Simon was bewildered. He was trapped in the hallway and could see there was no escape as the girls’ voices grew louder on the path outside. Simon detected the unmistakable sounds of excitement from the girls as they neared the front door. He was dimly aware of Betty Crabbe telling his mother how much smarter boys looked when dressed in proper short trousers. His mother was saying something, but Simon’s mind was elsewhere.
“Simon…!” she said sharply, “Would you please go to the door and greet our guests and if I have to repeat myself again there’ll be trouble.” Amanda Waters turned to Betty Crabbe, “You see what I have to put up with… Simon’s off in a world of his own half the time.”
Nervously Simon picked at the back of his little school shorts as he went to the front door.
“Now girls, you’re not to make a fuss,” Simon heard the girls’ mother say, “Simon is very shy and will get very upset if you start teasing him…”
Simon stepped forward and stood in the doorway. In front of him were two girls and just behind them their mother, Mrs Cynthia James, a founder member of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle. The girls, Abigail and Heather, were in their mid-teens, Abigail, the eldest, being nearly three years younger than Simon. Both girls were dressed modestly, wearing pinafore dresses that Simon saw covered their knees. Instinctively Simon brushed his hands against his bare thighs, feeling the bare flesh made him feel even more exposed than ever.
“Please… er, please, won’t you come in,” Simon said, doing his best to be polite. He certainly didn’t want a repeat of the ear-pulling episode in front of these girls. He saw Abigail nudge her younger sister who in turn stifled a giggle as they stepped into the hallway.
“Thank you, Simon,” Cynthia James said as she too came into the house, “I must say how pleased I am to see you looking so smart… Those short trousers do suit you, Simon.”
Simon knew what he was required to say and through gritted teeth managed to say, “Thank you.”
Mrs James could tell that it was struggle for Simon to reply to her compliment, it hardly mattered whether he meant it or not. It was a sufficient demonstration in her eyes that Simon was a polite, well brought up boy, perhaps a little shy, although that might be expected in a boy wearing such very smart, thigh-revealing short trousers.
The next lady to arrive and join the group was Maureen Carter who made no attempt to disguise her interest in what Simon was wearing and frightened the already nervous boy further by casually observing to no one in in particular: “Oh, I am looking forward to today’s meeting!”
Poor Simon became even more flustered when he heard further footsteps on the footpath and wandered how many more ladies he would have to greet. However, this time he was in for a surprise when Hugh was ushered through the doorway by his mother, Margret Williams.
Hugh and Simon looked at each other and both blushed a deeper red than ever when they saw how they both wore absurdly short short trousers. Hugh had been dressed in his old prep school uniform and had pleaded with his mother not to be taken to her book club meeting, but the threat of an on-the-spot bare bottom spanking soon put an end to his whinging. Though Hugh didn’t escape a few well-placed smacks on the back of his legs when he hesitated before setting off. Faint red marks on Hugh’s bare thighs still visible as he entered Mrs Waters’ house.
“Shake hands with Hugh, Simon,” his mother told her son.
Simon offered his hand to Hugh and red-faced the boys introduced themselves to each other, both wondering what the other had done to deserve the humiliation of being put back into short trousers. Then it suddenly dawned on Hugh that he’d seen Simon before and realised he had an old score to settle. It was clear Simon had no idea that he’d ever met Hugh before, let alone that there was any unfinished business between the two of them. Simon was still wondering why Hugh was in short trousers, although of course that was a whole lot better than having to meet a boy who was wearing longs. Hugh said nothing and decided to bide his time, wondering if today would offer the opportunity for revenge for what happened during the after-school table-tennis club two years ago when Simon had tricked Hugh and another boy into paying forfeits for the loss of each game. Simon was a far more experienced table-tennis player than Hugh who ended up paying dearly for his mistakes since each each game he lost to Simon meant Hugh had to remove one item of clothing. When he had no more clothes to forfeit, Hugh was made to bend over the table-tennis table when he lost yet another game and to accept a bare bottom spanking from Simon brandishing his table-tennis bat. It might not have been quite as bad if Hugh’s nude ordeal was confined to a group of boys, but when a girls’ team arrived to practice and Hugh found his clothes had mysteriously disappeared, well that was humiliation of a different order entirely. So yes, Hugh was hoping that today might be the day when he could settle this old score.
