The Smartest Schoolboy - Part 3

 

There had been ripples of polite applause as the variously dressed contestants had each made their way out onto the stage. Julian, by then a bundle of nerves, had stood waiting in the wings to be called to face the judges dressed in nothing but his tiny speedo-style swimming trunks that he had last worn when he had been selected for his school’s swimming team three years before. The little trunks now scarcely fitted and it had been struggle for him to pull them up. And when he had pulled the trunks right up, to Julian’s horror he found that his bottom cheeks were mostly bare since in order to cover his genitals (freshly shorn of pubic hair) it was necessary for him to pull as much of the material forward as  he could thereby squeezing the back of the trunks between his bottom cheeks. Even then the absurdly small trunks could not be made to cover what was now clearly a bald pubis. Julian, glancing down at the humiliating swimwear, could actually see the base of his hairless penis pressing against the waistband of the trunks.

“Not nervous are you?” a voice behind Julian spoke. It was one of the assistants helping out during the competition to ensure its smooth running. She made no mention of Julian’s extremely brief costume, but merely told him not to be worried about facing the judging panel. “Just remember to stand straight and speak up… they won’t bite, you know,” she added in an effort to comfort the obviously tense boy in front of her.

Julian turned his head to look at the young assistant who smiled her encouragement.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, while wondering if this was what it felt for those about to be ordered to go “over the top” during a “big push” observed by a Sopwith Camel flying far above the battlefield. Well, not quite. Julian was enough of a realist to know that he was at least guaranteed to return from the stage alive. He stepped out from the wings and peered around the curtain at the expectant audience.

The ripples of applause that greeted the announcement of Julian’s turn on the stage died away quickly to be replaced by a stunned silence as he stepped forward nervously on his bare feet straight into the spotlight. No one in the audience, with the exception of Julian’s mother along with her friends and their families, had expected to see a boy dressed in such a low-cut and very brief pair of swimming trunks.

Julian, now more anxious than ever, walked across the apron to where the judges sat at a table to the side of the stage. From the audience he heard the sound of one person enthusiastically clapping and he didn’t need to be told that it was his mother. Flushed with embarrassment Julian heard more people begin applauding. Gradually more people joined in, so that by the time Julian arrived in front of the judges the entire audience was applauding him.

Although it was well intended the effect was to make Julian even more self-conscious than ever and if he could have blushed any more he most certainly would have done.

Miss Prism, the senior judge and chairwoman of the Smartest Schoolboy Awards committee opened the batting for the judges by reminding Julian to speak up and to speak clearly. He was asked to confirm his name and age:

“Julian Raft… and I’m sixteen, Miss Prism…”

Upon hearing how old Julian was, one or two gasps of astonished disbelief could be heard from the auditorium. Under the glare of the spotlight everyone present could see how smooth and unblemished Julian’s body was. Not a blemish, not a single pimple, not a sign of any body hair could be seen and as for those cute little swim-trunks… why, they were so tiny it was easy to conclude that Julian hadn’t even started to sprout any pubic hair! Surely he couldn’t be as old as sixteen?

“Perhaps you could tell the judges something about yourself… what your hobbies are…” Miss Prism asked Julian. She seemed quite oblivious to the fact that standing in front of her and her fellow judges was an almost naked teenage boy who was blushing to the roots of his severely short schoolboy haircut.

“I… er, I like sports and… er, I used to swim for my school,” Julian began before realising he was drawing even more attention to his tiny swimming trunks. But it was too late. One of the other judges piped up:

“Are these your school’s team trunks you’re wearing for us today?” they asked.

Julian nodded and just about managed to confirm that they were.

“I must say they’re very brief,” the judge continued.

“I, um… I, er, haven’t swum on the school team for a couple of years…” Julian explained, “But mum thought… er, I had to… um… er, that’s why… um…”

Miss Prism took charge of proceedings again. She could see that Julian was deeply embarrassed to be standing on stage wearing a quite frankly ridiculously, nay indecently small pair of boy’s swimming trunks. Nevertheless, she concluded, Julian must have enjoyed his time on his school’s swimming team otherwise what other reason could there have been for him to choose to proudly wear these ludicrously ‘petite’ trunks?

“I expect you won lots of medals when you swam for your school team and that’s why you chose to wear your team trunks,” Miss Prism said diplomatically, “Now, why don’t you tell us something about your hobbies.”

On safer ground Julian told the judges about how much he enjoyed building models and how he liked collecting things such as stamps and postcards.

Sitting in the audience Julian’s mother had been thrilled by the enthusiastic applause generated as Julian crossed the stage to face the judges. She distinctly heard one woman say how cute Julian looked as he stood on view, while another cooed, “ahh… isn’t he sweet?” and yet another said she couldn’t believe he was sixteen, “he looks so much younger… my boy’s thirteen and I don’t think I could persuade him to put on those tiny trunks at the seaside, never mind getting up onto a stage in front of everyone like that… my boy insists on wearing those awful baggy swim-shorts.”

In a line along the rear of the stage the other contestants stood and watched as Julian went through his ordeal in front of the judges. All of the boys were dressed far more modestly in their various outfits. Only two of them showed any bare leg at all and these were rugby players in their rugby kit who, the eagle eyed might have spotted, spent a fair bit of time whispering to each other and chortling when they looked in Julian’s direction.

