera Evans continued, “I gave him a good leg slapping as well... but did it make any difference? No, winky was still as stiff as a board! Well, I could hardly let that sort of disobedience go unchallenged and I stripped his rompers off him and gave him a good thrashing with a discipline strap, but even after that winky barely subsided. The poor lady who I was visiting had to put up with the frightful sight of Oliver waving his winky around right in front of her... It’s as if the boy has no shame at all!”

Vera Evans paused, somewhat exasperated and clearly approaching the end of her tether.

“I see...” Karen Holmes sympathised, “Sadly this is an all too common tale in young boys. May I ask how old is Oliver?”

“He's seventeen now, but he'll be eighteen in three months time. I really don't know what to do with him… He’ll be eighteen and he’ll still be playing with his winky… what am I to do with him?” Vera Evans said, shaking her head in disbelief that Oliver could be so wilful.

“I see…” Karen Holmes said, “Yes… seventeen... that really is an age by which a boy should be able to control himself. This sort of behaviour is more common in boys of thirteen to fourteen… boys going through the early stages of puberty. But you’ve done the right thing bringing Oliver to me, Vera. Not to worry though... we'll get Oliver’s little problem under control eventually, but it may take time.”

“May I ask, do you know if Oliver deliberately plays with himself… I mean does he masturbate?” Karen Holmes asked and when she saw Vera Evans hesitate, she continued, “Experience tells me that boys are almost certainly secretly masturbating if you notice any of the following signs… Is he spending too long a time in the shower or bath? Or maybe you’ve found tell-tale stains on his bedding or his bed clothes? Do you check the front of pyjamas for dampness? Have you found sticky tissues hidden in his bedroom?” Karen enquired, placing a knowing hand on Vera's knee.

“Well, Karen, one thing’s for certain,” Vera replied, “I can assure you Oliver doesn't play with himself in the bath. All his bath-times are strictly supervised, but I have to say that I have seen on a couple of occasions large sticky stains all over his pyjamas and bedding. You can be sure Oliver received a very stern lecture from me on the moral hazards of, er playing with himself…  and obviously a good thrashing…”

“It was at a time when I was giving serious consideration to allowing Oliver to wear long trousers on special occasions out of school… you know of course that Oliver has to wear longs to school now he is in the Sixth Form, although he changes out of them the minute he come home. However, as he was obviously intent on acting like a naughty little boy, I decided that he should continue to be kept in short trousers while he behaved like a little boy.”

“I made sure I gave Oliver regular pyjama inspections every morning and he stood by his bed while I examined the sheets. He didn't make the same mistake again, but a few weeks later I found some sticky tissues inside his bedside drawer and it was evident he was up to his tricks again. At that point I decided that he was going to continue acting like a naughty little boy then the whole world should see him as such…”

“What did you do?” Karen asked.

“I bought him a full junior boy's school uniform and told him that he would have to wear it in public to remind him of what a naughty little boy he was. Why, I even bought him some infants school shorts… you know the ones I mean; pull-ups with a fully elasticated waist, when I discovered he'd been at it… playing with himself again!”

Vera Evans was clearly both agitated and exasperated by Oliver's wilful refusal to stop playing with himself and to act his age.

Karen Holmes had heard similar tales all too often. Naughty boys seemed to be the same the world over and needed the strictest guidance through their formative years.

“Let me reassure you, Vera,” she said, “You’ve done the right things insofar as you have been able and it’s clear you’ve gone to a lot of trouble and expense to help Oliver desist from practicing his naughty habit... but it would seem the shame of being seen in public dressed as a junior schoolboy has not been enough to dissuade Oliver of the error of his ways. It would appear that we'll have to take more drastic action and no doubt that's why Dr Willis has referred you to me...”

“... and let me say that you’ve come to the right place. Over a number of years... and acting on feedback from concerned mother's and of course the mother's union, we have tried many methods but we now think we have found a fool proof method of stopping naughty boys from playing with themselves. Years ago we tried the old methods, like making the boy wear boxing gloves, but, would you believe it, some boys managed to get round that by getting their winky out of their pyjamas and holding a milk bottle to pleasure themselves. Some mothers reported that their boys wet the bed, or that they made a frightful mess in the bathroom because they were unable to hold their penis and point it at the toilet properly…”

“Other mums were woken up in the night to take the boy to the bathroom and hold his winky while he pees, which obviously is not what any mum wants. Obviously preventing a boy from holding his winky had it down sides, some mums resorted to rubber sheets but most quickly realised that nappies and rubber pants solved the problem. Several mums found that the boxing gloves were stopping the boys from sleeping properly or even blowing their nose during the night if required as well as the inability to scratch a legitimate itch. Mums also noted that when boys found it difficult to sleep it interfered with their schooling and this was obviously highly undesirable…”

“Most mums found that the nappies and rubber or plastic pants worked very well, but obviously naughty boys could just take them down in the night and then pull them back up again, so they weren’t very secure just by themselves. Some mums used baby monitors but that really only works if they make a lot of noise and of course they can sneak out of the room… But rather than describe the solution, why don't I show you?”

