The P.E. Club - Part 3

“Robert...” mum called out from the kitchen as I came downstairs, “the postman’s left a parcel for you. It’s on the hall table…”

“Thanks, mum,” I answered, “I think I know what it is… Doc promised me an official uniform to wear for when I go visiting for the club…”

My voice trailed off when I caught sight of the brown paper parcel tied up with string on the hall table. The parcel was smaller than I expected... too small to contain a complete uniform, surely, I thought.

“What’s that, dear?” mum shouted, “I can’t hear you what with the kettle singing and the wireless going…”

I picked up the parcel and walked through to the kitchen.

“... my uniform for when I visit mums who want their sons to join the P.E. Club… at least I think so… The parcel’s a bit smaller than I thought it would be… I wonder if it’s all there?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out…” mum said, “Open it, but mind, take care with the brown paper… it’s always useful to have some handy.

I carefully untied the string and pulled open the parcel. On top were a pair of T-bar schoolboy sandals, a type of footwear I’d not worn for a very long time. Mum smiled when she saw the expression on my face.

“They must have been made for you especially, Robert,” mum said, “I think the last time you wore a pair of sandals like those you were still at junior school… oh, and they’ve put in a pair of lovely ankle socks… aren’t they sweet…”

“But… I can’t wear those socks, mum,” I protested.

“They wouldn’t have put them in if they didn’t want you to wear them, Robert.”

I groaned. Underneath the little socks was a pair of boy’s white, school regulation underpants. I held them up. They were small and junior size by the look of them. I hadn’t worn underpants like them for ages… not since mum allowed me to choose my own. I held the little junior size underpants to my hips.

“Do you think I’ll get into them, mum?” I asked as I looked down at the underpants.

“I should think so, Robert, but there’s only one way to find out and that’s when you try them on,” mum replied logically.

What I next took out of the parcel took my breath away. It was a pair of neat tailored short trousers. The type of short trousers that very few older schoolboys wore anymore. Maybe boys in one or two of the more old-fashioned prep schools might have worn them, but I hadn’t seen short trousers, like the ones in the parcel from the P.E. Club, tailored for a boy my age, in years.

I lay the little trousers down on the kitchen table. I could see they were properly lined, but the legs were so short the pockets had to be quite small.

“Oh, they are smart,” mum cooed when she saw them laid out, “I can’t think the last time you had a proper pair of short trousers like these to wear.”

I have to say I was shocked at the thought of wearing tailored short trousers in public… and such brief short trousers at that. P.E. shorts I could cope with… even the ludicrously short P.E. shorts I wore as part of my Supervisor’s Uniform within the confines of the club. In public I didn’t mind wearing casual or leisure shorts, as long as they were of a decent length. But the tailored shorts I saw in front of me were so obviously formal wear that my instinct was to put them back into the parcel and send the whole lot back to the Club. I looked at mum. She must have guessed what I was thinking.

“No, Robert… I won’t have it,” mum started to scold me and my legs turned to jelly. I knew she would make me put on my new uniform, “For once you’re doing something useful… you’re doing something you enjoy that’s also keeping you from getting under my feet… don’t interrupt me, Robert… I’m your mother and I can tell what you’re thinking… Just because the Club wants you to wear a nice smart uniform when you visit people’s houses you want to give it all up and throw in the towel… Well, I’m not going to stand for it, Robert… You will take your new uniform upstairs to your bedroom. You will then change into it and come back downstairs so that I can see what it looks like. If it meets with my approval we will both go and visit Mrs Frayn to show her your new uniform…”

“Oh, please, mum... “ I tried to protest. The thought of leaving the house to visit one of mum’s friends added to my distress.

“Robert! I will not have anymore of this whinging. It’s time you grew up and behaved sensibly. You’ve been given a responsible job to do by your coach and the doctor at the P.E. Club… any other boy would be proud to to be entrusted with what you’ve been asked to do… any other boy would be proud to wear whatever uniform they were given… Now, are you going to do what I ask, Robert?”

What else could I say, but, “Yes, mum…”

“And no more fuss, Robert?”

“No, mum…”

Suitably chastened, I gathered up the parcel and its contents and headed up to my bedroom to change into my new uniform.

“Don’t be long,” mum called after me, “I don’t want to have to come upstairs and fetch you…”

“No, mum…” I said again as hurried up to my bedroom.

