Robin: Part 6

Veronica walked briskly along Lockton High Street in the direction of her mother’s shop.  There was a definite spring in her step as she thought about the two boys, Robin and Harold, she had left at her friend Carol’s house. Veronica smiled as she marvelled at the way Carol had managed to engineer events so the boys were left standing fully nude in front of the two young Girl Guides, Heather and Shirley. But it has to be said that both Veronica and Carol usually succeeded in making the most of their opportunities to embarrass boys.

The biggest reward Veronica had in return for helping out at her mother’s shop, ‘Lockton Boys’ Outfitters’, was that she was blest with ample opportunities for seeing red-faced boys. Young and not-so-young boys were often scolded by their mothers right in front of her for misbehaving or making a fuss when being fitted for a new school uniform, play-clothes, PE kit, or measured for some nice new cosy boy’s pyjamas.

Veronica’s mother always insisted boys be measured up and fitted properly with whatever new item of apparel that had been requested by her customers. Her professional pride demanded this and her reputation was founded on such high standards. This could prove highly embarrassing for a boy, whether old or young, first former or sixth former, or indeed a school-leaver who was still living at home and thus expected to abide by his mother’s rules.

There was a small fitting-room in the shop, but it was never used. If the curious customer ever peeked behind the thin curtain they would see the fitting-room had long been given over to storage. The lack of a fitting-room hardly mattered though, since it was after all only boys who might be glimpsed in the shop in a state of partial, or even full undress, and nobody minded about that… except the boys!

Veronica turned a corner just in time to see Mrs Darnley walking towards her from the other end of the street. Veronica was only a few steps away from her mum’s shop, whereas Mrs Darnley was three or four doors away. But it was clear that she too was headed for the boys’ outfitters as she was holding the hand of her young son, Leslie. Leslie did not look at all happy and Veronica guessed that Mrs Darnley might already have had ‘words’ with her son. As they drew closer Veronica could see the tell-tale signs of redness around Leslie’s eyes and a quick glance downwards told the rest of the story. There were a couple of red smack-marks just visible at the top of Leslie’s bare thighs.

“Whatever gave you the idea you’d be going back to school in long trousers, Leslie?!” Mrs Darnley said as she tugged at her son’s arm, “Did you expect me to give you permission to wear long trousers to school? Was that it?” Mrs Darnley shook her son’s arm, “Answer me! Come on! I want an answer, Leslie!”

There could be little doubt Leslie’s mum was in a frightful wax over her son’s willful misbehaviour. Veronica had no idea what the details were, or what Leslie had done to deserve his mother’s wrath, but she did know how old Leslie was and that he was about to enter the Fifth Form at his school. From what she’d heard just then, Veronica also knew that when Leslie returned to school he would undoubtedly be the only boy in short trousers in the Fifth Form. Veronica was familiar enough with the uniform regulations of Lockton Grammar School for Boys to know that short trousers were only compulsory wear for boys in the First and Second Forms. She also knew there was no restriction that prevented boys from being sent to school wearing short trousers in whatever school year they happened to be attending. So it was perfectly in order for Mrs Darnley to send Leslie to school wearing short trousers even though he was fifteen years old.

Leslie mumbled something about being in the Fifth Form and how he “just thought that…” and how “everyone wears longs…” and “all the other boys say that short trousers are…”, but whatever he said simply made matters worse.

“I’ve not the slightest interest in what other boys say… If you think I’m going to let you go to school dressed like a… like a long-haired juvenile delinquent, you’d better think again!” Mrs Darnley responded.

Veronica stood to one side of the doorway to her mother’s shop and waited for the Darnleys. She could hardly believe her luck. Fancy walking into this, she thought. Mrs Darnley tearing a strip off Leslie as they walked down the street… and what was in the bag that Mrs Darnley was carrying, she wondered?