Vera Evans could tell that Karen Holmes was an expert in her field as she followed Karen from the small office back through the cutting room into a small anteroom. Vera Evans’ jaw just about fell off, never mind dropped, there were plastic pants, nappies and rubber pants of all sizes and descriptions.

“Here we are Vera, this is the type of thing right here,” Karen said as she picked up a pair of heavy duty milky white plastic pants and laid them on the table in front of them. “Now, these are not just ordinary plastic pants you would get from the chemist, although you may struggle to get them in Oliver's size, you'll notice they are very thick, here, feel them...” and she passed another pair to Vera Evans

“They certainly are heavy duty,” Mrs Evans exclaimed as she pulled then this way and that, testing the leg elastic, waist elastic and tried, in vain, to pull the side seams apart.

“You'll notice a very high ‘rustle’ factor of the material... nice and loud,” Karen explained.

“Well yes, but...” Mrs Evans started.

“But how will these put an end to Oliver's disgusting little habit you are thinking?” interrupted Karen Holmes.

“Yes... exactly, Karen. Can he...” Mrs Evans continued but was cut short again.

“Let me show you how we arrive at the finished product… Firstly we take an unaltered pair, so... we make a small incision in the waistband, thus... so that we can get a hold of the elastic. We attach a length of this fine but extremely strong chain. We clip it to the elastic and then rotate the elastic through the waistband until the chain is fully threaded like so. After that we have elastic in the waist to hold them in place as normal but once on, the chain can be secured with this small barrel lock arrangement riveted to one end and this clip on the other end...”

Mrs Evans witnessed the conversion in just a few minutes into a very secure adjustable waist closure which prevented even the naughtiest boy from removing the plastic pants.

“...and there you go” Karen Holmes finished with a flourish as the lock quickly snapped into place with a light click, “Now without this key they will have to be cut off!”

Vera Evans was clearly amazed and impressed at the thought that Karen and the mother's union had put into their novel solution. As Vera was drinking in the neatness of the solution when Karen continued:

“You may be thinking the naughty boy could slip his winky out of the leg holes, not so! We did originally put chain in those as well but it was tending to cut into the boy's leg. We found that requesting the manufacturer to use a heavy grade elastic with a limited maximum stretch was sufficient, even if they could get part of it out of the pants it was simply just too difficult and painful,” Karen Holmes added as she beamed with enthusiasm for her miracle invention.

She continued: “and that's not all the naughty boys have to contend with! We originally used nappy towelling squares to pin on the boys but this did place quite a burden of time on mother's so we invented the nappy pants or trainer pants. These pants are made from the thickest Egyptian cotton towelling, double thickness and cut to the same shape as the plastic pants, with strong elastic in both the waist and the legs and covered with a protective binding as you can see and covered in an additional plastic exterior lining.”

Karen Holmes held up an example and passed a pair to Vera Evans to examine.

“These wonderful pants are simply brilliant,” Karen continued, “Firstly they are extremely absorbent, therefore the naughty boy can use them as a nappy during the night which means mum doesn't need to have her sleep interrupted. Secondly, the additional leg elastic in these pants, combined with the outer pair of lockable plastic pants make it pretty much impossible for any boy to get his naughty winky out. Thirdly, by ensuring the outer pair of plastic pants are a close fit it's impossible, if they do get an erection, for them to be able to grip their winky through the two layers of slippery plastic and the thickness of the two layers of extra thick towelling. Hey presto, problem solved!”

Vera Evans had witnessed an epiphany and was positively glowing, “Wow Karen, I'm so impressed, you have thought of everything!” she cooed.

“Well, if you are happy, let's get Oliver in for a fitting shall we?” Karen suggested.

Part Three can be found here

1 comment:

  1. Enjoying this well worth the wait.
    let go on to the next chapter

    regards Stephen