“Now we’re all here, why don’t we go through to the front room and make ourselves comfy?” Amanda announced. She then turned to Hugh and Simon. “You boys can make yourselves useful… I’ve prepared some sandwiches and cakes for our guests. They’re in the kitchen along with the tea things. Tea is already made, so it should be nicely brewed by now, so you can start by bringing the tea through… milk and sugar is on the tea tray.”
As Amanda gave her instructions to the boys the members of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle along with Abigail and Heather seated themselves in the comfort of Amanda’s front room.
“Well ladies,” Betty Crabbe said, once more taking her place as chairwoman, “I think the first item of business is to offer a warm welcome to our special guests, Abigail and Heather James…”
The two girls blushed at these unexpected words and the gentle round of applause that followed.
“It’s so heartening to see some young blood at one of our meetings,” Betty continued, “I’m sure there are lots of other activities that Abigail and Heather would rather be be undertaking today, but I’m pleased they have decided to see what we ladies get up to at our Reading Circle meetings. Who knows, perhaps we might even persuade Abigail and Heather to become regular members of our little group, especially if…”
Before Betty Crabbe could say any more Hugh and Simon brought in the tea things. As directed they made their way, somewhat nervously in front of the ladies and young girls, to the low coffee table in the middle of the room. Once there they realised the only way they could safely place the trays on the table was to bend down. As Hugh carefully lowered his tray of Mrs Waters best cups and saucers onto the table, Simon was shocked to see Hugh’s shorts ride up. The lower Hugh bent down, the higher his little short trousers rode up until the smooth pale lower curves of his bottom were exposed for everyone in the room to see.
“Put the cups and saucers out on the table, Hugh,” Amanda Water instructed Hugh, “Then you can take the tray back into the kitchen… Simon, what are you doing?!” she snapped when she saw that her son was trying to avoid bending down and having his short trousers ride up like Hugh’s had done. Simon was attempting a half-kneel-half-crouch manoeuvre which risked upsetting the teapot, milk jug and sugar he was carrying on the tray.
“Just put the tray down on the table, Simon,” his mother said, “This is not the time to entertain us with your juggling act…”
“I’d have thought that boys wearing short trousers would take more care carrying a tray with a hot tea pot,” Maureen Carter observed and thus drawing everyone’s attention to the extremely short trousers worn by Hugh and Simon. Needless to say the boys couldn’t wait to get back into the kitchen, so Simon gulped and bent forward feeling his tiny short trousers riding up like Hugh’s had done. His embarrassment was enhanced as he heard Heather whisper loud enough for him to hear: “Look, mummy… I can see that boy’s bare bottom.”
Neither boy had the opportunity to adjust their little shorts before the order came to take the trays back to the kitchen and as they left the room, with lower bottom curves still bare, they heard the tinkle of girls’ laughter joined by one or two of the ladies bursting into half-suppressed guffaws.
“This is just so embarrassing,” Simon complained to Hugh as they returned to the kitchen.
“Embarrassing! How do you think I felt having to take a bus then walk the rest of the way here with mum?” Hugh replied indignantly, thinking that Simon hadn’t a clue what being embarrassed was really like.
“So?” Simon replied, “It’s not your mum who’s invited all these ladies to tea…”
“... and girls,” Hugh reminded him.
“Yes… and girls.”
The two boys fell silent for a moment before curiosity got the better of Simon and he asked Hugh where his mum got his uniform from.
“It’s my old prep school uniform… how about you?” Hugh asked, trying his best to be friendly and not let on how he really felt about Simon.
“Mum dug out an old pair of my school shorts I used to wear when I was twelve or thirteen,” Simon paused and looked down at his bare legs. He rubbed the open palm of his left hand across the side of his exposed thigh just below the hem of his short trousers before adding, “Then she had the legs taken up… shortened, as if they weren’t already short enough already… Mum makes me wear them when she thinks I’ve… well, um, y’know…” Simon stopped talking before he revealed too much, little knowing that his mother had already made it plan to the ladies of the reading circle why she’d so often had to resort to putting Simon back into short trousers.
“Me too,” Hugh said, although not twigging what Simon was afraid to say, “I hate wearing them. My kid brother is still in short trousers full time… he’s thirteen… He thinks it’s a big laugh when I have to wear them,” Hugh told Simon, “Starts bossing me about ‘cos my old uniform is for junior boys and that makes Harry more senior… and he never stops telling me. His teasing drives me nuts and gets me into even more trouble with mum.”