“Good morning, Mrs Darnley… Good morning, Leslie,” Veronica said politely before adding, “After you, Mrs Darnley…”

Mrs Darnley let go of her son’s hand, thanked Veronica and moved to open the shop door. When Leslie unthinkingly followed his mother she turned and snapped: “Leslie! Manners! Let the young lady go first!”

“Sorry, mummy…” Leslie replied with head bowed.

“You will be before much longer if you continue with this sort of behaviour,” Mrs Darnley replied ominously.

The shop bell tinkled as they all entered the outfitters. Mrs Cathcart, Veronica’s mum, was busy arranging the window display and had opened two of the panels that formed the partition between the shop window display area and the rest of the shop. Normally the panels would all be closed to form a backdrop to the window display and at the same time prevent the prying eyes of curious passersby from seeing into the shop.

Mrs Cathcart stepped out of the window and greeted her customers: “Well this is a surprise, Leslie! Two visits in one week… and you’ve brought your mother along too this time,” she said and turned to face Leslie’s mother, seemingly oblivious to Mrs Darnley’s obvious annoyance with her son, “What can I do for you today, Mrs Darnley?” Veronica’s mother asked politely.

In answer Leslie’s mother plonked the bag she’d been carrying on the counter: “Would you mind looking inside this bag and telling me what you find and how it came to be in my son’s possession?”

“Please, mummy…” Leslie whinned. It was clear he was deeply embarrassed.

“Be quiet, Leslie,” his mother said firmly.

Veronica’s intuition had already led her to guess what the bag contained and she watched eagerly as her mother opened and peered into the bag. Her assumption was correct.

“It’s a pair of boy’s school trousers,” Mrs Cathcart said as she slowly drew the garment out of the bag rather like a conjuror, “... a pair of boy’s long school trousers,” she added.

“And what might they might they be doing in my son’s possession?” Leslie’s mother asked.

“Why… because you bought them for him to wear to school now he is about to enter the Fifth Form,” Mrs Cathcart explained, albeit with a slightly puzzled look on her face as if the answer to Mrs Darnley’s question had been plainly obvious.

“I!! I!!” Mrs Darnley thundered in a voice not dissimilar to that of Dame Edith Evans in the role of Lady Bracknell, “I made no such purchase for my son… the very idea of him wearing long trousers is altogether preposterous… Leslie is only fifteen years old!”

Veronica’s mother smiled, quite unperturbed: “There must be some misunderstanding… Leslie came into my shop… let me see now, was it Tuesday or Wednesday, Leslie?”

Leslie hung his head in shame, but managed to croak out the words: “Tuesday, Mrs Cathcart.”

“Ah yes, Tuesday it was… now just let me look in my stock-book,” Veronica’s mother opened a ledger and ran the rubber-tipped top of a pencil down one of the columns, “Yes, here we are, ‘one pair boy’s black school trousers (long) on account, Mrs...”

Mrs Darnley interrupted: “But I made no such purchase… I thought I made that plain a moment ago...”

“Perhaps I should explain that your son made the purchase on your behalf… one pair of school trousers, long. When he came into my shop he explained that as he would be starting in the Fifth Form he required a pair of long trousers and that you, Mrs Darnley, had agreed that long trousers would be more suitable for him to wear…”

Mrs Darnley turned to her son as Veronica watched and waited for the scolding Leslie was bound to receive.

“Do you mean to tell me you came into this shop and deliberately LIED to Mrs Cathcart?!” Mrs Darnley thundered.

“I… I… thought… I thought you would let me go to school in longs…” Leslie said, his voice cracking under the strain. It was somewhat disingenuous of Leslie to say this since he knew perfectly well his mother’s views that long trousers were a privilege, one that he would be unlikely to be rewarded with while still at school. It mattered not one jot to Mrs Darnley that other boys at her son’s school wore long trousers. She knew what was best for Leslie and it was her intention to keep him in short trousers. As his mother was seemingly oblivious to his mortification in wearing short trousers, Leslie concocted a plan whereby he would obtain a pair of long trousers which he would change into on his way to school and change out of on his way home. Except he never had the chance to implement his plan when his mother found the pair of long trousers, Leslie’s ‘secret trousers’.

