Francis & His Sisters - Part 4

Francis was horrified. Mum had set the family conference to take place in fifteen minutes time. In only twenty minutes from now the girl Francis had at long last managed to go on a date with was due to call at the house for him! It had taken Francis ages to summon up the courage to ask Wendy for a date. He was on cloud nine when she agreed to go out with him, but I don’t need to explain how Francis felt now he was to attend a family conference, a family conference for which his was to appear dressed in nothing more than his skimpy and extremely brief Red Indian outfit.

Francis pleaded with his mother and told her about his date with Wendy. Couldn’t mum leave the family conference until later, until after his date? Then, he told his mum, he’d willingly get dressed in his Red Indian outfit for her. But his words fell on deaf ears.

“Your date can wait, Francis,” mum said flatly, “I’m sure Wendy won’t mind the delay while we have a family conference. The girls can explain the holdup to her… I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“... but, mum…” Francis did his best to interrupt.

“... or perhaps you might prefer to explain to Wendy your need to attend a family conference?”

Defeated Francis hung his head: “No, mum…” However much he disliked the thought of his sisters telling Wendy the reason for the delay in his meeting her for their date, Francis was simply terrified at the thought of ‘his girl’ seeing him dressed in the childish play costume that he’d been coerced into wearing for a game of Cowboys and Indians.

Just the idea that Wendy might catch sight of him dressed in his Red Indian outfit with its tiny loincloth flap revealing the complete absence of pubic hair was enough to make Francis toe the line. So he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked once more at the minuscule costume laid out on his bedspread. Once more Francis picked up the tiny loincloth and stared at it as he wondered how anyone could have thought to make such a humiliating costume. Yet these very Red Indian outfits were sold in the High Street boys’ outfitters and were, by all accounts, very popular… if not with boys, then certainly with their mothers who had no problem with dressing their sons in such brief costumes and sending them out to play in the fresh air. But Francis wasn’t a boy any more… at least that’s what he thought. So why was he drawn to the ridiculously embarrassing outfit? Francis found it an utterly shameful garment. When he had been forced to appear wearing the outfit in front of the ladies in the Copper Kettle, his intense shame was palpable. Francis knew he was going to experience the very same feelings as he wore his Red Indian costume again in front of his mother and his sisters in a few moments time. He picked up the flimsy loincloth and looked at it again as he ran it through his fingers. Why then was it so damn mesmerising? Why, after the abject humiliation of meeting Mrs Barton and her friends, had he felt the need to call on Christopher and try on an even skimpier loincloth? He didn’t understand.

“Francis! Have you put on your costume yet?” he heard his mother’s voice calling, “Get a move on! I want you in the front-room in five minutes. Did you hear what I said?!”

“Yes, mum…” he replied. There was no getting out of it… time was running out for Francis to report to the front-room before Wendy arrived.

There was no doubt about it, the Red Indian outfit looked absurd on Francis as he stood in front of his bedroom mirror. He struck a series of poses which made him look even more like an overgrown schoolboy and once more Francis felt that weird feeling come over him as he tried to adjust the tiny flap of buckskin, his only protection from complete exposure. Francis had the feeling that in spite of the preposterous costumes, boys were supposed to enjoy running about playing Cowboys and Indians! He turned around in front of the mirror and looked back over his shoulder to see…

“Jeez…!!” he gasped at the astonishing sight of his virtually bare bottom. A narrow, tapering sliver of buckskin hung down from the cord around Francis’ waist. The rear flap only just covered the top half of his intergluteal cleft before the tapered end of the flap disappeared between Francis’ bottom cheeks. Try as he might, Francis couldn’t get the tapered rear flap to cover any more of his exposed bottom.

With a heartfelt sigh Francis pulled on his moccasins and hastily slid the armbands up past his elbows. He pushed on the brightly-coloured headband with its single feather and left his bedroom when he realised that if he didn’t watch out he’d meet Wendy in the hallway.

As he padded along the hall towards the front-room, Francis saw that Sarah was keeping watch out of a window for any sign of his date. Sarah turned and looked at her older brother. She grinned.

“Neat,” she said, “I wonder what Wendy will make of it… do you think she’ll want to go on a date with a Red Indian?”

Francis was mortified: “Don’t you dare tell her about this…” Francis hissed, “As soon as the… the conference is over I’m taking off this stupid costume…” he added, trying to sound as if he was in control.

Sam’s voice called out excitedly from upstairs: “She’s here! Wendy’s here! I can see her! Coming up the driveway…”

Francis didn’t need to hear any more and scooted into the front room, desperate to avoid meeting his date in the hall. His heart was pounding. Wendy was early and mum was late. All Francis could do was to stand and wait, wait for the inevitable scolding as mum reiterated her version of what happened earlier at Mrs Harper’s with Christopher for the benefit of his sisters… as if they didn’t already know what Francis was accused of! He heard girls’ voices in the hall and prayed Sarah and Sam wouldn’t tell on him. Then his mother’s voice as she asked Wendy if she wouldn’t mind waiting while she and the girls had a family conference with Francis.

Francis tried to make out what was being said as the voices in the hall dropped to a whisper. It made him feel more nervous than ever, not knowing what all the whispering was about. Were they telling Wendy not to worry; that Francis would be ready to take her on their date just as soon as the conference was over? Heaven forbid they were telling Wendy anything else!

Then, without warning, the door was pushed open. Francis leapt to one side, behind the door in case Wendy saw him, as Sarah, Sam and his mother strode into the room.

Questions flew rapidly through Francis’ mind as he desperately tried to insure his boy-bits were covered with the absurdly brief flap of his loincloth. Did Wendy already know how he was treated like a naughty boy? Had she been told how he was spanked over his mother’s knee? Francis knew he’d never live it down if she knew anything. His first real date was turning into a disaster all because of his stupid Red Indian outfit. He couldn’t understand what had made him go over to Mrs Harper’s in the first place. Why did he think it was a good idea to visit Christopher? Oh Francis knew alright, but he could hardly admit it to himself, never mind anyone else. What an idiot he’d been. Why didn’t he remember his date with Wendy before he went swanning off to try on the tiny loincloth that Christopher had worn during the game of Cowboys and Indians? He was going to lose Wendy before they’d even been on a date together!

The reason for his misfortune was between Francis’ legs of course. Like boys throughout history once Francis learnt what secret pleasures could be had from playing with his penis, nothing else mattered. Francis’ urge to masturbate was virtually constant. An itch that needed to be satisfied. An itch that had led to him spending more and more time alone in his bedroom. An itch that drove his mother to enlist the help of his younger sisters to get him out of the house; out into the fresh air. An itch that perversely led him headlong into his conflicted feelings of shame and excitement embodied in the embarrassing Red Indian outfit. The supremely humiliating outfit he was wearing at that very moment in front of his mother and sisters.

To his surprise his mother didn’t launch into the tirade Francis had expected. Instead she gave a deep sigh before she spoke:

“Francis, I hope you don’t think me unkind when I tell you how disappointed I am with your behaviour… The girls too were very upset to hear what you’ve been up to at Mrs Harper’s. I really hoped that between us we’d made some progress… getting you out into the fresh air… away from that stuffy bedroom, but…” Mrs Park paused, sighed then changed tack, “Wendy seems like a nice girl. It’s not many girls who’d be prepared to wait while we had our little conference. She must think a lot of you…”

Francis stood in the middle of the room in the skimpy Red Indian costume that didn’t even properly cover his boy’s privates and blushed: “Yes, mum…” he mumbled, feeling as always, like a little schoolboy in front of his mother and sisters at these family conferences.