“Rotten luck,” Simon commiserated.
In the front room Betty congratulated Amanda and Margret on getting their sons to ‘model’ their short trouser uniforms for the benefit of the reading circle.
“It was inspiring to read ‘A Guide to the Correction of Young Gentlemen’, but of course nothing beats having two real boys, appropriately dressed, standing in front of you,” Betty turned to Abigail and Heather, “What do you two think of our boy models, Simon and Hugh? Do you think they’re embarrassed to wear short trousers like the book says?”
Abigail spoke first and used the word all young boys dread to hear, calling them ‘cute’. “When we read the book… ‘The Guide’, together with mum I don’t think Heather and I believed that teenage boys could be so ashamed to be seen wearing short trousers… proper short trousers, mum called them… but I can see that Simon and Hugh are both really, really embarrassed about wearing them in front of us, but I think they both look awfully cute… Heather and I have been trying to decide which boy...”
Heather had been getting visibly excited and clearly wanted her chance to talk and she interrupted her sister: “... we want to know which boy is wearing the shortest shorts. Abigail thinks it’s Hugh, but I think it’s Simon, because when he bent over,” Heather paused to giggle, “... I saw lots more of his bottom!”
“Well, that’s a very good question, Heather,” Betty responded, “How are we to resolve the matter and satisfy the girls’ curiosity? Yes, Maureen?”
“I have a measuring tape in my handbag, if that will help,” Maureen informed the group.
“Good… then if Margret and Amanda have no objection we’ll have the boys back in so we can see whether Abigail or Heather is the best estimator of the length of a boy’s short trousers,” Betty said with a chuckle.
Of course neither Margret nor Amanda had the slightest objection, so Hugh and Simon were called and told to come and join the ladies and girls in the front room.
The boys looked at each other, both of them nervously wondering ‘what now?’ As they walked through, each boy checked the hem of his grey short trousers. Wishing, desperately wishing they were longer, Simon and Hugh tugged at the material without any effect. Their short trousers were supposed to be short and that’s all there was to it.
“Come in… don’t be shy… that’s it, over there where we can all see you,” Betty told the boys, “Now, the girls… that is Abigail and Heather, want to know which of you is wearing the shortest pair of short trousers…”
Simon brushed his fingertips against his bare thighs. He didn’t like the way this was going. Neither did Hugh, but although horribly embarrassed he managed to croak out the words: “I think mine are.”
“Oh,” Betty said, “Now that is a surprise… Heather rather thought Simon was wearing the shorter pair… after all his mother did have his short trousers specially altered and taken up…”
Hugh hung his head. He definitely didn’t like the way this was going. As usual when he was put into short trousers he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Putting them by his sides his hands touched the bare flesh of his exposed thighs and simply reinforced the fact that he was wearing short trousers. Holding his arms behind his back seemed to him to be the best option, but it made him feel even more like a little boy being scolded. Hugh wasn’t to know that Simon felt just the same.
“Do you think your short trousers are shorter than Hugh’s?” Betty asked Simon.
“I… I don’t know,” Simon replied nervously, unsure whether it was better to know or not.
“Perhaps if you boys stand side by side we might find out which of you has the shortest short trousers,” Betty suggested.
Of course it wasn’t a suggestion. The boys knew that, so they moved as close to each other as they could, which wasn’t close enough. The hems of the short trousers weren’t sufficiently near to positively gauge whether Simon’s or Hugh’s were the shortest pair of short trousers.
“Put your arms round each other’s waist,” Betty said to the boys, “That’s it… squeeze in closer… now let’s have a look…”
Somewhat reluctantly Simon and Hugh did as they were told. As their bare thighs touched both boys flinched as if zapped by a spark of static electricity. Nevertheless Simon pressed his hand into Hugh’s waist just as Hugh pressed his hand into Simon’s waist. The boys felt distinctly uncomfortable standing with their arms around each other in front of their mums’ friends. This was far too close for comfort and the boys, their levels of embarrassment climbing all the time, avoided eye contact with each other and everyone in the room by staring fixedly at the carpet at their feet.