“Whatever gave you that ridiculous idea?!”

“I… I’d only wear them… er, longs... to school, mummy…” Leslie answered quite truthfully, since it was part of his plan of deception!

“That is beside the point… I have already explained to you that I do not intend to see you turn into one of those delinquents with greasy hair we see skulking about in coffee bars listening to that dreadful noise...”

“I think we are rather getting off the point, Mrs Darnley…” Mrs Cathcart said, “I would never have allowed Leslie to leave my shop with a pair of boy’s long trousers if I’d known you intended to keep your son in shorts. Leslie was most insistent that… but, if you… no, I think it’s becoming clear… Leslie did offer to pay for the long trousers rather than put them on your account, which at the time I did think unusual…”

“And just how were you proposing to pay Mrs Cathcart?” Mrs Darnley asked her son.

“With my pocket money, mummy… I’ve been saving a bit each week,” Leslie explained.

“... but I’m afraid it wasn’t quite enough, was it Leslie?” Veronica’s mother said to Leslie before she continued with her explanation to his mother, “I could see how disappointed Leslie was and he was obviously so looking forward to wearing his first pair of longs…”

“... that you charged them to my account?” Mrs Darnley said and sighed, “Well, I can’t say that I blame you, Mrs Cathcart. Leslie can be very persuasive... But what are we to do? The long trousers are of no use to my son… perhaps you might know of some more deserving boy who would make proper use of them? I can hardly ask you to take them back… Leslie will have to find a way of paying whatever he owes you…”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Veronica chipped in and when her mother and Mrs Darnley asked to hear what it was, she explained, “I know that Leslie has been very naughty and should really save up and pay what he owes, but I couldn’t help thinking whether there might not be another way of him settling the debt. What about if Leslie comes and helps out in the shop?”

“Help out? In what way?” Mrs Cathcart asked her daughter.

“I was thinking that Leslie might be able to act as a sort of mannequin… you know, wear some of the play-outfits we stock… that sort of thing. He could wear different outfits and once word gets around, customers might call in just to see what Leslie was wearing…”

“... you might even get one or two suggestions from my friends,” Mrs Darnley said with a smile, “I think it’s an excellent idea, Veronica. What do you think, Mrs Cathcart?”

“I think Veronica has a point. Anything that gets customers into the shop is a good thing as far as I’m concerned,” she replied.

At no time was Leslie’s opinion sought and if he had the slightest inkling of what else was going through Veronica’s mind, he might just have found the courage to say something. As it was Leslie imagined he’d be made to wear his school uniform, or perhaps a pair of shortalls, of maybe even a tailored short-trouser suit.

Veronica continued: “I was also thinking how useful it would be to have Leslie to model… well, for instance, this year’s range of boy’s swim-trunks…”

“Yes, why not… I’m sure I could have sold more pairs of those new-style trunks if mums had seen a boy like Leslie wearing them properly,” Mrs Cathcart added enthusiastically, as she thought of the brief, super-slim trunks she’d bought in that hadn’t sold as well as she’d hoped.

The discussion became quite animated as Veronica and the two ladies exchanged views and ideas about other ways Leslie could help in the shop. Leslie himself did not look at all happy and became increasingly worried about what he overheard.

“That’s settled,” Mrs Darnley said, Leslie would pay off his debt by helping out in the shop, “Would Saturday afternoons suit you?” Mrs Darnley asked.

“Saturday afternoons would be perfect,” Mrs Cathcart replied.

“Do you remember those Red Indian outfits you got in last year, mummy?” Veronica asked, her voice full of enthusiasm, “I was thinking that we could dress Leslie in one and have a sort of themed event... I know a couple of other boys who might like to help. We could dress the boys in Red Indian outfits as well and they could stand outside to invite customers inside the shop… I bet they would attract lots of attention…”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves...” Veronica’s mother replied, “Besides those Red Indian outfits are very skimpy and I’m not sure if they wouldn’t be a little too revealing if Leslie was to wear one. They’re really meant to be worn by much younger boys, Veronica.”

