I don’t mean to complain or to sound ungrateful, but had just turned fourteen and had started into puberty. Ok, so I hadn’t got any hairs yet and maybe that’s why mum wasn’t at all concerned about me being seen naked by our neighbours across the road.
It wasn’t as if they had a proper swimming pool. It was just a big, old-fashioned, inflatable paddling-pool. It wasn’t that deep either, probably not even two foot at most, so I couldn’t understand why I could just wear some shorts to play in with the girls, the daughters of our neighbours, Mr and Mrs Green.
“But they’ll be wearing their swimsuits, darling,” mum would explain, “and besides you’d only get your clothes all wet…”
“But mum…” I whined. You might wonder why, but you see I didn’t have a swimsuit of any description to call my own, so I knew that meant I’d have to be naked to play in the pool with the girls. Mum didn’t think it was necessary to bother with the expense of buying a swimsuit for me. “You’d only grow out it,” was her verdict. Anyway, we always went to ‘family friendly’ beaches on holiday where I could run around in the nude and no one minded in the least. Ok, it was no big deal when I was a little kid, but mum didn’t seem to realise that I was growing up and boys, especially when they get to their teens like me, start to feel increasingly body-conscious. Embarrassed when, like me, they knew that everyone can see their penis. Even at fourteen I wasn’t allowed to cover up. Nothing had been said specifically, but I knew it would be considered bad manners to cup my hands between my legs in front of anyone.
So when mum told me to get undressed because we’d been invited to our neighbours over the road, I knew what I was in for. “Come on, Bobby… get a move on!” she called out as upstairs in my bedroom I sighed and obediently took my clothes off, leaving them in a pile on my bed.
It’s difficult to describe how I felt as I caught sight of myself naked in my bedroom mirror. Nervous, yes, but also with a sense of weary resignation, like I was saying to myself, “Here we go again…”. I knew there was no getting out it. Being by nature an obedient boy I would do as I was told, never mind the embarrassment it caused me. It wasn’t as if I ever got used to being seen naked, because I didn’t. Being totally bare in front of everyone was always a ghastly experience. I hated that anyone and everyone could see everything, but I guess I was always a bit on the shy side. But, hey who wouldn’t be knowing I was about to go downstairs, leaving my clothes in my bedroom, and face another afternoon in the nude in our neighbour’s garden playing in their paddling-pool with the girls.
With the usual feeling of trepidation that only grew stronger the further away I was from my clothes, I left my bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs. I knew I was going to be seen naked and remain naked in front of everyone at the Green’s house. I was definitely tense, but also oddly excited, although not in the way you might think. For sure my heart rate increased and this was accompanied by the sort of nervous tingle you get when you know you’re about to do something daring. Part of you wants to do it and get it over with and the other part, afraid of what’s about happen, wants to hold back. Sounds strange, but that’s what it felt like.
In the hallway mum, as she inevitably did, held out her arm and I, as I was expected to, took hold of her hand. I saw dad came out of the living room with his video camera and my heart sank. Mr Green, the girls’ dad, had got himself a camera as well and the two dads were forever videoing us and talking about ideas and exchanging tips and comparing camera kit. I reckon they were in competition with each other. Although I didn’t understand why they spent so much time videoing me and the girls as we played in the Green’s garden. I thought that anyone being made to watch the videos dad and Mr Green had made would be bored stiff after the first couple of minutes.
With mum still holding my hand, dad would take my other hand when we were outside our house and about to cross the road. When I was a kid they would lift me up and swing me between them as they walked over to the Green’s house. Now, with me aged fourteen, mum and dad would still swing their arms, making me swing mine as they held my hands. Of course I was totally on display, with no means to cover my nob even if I dared to. Now I was in my teens it wasn’t only my arms that were swinging, not that it bothered either mum or dad in the least bit. If they noticed, they never said anything.
The girls, all three of them, had already changed into their one-piece swimsuits and were waiting our arrival in the garden. Wendy was Shelley’s bestie, both the same age as me, and Kim was Shelley’s younger sister.