“What are we going to do with you, Francis?” Mrs Park said after short pause that left Francis more nervous than ever.

“I’m sorry mum… I really am... honestly…” Francis pleaded earnestly.

It was Sarah’s turn to speak and she pointed out this was what her brother always said, “... but it doesn’t make any difference… does it, mummy? Francis just carries on being naughty. Sam and I tried to help when we took him for a game of Cowboys and Indians… and you know what he did, mummy?”

Francis interrupted his sister and begged her not to go any further. As far as Francis knew his mother hadn’t been told the full story of the game of Cowboys and Indians and besides, he was terrified Wendy might overhear what was said. It was bad enough to be standing in front of the family dressed in his ludicrously brief Red Indian outfit, knowing he was to receive a spanking, but the thought of Wendy, his date, finding out what happens when boys like himself can’t control themselves was simply awful.

“Please, Sarah… please don’t tell…” Francis pleaded pathetically.

“Don’t be such a wimp,” Sam chided him, “Mummy ought to be told how naughty you were with the other boys…”

Outside in the hallway, Wendy tiptoed a little closer to the living-room door, all the better to hear what was being said. Wendy knew Francis was in trouble with his mother, but not why exactly. Sarah had taken great delight in teasing the older girl about how Francis had been naughty and how mum had ordered a family conference to ‘discuss’ Francis’ behaviour, but in spite of Wendy’s entreaties to “tell all”, Sarah merely giggled and told Wendy how she was sure “all would be revealed” if she was prepared to wait.

Well, I ask you, who wouldn’t wait! Who wouldn’t want to find out what a naughty boy like Francis had been up to that required him to report for a family conference. Wendy would for one!

Unbeknown to Francis, Wendy had fancied him for ages. Francis might have thought he was the luckiest person alive… but what he didn’t realise was that Wendy felt the same about him! For nearly a year Wendy had longed to go on a date with Francis. She loved looking at cute, shy boys and Francis was one of the shyest and cutest she knew. Whenever Wendy caught him gazing in her direction, he blushed. Whenever he summoned up courage to speak to her, he became tongue-tied. As Wendy lay in bed at night, she would think of Francis and mutter to herself: “He’s just so damn cute!”

And now, today of all days, Wendy was asked if she wouldn’t mind waiting while Francis attended a family conference… of course she wouldn’t mind!

The voices coming from the front-room were much clearer now that Wendy had sidled up to the door. In fact she could hear everything and she was delighted with what she heard. But she couldn’t work out why Francis was being so compliant. Of course she heard him plead and beg his sisters not to tell on him, but his protests were without conviction. Wendy wasn’t to know Francis was standing in the middle of the front-room wearing the flimsiest, skimpiest of Red Indian costumes ever worn by a sixteen year old boy… a state of affairs that would cause any boy to become biddable.

Inside the room Francis hung his head as Sarah and Sam between them explained how Francis had responded to the nettling he’d been given as part of the game of Cowboys and Indians.

“Ben…” Sarah started started to tell her mother.

“He’s one of the cowboys,” Sam added.

“Ben was after some information, but Francis wouldn’t tell him, so he started to tickle Francis with the bunch of nettles…” Sarah continued.

“... tickle, tickle, tickle…” Sam interjected.

Mrs Park listened, then she noticed Francis’ hands moving to the front of his loincloth. The memory of those itchy green nettles had begun to have an unwelcome effect on Francis.

“Francis!” his mother snapped, “No hands below the waist when we’re having a conference! In fact I think your hands would be better off out of the way completely… put them at the back of your head.”

Outside in the hall Wendy was thrilled and excited to hear Mrs Park. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d been. Francis playing Cowboys and Indians. Was Francis a cowboy or a Red Indian, Wendy wondered?

“Where exactly did Ben the cowboy tickle Francis the Red Indian?” Mrs Park asked calmly.

“OMYGOD!!!” Wendy gasped to herself, “Francis… Francis a Red Indian!!” This was just too much! The thought of Francis… dishy Francis… cute Francis… playing games that only little boys played, was all too much for Wendy. She struggled to contain her excitement. Surely no boy over the age of eleven or twelve would be seen dead playing such childish games. Oh, how she looked forward to dating Francis! Wendy strained to hear more. She didn’t want to miss anything…

“On his penis…” Sam informed her mother, “Ben tickled Francis’ penis with the nettles…”

“But surely Francis penis was covered by his loincloth,” Mrs Parks argued, “Did the cowboys remove it?”

“Oh no mummy… Francis’ penis was stiff… sticking straight up... “ Sarah explained.

“His penis had pushed the flap to one side,” Sam added, “It looked really funny…”

“... and it sort of jerked and twitched when Ben tickled it… and then it dribbled,” Sarah said.

“I see,” mum said, “It sounds as if Francis was enjoying playing Cowboys and Indians…”

“But I wasn’t, mum… I wasn’t,” Francis protested, “The cowboys tied me up… and the other Red Indians too… I couldn’t help it…”

“Then Francis did it…” Sarah announced solemnly.

“Did it…? Did what?” Mrs Park enquired.

“Spurted… squirted and sprayed his goo all over Christopher…” Sam explained excitedly.

“You mean Francis ejaculated... over Christopher?” her mum asked, a little shocked.

The girls couldn't resist fanning the flames: “Yes, mummy… Francis squirted slimy goo onto Christopher’s tummy… and up onto his chest… You wouldn’t believe the mess he made…”

Francis was overcome with shame and his moist eyes glistened as he begged his sisters not to go on. But in spite of his embarrassment, his penis stirred and the girls watched, goggle-eyed, as the front flap of Francis’ tiny loincloth began to slip to one side.

“Please, mum… please don’t let them say any more…” Francis strained his raised arms and pushed his hands hard into the back of his neck as he begged his mother to end his sisters’ torment.

“Francis this is a family conference,” his mother replied, “and as such there will be no secrets between us. Your sisters are simply telling me what happened out of their concern for you. You don’t seem to understand that you should be grateful they take such an interest in your welfare…”

“... but, mum…” Francis blurted out as he tried his best to stop any more talk of what happened.

“That’s enough, Francis… the girls are quite right to tell me what happened during your game of Cowboys and Indians…” This was said in such a way that could easily convey the impression to anyone listening that it was Francis’ game… a game organised by the sixteen year old.

Wendy was of course listening, listening intently to all that was being said in the front-room. Some girls might have thought Francis a terrible wimp if they’d been eavesdropping on the family conference, but not Wendy. For Wendy it was all just soooo exciting! She wasn’t in the least attracted to boys who showed off; boys who were so full of themselves they couldn’t understand why she refused their tedious, pathetic advances. And as for their feeble chat-up lines, they made her laugh. No, Wendy wanted a boy who was different; a boy who wasn’t like other boys. When Francis did at last summon up courage to ask Wendy for a date, she was certain she’d found the boy of her dreams. For Wendy to hear that Francis had been playing Cowboys and Indians with younger boys was simply the icing on the cake. It was obvious to her that Francis was just the sort of thoughtful boy she wanted to be with.

Wendy’s reverie was interrupted by Mrs Park’s raised voice: “Francis! Control yourself!”

Wendy wondered what on earth Francis had done. She was still quite unaware the boy of her dreams was dressed in nothing more than his Red Indian outfit complete with its startlingly minuscule, teensy-weensy loincloth flap… a flap which was, even as Wendy strained to work out what was happening, slowly slipping to one side and uncovering Francis’ stiffening penis.

Sarah and Sam feigned shock at the sight of Francis’ penis as it jerked and bobbed upwards as if they were determined to add to their older brother’s misery.