Margret, seemingly unaware of her son’s acute embarrassment, spoke: “Hmm… I’m not sure that helps. You see although Simon’s short trousers do look shorter than Hugh’s, I think you can see that Simon is very slightly taller than Hugh so the hem of his short trousers is higher and so it appears as if he is wearing shorter shorts. I think they each need to be properly measured.”
“I agree, Margret,” Betty concurred, “I believe Maureen said she has a tape measure and it occurs to me that the girls might like to do the measuring since it was they wished to know which boy is wearing the shortest shorts…”
Simon groaned: “Oh, mum, please… do we have to have our shorts measured?”
Hugh chipped in and pleaded with his mum too, using the tired phase of boyhood, “...but it’s not fair.”
“Well girls, would you like to measure the boys’ short trousers?” Betty asked.
The reply was a resounding, “Yes please!” and Maureen handed her tape measure to Abigail.
The boys were ordered to fetch the trays, clear the coffee table and take the tea things back into the kitchen.
Relieved to be at least out of view of the girls and the ladies of the book club, if only for a few moments, the boys started to argue as boys do, purely as a way of putting aside the acute embarrassment they’d undergone in the front room.
Simon started off by telling Hugh that he had ‘girly legs’ and he could feel how smooth they were when they were standing next to each other.
“What do you mean, girly-legs? Your legs are just as smooth… what, does your mummy shave them for you?” Hugh countered.
“No she doesn’t shave my legs, as it happens…” Simon replied trying to sound superior, “Anyone can see your girly legs won’t ever need shaving… girly-legs…”
“Stop calling me girly-legs… you were pressing your thighs against me. Maybe you like feeling up boy’s legs. Is that it? Bet you get into trouble ‘cos you like it when mummy makes you wear short trousers…”
Simon was ready to take a swing at Hugh, who was ready squaring up for a bundle, when they heard the voice of Simon’s mother calling loud and clear from the front room: “What are you boys up to in there? Come along! Get a move on! The girls are waiting.”
Hugh and Simon looked daggers at each other.
“We’ll sort this out later…” Simon threatened.
“Yeah… You bet,” Hugh countered.
“Yeah,” Simon responded.
They looked and sounded for all the world like two squabbling boys squaring up to each other in the school playground… but silently relieved when the bell is rung at the end of playtime, thus being spared from having to actually carry out their threats against each other.
The boys went back into the front room to face the ladies of the book club as well as Abigail and Heather. The coffee table was positioned in the middle of the room. The girls stood by the side of the table. Abigail held the tape measure in her hand.
“Right,” said Betty, “Who wants to have his short trousers measured first?”
Simon and Hugh looked at each other. It was no surprise to find that neither boy volunteered to be the first.
“Alright, girls you choose,” Betty spoke again, “Which boy would you like to measure first?”
Heather stepped forward, took a reluctant Simon by the hand and guided him to the table.
“Up you get, Simon,” his mother, Amanda ordered her son.
Simon clambered up onto the coffee table and immediately felt even more vulnerable than ever. It was only with great difficulty that he avoided the inquisitive eyes of his mother’s friends as they watched and waited for his little short trousers to be measured by the girls.
“Legs apart,” Abigail ordered, “and keep your hands out of the way… put them on your head.”
When she heard this Simon’s mother looked at Cynthia, Abigail’s mother, and nodded to express her approval and to also show how impressed with Abigail she was.
Simon parted his legs enough for his short trousers to be measured, but looked pleadingly at his mother before lifting his arms.
“Do as Abigail has asked, Simon.” The tone of his mother’s voice was enough to make Simon do as he was told.
The tape measure was handed to Heather and she had the honour of taking the first measurement. Abigail seemed to know what she was doing as she told her sister how to place the tip of the measuring tape on the inner seam of Simon’s trouser leg.
“It’s got to be measured from the crotch… isn’t that right mummy?” Abigail said turning to her mother, Cynthia James.
“Yes, darling… make sure that Heather has the tape pressed firmly against Simon’s leg,” Cynthia advised her daughters.
The girls got to work and Simon felt two sets of fingers manoeuvring the tape dangerously close to his boy-bits. The girls prodded the metal tip of the tape and pressed it right up into Simon’s groin causing him to flinch and the tape to slip.
“Keep still, Simon,” his mother snapped, “How do expect the girls to measure your short trousers if you keep fidgeting? Now be still and cooperate.”