The three of them were always coming up with pranks to play on me, like they found some water-wings and made me wear them when I came over to play in the paddling-pool. I looked really stupid, but if that wasn’t bad enough, the next time they had some flippers which they made me put on my feet. I’m sure the girls must have known what would happen, because I had to lift my legs up really high when I wanted to walk anywhere and you know what that meant. My penis bounced and slapped from thigh to thigh as I did my silly, high-kicking walk. Needless to say it was all captured on dad’s and Mr Green’s video cameras.
Then there was the garden sprinkler. One of the so-called ‘fun’ games the girls made me join in was to leap-frog through the spray. Crouching down with my arms between my wide open thighs and my hands pressed on the grass, like I used to do in the the Cubs. I would have to spring up and hop from one side of the garden to the other through the spray from the sprinkler in a game of froggy-tag. The object being for me to chase the girls as they ran about in an attempt to get close enough to touch them which was almost impossible as they could run whereas I could only hop. The trouble was that all that hopping and bouncing about would sometimes end in me getting a boner. Before you ask, yes, it was hugely embarrassing. There was nothing I could do to stop it happening and nothing I could do to make it go down. The obvious method to speed up the process of deflation was not an option. Of course the girls would giggle and laugh at my predicament, pointing as my erection bobbed from side-to-side. The grown-ups took it in their stride; the girls were having a bit of fun and boys ought to learn how to control themselves. Somehow it was my fault.
Quite often other friends or relations would drop by the Green’s house. On one memorable occasion I was made to help out at an impromptu lunchtime barbeque and as my clothes were over the road in my bedroom, I was left totally nude. When I complained and asked mum if I could go back to our house and put on some clothes, she simply said that as I would be playing in the paddling-pool again later, “...not to bother... what’s the point?” So I was left naked to help pass the plates of food around. As you can imagine I received plenty of cheeky remarks and the odd pat on my bare bottom as well.
That day was also memorable for another reason. You see later on when we’d finished playing in the garden, and with me still bare, mum and dad were invited indoors for drinks. The girls all went to change out of their swimming costumes and got dressed, leaving me still naked. Why is it that no one seems to care about leaving a boy bare nude? Indoors the two dads started to discuss the videos they’d both been making during the day and asked all the other guests if they’d like to watch what dad lightheartedly called the ‘dailies’. Everyone, particularly the girls were all keen to see the videos. Just then some more friends turned up. They were surprised to see a nude boy, since everyone else was fully dressed, but mum told them how I’d been playing in the paddling-pool with the girls and that seemed to satisfy them. Perhaps they thought I didn’t want to get dressed.
“We’re just about to watch some videos of the children playing in the garden today… would you like to join us?” mum asked.
As if I wasn’t already embarrassed enough I had to sit there on the floor at everyone’s feet, legs crossed ‘injun’ style, and watch myself on the big 65” OLED TV screen larking about in the nude earlier in the day. It was totally humiliating. I couldn’t believe how clearly you could see all my boy-bits flopping about. My penis was bouncing all over the place, slapping my legs as I ran about naked chasing the girls. Whenever I appeared in shot everyone in the room burst out laughing. I heard someone say, “Bobby by name and bobby by nature!” This brought another huge laugh. I knew what they were all laughing at… my penis ‘bobbing’ about, that’s what! And there I was still totally naked in the room with them, while they all watched my nude antics in the garden, playing games with the girls who were all wearing their modest one-piece swimsuits.
Embarrassing doesn’t even begin to describe what it was like to be there in the room having to sit there and watch myself in the video.
It got worse.
‘It’ was an older video that dad and Mr Green had made. As everyone had enjoyed themselves so much watching the afternoon games in the garden dad asked if they would like to watch a video of my thirteenth birthday party.
My reaction was instant: “OH NO!!! PLEASE DAD… PLEASE, NOT THAT ONE.”
But of course I was out-voted as everyone in the room, apart from me, wanted to watch my birthday video.