Of course I should have realised that Doc had all my measurements, so the new uniform fitted perfectly. Even though it looked to me as if the little short trousers were far too small, they were tailored to perfection. As I pulled them up, I could tell straightaway the cut was faultless. My thighs were left quite bare. Although the short trousers were a snug fit, the leg openings were generous and I was worried that my underpants would show until I realised why I had been given a pair of junior schoolboy underpants to wear. The underpants were cut high at the sides which meant the shortest of short trousers could be worn without concern.

I put on the crisp white, short-sleeved, tailless shirt, together with a tie in the colours of the P.E. Club. The shirt was of course square cut rather than having tails as the short trousers were so short the tails of the shirt would have been easily visible peeking out from the legs of the shorts. This would most certainly have spoilt the smart look of my new official club uniform.

The final item of clothing was a sports jacket emblazoned with a P.E. Club badge on the breast pocket. As I put the jacket on I realised that a standard school blazer would have made me look like an overgrown schoolboy. However, a sports jacket was clearly not part of any school uniform and intended to express my credentials as a representative of the P.E. Club when out and about in public. This made the choice of short trousers and T-bar sandals all the more hard to bear. I would be seen as an adult, but an adult who for one reason or other was not considered responsible enough to wear long trousers. It was a reminder to me of my position and a signal to others of my status.

I had only just finished dressing when mum called up to tell me to stop dawdling and to get a move on if we were to get to Mrs Frayn’s. I was in no hurry to get to Mrs Frayn’s… or anywhere else for that matter, dressed in my new uniform, but I also knew mum would not tolerate any tardiness from me, so I quickly folded up the brown paper, rolled up the string and headed back downstairs.

I put down the paper and string on the kitchen table and presented myself for mum’s inspection.

“You look very smart, Robert,” mum said as she beamed her approval and complemented my superiors at the club on their choice of clothes. “You always did used to look so well dressed when you were in short trousers, Robert… It was a shame when you went into longs. You’ve lovely smooth legs, you know…”

I blushed at the mention of my smooth legs. I’d always been very conscious that unlike a lot of boys I’d only ever had the lightest dusting of almost translucent hair on my legs. My thighs were completely hairless, as were my arms and torso and I’ve already explained how I’d been relieved of my pubic hair.

Mum couldn’t resist adjusting my tie even though it was, to me at least, perfectly straight. She brushed the odd fleck of dust from my sports jacket as she again told me how smart I looked now I was “back in short trousers…”

I felt I had to say something before we left for Mr Frayn’s, “You don’t think the sandals and socks look, er… a bit… um, too er, girly… do you, mum?”

“Not at all, Robert. Sandals, like those you’re wearing, complement your short trousers perfectly…” mum replied, giving me her verdict on the matter.

“... but what about the ankle socks, mum?” I asked.

“You’re representing the P.E. Club, Robert. What else would you wear but ankle socks? The mums you will be visiting will expect to see a boy who is fit and healthy and used to lots of fresh air on his legs…” mum paused and then added, “Robert, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of… I’m really proud of what you are doing; helping these young boys at the club. I’m sure there will be a lot of mums grateful to see you. You can help make a difference… Now let’s get a move on and see what Mrs Frayn makes of your new uniform.”

After a speech like that I was almost looking forward to going on a visit in the shortest pair of short trousers I’d ever worn. But it felt very strange to be walking down the drive with my bare legs so fully on display and I felt a few butterflies in my tummy as mum and I turned out onto the pavement in front of our house. Ours was a quiet street and I had time to get a little more used to the special feeling that comes with wearing a neatly tailored short trouser uniform in public.

It was a relief not to meet any of mum’s friends on the short walk to Mrs Frayn’s house. Nevertheless I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t extremely anxious when mum and I walked up the drive of her friend’s house.

Having known Mrs Frayn for a number of years, mum was a familiar enough visitor to use the back-door when she called. I stood back in the driveway as mum opened the door, stepped in and called out to her friend.

“Coo-ee! It’s only me, Sylvia!”

I waited outside. I was in no hurry to appear in my new uniform in front of Aunty Sylvia.

Mum had moved further into the kitchen and I could hear her talking as she no doubt brought her friend up to date with the latest gossip. Then she called for me to join them… a moment I was dreading. Respectfully I knocked on the half-open door and Aunty Sylvia told me to come in. I did so and as I entered the kitchen mum waved me over to stand in front of the two of them.