“Perhaps I should call Mrs Harper and ask her to bring Christopher here?” Mrs Park suggested as she gazed at her son’s penis emerging from behind the tiny flap of buckskin, “Then you boys could continue your little game together…”

Outside the room it was all Wendy could do to stop herself from barging in on the family conference, but she knew that would never do. But what was Mrs Park talking about? Why were Sarah and Sam squealing with obviously feigned horror? What was Francis doing that he couldn’t control? Above all else, what ‘little game’ had Francis been playing with Christopher?

This was so frustrating for poor Wendy stuck in the hall, but what happened next took her breath away as she heard Mrs Park tell Sarah to “fetch the strap from the kitchen…”

Wendy instinctively stepped back from her listening post before the door of the front-room was pulled open by Sarah. Wendy looked over Sarah’s shoulder and caught the briefest of glimpses of her date. Brief it may have been, but it was a sight guaranteed to be seared into her memory. Wendy almost fainted when she saw Francis standing with his hands on his head wearing a preposterous little boy play outfit; the sort of thing a much, much younger boy might possibly want, or be made to wear. As the sight of Francis in his humiliating outfit sank in, Wendy did her best to stifle her laughter before the door swung slowly back on its hinges and Francis disappeared from her sight.

This is priceless, Wendy thought as she prayed it wouldn’t be her only opportunity to see Francis dressed as a Red Indian. She then quickly followed Sarah into the kitchen in time to see her taking down a wicked looking leather strap from a hook on the wall next to the kitchen clock. With a gasp Wendy realised the strap had been deliberately placed where to could be seen by visitors to Mrs Park’s house.

“Mummy’s going to strap Francis on his bare bottom,” Sarah explained, not without a hint of mischievous glee in her voice.

“Does Francis always get the strap on his bare bottom?” Wendy enquired.

“Oh, yes… mummy always strap Francis on the bare,” Sarah answered.

“... and she lets you watch?” Wendy added.

“Mummy says it helps to make the strapping more memorable when Sam and I watch… I expect she’ll let you watch too… maybe not today, but the next time perhaps,” Sarah said as she stroked the leather strap, “You mustn’t be upset if you see Francis cry… he usually does,” she added as an afterthought.

Sarah rushed back out of the kitchen and across the hall before Wendy had time to ask her about the silly little costume she had glimpsed Francis wearing. Never mind, Wendy thought, there was clearly going to be plenty of time to find out more if Sarah really thought she’d be asked to watch Francis being strapped by his mum at some future date… strapped on his bare bottom!

Wendy quickly resumed her position in the hall in time to hear Mrs Park ask Francis again whether he would like her to arrange for Mrs Harper to bring Christopher over so the boys could continue their game, “... properly supervised.”

“No, mum…” Francis replied.

“Why not, Francis?”

“But mum, we weren’t doing anything… honest we weren’t,” Francis pleaded to the amusement of his sisters.

“That’s not what Mrs Harper told me. She said that both you and Christopher were caught in an advanced state of excitement… no doubt about to repeat the escapades Sarah and Sam just told me about when you were off playing your game of Cowboys and Indians. Really Francis, you don’t expect me to believe you were doing nothing in Christopher’s bedroom…”

“... but we weren’t, mummy… we weren’t,” Francis replied desperately.

Wendy immediately noticed how, for the first time during the family meeting, Francis had addressed Mr Park as ‘mummy’.

“In that case, can you give me any reason… any plausible reason, why Christopher was holding your erect penis?”

Wendy’s jaw dropped as she heard these words. This was simply too much! Boys in skimpy loincloths playing with each other’s penises! Could this possibly get any more interesting, more exciting, she wondered?

Francis tried to explain that Christopher was merely helping him adjust his loincloth, but that… and at this point Francis metaphorically held his breath before launching into further explanations… the two of them just got so excited at the thought of playing Cowboys and Indians again, they couldn’t wait to try on their play outfits. Francis knew what sacrifice this meant; he knew this apparent willingness would be used to make him play more of Terry Harper’s hideous games of Cowboys and Indians. But this was the only way he could think of that might assuage his mother’s temper. The strap Sarah had brought in from the kitchen was all too real and Francis knew his mum could make his bottom sting like blazes when she snapped it across his bare bottom.

“I’m pleased to hear you boys are keen to play Cowboys and Indians again and I shall pass your wishes on to Mrs Harper with a request that she asks her son to organise some more games for you,” Mrs Park said as she picked up the strap from the coffee table where Sarah had left it, “but I cannot let your behaviour at Mrs Harper’s go unpunished. You are sixteen years old Francis and old enough to set an example to a younger boy like Christopher. I fail to see why your penis was seen to be fully erect, let alone being held by Christopher… despite what you say.”

Francis groaned inwardly. Not only was he about to be punished for being caught with Christopher, but he had now committed himself to more of Terry Harper’s games and likely as not his sisters would be joining in too!

“Come along, Francis… I’m sure you don’t want to keep your date waiting any longer,” Mrs Park said and Francis positioned himself to receive the attentions of his mum’s leather strap. “Sarah, would you please bare your brother’s bottom for me.”

“Yes, mummy,” Sarah replied and stepped forward to attend to her task.

Of course this ritual was perfectly pointless as it was quite unnecessary to bare Francis’ bottom, since it was already, for all intents and purposes, quite bare. The rear flap of his Red Indian outfit covered nothing more than the intergluteal cleft, but Sarah solemnly lifted the thin strip of flimsy buckskin up out of the way and returned to her sister’s side.

Francis held his ankles tightly. It was all so unfair. He never got to see his sisters punished. Indeed, he wasn’t even sure if they ever were punished. It was always Francis who ended up in trouble. Always Francis who was the subject of his mother’s wrath. His sisters, it seemed, could do no wrong, but whenever there was trouble, Francis got the blame. To be fair, it was Francis’ fault he ended up on the receiving end of his mother’s strap, but his situation was often exacerbated by Sarah and Sam reporting his behaviour directly to their mother.

Francis tensed as his mother adjusted her position before the first stinging snap of the leather strap was felt across his bottom cheeks. As always, Francis bit his lower lip and vowed to himself that he wouldn’t cry, but, as always, by the fourth stroke of mum’s punishment strap the tears were freely flowing.

By the sixth stroke Francis was pleading for his mum to stop, telling her that it hurt, that he’d had enough, that he’d behave and do whatever he was told. Then the words became impossible to understand and Francis was unable to stop himself from leaping up. Francis performed his ‘spanking dance’ as he rubbed his sore bottom, totally unaware of the big grins on his sisters’ faces as they watched his display. It always amused the girls to see their brother’s penis bouncing about and slapping against his thighs and now that Francis had been ‘scalped’ of his pubic hair, his dance was even funnier than ever.

Mrs Park waited until Francis finished his dance by which time the little loincloth was completely awry and covering nothing as Francis obediently resumed his position for mum to finish his strapping.

When the punishment was finally over Francis entertained the girls by performing another shameless ‘spanking dance’ in the middle of the front-room. Francis was completely occupied with his dance and rubbing his blazing bottom and so was perfectly oblivious of the fact his date, Wendy, was waiting patiently for him only a few feet away on the other side of the door.

And Wendy had heard everything! She could hardly believe her ears. It was perfectly priceless. She’d found out that Francis dressed up and played Cowboys and Indians with younger boys… as a Red Indian! She’s heard that he’d been caught ‘playing’ with Christopher. She’d even glimpsed Francis wearing his Red Indian outfit! But when she saw Sarah fetching the leather strap, Wendy had known she was in for the greatest thrill of all and it didn’t disappoint her. However much she would have loved to be in the same room as Francis, Wendy was thrilled with the sounds she heard coming from the front-room. When she heard the order given to send Francis to the corner, Wendy thought her day was complete.