Leslie was beginning to regret thinking he’d be able to get away with wearing longs to school. All this talk about posing in swim-trunks and play-outfits like Red Indian costumes and heaven knew what else, was most disturbing. Leslie felt self-conscious enough wearing short trousers at the age of fifteen, never mind all these other outfits the women were talking about. Not for the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be for the last, Leslie wished he’d never been tempted to buy a pair of long trousers. How on earth did he expect to get away with it? he asked himself. He might have known mummy was bound to find out. All the pennies he’d saved for the long trousers could have been put to much better use and spent on his stamp collection, for instance. Instead not only had he lost his meagre savings, but he actually owed Mrs Cathcart for the balance he did not possess. This would be repaid by ‘helping out’ at the boys’ outfitters for an unspecified number of Saturday afternoons and Saturday afternoons were one of the few opportunities Leslie had to watch some sport or follow his football team. So, to sum up, Leslie reminded himself as Veronica made a cup of tea for the grown-ups, I’ve no money, no free time and no longs! What a disaster!

“I have to say I’m rather taken with your idea, Veronica,” Mrs Cathcart said to her daughter as she sipped her tea, “Trade has been a bit slack recently… By the way, who were you thinking of… those boys you mentioned... to help us attract some more customers?”

“You know my friend Carol? She’s got a younger brother Harold…” Veronica replied.

“Oh yes, I know Harold… nice smart boy,” Mrs Cathcart interjected and added for the benefit of Mrs Darnley, “He’s a year younger than your Leslie.”

“I thought Harold and his new friend… a boy called Robin who’s here for the holidays, might like to help,” Veronica continued.

“Are you sure they’d like to help out?” her mother asked.

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” Veronica replied confidently, “You see Robin has managed to get himself into a bit of a pickle and hasn’t anything at all to wear… Harold’s got himself into a spot of trouble with his sister and is in much the same boat as Robin…”

“You mean both boys are…?” Mrs Darnley interrupted, somewhat surprised at what Veronica had said.

“Bare?” Veronica replied with more than a hint of a smile in her voice, “Yes, when I left them not fifteen minutes ago, Robin and Harold were completely nude... They’re waiting for me now... in their birthday suits.”

“Why are they waiting for you, Veronica?” her mother asked.

“That’s what I came to ask you, mum. Do you remember that batch of faulty junior boys’ jockstraps?”

“Yes, they’re in the stockroom… why do you ask?”

“I thought if I could borrow a couple of pairs the boys might be grateful as they’ve got nothing else to wear and they’d be stuck in the house otherwise… I said I’d ask you,” Veronica explained.

“I don’t see why not… but I’m not sure whether they’d be much use… I mean the state of the elastic straps… but you’re welcome to try,” Mrs Cathcart said, “I just hope you don’t have a wasted journey…”

“Why not let Leslie try one on,” Mrs Darnley suggested, “It’s about time he did something useful…”

Leslie was shocked: “Mummy!!”

“I’m sure Veronica will help you with it… won’t you Veronica?” Mrs Darnley continued as she ignored Leslie’s objections.

“Certainly Mrs Darnley, I’d be glad to help,” Veronica replied and turned to ask her mother whether she could fetch one of the faulty jockstraps from the stockroom.

The plate of biscuits Leslie was holding rattled as his nerves got the better of him. He shook even more when Veronica returned and he saw the size of the junior schoolboy jockstrap that she was holding.

“The elastic is a bit perished, but I think it will do,” Veronica announced as she held it up in front of Leslie’s crotch. The pouch looked very small against the fifteen year old. “I’m sure it will be fine… Now Leslie are you going to help me or am I going to have to undress you all by myself?”

“Mummy… please… do I have to?” Leslie whined.