While my dad and Mr Green sorted out the video, I couldn’t help but remind myself of what I’d had to endure on that day and what everyone in the room was about to see…
Needless to say the girls had had a great deal to do with organising my thirteenth birthday party, the day I was to officially became a teen; the day to which I reckon every twelve year old boy looks forward. Unbeknownst to me at the time there had been secret conversations between the girls and my parents. Of course I never knew what they were planning until it was too late and my big day arrived.
It was only at breakfast while I was still in my pyjamas that mum told me the girls had helped her to organise a birthday party for me, making it sound as if it was something I should be thrilled to hear. I wasn’t. I knew what the girls were capable of, but mum must have seen the look on my face and to cheer me up told me how the girls had a special surprise in store for me. Well, I thought it would be something special; a surprise so special that it involved my parents. It certainly had been special alright and now I was about to undergo the experience of watching the video of my special day all over again with yet more grown ups including some friends of the Green’s that I hadn’t even met before and didn’t know from Adam.
After breakfast I went and had a shower. It was then that events took a turn in a totally unexpected direction. When I got back to my bedroom to get dressed mum was there. I looked down on my bed where I expected to see the clothes she had put out for me to wear for my birthday. But there weren’t any clothes, just a brightly-coloured party hat, a bow-tie and underneath these, what looked like a pair of shirt-cuffs, cuffs on their own without any sleeves.
I looked up at mum: “What are these?” I asked, totally confused.
“It’s your birthday suit, darling…”
“What? Is that it? C’mon, mum… you’re joking, where are my clothes?”
“I told you… it’s your birthday suit, darling… you’ve got to wear your birthday suit on your birthday…”
The awful news sunk in. Mum wasn’t joking: “… but… I’ll be bare…” I protested.
“Nonesense, darling… you’ll be wearing your bow-tie and shirt-cuffs as well as your party hat… so you won’t be completely bare now will you?”
Was I seriously expected to agree with that logic; that I wouldn’t be stark naked because I was wearing a bow-tie and a colourful, conical cardboard party hat and shirt-cuffs? No way, José. But mum wasn’t having any of it. It didn’t matter to her what I thought and just as I was trying to get my head round the idea I would be naked, at least as near naked as made no odds, on my own birthday, mum dropped another bombshell. I was told it was going to be fun across the road at my party.
“What do you mean ‘across the road’?” This was news to me. I mean I’d been told the girls had been involved in planning my birthday party, but I never thought it was going to be held over the road at the Green’s house. That meant of course that I would be walking across the road to their house in the nude… dur, sorry, my birthday suit.
I was so totally flabbergasted by this turn of events that I just stood there dumstrick and let mum get me ‘dressed’.
“It was the girls idea,” mum explained brightly as she put on my bow-tie and party hat. I didn’t doubt that for a moment. “Isn’t that nice of them to want to do something special for your thirteenth birthday? You’ll be a teenager, just like Wendy and Shelley…”
Wendy and Shelley were a few months older than me, but I don’t recall them wearing their birthday suits on their birthdays. No, of course they didn’t. They were girls. It was only because I was a boy that everyone seemed to think it was okay for me to wear my birthday suit on my birthday to my birthday party in front of all the guests. That’s when it hit me. What about the guests? Who was going to be there? How many of my friends would be at the party? How many of my parents’ friends? How many of my relations? In other words, how many people were going to see me ‘dressed’ in my birthday suit at my birthday party? It was like I’d been poleaxed.
Mum slipped the linen shirt-cuffs over my hands and onto my wrists. I was so stunned at the thought of what was about to happen that all I could do was to stand still and let mum get on with it. I caught sight of myself in my bedroom mirror as mum fiddled with the shirt-cuffs. I looked really stupid. The thin elastic strap of the party hat was tight under my chin and the bow-tie and cuffs looked ridiculous on my otherwise bare body.
“Mum,” I whined, “Do I have to…? Can’t I wear some shorts, or something?”