Sent to do his corner-time Francis faced the wall with his hands clasped tightly behind his head. He little realised his ordeal was not quite over. Francis couldn’t see his mother as she signalled to Sarah to leave the room. Sarah’s eyes popped with anticipation at which her mother nodded to confirm what Sarah had guessed. Then, quietly as she could Sarah opened the door and waived to Wendy, beckoning her to come in and join the family.

Francis, his shoulders still heaving slightly, was quite unaware of developments as his date, her eyes getting wider by the second, walked slowly into the room. Sarah carefully, noiselessly closed the door.

Wendy feasted her eyes on her putative boyfriend. ‘... look at him standing there…! Francis is as good as… nude…’ she said to herself, ‘... that little costume is just so… tiny… you mean he went outside and played games in it…?’ These thoughts flashed through her mind before it occurred to her, ‘... if that’s what his back looks like… what about the front…?’

She didn’t have to wait long to find out when Mrs Park broke the silence:

“Turn around, Francis and face the room…” she said.

Obediently Francis did as he was told. His head was bowed as he turned, but even so Wendy could see Francis’ face was a complete mess. His eyes were puffy and red from crying. Tears dampened his cheeks and snot had dribbled over Francis’ upper lip. What’s more the tiny flap of buckskin was hiding very little from Wendy’s view. The loincloth hung limply to one side of Francis’ bald penis which, although not fully erect, was still in a noticeable state of arousal. Wendy was slightly puzzled by the absence of pubic hair, but thought it made Francis look very cute nonetheless. She would have to speak to Francis later and find out all about how he came to lose his boy-hair. Wendy was so looking forward to dating Francis. She wondered if she could help in any way and turned to Francis’ mother.

“May I clean Francis’ face, Mrs Park? It is rather a mess...” Wendy asked.

When he heard Wendy’s voice, Francis snapped his head upwards. He opened his mouth but no words were forthcoming. Desperately he fought the urge to bring his hands down to cover himself. But Francis knew this would likely as not lead to further punishment.

“Of course you may,” Mrs Park replied, “Sam, would you get a damp flannel and a towel for Wendy?”

Sam scurried off. She didn’t want to miss a thing and quickly returned. She handed a flannel to Wendy who was smiling sweetly at a red-faced Francis.

“I like your costume, Francis,” Wendy said, “Is this the one you always wear when you play Cowboys and Indians?”

“I… I… I…” Francis stuttered, embarrassed beyond belief as he watched Wendy take the damp flannel from Sam.

“I expect you like dressing up as a Red Indian, don’t you, Francis?” Wendy said as she began to wipe his face. Francis tried to reply as Wendy wiped the dried tears and snot from his upper lip, but it wasn’t easy with the damp flannel brushing his lips. “… it’s alright, I understand,” Wendy assured him.

She rubbed the flannel over his cheeks and around his nose: “What a messy boy you are, Francis… fancy a big boy like you making such a fuss,” Wendy said, gently chiding the near-nude Francis. Wendy turned her head and spoke to his mother, “Boys will be boys… won’t they, Mrs Park?”

“Indeed they will, Wendy,” mum replied with a noticeable emphasis, “Indeed they will. That’s why we have to keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t get up to too much mischief… isn’t that right, girls?”

Sarah and Sam agreed enthusiastically. Then Sam piped up: “Mummy can Wendy come along and join in when Francis plays his next game of Cowboys and Indians?”

“Oh, I’m not sure if Wendy would want to do that… she’s older than you, the same age as Francis don’t forget and…”

“Oh, that’s alright, Mrs Park,” Wendy spoke up, “I don’t mind… if Francis wants to play Cowboys and Indians then I’ll happily come along to watch him...”

Francis nearly fainted. This was the last thing he wanted. It was humiliating enough standing in the middle of the front-room, all but bare-nude in front of his date, Wendy, while she bathed away the tears and snot from his face; tears caused by the strapping he now realised she must have overheard.

Then the doorbell rang.

“Would you go and see who it is, Sarah?” Mrs Park asked her daughter.

Francis, still with his hands gripping the back of his head, cringed in anticipation of further embarrassment.

“It’s Christopher!” Sarah called from the hall.

“Well, bring him through, Sarah...” mum called back.

Wendy was startled to see another boy dressed in a Red Indian outfit, only this one was even briefer than the one Francis was wearing and she could clearly see that Christopher was lacking any pubic hair, just like Francis. To her discerning eye it was clear that while Francis’ pubes had been removed, Christopher had yet to sprout any little hairs at all.

“Isn’t this a coincidence… we were just talking about you, Christopher,” Mrs Park said to him as he entered the room, “The girls have been telling me all about your game of Cowboys and Indians. Now, what have you come to see us about, Christopher?”

Christopher blushed as he explained that Mrs Harper had sent him round so that Mrs Park could see the tenderfoot costume that her son had been caught trying on at her house.

Sarah and Sam giggled at the mention the the tenderfoot costume.

“What’s so funny about the tenderfoot costume?” Wendy asked, “It doesn’t look that different to me… bit smaller maybe...”

Sam spoke: “Oh, it’s smaller alright… Turn around, Christopher and let Wendy see.”

Christopher looked sheepishly up at Mrs Park. “Do as Sam asks, Christopher,” she said.

Reluctantly Christopher shuffled around in his moccasins until his back was facing everyone.

“Ohmygosh!” Wendy exclaimed, “You haven’t got anything covering your bottom… nothing at all... it’s completely bare!”

“That’s the difference between tenderfoot Red Indians and Red Indian braves,” Sarah explained, “Tenderfoots aren’t allowed a rear flap to their loincloths, so they have to play with bare-bottoms…”

Wendy thought for a moment and then told Francis to turn around.

“Jeez… do I have to, mum…?” Francis gulped when his mother simply twirled a pointed finger in a circle and indicated he should stand next to Christopher.

Francis slowly turned and sidled up to Christopher until their bottoms were touching.

Wendy saw that while Francis’ loincloth did have a rear flap, it didn’t cover much at all… hardly anything. The tapered flap was so thin that it disappeared between Francis’ bottom cheeks… bottom cheeks that Wendy could see were marked by the strapping he’d just received from his mother.

‘Oh, this is all just too much…’ Wendy gleefully thought to herself as she took in the sight of two perfectly formed boys’ bottoms. If Francis wants to dress up in skimpy little-boy play outfits, that was fine by her, she’d give him all the help and encouragement he needed.

Story Index

Francis & His Sisters - Part 3

During the days which followed the games of Cowboys and Indians Francis found it increasingly difficult to understand his feelings about the new regime his mother had forced upon him. On the one hand he was naturally deeply resentful of the way he’d been entrusted to the ‘care’ of his younger sisters, Sam and Sarah. On the other hand there was something strangely exciting about the skimpy Red Indian outfit he’d been forced to wear when he was made to join the group of younger boys in their games.

In short, Francis had conflicting emotions about the new scheme of things.

His costume had been put away in the chest of drawers in his bedroom by his mother, but Francis was drawn to take it out more than once when he was alone. Nervously Francis had pulled open the drawer in which the costume was kept, fearful that he might be discovered. He looked down at the flimsy loincloth, scarcely able to believe he’d been made to wear the tiny flaps of buckskin at all… let alone in public. And yet… and yet, here he was, gingerly picking up the little scraps of soft leather, wanting to feel them against his bare flesh once more as he thought about the Cowboys and Indian game he’d played in the meadow with the younger boys under the watchful eyes of Sarah and Sam dressed as Cowgirls. The game during which Francis had his pubic hair removed, or ‘scalped’, as the Cowboys Terry and Ben would say, leaving him bald as a billiard ball between his legs.