“But, mum…” Simon whined, but didn’t say any more when he heard Maureen speak.
“I think the only way you’re going to be able to measure their short trousers properly,” she said, “is if the trousers are taken off and measured when they’re not being worn…”
“An excellent idea, Maureen, but I think we’ll give the girls the opportunity to measure the boys’ short trousers in situ first,” Amanda said and then added for Simon’s benefit, “I’m sure Simon will see sense and cooperate now…”
Simon’s behaviour was fuel to Hugh’s resentment of the older boy. Not only was Simon behaving like a prize plonker, but he’d managed to saddle them with the threat of having their short trousers taken right off! Hugh was sure that he wouldn’t give the girls any excuse to take down his trousers. He wouldn’t dance about on the table like a complete prat like Simon.
Abigail and Heather whispered to each other. They’d make sure Simon’s little trousers would have to come down.
Under strict instructions to keep perfectly still the measurement of Simon’s short trousers began again. This time, in spite of all the girls’ intentions, Simon managed to bravely keep still as he felt the metal tip of the tape measure again being pressed right up into the crutch of his shorts. He also kept still as he felt the girls’ fingers brushing the bare flesh of his inner thighs as they read the tape measure.
“One and a quarter inches,” Heather announced.
“Are you sure… that looks like one and an eighth to me,” her sister Abigail said.
The girls tried he other leg as Simon struggled to keep still. But not only was Simon, hands still resolutely pressed firmly to the top of his head, trying to keep from flinching, he was also desperately trying to stop another movement from developing inside his underpants.
Hugh had seen the signs. The slight, but to Hugh’s trained eye, noticeable bulge pushing out the front of Simon’s short trousers was a dead giveaway. Hugh wondered how long it would be before someone said something. Then a glorious thought occurred to Hugh, what if they decide to take his trousers down? They’ll all see it then!
Needless to say, the thought that Hugh himself might be soon in that very same position never occurred to him. He just wanted to see Simon humiliated for calling him ‘girly-legs’ and for tricking him into playing strip ping-pong.
“No… it’s definitely one and a quarter,” Heather said firmly, “Look, see…”
“Let me hold the tape,” Abigail said to her sister, “You hold the other end against Simon’s leg…”
The girls’ fingers were all over Simon’s upper thighs, tickling the soft inner flesh which caused Simon to jerk back.
The girls were left holding the tape against thin air.
Abigail turned to her mother: “Mummy, Simon won’t keep still… We can’t measure his trousers properly if he keeps moving…”
Simon’s mother, Amanda took charge: “Simon, you were given the opportunity to let the girls measure your short trousers while you were wearing them… well, that didn’t work. How could it with you jumping about all over the place? As you didn’t want to cooperate and let Abigail and Heather do their measuring with you wearing your short trousers, then I think we’ll take up Maureen’s suggestion and have those trousers of yours right off so they can be measured properly…”
Hugh had a hard job to hide his smile as he watched Simon standing on the coffee table. Hugh could tell that Simon was almost in tears as he pleaded… begged, his mother let him keep his short trousers on. He would stand still. He would let the girls measure all they wanted to, but please… please, he implored, don’t take my trousers down in front of everyone.
Hugh thought this was the most glorious moment ever. In his overactive imagination Hugh saw himself forever taunting Simon in a sing-songy voice with those very words: ‘don’t take my trousers down, mummy... not in front of everyone, mummy’.
Betty, on observing Simon’s behaviour remembered a few words from the book they’d been discussing at their previous meeting: “To experience déculottage…”, she said to herself, “Yes, a most severe humiliation for a boy of Simon’s age and temperament.”
Blimey, if he’s already like this, Hugh thought as he watched Simon pathetically pleading to be spared his disgrace, what’s he going to be like when everyone sees he’s got a hard-on? Hugh very nearly burst out laughing at the thought before he had a brilliant idea.
“Um… excuse me, Mrs Waters,” he said, “but can I help, er with Simon’s trousers? I’m sure I would be easier for me to undo them and, er help Abigail and Heather take them down.”
“That’s very kind of you, Hugh… very thoughtful indeed. Perhaps you could help the girls then. I know that little metal double clasp can be a bit fiddly and stiff,” Amanda replied.
Not the only thing that’s a bit stiff, Hugh thought.
