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.

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