Recent events in the Copper Kettle were also all too vivid in his memory and Francis shuddered when he recalled what happened inside the tearoom. Having his tiny costume minutely examined by the ladies was bad enough. Francis shuddered as he remembered how they had even taken his little loincloth flap between their fingers and lifted it up before commenting knowledgeably about the quality of the beaded decoration. Francis had gulped his glass of cold milk as the ladies continued their examination, seemingly ignoring his penis as it  jerked and bobbed upwards. But what took Francis by complete surprise was seeing his sisters dressed in their Cowgirl costumes. He certainly was not expecting their participation in the forthcoming game of Cowboys and Indians and no doubt witnessing whatever humiliations which would surely befall him.

The noise of Sarah’s cap-guns as she fired the six-shooters above her head distracted Francis sufficiently for Sam to sneak up behind her older brother. The ladies roared with laughter as Sam flipped her lasso over Francis pinning his arms to his sides. Fortunately Francis had just about finished drinking his milk and one of the ladies, who saw what Sam was up to, took the glass from Francis’ hand to avoid an accident.

“Sam… Sam, what are you doing?” Francis yelped as the lasso was tightened, pinning his arms to his side.

“Taking you prisoner!” Sarah replied pointing her cap-guns at her brother.

The ladies of the Copper Kettle thought this great fun. Mrs Barton, a keen amateur photographer who, it seemed, was never without her trusty Rolleiflex, decided to record Francis’ capture… or to “Capture the Capture” as she put it… for posterity. So Francis was forced to stand, while trussed up like a turkey and wearing nothing much more than his tiny buckskin loincloth flap, in the middle of a group of amused ladies.

“Oh do try and smile, Francis dear,” Mrs Barton said as she peered down at her camera.

 Next Mrs Barton placed Sarah and Sam each side of Francis for what she called a “Family Portrait”. Sam held the lasso so that it was prominently displayed, while Sarah showed off her six-shooter cap-guns. Francis hung his head miserably. He knew Mrs Barton’s photographs would be found prominent positions in the hallway at home, placed where visitors would be sure to see them.

 “Francis!” Mrs Barton barked, “Head up! And do please smile for the camera… it’s not much to ask… and Sarah, would you mind… Francis’ loincloth… the flap needs arranging, it appears to have slipped to one side… Thank you… yes, that’s it... just lay it along the top of the penis… Yes, I can see the flap doesn’t quite reach the head of the penis, but that will have to do...”

 At this juncture Francis’ penis was pointing straight out, parallel to the floor of the Copper Kettle and until Mrs Barton had started to take her photographs no one had been in the least bit bothered whether it was on display or not. Most of the ladies present were quite used to looking after boys like Francis and those that weren’t were not the type to be shocked by anything Francis could flaunt in front of them. If anyone was embarrassed by the wayward penis it was most surely Francis himself.

 Understandably it was with a sense of relief that Francis, bound with Sam’s lasso, was at last escorted out of the Copper Kettle Tearoom. It was but a short distance to the meadow where the game of Cowboys and Indians was to be played (events previously recorded in Christopher’s Story: Part 5 and Christopher’s Story: Part 6).

 Back in his bedroom, as Francis examined the little scrap of soft leather, his Red Indian loincloth between his fingers, he thought back to those events. His ‘scalping’; the complete removal of his pubic hair. The nettling he’d endured at the hands of Ben, one of the Cowboys, had been a terrible ordeal that left his erect penis oozing pre-cum and dotted with extremely itchy little bumps that he could do nothing to assuage. This had been followed by his facing a ‘firing squad’ during which he’d been splattered by cum from two fellow Redskins, Joseph and David. Francis himself had unintentionally blasted off his reserves of 'ammunition' during the game. His sticky mess landed squarely on the unfortunate Christopher.

 Francis wondered whether he should visit Christopher to apologise for what happened. There was of course an ulterior motive. Francis was aware that for some reason or other, Christopher didn’t get the opportunity to discharge his own rifle. Indeed, when Francis thought back to what happened, he remembered that as soon as Christopher had finished firing David’s rifle, Terry had ordered Christopher’s hands be tied behind his back again, ready for the march back to Mrs Harper’s house.

This was curious, Francis thought and he wondered whether Christopher was under orders not to masturbate. Francis didn’t know all the details of Christopher’s situation and so was unaware of the conversation Christopher had had with Mrs Harper when he told her that he didn’t play with himself. This had put Christopher into the most awful position, particularly when Mrs Harper, thinking she was being helpful and knowing what boys were like, decided that Christopher should not be left alone lest he be tempted to play with his penis. Christopher, a normal, healthy fourteen year old boy, found himself unable to masturbate. Every opportunity to indulge his favourite hobby was somehow sabotaged. From enjoying a wank three or four times a day to zero left Christopher very, very frustrated.

Had Francis known, he would have understood and have had every sympathy for the younger boy’s distressing situation. Masturbation was one of the subjects Francis’ mother, Mrs Park, felt very strongly about, although not from a particularly moral standpoint. It was the amount of extra laundry that Francis created from his activities that drove Mrs Park spare. Both Sam and Sarah had heard their older brother being admonished on the very subject a number of times. Francis was usually in the process of being told off about the ‘mess’ he’d left on his bed-sheets, or on his pyjamas. Occasionally Francis would be hauled across the coals for using one of the hand-towels in the bathroom to clean himself up after watching himself masturbating in front of the big bathroom mirror… a particular favourite venue of Francis.

It was an inevitable consequence of these activities that Francis was forbidden to masturbate. Needless to say it was a ruling Francis broke on an almost daily basis. This cavalier disregard of his mother’s instructions was but one of the reasons which resulted in his sisters’ intervention and their offer to make sure Francis got plenty of fresh air.

Francis resolved to call on Christopher just as soon as the opportunity arose. He argued that while his mum banned him from masturbating in the house, she’d not said anything about masturbating anywhere else. Francis reasoned he could legitimately visit Christopher to talk about Cowboys and Indians and maybe discuss the flimsy costumes they’d been made to wear. Yes, he thought, it seemed a reasonable idea. Maybe Christopher would know somewhere they could… y’know, practice playing Red Indians. The prospect made Francis very excited indeed!

Even Francis realised the absurdity of actually wanting to dress in the Red Indian costume he’d been made to wear by his younger sisters. But once a boy like Francis gets an idea in his head, particularly an idea that is accompanied by a certain frisson of naughtiness, there is little to stop him from seeing it through. Not that Francis wanted to don the fearfully brief garment in front of his sisters, or those ladies it the Copper Kettle again… far from it! But Francis wanted to find out if anyone else, Christopher in particular as he was the next oldest boy who had been literally ‘roped in’ to Terry’s game, felt the same way as he did.

“I thought I might go and call on Christopher, mum,” Francis called out to Mrs Park as casually as he could, “See if he’s okay after the game of Cowboys and y’know… Indians.”

“Well don’t be late home, Francis,” his mum had replied. She knew her son and wondered what Francis was up to. Might she just give Mrs Harper a call? Hmm, perhaps a bit later.

When Francis arrived at Mrs Harper’s he was just about at ring the doorbell when the door was flung open by Mrs Harper herself. She was clearly very flustered. Cindy squeezed past her through the doorway with a brief “Hi!” directed at Francis, who stood puzzled on the doorstep before it became clear what was happening.