“Don’t be silly, darling… the girls have told everyone and they’re all looking forward to seeing you in your birthday suit…” There was that word ‘everyone’. Just how many did that signify? Mum fiddled about some more with the shirt-cuffs. “You want to look nice and smart, don’t you?” she said and once happy the cuffs were fitted to her satisfaction, added, “Now come along downstairs… there’s a little extra surprise for you before we go to your party…”
If I was expecting a birthday present I was about to be disappointed. The ‘little surprise’ turned out to be a marker pen which mum then used to write the number ‘13’ on my chest. This was another idea of the girls apparently… I might have known.
Needless to say dad was already busy videoing me with his new camera, the results of which were now being shown to everyone gathered, me included, in the Green’s living-room.
“The girls thought it would add to your birthday surprise if we put this little blindfold on you before we took you over the road for your party…” mum said as she produced a piece of cloth.
Now I really was worried. I couldn’t believe mum and dad had gone along with the birthday suit idea in the first place, but a blindfold?! Were they mad? No, of course not. They thought it was ever such a sweet, innocent idea of the girls. When I protested mum simply said not to be a spoilsport, “It’ll be fun,” she added as she tied the cloth around my head, covering my eyes. “Now no peeking, Bobby… remember, it’s to be a big surprise.”
Dad must have gone on a little way ahead, because on the video we were all watching you could see me being led out of our house and standing by the side of the road holding mum’s hand. I’d heard a car coming up the road and the driver tooted the car horn as it got nearer. Being blindfolded I had no idea who it was, but mum told me to wave and as I did so with my free hand the driver tooted the horn again. That made me more nervous than ever.
I didn’t know how many friends and family would be at my party. In dad’s video you can see how many there were there, but at the time I hadn’t got a clue. At first it was really quiet and as far as I was concerned I wondered if there was anyone there at all. Didn’t anybody stop and think what it would be like for me, thirteen years old, to be standing blindfolded, dressed in nothing more than a party hat, a bow tie and a pair of shirt-cuffs with no clue as to how many people were watching me? No, of course not. Huh, great fun for them I guess, but what about me?
Although at the time I could sense there were people around me it wasn’t until they started to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ that I realised there were an awful lot of people staring at me dressed in my humiliating birthday outfit. Crikey, I was so embarrassed… and that was even before my blindfold had been taken off!
Dad had zoomed in with his camera so that my face filled the screen. You could see how shocked I was when one of the girls took off my blindfold. Everyone who was watching the video laughed when they saw my horrified expression. To them it was nothing more than a harmless, wholesome prank played on a surprised birthday boy. But for me, even though it was over a year ago and I’d seen the video loads of times, it still sent shivers down my spine as I was forced to live through the experience once more. I soon found the only way to cope was to put on a brave face and try to make out that it was no big deal. After all I was a boy and boys are supposed to be able to handle this sort of situation and learn to take it in their stride.
Whenever I heard people chuckling when they saw me in my birthday suit with ‘13’ written across my chest I knew they would turn to look at me in the flesh, as if to compare me with what they were seeing on the screen. I would force myself to grin and put on an aw shucks expression as if being naked for my thirteenth birthday was something I myself had chosen to do; like I was silly enough to go totally bare to my birthday party… y’know, as if I wasn’t wearing any clothes for a prank.
In dad’s video you see how the girls had gone to a lot of trouble with all the decorations. There were lots of balloons and streamers everywhere and tables laden with party food. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was bare naked apart from the silly cuffs, hat and bow-tie that mum had me wearing, I would have been thrilled to be at my party. As it was… in case I haven’t made it abundantly clear already… I was the only one there without any clothes on surrounded by my friends in their best party outfits.
Seeing the video again in a roomful of people as I sat on the floor in front of them, I tried hard not to to look concerned; watching it as if it was someone else’s birthday party I was looking at, but it didn’t help. I still felt as embarrassed as ever. You see, I knew what was coming up next and I knew it would get an even bigger laugh from everyone.
It was awful waiting knowing what was going to happen to me in the video. I would feel my heart racing and sometimes I’d try not to look at the screen, but I just couldn’t stop myself. It was like I had to watch, transfixed by the sight of my thirteen year old self being led over to a table upon which was displayed my birthday cake.