“Here he is!” mum announced, “What do you think of Robert’s new uniform… It’s for the P.E. Club I told you about… Robert’s started helping out… interviewing new boys who want to join the club, so they’ve very kindly given him this smart uniform to wear when he meets the mothers of new boys… It arrived this morning and Robert so wanted to try it on and… well you’ve known him for such a long time, he thought he’d like his Aunty Sylvia to be one of the first to see him wearing it…”

Mums can tell such fibs, I thought. I never said anything about wanting to put my new uniform on, let alone wanting traipse round to show it to Aunty Sylvia. But I suppose mum had her reasons.

While mum was talking, Aunty Sylvia inspected my uniform, signalling for me to turn round so she could see me from all sides. When mum did stop talking Aunty Sylvia stepped forward towards me. Just like mum she couldn’t resist straightening my tie, even though it was perfectly straight already. Just like mum she brushed off the odd fleck of dust from my sports jacket. Finally she must have found some fault with my hair as then she spent a few moments arranging my parting. She tutted and said that I needed to visit the barber as a haircut was clearly overdue. Then she stepped back again and looked pointedly below my jacket.

“It’s so nice to see Robert back in proper short trousers again,” Aunty Sylvia said, “Are you going to keep him in short trousers?” she asked mum. I felt distinctly nervous.

“To be honest, I’d not given it much thought,” mum replied, “but now you mention it, Robert does look so much smarter wearing short trousers…”

“If he were my son,” Aunty Sylvia said with an ominous finality, “I wouldn’t hesitate to keep Robert in short trousers…”

“Well, you do have a point, Sylvia… boys today look so slovenly in their scruffy clothes,” mum paused and looked in my direction when she heard my strangled plea, “What is it dear?”

“Not in short trousers all the time, mum… please,” I begged her.

Aunty Sylvia cocked her head to one side with a smile as if she’d just made a point and had it confirmed ny my reaction.

“I-I’m nineteen, mum,” I stammered, “I-I don’t want everyone to see me in short trousers…”.

“But, darling, you’re doing all this work for the P.E. Club…” mum argued without the least thought for my concerns about wearing short trousers in public, “... and I expect you’ll be going on more visits now that you’ve got your new uniform. You’ll have to get used to wearing it for your visits… and didn’t you tell me you had to take the bus to get that boy’s house the other day? I’m sure nobody is going to be bothered if they see you wearing short trousers. I really don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss, Robert…”

My legs nearly gave way when mum pointed out how I’d of course be using the bus to get to the various places I’d be called on to visit. That fact hadn’t registered. It had now and the thought of sitting on a bus with my tailored shorts riding up to expose even more of my bare thighs in full view of the other passengers was making me very nervous indeed.

“I think Aunty Sylvia might have a point,” mum continued, “If you’re going to be wearing shorts at the P.E. Club and short trousers when you go on your visits, it doesn’t really make any sense to change back into longs at home… now does it, Robert?”

“But what about when I go out, mum… like to the pictures, or when we go to see that new play you promised we’d go to next week?”

“You can wear your new uniform, Robert. It’s much smarter than anything else you possess…”

Mum had clearly made up her mind, but then Aunty Sylvia had something to add.

“I think that Robert is clearly a little self-conscious about being seen wearing his new short trouser uniform. Boys can be funny about wearing short trousers at the best of times and a boy of Robert’s age is bound to feel awkward putting on short trousers after being allowed longs for… well a long time, so the more opportunities he has to wear his new uniform in public the better in my view.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head as usual, Sylvia,” mum said enthusiastically, “Of course, it’s just that Robert hasn’t worn proper short trousers since he was... fourteen wasn’t it, Robert? Yes, Robert’s bound to need help to get him used to wearing them again. So we’ll take your advice, Sylvia and Robert will wear his new short trouser uniform when he goes out, whether or not he’s on a visit for the P.E. Club. I don’t think the ladies who run the club will have any objection… do you, Robert?”

I shook my head. I thought it unlikely Doc or Coach would mind in the least how often I wore my new uniform. “No, mum… probably not,” I replied.

This turn of events took me by complete surprise. I’d never for one minute have thought mum would agree so readily with Mrs Frayn’s suggestion that I be put back into short trousers. They had no doubts about how smart I looked dressed in my new uniform, but they didn’t understand that for me, a nineteen year old boy, to be kept in short trousers would be mortifying.