“Oh, do get a move on boys!” Mrs Harper called back over her shoulder. “Terry… It told you to get a towel for Christopher… that’s a face-cloth… and it won’t do!”

Terry was laughing fit to burst. Behind him and to one side in the hallway Francis could see an otherwise nude Christopher holding a small face-flannel between his legs. The tiny piece of flannel barely covered anything, indeed the tip of Christopher’s foreskin could clearly be seen peeking out below the little cloth. As usual Christopher stood red-faced with embarrassment.

“Oh… hello Francis,” Mrs Harper said as she suddenly turned and saw Francis waiting on her doorstep. She quickly appraised the situation. “Francis, would you stay and look after Christopher? We’ve got to go out and we’re late already… good… thank you so much, that’s a great help… Christopher will explain. Terry will you stop laughing and get a move on!!”

Quite unplanned Francis found himself suddenly alone with Christopher, who was still clutching the face-cloth.

“I… I…wanted to apologise for… y’know, er spraying cum all over you the other day,” Francis said by way of his introduction.

Christopher was more red-faced than ever, “Um… it’s okay, I guess…”

“It’s just that…” Francis hesitated before he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his tiny Red Indian costume. He held it up in front of Christopher, “See… I brought my outfit with me… thought… thought we could put them on…. and…” Francis hesitated again. It was his turn to become red-faced, “Thought… um, you might want to get your own back…”

Christopher’s eyes opened wide, “You mean it?!”

Francis nodded, “...course I do. We have to put on our outfits though,” he added.

Christopher suddenly looked bashful as he glanced down at the floor of the hallway. He nervously rumpled the facecloth between his legs.

“What’s up?” Francis asked, “Don’t you want to put on the Red Indian outfit?”

Christopher looked up at Francis: “No… it’s not that… it’s…” he paused then blurted out, “I told Mrs Harper that I didn’t do it… y’know… wank...”

“Is that all?” Francis chuckled, “I told my mum I wouldn’t do it either… but well… I did try not to… for about two days… but…”

“Two days! I haven’t had a wank for over two weeks!!” Christopher screamed. His frustration was palpable. “Every time I find somewhere to do it, someone walks in on me… it’s like I’m being followed and they’re doing it deliberately to stop me… it’s not fair!”

“... It’s not only that, but I haven’t got any clothes to wear either,” Christopher added.

“Yeah, I heard about that… still there’s always your Red Indian outfit,” Francis said.

“Fat lot of good that is… when we play the Red Indians always lose every game to the Cowboys, so I end end up stripped nude anyway… what’s the point?”

“Hmm…” Francis nodded and then asked Christopher if he had his Red Indian outfit anyway and then added: “I thought maybe you could try my outfit on if you like… and I could try yours on… y’know, like we were practicing to play a game or something…”

Christopher thought this a goofy idea, but went along with Francis since he had nothing else to put on apart from the stupid facecloth that Terry had just given him.

“Yeah… okay,” Christopher answered, “... but I’ve only got David’s Red Indian outfit… we did a swap before the game… it’s a Tenderfoot’s outfit…”

“So?”

“So…” Christopher answered, “It’s only got a flap at the front… didn’t you notice?”

“Um, no I didn’t… guess I was preoccupied with other things,” Francis replied, thinking back to the stinging nettles and being blasted with the contents of David and Joseph’s rifles. So what if a tenderfoot loincloth didn’t have a flap at the back? The rear flap on his own costume hardly covered much anyway.

“Do you still want to try it on?” Christopher asked, still clutching the flannel between his legs.

“Sure… why not?”

“Alright then, but you have to promise to put it on… Scout’s honour?” Christopher insisted.

“I promise… Scout’s honour,” came the reply. Although Francis did wonder why Christopher was making such a fuss about it, he said nothing.

Christopher led the way upstairs to Terry’s bedroom to find the costume. Francis watched as Christopher held on to the facecloth between his legs with one hand while he opened a drawer with the other and took out David’s Red Indian costume. He handed it to Francis.

“Blimey... I thought my outfit was small, but this is even smaller!” Francis exclaimed as he compared the two loincloth flaps, “I hadn’t realised how tiny the one you were wearing was when we were playing… it’s… it’s... microscopic!”

“... but can you see how there’s only one flap… for the front… they took off the rear flap in the shop…” Christopher looked up Francis and grinned, “Still want to try it on?”

Francis had doubts. It was true, he hadn’t considered the loincloths would differ in size quite so much… hell, he hadn’t thought they’d be that different. Next to his own already laughably small loincloth, the one he was holding that Christopher had just handed to him looked like a postage stamp!

“I… I…” Francis stuttered as he held up the miniscule tenderfoot loincloth… the backless miniscule tenderfoot loincloth, “Um…” He hesitated.

“You’re not going to chicken out, are you?” Christopher asked. For once and for the first time since his stay at Mrs Harper began, he felt as if he had the upper hand… and the upper hand over an older boy! It felt good. “You said you’d try it on…” he insisted.

“I know… but it ain’t ‘arf small…” Francis replied, “I mean mine doesn’t cover much… but this won’t cover anything at all!”

“But you said you’d try it on… you promised… Scout’s honour,” Christopher reminded him.

Francis took a deep breath: “You’re right… I promised…”

With that Francis handed over his Red Indian loincloth to Christopher and started to undress.

It only took Christopher a few moments before the loincloth Francis had given him was in place. He pulled the front flap down so it was resting on the base of his hairless penis. There was sufficient coverage in this position… providing he didn’t get excited. Christopher walked over to the mirror at the side of the boys’ bedroom. From  the front he could just see pink wrinkled skin of his scrotal sac at the sides of the flap, but when he turned sideways, the flap hid hardly anything. It had been the same with David’s little Red Indian loincloth. Christopher’s pubescent penis was already developed enough to push the flap forward and to reveal what was underneath to anyone looking at him from the side. Christopher fiddled with the buckskin flap and positioned it as best he could, then he twisted round to look at the rear flap. Although it only covered part of his bottom cleft, it still felt a whole lot better than nothing at all.

“Can you give me a hand with this?” Francis interrupted Christopher who turned to see what he wanted.

“Wow… I forgot the cowboys scalped you!” he laughed.

“Yeah… you don’t have to remind me,” Francis replied, “And I don’t know why you think it’s so funny… baldy!” he added teasing the hairless fourteen year old.

Francis thought it prudent not to say anything about another of his mother’s latest injunctions. When he was brought home after the game of Cowboys and Indians and Mrs Park saw how he’d been relieved of his pubic hair during the scalping, she thought Francis looked so much nicer without, what she called, “that unsightly tangle of hair.”

As Mrs Park knew that she and the girls were going to be seeing much more of Francis (in both senses of the word), she ordered him to keep his genitalia free of hair in future. “The girls can help you,” she added to the delight of Sarah and Sam.

And no amount of, “But mums…” from Francis would change mum’s mind. When Sarah added how it would help get more sun and fresh air to Francis’ pallid body, mum agreed and told her son that she didn’t want to hear him say another word on the matter.

“Baldy yourself!” Christopher countered with good humour as he came to help Francis put on David’s micro-loincloth.

Francis big penis was already engorging, but still pointing downwards as Christopher took hold of the loincloth cords and tied them together. The boys did their best with the tiny flap, but their efforts to cover any more than the base and an inch or so of Francis’ penis were futile.

Christopher had never seen such a big penis up close. Even out in the meadow playing Cowboys and Indians, he hadn’t fully appreciated just how big Francis’ penis was. Up close and fiddling with the little flap it was impossible not to … especially when it started getting even bigger!