“Mummy… please… he can’t… It’s not fair!” Simon wailed, for all the world like a little boy who’s favourite sweetie has just been given to another child. But Simon was sensible enough to stay put and watched as Hugh stepped up to the coffee table to help Abigail and Heather. Simon’s eyes looked down to watch Hugh’s fingers as they moved towards the front of his grey short trousers. Hugh looked up at Simon with a barely suppressed smile on his face. It didn’t take a genius to decode the look in Simon’s eyes: “I’ll get you for this!” It was as plain as if Simon’s words had been spoken out loud.
As a boy Hugh was of course used to these fiddly clasps and he unclipped the metal hooks with ease. Then he took the little metal flap at the top of the zip between the fingers of his right hand, ready to pull it down over the bump in Simon’s short trousers.
Hugh knew the best way of pulling down the zip-fly was to grab hold of the waistband of the the grey shorts with his other hand, which is exactly what he did and in the process yanked Simon’s shorts upwards sharply.
“OWW!!” Simon yelled as his balls were caught by the crotch seam of his short trousers. He turned to his mother: “Mum, that hurt… Hugh did that deliberately…”
“Oh, don’t make such a fuss, Simon… Act your age… Hugh’s only…”
“But, mum he caught my… my…” Simon interrupted and then stopped abruptly when he realised what he he was about to say in front of everyone.
Hugh’s antics surprisingly had little effect on the bulge in his short trousers.
“Please continue, Hugh,” Amanda said, “And do ignore my son’s theatrics…”
Eagerly Hugh did as he was told and started to pull the zip-fly down… until it reached the bump. Hugh pressed his knuckles against it and felt Simon’s penis through the grey fabric of his short trousers. Well, Hugh had to otherwise how could he manage to pull the zip down any further? Quite whether Hugh needed to do quite so much prodding and poking is perhaps questionable as this only made the situation worse… for Simon, that is. Hugh could easily feel the stiff rod was, well, stiff.
“Get a move on, Hugh… the girls are waiting to measure Simon’s shorts,” Amanda said.
“Sorry, but the zip’s being a bit awkward… something in the way, I think… no, there that’s got it…” With one sharp tug, Hugh pulled the zip all the way down.
The front of Simon’s short trousers fell open to reveal a pair of startlingly white junior schoolboy underpants. Hugh stepped back to give everyone a chance to see Simon’s tight little boy underpants framed by the now open fly of the short trousers. Hugh couldn’t help but grin as he looked at Simon’s balls, clearly defined by the taut white cotton, but what was really thrilling was to see Simon’s penis pressing against the cotton material as well. Not only that, but Hugh could see that Simon’s penis was dangerously close to the sloping fly of the little boy underpants. Any unguarded movement could see Simon’s penis poking out of the open fly… a delicious thought for the vengeful Hugh.
Hugh leant forward again and slipped his fingers underneath the legs of Simon’s short trousers and with a gentle tug watched as they slipped down Simon's smooth legs.
“Thank you, Hugh… that will do for now,” Amanda said, giving Hugh the hope that his involvement in Simon’s humiliation wasn’t quite over. “Abigail… Heather… take Simon’s trousers… you’ll have to lift his feet… yes that’s it… now watch… SIMON!!”
Hugh sniggered. As the girls had lifted Simon’s legs the boy’s hips had twisted and as they did so his penis, so close to the fly gap, pushed its way out and escaped the confines of the tight little schoolboy underpants. What Hugh saw very nearly caused him to burst out laughing. Simon’s penis, despite the unmistakable lump in his underpants, wasn’t that big at all! Hugh reckoned Simon’s little man was no thicker than his had been when he was thirteen or so and it wasn’t even as long as his had been then either. It was Hugh’s considered opinion that Simon’s erect penis was no more than a risible three inches long... if that.
“SIMON!! What do you think you’re doing?!” his mother admonished him for moving his hands and Hugh realised she hadn’t even noticed Simon’s little penis! “Put your hands back where they belong.”
Dutifully Simon did as he was told and placed his hands back on his head. Simon’s grey Trutex school shirt, freed from his short trousers, was pulled up as he lifted his arms and as his shirt was raised upwards Simon’s junior schoolboy underpants with his little penis poking out were slowly revealed.
Hugh could almost feel the heat of Simon’s shame, so intense had it become.