Nothing more was said on the subject. Aunty Sylvia made a pot of tea and suggested we go and sit through in the lounge. I was delegated to bring in the tea things Told to put them down on a side table, I felt distinctly apprehensive as I bent down and felt my new short trousers ride up. I was sure the lower curves of my bottom must have been bared by this manoeuvre, but there was nothing I could do with my hands full. It was a foretaste of my future life back in short trousers.




I’d already made an appointment with Mrs Livesey to meet Ricky at home after school for a preliminary assessment to see if he would be a suitable new member of the PE Club. I was sure he would be from what his mum and his PE teacher had told me, but as Doc explained, even though Mrs Livesey had signed Ricky up for the club, these procedures still had to be followed. It would also be my first visit wearing my new official short trouser uniform.

It was with increasing nervousness that I set out from home. Mum very kindly waved me off as I walked to the bus stop just round the corner. When I saw the bus stop ahead of me I could see there were already a couple of people there waiting. I joined the queue.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I was asked, rather sternly I thought, by one of the ladies waiting at the stop.

“Er… this isn’t a school uniform…” I tried to explain, “I’m not at school… I…”

“Then what sort of uniform is it?” she demanded, “I see there is a badge on the breast pocket of your jacket… What does that signify?”

The lady standing next to this gorgon interrogating me tried to suppress a giggle as she watched me squirm. I was reminded of a film I’d seen at the flicks recently in which Esma Cannon watched Peggy Mount tearing an unfortunate man off a strip.

“It’s a P.E. Club,” I explained, “This is the uniform I have to wear when I go to meet boys… and their mums… boys who will be joining the club…”

“And how old are you?” the dragon asked.

“Nineteen,” I replied.

“Still in short trousers!” she exclaimed. Beside her Esma giggled again.

“It’s… It’s part of my uniform,” I said finding myself in the unusual position of having to defend my wearing of short trousers… my absurdly short short trousers… in public, “Doc… she runs the club with Coach… she trains the boys… they had my uniform made… I’m the club supervisor and I help them both with running... the club…”

“Hmm… I see.” the dragon continued, “It sounds a most worthwhile institution… Keeps the boys out of mischief, eh. Well, here’s our bus…” she added as the double-decker drew to a halt.

As we about to board the bus she turned to me and added that more boys could do with being kept in short trousers in her opinion. This caused yet another giggle from Esma who finally managed to get in a few words: “Clothes maketh the man…” she said, to which the gorgon added:

“... and short trousers maketh the boy!”

After that conversation I couldn’t possibly have been more aware of my smooth bare legs. It was unfortunate for me that all the forward-facing seats on the lower deck were occupied, so I was forced to sit in one of the side seats. As I sat down the inevitable happened and my tailored short trousers rode up and I felt the prickly fabric of the seat-covering scratching my upper thighs and the lower curves of my bottom. Facing me was a young mother and her daughter. The daughter appeared to be about twelve years old.

Even before I’d sat down I could see they were both looking at my bare legs. Once I’d taken my seat I was spared their further examination when the bus-conductress came to take my fare. She too looked down at my bare legs and sandals.

“Half-fare?” the clippie asked.

“No… er, full,” I answered.

This brought forth an immediate reaction from the seat opposite.

“See, mummy… I told you so…” the young daughter said to her mother.

Mummy had clearly thought differently: “Well,” she said addressing the clippie, “I never thought I’d see the day when a boy in short trousers had to pay full-fare…”

“It’s something you don’t see every day,” the clippie replied, “but there are occasions when I come across an older boy in short trousers… one boy I remember was mortified when his mum made him ask for a full fare… you won’t believe me when I tell you she actually slapped him on the legs when he wouldn’t ask me ‘properly’ for the right fare!”

“How old was the boy?” the lady asked.

“Well, of course he must have been over sixteen because his mum made him ask for a full fare… but you see, when a boy is wearing short trousers it’s sometimes difficult to know exactly how old they are… even this boy sitting opposite you… but your little girl must have guessed that he was older than sixteen…”

“I expect some boys wear short trousers just to get away with only paying half-fare…” the lady said.