“Your nob’s just too big…” an exasperated Christopher said finally, “You’re never going to get it to fit David’s loincloth…”

“Your nob isn’t so small either…” Francis said as he pointed out to Christopher how his penis had already pushed the front flap of his loincloth to one side.

It was true, Christopher was getting excited and it wasn’t long before his arousal was more pronounced than that of Francis. Pointing straight up, Christopher’s penis was visibly throbbing with excitement as the boys tried to adjust each other’s loincloths. This of course only made matters worse and it wasn’t long before Francis noticed a clear bubble of pre-cum oozing from Christopher’s nob.

“Looks like you’re ready for a wank,” Francis said.

“But I’m not supposed to…” Christopher replied.

“Neither am I… but that’s not going to stop me…” Francis said boldly.

“What if Mrs Harper finds out?” Christopher was desperate for a wank, but still he held back, “I told her I didn’t wank…”

Francis thought for a moment, during which he casually stroked his penis to full erection. The tiny loincloth flap of the tenderfoot Red Indian costume disappeared almost completely, squashed between his erect penis and his smooth pubis.

“What if…” Francis drawled.

Christopher looked quizzically at the older boy.

“What if… I mean, you said you promised Mrs Harper you wouldn’t wank…” Francis set out his argument, “but what if I was to wank you? That would be okay, wouldn’t it?” he reasoned, “... and…”

“... I could wank you…” Christopher added excitedly.

“That’s right… we wouldn’t be wanking ourselves… but we didn’t say we wouldn’t wank anyone else…” Francis confirmed, “So we’re not doing anything wrong if we wank each other… are we?”

Christopher was thrilled with the idea. No one had ever wanked him before and the idea of actually wanking Francis’ big nob was… so cool...

“Come over here,” Francis led Christopher to stand in front of the bedroom mirror, “I want to see what we both look like in our costumes.”

The two boys stood side by side in front of the glass. In the reflection the boys could see how absurd their costumes were. Christopher’s erect penis had pushed his loincloth flap to one side so his balls were fully visible. In his excited state Christopher’s foreskin had retracted so that his glans penis was only just covered.

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like to wear the tenderfoot loincloth during the game,” Francis said as he looked at himself in the mirror. He told hold of his penis and moved it from side to side, trying to figure out if there was any way the tiny loincloth flap could be made to cover his boyhood. “IT’S RIDICULOUS!!” he continued loudly, “... there is NO WAY I can cover my nob!! How can anyone expect you to play wearing THIS!!”

“I had to…” Christopher reminded him, “... AND I was taken to the shop to have the rear flap removed… YOU SAW ME!!”

“Oh yes… so I did,” Francis stood up straight and laughed: “Why don’t you try and see if you can do it, Christopher… you see if you can get my nob covered with this little flap…” Francis twitched his penis.

Christopher guessed what Francis was up to, after all they’d just talked about wanking each other. He moved closer, took hold of Francis’ penis and looked up at Francis in the mirror.

“You’ll need to hold it tighter…” Francis told him, “... much tighter… now try and…”

“Well, well, well… What have we here?”

Francis and Christopher froze when they heard Cindy’s voice behind them.

“I thought I heard your voice, Francis,” Cindy added as she looked admiringly at the bare bottom of Francis.

Another voice called up, to which Cindy replied: “It’s okay, mum… just Francis and Christopher.”

Francis nearly fainted… Mrs Harper! That’s all he needed. If anyone was going to tell his mum what he was doing… you can bet Mrs Harper would!

Meanwhile Christopher’s fingers were still holding tightly onto Francis’ penis.

The two boys, while still standing in front of the mirror, had their heads turned, looking back over their shoulders at Cindy.

“What are you boys up to?” she asked, although she could see perfectly well what Francis and Christopher were doing reflected in the mirror.

“Um… we were just… um trying on our Red Indian costumes,” Francis replied, “... weren’t we Christopher? Christopher was helping me put mine on… weren’t you Christopher?”

Christopher nodded and mumbled his agreement.

“It looks as though your loincloth is a wee bit too small, Francis… Christopher doesn’t seem able to cover your penis with the flap…” Cindy said, “Would you like me to try?”

Christopher turned his head back to look at himself in the mirror. Realised Cindy could see where his hand was and whipped it away from Francis’ penis as quickly as he could, even though he knew Cindy had seen what he’d been doing.

“Um… no… we’re okay, Cindy… really we are,” Francis said anxiously, afraid of what Cindy might say to Mrs Harper.

 “Are you sure you’ve got the right loincloth, Francis?” Cindy asked, “It looks way too small from where I’m standing…” Having said that Cindy walked across the bedroom to where the boys were in front of the mirror. It looked for all the world as if Francis and Christopher were glued to the spot. Both boys were horrified to be found out and terrified of the consequences.

“Honestly…” Cindy sighed, “You’re wearing David’s tenderfoot loincloth, Francis… Your penis is far too big to wear with such a tiny little thing like this…”

Francis gave Cindy a sort of gormless, ‘jeez, how’d that happen?’ expression, which disguised nothing and just made him feel stupid in front of Cindy, a girl who was after all almost the same age as himself.

Cindy on the other hand, thought his expression made Francis look ‘cute’… a word designed to curdle the blood of any teenage boy.

“I think mum ought to see this…” Cindy said teasingly.

“NO!!” Francis was shocked at the idea, “Please Cindy…”

“Why ever not? Mum will be thrilled you’re taking an interest in your Red Indian costumes. I’m sure she’ll want to see how you’re getting on…”

“Please Cindy…” Francis pleaded.

“What ought mum to see?” Mrs Harper said from the doorway where she was standing.

“Oh… oh, Mrs Harper… we… um, Christopher and I…. we were trying on our Red Indian outfits,” Francis tried to explain.

“Was it necessary to take off all your clothes, Francis?” Mrs Harper asked, making Francis feel more embarrassed than ever, “We all know why Christopher has no clothes to put on… but I fail to understand…”

“I… I… thought…” Francis attempted to answer Mrs Harper, but to do so without giving away any secrets proved impossible.

“I think the boys simply couldn’t wait until the next game,” Cindy said, offering her own explanation, “You know what boys are like, mum… I expect Francis wouldn’t feel right putting on his Red Indian loincloth unless he stripped totally nude first…”

Cindy was making Francis feel like a little boy and he shivered with embarrassment as he stood in front of them. His penis was still obscenely rampant and he still couldn’t think of any plausible excuse for wanting to put on the tiniest loincloth imaginable.

Just then the phone rang and Mrs Harper went to answer it on the upstairs extension. It wasn’t long before she returned.

“That was your mother, Francis…” Mrs Harper said, then added ominously, “I was obliged to tell her precisely what has occurred. She expressed a wish to speak to you directly you returned home.”

Even with this news Francis’ penis remained stubbornly erect.

“We weren’t doing anything… honestly, Mrs Harper,” Francis said as he began to plead their innocence, “Christopher and I just thought we’d try on our costumes… and… and they must have got mixed up… so I put on Christopher’s, or rather David’s tenderfoot loincloth, by mistake…”

Christopher nodded and agreed it had all been a silly mistake.

“That’s probably why Christopher was trying to help Francis with the loincloth flap,” Cindy said with an innocent air.

“Excuse me, Cindy… exactly in what way was Christopher helping?” Mrs Harper asked.

“Christopher was gripping Francis’ penis and trying to tuck it under the loincloth flap…” Cindy explained.