Of course at the time I didn’t know what awaited me and that made it somehow worse for me as I sat there watching myself on the video. It was almost like I wanted to reach out and warn myself what was about to happen. Of course that was impossible, so I had to sit there and watch as I saw Wendy and Shelley guide me to the table. A chair had been placed in front of the table and the girls sat me down facing my cake on which thirteen candles had been lit. I could see the words “Happy Birthday Bobby” had been carefully piped in coloured icing between the candles. There were chocolate sprinkles all around the side and lots of little coloured chocolate beans on the top. You could see by the look in my eyes that I was delighted to have such a fantastic birthday cake and by the way I was smiling you might of imagined that I’d forgotten that all I had on was a bow-tie, party hat and some shirt-cuffs.
Everyone in the room at my party watched me expectantly as I was told to blow out my birthday candles and if I did it in one go I was to close my eyes to make a wish. I looked up into dad’s video camera beaming from ear-to-ear, as if thrilled to have been given such a terrific birthday cake. Then I leant forward and twisted my head along the row of candles, took a deep breath and blew them all out in one go. I straightened my head and closed my eyes. As I made my wish I felt hands on the back of my head and second later my face was pushed down, straight into my birthday cake! A few seconds ago I’d been admiring the cake and now I was forced to take a much closer look as my face was pressed into a mixture of chocolate, cream, jam, sprinkles and sponge.
In the video I could see that it was Wendy and Shelley who had pushed my head into the cake, but at the time I had no idea who it was. Within seconds my face was smeared with chocolate, bits of sponge and cream as the girls pushed my head from side to side to make sure my face was properly covered. Wendy gripped a handful of my hair and lifted my head up to cheers and laughter from the guests on the day as well as those watching dad’s video of the proceedings. Pieces of chocolate flake and chocolate buttons were stuck to my forehead, chin and nose. The creamy mixture smothered my face and dripped from my chin. Some of it was so thick that I couldn’t see what was happening until I scraped some of it from around my eyes. When I watched myself in the video, and humiliating as that was, it was difficult not to see the funny side of my predicament.
The look of disappointment on my messy face always got a few sympathetic ‘ahhs’ from those who saw the video. I guess it was some recompense for the humiliation I’d endured on my birthday. But now I had to contend with the thought of having to watch my thirteen year old self playing party games after mum and the girls wiped my face.
Thankfully dad didn’t show them the video of me in my Easter bunny outfit from earlier in the year. I don’t know why they thought it was a good idea for me to wear bunny ears. It was to be a surprise for the girls, a reward for all their hard work in preparing my birthday party, so I was very reluctantly dressed in a bunny costume complete with a straw basket in which to put the Easter eggs our parents had hidden in our gardens. The trouble for me was that I was wearing bunny paws on both my hands and feet, so I was at a distinct disadvantage when it came to collecting the eggs, so the girls got nearly all of them. Even though I was thirteen, I was almost in tears at not having any chocolate eggs in my bunny basket, so mum made the girls give me one each of their Easter eggs. It still meant I only had three against the loads they had managed to collect, but when you’re a boy you have to put up with these things.
I had to wonder why my parents seemed to go out of their way to embarrass me. I know they didn’t do it deliberately and I don’t think they even realised how much they were humiliating me in the process. They simply hadn’t noticed that I had grown older, that I was a teenager and not a little boy of six or seven any more. I’m sure mum thought it was cute to dress me up in a festive costume. The trouble was that most of the time these costumes were very revealing and didn’t leave much room for modesty. I think perhaps mum dressed me up so that dad could have something to video, otherwise, let’s face it, most home movies can be incredibly boring. Maybe she thought that it would make dad’s family videos more interesting to have me running about in some silly costume… or totally naked as happened often enough. I tell you it was dead embarrassing when you’re thirteen to have your dad come into the bathroom with his video camera at the ready while mum’s giving you a bath.
Now of course I have a complete record of all the humiliations I endured as a boy growing up and you know sometimes they can be fun to watch on a cold winter’s evening when there’s nothing worth watching on TV…