“I’m not so sure,” the clippie smiled, “I don’t think any boy over the age of sixteen would wear short trousers through choice just to get away with cheating on their bus fare… and if they are in short trousers over the age of sixteen, there’s probably a very good reason…”

“Hmm…I’m sure you’re right,” the lady sitting opposite me said as she pursed her lips looking in my direction. “I’ve no doubt you’ve had lots of experience in dealing with boys in short trousers…”

The clippie laughed, “I certainly have… why, one boy was almost in tears when his mum said right out ‘You’re seventeen… ask the lady for a full-fare’ I think the whole bus must have heard her and as for the short trousers he was wearing... I should think his mum must have bought them for him when he was about fourteen years old...”

“... probably plenty of wear left in them,” the lady chipped in, “I always think that mums of boys are so lucky being able to keep their sons in short trousers… I’m always having to buy new clothes for my daughter… there never seems to be a week goes by when she doesn’t need something, whereas if a boy is kept in short trousers it doesn’t matter how tall he gets he’ll still be able to wear the same trousers for years.

I sat and squirmed in my seat as I listened to the two ladies talking and was relieved when it was time for me to get off the bus, but even that wasn’t without additional humiliation. As I stood up and turned, the little girl squealed with delight and drew everyone’s attention to the backs of my thighs which she gleefully pointed out were covered with red marks and ridges from where I’d been sitting on the rough moquette fabric seat covering.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched the bus pull away, forgetting for the moment how I’d have to endure the return journey a bit later in the day. I’d timed my visit to Mrs Livesey so that I arrived in time to have a chat with her before Ricky got back from school.

I knocked on the front door and tensed myself in preparation for Mrs Livesey’s reaction to my new official ‘visiting’ uniform. The door opened and she looked me up and down.

“My, you are looking smart… very smart, Robert. Come in and tell me all about it,” she said.

“There’s plenty of time for a cup of tea before Ricky gets home,” Mrs Livesey continued as she showed me into the kitchen. She turned to look at my new uniform again. “You know I am pleased to see you’ve got a uniform to wear, Robert. Uniforms say so much about the club… and you, I think,” she paused and looked down at my bare legs, “I bet you got quite a shock when you saw your uniform for the first time.”

I had to admit that was indeed the case.

“Was it those short trousers?” Mrs Livesey asked me very perceptively.

I hesitated, unsure whether my agreement would signal criticism of the club and I did not want to give this impression to Mrs Livesey.

Mrs Livesey smiled at my evasive silence, “Nevertheless, credit is due to you for wearing such a distinctive uniform without complaint,” she continued, “It must have made you feel quite anxious to wear short trousers again at your age, Robert. But it just goes to show how dedicated you are to the work you’re doing for the club. Why, Ricky’s only twelve as you know, and he’s already started to nag me, asking me when he can wear long trousers…”

I felt obliged to point out that Ricky was far too young to wear long trousers, to which Mrs Livesey assured me she was in full agreement.

Although I said nothing about it, the thought of being seen with boys of Ricky’s age dressed in longs while I was in short trousers horrified me. Fortunately at this point Mrs Livesey changed the subject and explained how she had come to hear about the P.E.Club. when she’d attended a coffee morning along with a group of women who were, like herself, the mothers of young boys. The discussion had turned to the subject of masturbation and a number of the mums, Mrs Livesey included, were concerned that their sons were masturbating excessively.

Ricky’s mum told me how one of the mums at the coffee morning had explained to everyone how her three boys were all masturbating and making so much mess that she’d had to put up a notice in the bathroom warning all three boys that the towels were not to be used when masturbating. Any evidence that this rule had been broken would result in all three boys being on parade for a bare bottom spanking, as she was sure the boys would blame each other for any mess and either way she couldn’t be sure which of the the boys was the culprit. The notice had been placed in a prominent position where visitors could see… much to the embarrassment of her boys! The other mums thought this was not only a very good idea, but also very amusing. I couldn’t help but wonder what comments the boys had received from visitors who’d seen the notice.

It would have been fascinating to have been a fly on the wall and to have listened to the mums as they discussed and compared their experiences of their sons’ masturbatory habits. I felt sure Mrs Livesey would have had something to say about the mess Ricky and Ryan made on their last sleepover and how the boys’ pyjamas were simply covered in sticky boy-goo.

Mrs Livesey had just explained how the mums of both Ryan and Adam were keen for their sons to join the P.E. Club when the back-door opened. It was Ricky, home from school.