“But I should’ve thought it was obvious there was little point in trying to do that with Francis in such an advanced state of penile arousal… which I observe it still is…”

“Oh, mummy… you don’t think Francis and Christopher were…” Cindy paused for effect, “masturbating?”

Both boys simultaneously pleaded their innocence, but their cause was somewhat undermined by the persistence of their erections.

“I can’t speak for Francis,” Mrs Harper said, interrupting the boys, “but Cindy you know as well as I do that Christopher doesn’t indulge himself that way. He told me so himself that he doesn’t masturbate…”

“Please Mr Harper, we only wanted to try on our Red Indian outfits,” Francis interjected, “I’m sorry we both got… um, excited… but Christopher and me...” Francis paused slightly… he knew he had to say something plausible and so he said the first thing he thought of… instantly regretting it as he spoke the words, “Christopher and me couldn’t wait for the next game of Cowboys and Indians…”

Christopher couldn’t believe what he just heard Francis say. Was he mad?! He looked askance at the older boy. Yes, he just heard Francis say how they were both eager to play another of Terry’s humiliating games!

“Well I’m pleased to hear you say so, Francis,” Mrs Harper said brightly, “I’m sure your mother will want  to know how enthusiastic you are… so enthusiastic that you couldn’t wait to dress in your costume with Christopher…”

Francis would rather these words didn’t get back to his mum. He was reminded she had already been told about what he’d been up to with Christopher and knew also she’d put a different interpretation on these events.

“Well, if you’ve finished dressing up,” Mrs Harper said, “You’d better put your clothes back on, Francis and get off back home. I know your mother is anxious to have a little talk with you.”

With that, Mrs Harper turned to her daughter and asked Cindy to come back downstairs to help her with something downstairs. This left the boys alone once more.

“What did you have to go and say that for?” Christopher spluttered indignantly, “I don’t care if I never play another game of Cowboys and Indians…”

“Um… yes… well… I couldn’t think what else to say,” Francis apologised, “Besides… I couldn’t very well say how we were going to have a wank, could I?”

“Suppose not…” Christopher conceded.

“Jeez… two weeks is a long time without a wank though,” Francis said sympathetically, “We really should try and do something about that… maybe meet up somewhere…”

“There’s not much chance of that,” Christopher sulked, “I’m hardly left alone for long enough… and besides, where can I go without any clothes? It’s not much fun being bare all the time…”

“Let me give it some thought,” Francis said as he finished getting dressed, “There must be a way for us to sneak off on our own… what about…”

“If you’re thinking about another game of Cowboys and Indians with Terry…” Christopher spluttered when he realised what Francis was going to suggest, “... then you’re bonkers!”

“... but it’s got to be worth a try,” Francis argued, “It’s the only time you get to wear anything for a start… and if I can get away from my sisters,” Francis could see Christopher looked doubtful, “Come on… why not… what have we got to lose?”

Christopher sighed: “Plenty…”

The day wasn’t over. When Francis returned home he saw Sarah and Sam sat on stools at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He could tell straight away they knew something, but didn’t have time to attempt to interrogate them before his mother called out. She was in his bedroom.

“In here, Francis... NOW!”

It didn’t need a genius to work out that Francis was in trouble. From the moment he walked into his bedroom Mrs Park berated him for the state of his room, the piles of clothes, his unmade bed, his unfinished chores, his bad school reports and a host of other duties Francis had neglected.

“What have I told you about keeping your room tidy? Don’t bother to close the door... this room could do with some fresh air…”

As she said this Mrs Park stepped over to the window and flung it wide open. This made Francis feel very nervous. Now, not only would Sarah and Sam be able to hear everything that happened, but anyone passing outside would too!

“Sorry, mum… I really am, honest,” Francis apologised, “I’ll sort it out…”

“That’s what you say every time, Francis… and it’s not good enough. I’m fed up with your behaviour… and now I hear from Mrs Harper that you’ve been up to no good over at her house…”

“... but… mum, I wasn’t doing anything…”

“That’s not what Mrs Harper told me…”

“But mum… me and Christopher… we were just trying on our loincloths…” Francis was feeling very uneasy. He wasn’t sure what Mrs Harper had told his mum, but he was sure he was about to find out.

“Hmmph! Mrs Harper told me that you had taken all your clothes off and were completely nude… as was Christopher…”

“... but Christopher hasn’t got any clothes to wear… and… and we weren’t nude… we had on our loincloths!” Francis said, doing his best to defend himself.

Outside the bedroom Sarah and Sam were listening to what was being said. The girls lapped it up and were both utterly convinced Francis wouldn’t escape with just a scolding, however severe that might turn out to be. Sam stifled a giggle at the thought of her older brother and Christopher playing dress-up with their little Red Indian loincloths.

“Yes, Mrs Harper told me about that,” mum said, “... but I’d like to hear your version, Francis.”

“I… I don’t know what you mean, mum…”

“I’m sure you do, Francis,” mum persisted, “nevertheless I will remind you…”

Francis knew his mother was at her most dangerous when she talked like this and he knew the outcome would be unpleasant.

“Mrs Harper told me that you and Christopher swapped loincloths so that you were wearing… and it seems I need to use that word loosely… a Red Indian outfit made for a much younger boy… a tenderfoot brave, I believe they’re called…”

Outside even Sarah now struggled to control herself and she covered her mouth with both hands as she sniggered.

“... and both you boys were observed to have penises that were fully erect…”

Francis hung his head in shame as his mother continued her tirade.

“Cindy said you boys were masturbating!”

This was too much for Francis and he blurted out his innocence: “We weren’t, mum… honest, we weren’t!”

“Then would you mind telling me why Christopher was holding your penis?”

“Christopher… he… he was helping me with the Red Indian outfit…” Francis said as he tried to make it sound convincing.

“A likely story,” Mrs Park huffed.

“But it’s true, mum… we were only trying on our Red Indian loincloths… and… and when Christopher saw me… um, saw I couldn’t get it to fit properly… Christopher offered to help and that’s when Cindy saw us…”

“... masturbating…” mum prompted.

“But we weren’t… doing it…” Francis pleaded.

“I don’t believe a word of what you say, Francis… Mrs Harper told me that Christopher, unlike you, has not succumbed to the habit of self-abuse. Christopher, Mrs Harper tells me, has remained pure in thought and deed… something you, Francis would benefit from aspiring to…”

“It is my opinion,” Mrs Park continued, “that you were attempting to corrupt young Christopher and that is why you chose to wear that silly little tenderfoot loincloth which you knew was totally unsuitable for a boy your age, because it gave you an excuse to urge Christopher to touch your penis…”

Francis was stunned and stood with his mouth open in front of his mother. Outside his room Sarah and Sam could hardly contain themselves… these was even better than either of them had hoped. They were pretty sure mum was wrong about Christopher though. What they’d witnessed on the day of the game of Cowboys and Indians led them to believe Christopher was desperate to join in and fire his rifle just like the other boys and they were sure he would have done had Ben and Terry not tied his hands behind his back so quickly.

“Mum… that’s not true!!” Francis wailed, “It was an accident… I didn’t mean…”

“What? To have an erect penis so that you could encourage Christopher to play with it?”

“NO! That’s not what happened… Christopher had an erection too…”

“... and why was that? I’ve no doubt it was because you encouraged him… Did you encourage Christopher to have an erection?”

Francis did his best to deny that he and Christopher were up to no good, but it was no use and mum decided on a ‘family conference’ in the front room. The words made Francis go weak at the knees. He pleaded and pleaded, but mum was having none of it, Francis was told to present himself in the front room in fifteen minutes… wearing his full Red Indian outfit!

 
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