“Leslie, I’ve had quite enough of your nonsense for one day… just do as Miss Veronica asks, or would you rather I took down your trousers and underpants, because if I do it will be for a spanking over my knees… is that what you want, Leslie?”

“No mummy.”

“Good… then you are to do exactly as Miss Veronica tells you… and she has my permission to smack you if you don’t…”

“Thank you, Mrs Darnley,” Veronica said and immediately told Leslie that it would be necessary for him to remove his T-bar sandals and ankle socks and when he had done that she would help him take off his short trousers and underpants.  Once this had been done Leslie was to hold his shirt right up out of the way so that Veronica could fit him with the jockstrap.

Mrs Darnley was very impressed by Veronica’s efficient manner and said as much to Mrs Cathcart: “You have a very capable assistant in your daughter…”

“Up onto that stool, Leslie,” Veronica said as she pointed to a polished wooden low stool that Mrs Cathcart kept for boys to climb onto to make fitting clothes easier. “Now keep still while I take off your trousers and underpants…”

When Leslie and his mother had arrived at the boys’ outfitters Mrs Cathcart was busy arranging the window display (dressing one of the mannequins in a pair of teddy-bear patterned winceyette pyjamas, as it happens). She had left a couple of the window partition panels open when she stepped out of the display area to attend to Mrs Darnley and Leslie. These panels were still open and to Leslie’s horror, when he looked up from his position on the stool he saw a group of young schoolgirls peering through the shop window. Veronica was already undoing Leslie’s short trousers and had just unzipped the fly. Veronica was quite unaware of the audience outside, unlike Leslie who daren’t upset his mother never mind risk a spanking from Miss Veronica, but he most certainly did not want the girls outside to watch him being fitted with anything… let alone a faulty jockstrap!

Veronica eased the short trousers back over Leslie’s bottom and then down his long smooth legs. Leslie squirmed with embarrassment as he looked back out through the shop window. Although he couldn’t hear them, Leslie knew enough of young girls to know what they were saying…

“Cor… look… she’s taken down his little trousers…” “Is she going to pull down his underpants as well?” “Never… do you think so?” “... LOOK… she’s going to do it! She’s going to pull down his underpants!” “Do you think so?” “Course she is… just you wait…” “Oh, look how red his little face is… do you think he knows we’re watching him?” “Course he does… see, he’s looking at us!”

The girls giggled, pointed, waved and poked their tongues out at Leslie, adding to his misery. Leslie knew his underpants would be following his short trousers which were already out of his reach on the shop counter.

“Hold your shirt up for me, Leslie while I take off your underpants,” Veronica said in her best matter-of-fact voice that so impressed Mrs Darnley, “Come along, Leslie I haven’t got all day,” she added.

Without thinking Leslie accorded Mrs Cathcart’s daughter due deference in his response: “Yes, Miss Veronica…”

The schoolgirls outside pressed their faces against the shop window. They were determined to miss nothing and as Leslie’s white schoolboy underpants were slowly drawn downwards by Veronica, the girls were silent in their astonishment. They could hardly believe that what they saw was really happening. Witnessing the unveiling of Leslie was something the girls would treasure and no doubt discuss among themselves for some time to come and as they saw Leslie’s penis spring into view they gave a collective gasp.

Inside the shop Leslie quaked with embarrassment. Veronica, without saying a word, had tugged Leslie’s junior boy’s underpants all the way down to his ankles. It had taken all Leslie’s strength of will to keep his shirt pulled up to his neck. He was mortified at the way his penis had popped out in front of Veronica as the tight elastic waistband was drawn down over his boy-bits.

Mrs Darnley and Mrs Cathcart were busy talking as they drank their tea and nibbled their biscuits. They paid little attention to Veronica and Leslie and even if they did notice the schoolgirls huddled together, peering through the shop window, they didn’t mention them. Why should it concern them what the girls saw? Leslie was only a boy after all was said and done.

Veronica removed the underpants from around Leslie’s ankles with an efficiency that demonstrated exactly who was in charge. The underpants were placed on the shop counter on top of Leslie’s short trousers.