“And what are you smirking at, Hugh?” his mother Margret asked, “You’ve had your short trousers taken down often enough… I’m surprised you find it funny when it happens to another boy…”
Hugh apologised. It was nothing, he told his mum.
Still no one had noticed Simon’s penis, not even Abigail and Heather who were busy measuring the inner seam of his short trousers. Hugh couldn’t believe that no one in the room had seen it… mind you, he thought, it is small. Hugh tried to imagine what Simon must feel like perched on the coffee table, hands on head, in front of his mum and a room full of ladies and the two girls, knowing that any moment someone would at last notice his penis sticking out of the fly of his underpants.
Someone has got to see it sooner or later, thought Hugh, he must know that he can’t stand there forever without someone seeing it… then what? Hugh could barely contain the urge to chivy things along a bit by ‘accidentally’ drawing attention to the little pink soldier standing to attention, sticking out of Simon’s junior schoolboy underpants.
Hugh caught Simon’s eye and while no one was looking managed a wicked smile. Simon knew what was going through Hugh’s mind and, as much as it was possible with his eyes alone, he pleaded for Hugh not to do anything. But Hugh didn’t need to do anything as Heather chose that precise moment to look up and announce the length of Simon’s short trousers. She was just about to do so when she saw what was poking out of Simon’s underpants.
“Mummy look!! I can see Simon’s willy!!” Heather shouted loud enough to rattle the tea cups. “Look! He’s pushed his willy out of his underpants…”
Abigail looked up and grimaced.
Naturally Simon moved to cover himself, but his mother told him sharply not to move before telling him to apologise to her guests for his disgraceful behaviour.
Hugh watched as the ladies present pursed their lips as they peered at Simon’s penis. In so doing they ensured Simon felt fully ashamed of himself.
Finally Abigail spoke: “It’s not very big is it?” she said dismissively while looking fixedly at Simon’s still erect penis.
“And what makes you think that, young miss?” Abigail’s mother asked, “Are you an expert on the penis size of boys all of a sudden?”
“No,” Abigail answered, “but there was some stuff in sex ed. class about how a boy’s penis gets bigger during puberty. I wasn’t really listening much, but I remember we were told how the average length of a boy’s penis after puberty was between five and six inches… erect, that is…”
“I think that’s quite enough, Abigail,” Cynthia interrupted her daughter.
“But, mum… Simon’s is way smaller that that…” Abigail insisted.
“Your daughter does have a point,” Betty Crabbe observed, “Simon’s penis does appear to be on the small side.” She turned to Amanda Waters, “Perhaps this is why he plays… ahem, misbehaves so much… maybe it’s his way of trying to improve on that which nature has seen fit to bestow upon him, thinking it will make it a bit longer,” Betty laughed.
“Well, if that was the case it would be well over a foot long, the amount of times I’ve caught him playing with it…” Amanda chuckled in reply.
It was now perfectly clear to everyone in the room that Simon had been caught masturbating. The ladies of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle had been told at an earlier meeting that this was the reason Simon spent so much time in short trousers as a punishment for his behaviour. But now Abigail and Heather, as well as Hugh, were also in the know. Hugh of course had guessed straightaway… what boy wouldn’t? And what boy would not relish seeing his adversary in such a predicament as that in which Simon now found himself? It goes without saying that Hugh was aware of his own guilt, after all he too indulged freely in the same naughty behaviour as Simon... but he wasn’t the one standing on the coffee table with his penis poking out of his underpants for all to see.
‘Glorious’, was the word that rolled silently over Hugh’s tongue as he watched Simon’s humiliation, but even he didn’t expect to see his rival’s complete debasement as Amanda stepped up to her son who quaked nervously as he stood on the coffee table. Without another word spoken, Simon’s mother reached over to the waistband of her son’s junior schoolboy underpants and, gripping hold of it, tugged the underpants downwards. Of course Simon’s penis, remarkably still in an erect state, was caught in the little underpants, but this was of no concern to mum and as she yanked the underpants all the way down to Simon’s ankles, his little penis, freed from its restraint, slapped up against what looked for all the world to Hugh like a totally bald pubis! What Hugh couldn’t see, along with everyone else in the room for that matter, were the few, straggly, immature little hairs hidden behind Simon’s erect penis. Simon had been a very late bloomer indeed.