“Stay there, Leslie while I sort out this jockstrap,” Veronica said, as if Leslie, in his state of near nudity, would dare to do anything else. “Hmm, the elastic is a bit perished, but I’m sure we can sort something out,” Veronica added.

“Let’s see…” Veronica turned and holding the jockstrap out, told Leslie to lift his right foot. It was obvious Veronica knew what she was doing and Leslie realised how she must have fitted lots of boys with jockstraps. It wasn’t more than a moment or two before Veronica was pulling the jockstrap right up to the top of Leslie’s thighs. The elastic straps hung limply and Leslie could feel them tickling the back of his legs. In contrast to the straps the waistband was quite firm and since it was a jockstrap designed to be worn by junior boys, it was a tight fit on Leslie. Nevertheless Veronica succeeded in drawing the waistband over Leslie’s hips, his bottom and his boy-bits. It was at this point Veronica realised there would be a problem. To put it bluntly, Leslie’s penis and testicles could not be easily contained in the small, junior-sized support pouch. Leslie was after all fifteen and his genitals were as developed as those of any healthy fifteen year old boy. True he still had only a very light dusting of pubic hair, but Veronica could see that under normal circumstances it would be a tight squeeze to get Leslie’s boy-bits into the pouch if the jockstrap was not faulty. As it was, with the perished elastic in the straps, Veronica managed to manipulate Leslie’s penis into the small pouch, but his testicles were hanging out on each side. Each time Veronica attempted to push Leslie’s testicles inside, she found that his penis plopped out.

The schoolgirls, their faces pressed against the shop window, were in seventh heaven as they watched Veronica trying to stuff Leslie’s penis into the little jockstrap pouch. They saw Veronica with one hand push a testicle back into the pouch and with her other hand attempting to control Leslie’s wayward penis. They giggled and laughed as eventually Veronica was forced to turn to her mother for assistance.

“Mum… I can’t get the jockstrap to fit properly,” Veronica explained, “Leslie’s penis is just too big to fit into the pouch…”

Mrs Cathcart put down her teacup: “Let me have a look… Hmm, yes I see what you mean… what about if I hold onto the straps… is that any good?”

“Can I help at all?” Mrs Darnley asked.

To Leslie’s mortification he was now surrounded on all sides by women probing and pushing at the jockstrap as they ‘tutted’ and argued about what to do. Leslie was told to keep still as he endured agonies of embarrassment in full view of the schoolgirls outside. Bravely he kept his shirt pulled right up as three pairs of female hands twisted his hips this way and that and fiddled with the far too small jockstrap pouch in a futile attempt to cover Leslie’s boyhood. After five long minutes of this torture the combined efforts of the ladies had achieved little.

“I’ve an idea,” Mrs Cathcart said.

Mrs Darnley and Veronica looked up expectantly. Leslie was less enthusiastic and wondered more than ever what the point of all this was, after all he wasn’t the one these jockstraps were intended for, it was those boys Veronica mentioned. During the pause Leslie looked over towards the window to see if the girls were still there staring at him. They were and when they saw him looking towards them they poked their tongues out at him and waved once more.

Mrs Cathcart explained her idea which was to pull the straps up ‘nice and tight’ over Leslie’s bottom and to pin them up at the back to the waistband: “You see we’re never going to get anywhere with the support pouch in this state… see how loose it is?” she explained, “It’s no wonder Leslie’s penis won’t stay put…”

“Let’s give it a try and if we all work together, I’m sure we’ll succeed,” Mrs Darnley said, sounding as if she was giving a pep-talk to a girls’ hockey team.

“Veronica, you hold this side of the support pouch and Mrs Darney, if you wouldn’t mind taking the other side… yes, that’s right,” Mrs Cathcart said, “Hold still Leslie while I pull the straps up nice and tight…” Mrs Cathcart was as good as her word and as she said ‘pull’, she tugged the straps up as far as they would go and with a couple of safety pins soon had them held in place. Leslie was briefly hoisted up onto his tiptoes and wondered if his boy-bits would never be the same again, squashed as they were into a support pouch designed for much younger, less endowed boys.

“There... that’s the best I can do,” Mrs Cathcart said finally, “Now Leslie, why don’t you get down from the stool and walk around a bit… see how the jockstrap feels.”

Leslie did as he was told, but it was a desperately uncomfortable experience. Even getting off the stool was fraught with difficulty and Veronica had to lend a hand to support Leslie as he stepped down. Once down Leslie waddled about with his legs bowed as if he’d just climbed from his horse after spending the last few weeks in the saddle on a cattle drive with Walter Brennan. Leslie’s audience of schoolgirls were in fits of laughter as they watched his progress from the street outside. Every time Leslie turned and the girls saw his bare bottom, they squealed with delight.

“Hmm… I’m not convinced,” Mrs Cathcart said as she pronounced judgement on her attempt to make some use of the faulty jockstraps. Relieved, Leslie stopped trying to walk any further and waited to be told what to do next.

“But don’t forget, mum, Leslie’s wearing a junior schoolboy jockstrap,” Veronica reminded her mother, “and Leslie isn’t a junior boy anymore… I mean, he’s fifteen now and I'm sure if you measured the size of his penis using the standard measuring card the jockstrap makers supplied us with...”

“Yes, that’s true, Veronica…” her mother replied.

“Excuse me, but what is the 'measuring card' you mentioned, Veronica?” Mrs Darnley enquired.

“It’s a sort of gauge the jockstrap manufacturers supply us with to measure a boy’s penis and testicles,” Veronica replied, “… so we can fit him with the correct size jockstrap or support pouch. It’s very useful, isn’t it mum?”

“Oh yes, but I’m afraid it can be a little embarrassing for some boys… boys who’ve been boasting about how they’re going to need a senior size jockstrap when they hardly even need to wear one at all! When I reach for the jockstrap gauge, that’s when all their little fibs are exposed… in more ways than one…”

As if on cue and much to his consternation, Leslie’s penis broke free of the support pouch. All the tugging, pushing and pulling to squeeze his boy-bits into the little jockstrap had finally had its effect. Up until this point Leslie had managed to control himself and behave properly in Mrs Cathcart’s shop, but hearing Veronica and Mrs Cathcart talking openly about jockstrap gauges and measurements was the final straw. His penis pushed its way out of the side of the little pouch and it was clear to all that Leslie was in the early stages of arousal.

“You can stop that at once!” Mrs Darnley snapped at her son as Leslie’s penis, free of the pouch, stuck straight out parallel to the floor, “How many times have I got to tell you? You’re nothing but a disgrace…. showing me up in front of everyone!” she turned to Mrs Cathcart, “I do apologised for my son’s behaviour. I’m sure he just does these things to embarrass me.”

“Please don’t upset yourself, Mrs Darney, I am quite used to seeing boys showing off like this… and Veronica has been helping me in the shop for long enough not to be at all shocked by this sort of silliness… I sometimes think that boys do it because they think we’ll be impressed...” Mrs Cathcart added.

“... do you think so, mummy,” Veronica said and shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t think I’m that impressed… I mean I know Leslie’s fifteen and his penis is too big for the junior jockstrap, but...”

“Veronica…” Mrs Cathcart replied in mock surprise.

“But mummy, that boy who was in for a fitting last week… now he was impressive!”

“Well, that’s as maybe,” Mrs Cathcart said. She could see Mrs Darnley was infuriated with Leslie’s behaviour and couldn’t help wondering how it would end.

The schoolgirl audience couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but they didn’t need to, as the furious look on Mrs Darnley’s face said it all. Oh this was the best treat they’d had in ages!

“... an absolute disgrace!” Mrs Darnley was saying as she continued to berate her son. “I’ve told you about this before… haven’t I?!”

“But mummy… it’s not fair! I can’t help it… I’m not doing it because I…” Leslie spluttered. He was offended that anyone should think he wanted to have an erection in the middle of the shop… in front of everyone, to say nothing of the girls he knew to be still watching through the shop window. However, his protest was cut short.

“How dare you use that tone of voice to me!” Mrs Darnley said sharply to Leslie. Then she turned again to Mrs Cathcart, “Really! I’ve a good mind to teach this boy a lesson… right now… this minute!”

“Oh mummy… no! Please… not now… not here!” Leslie pleaded.

“It’s your own fault. When I bring you out shopping with me I don’t expect to be shown up like this. I’ve been far too lenient with you, Leslie and this is the price I pay! You seem to go out of your way to show me up… embarrassing me in front of Mrs Cathcart and poor Veronica… do you really think Veronica wants to see that?!” Mrs Darnley said as she pointed at Leslie’s tumescent penis, “I really don’t know what gets into you… I suppose you think you’re being clever...”

“No, mummy… no I’m not…” Leslie said anxiously. He knew where his mother’s tirades usually ended and he certainly didn’t want that to happen in Mrs Cathcart’s shop.

“Now, are you going to make winky to behave, or do I have to do it for you?” Mrs Darnley asked Leslie, but instead of waiting for an answer she reached out her right hand and simply flicked the head of her son’s penis sharply with the tip of her index finger.

“Ow!” Leslie yelped, more from surprise than discomfort. He was more hurt from the embarrassment at being treated like a little boy and having his penis referred to as his ‘winky’ and it was this, coupled with a few hard smacks of his mother’s hand on his bare bottom that caused his penis to soften.

Leslie’s audience of girls pressed against the shop window were delighted: “Look! His mummy’s just flicked his do-dah!” “Bet he felt that!” “Look! Now she’s smacking his bottom!” “You mean his botty!” “Look! Look! His thingy! It’s bouncing about!” “Ahhh… it’s gone all limp...”

“You’ve certainly managed to deflate Leslie’s ego,” Mrs Cathcart said with a smile which helped to lighten the mood. However, she could see that Leslie’s mother was still infuriated with her son, but much as she understood how Mrs Darnley felt, Mrs Cathcart also had a shop to run.

“Why don’t you sit down and have a fresh cup of tea, Mrs Darnley,” Mrs Cathcart suggested, “Veronica can get Leslie dressed now that you’ve attended to his, ahem, childish display… and I really must finish my window-dressing… Oh dear me! I wonder how long those girls have been there? I’d quite forgotten about the shutters… I must have left them open when you came into the shop. Oh well, too late to do anything about them now…”

Leslie wasn’t sure whether anyone else had noticed his audience. If they had, they’d not said anything. But as Mrs Cathcart said, it was too late… they’d seen everything!

Veronica discretely acknowledged the girls presence outside and then made sure they could see her remove the jockstrap from Leslie. She left him standing on the stool and reminded him to keep holding his shirt right up as she made a big fuss of folding the jockstrap at the shop counter. Veronica then carried on fussing about while Leslie stood waiting, all the time watched by the girls. Finally Veronica set about getting Leslie dressed, making him step into his underpants as she held them, then pulling them up his long smooth legs.

“Your Veronica certainly knows what she’s doing,” Mrs Darnley said approvingly.

“Oh, yes… Veronica is is a great help,” Mrs Cathcart replied, her arms piled high with a selection of boy’s winceyette pyjamas she was intending to display in the window.

“My, but aren’t they lovely…?” Mrs Darnley said when she saw the pyjamas on the top of the pile Mrs Cathcart was carrying.

“These lemon-yellow ones? Actually these are a new style of shorty-pyjama in our Winnie-the-Pooh range of boys’ clothes…” Mrs Cathcart paused for a second, then turned to face Leslie’s mum properly, “Perhaps you would like Leslie to try on a pair?” she said, never one to miss the opportunity for a sale...

Mrs Cathcart put down her teacup: “Leslie…”