Julian breathed a sigh of relief when the questions were over and he was out of the spotlight. He joined the line-up of more sensibly dressed boys for an official photograph to be taken of the Smartest Schoolboy entrants at this stage of the competition. As the photographer set up the equipment the boys jostled for position and Julian found himself standing between the two rugby players. They might have been about a year younger than Julian, but it was clear from their stocky physiques why they had been chosen to play rugby.

After a few moments the boys were lined up across the stage, each boy dressed in such a way to represent his ‘passion’ as the competition rules phrased the requirement for this part of the contest. There were boys in their cricketing whites, boys dressed in their chorister’s outfits, one boy archer with his bow and arrows, a couple of gymnasts wearing singlets and long stirrup pants, three musicians holding their instruments, the two rugby players already mentioned and slap in the middle, squeezed between the rugby players, stood Julian dressed in nothing more than his his breathtakingly brief swimming trunks.

It might not have been quite so bad for Julian if all the other boys were wearing swimming trunks as he’d been led to believe. At least then he perhaps wouldn’t have stood out so much, but as it was the eyes of everyone in the audience were naturally drawn to the boy in the middle wearing hardly anything. Indeed from the back of the hall it was difficult to tell whether or not Julian was wearing anything at all!

However, Julian was soon in for a surprise as the photographer called on the boys to smile for the camera. The photographer fussed about making some last minute adjustments as the boys grinned with their eyes fixed on the camera lens.

The rugby boys’ teamwork was very nice. There was no signal between them, no glance of meaning, no gesture that Julian might have picked up on before his arms were pinned to his back and his tiny swimming trunks yanked unceremoniously straight down to his ankles. The photographer’s motorised camera recorded the event in superb full-colour clarity as the rest of the boys all cheered another boy’s misfortune. As the judges, stunned by the unexpected events, looked on, the audience roared with laughter no doubt thinking that Julian being stripped of his swimming trunks was all part of the show. Even his mother couldn’t hide a smile as she watched her son becoming the centre of attention… as if he wasn’t already. Mrs Atwell’s daughters, all three of them sat between their mother and Mrs Raft, couldn’t believe their eyes. Julian Raft, up there on the stage… nude! Maria, the eldest girl had thought to bring her camera, hoping she might get to take some photos of Julian, but never thinking she might have the opportunity to snap him in his birthday suit. Maria made the most of her opportunity and prayed that Mrs Grant at the chemist’s would develop and print her special photos.

On stage Julian struggled to free himself from the steel-hard grip of the rugby player who held his arms pinned together behind his back. Deafened by the audience laughter Julian twisted and kicked out, only to lose his tiny trunks which flew from his right foot and went skidding across the stage. Nothing was left to the imagination as Julian’s penis, now seen to be completely bald, bounced in all directions between his legs. Meanwhile the other rugby player retrieved Julian’s swimming trunks, held them aloft and displayed his prize by waving them about.

This unscheduled event lasted less than a minute before the commanding voice of Miss Prism was heard to boom above the laughing, cheering audience.

“That’s quite enough!! Boys!! Release Master Raft at once!” She turned to her fellow judges, “I expect this sort of roisterous behaviour is common among the rugby playing fraternity, but I cannot sanction it during the competition… BOYS!!” Miss Prism again turned her head to the rugby players who were still enjoying their ‘roisterous behaviour’, “Will you stop what you are doing… immediately!”

The boy holding Julian finally loosened his grip and Julian shook himself free. Although embarrassed beyond belief Julian was unsure about what he should do apart from squashing his hands as tightly as he could stand between his legs. He was given back his tiny swimming trunks by the second rugby player whose cheery, “No hard feelings, eh!” failed to impress Julian who merely scowled in response. There was nothing he could do with the trunks since to attempt to put them on again straight away on stage would be more embarrassing than ever, so he clutched them to his crotch and waited to be told what to do.

Miss Prism could be seen consulting with her fellow judges while it occurred to the photographer that the required ‘official’ photo hadn’t been taken along with all the unofficial photos.

Miss Prism spoke: “Boys,” she addressed the two rugby playing miscreants as she consulted the papers in front of her, “Max and Douglas isn’t it? I have consulted with my fellow judges and we have decided that however much you may have thought of your prank as a bit of fun, we cannot let it go without imposing sanctions on both of you. You have brought the Smartest Schoolboy competition into disrepute by your silly, childish behaviour…”

“... however, we understand that such high-spirited, some might say boorish behaviour is not considered unusual within the sporting milieu, an environment with which you boys are no doubt familiar, so the judges have decided to give you a choice of penalties. In a moment I will explain what these penalties are, but I want you to understand that whichever penalty you decide to accept, this same penalty must be accepted by both of you. Do you understand?”

The boys understood. Julian, still unsure of what to do with himself, continued to clutch his trunks tightly to his nether regions, although the focus of the attention among the audience had shifted to the two rugby boys which was a slight relief. Like everyone in the hall Julian was eager to find out what the penalties were going to be for the boys who had pulled down his swimming trunks.

“Good,” Miss Prism said adopting her curt, businesslike manor, “As I said you have a choice boys, either you are dismissed from the Smartest Schoolboy competition immediately and a report detailing your activities sent to your school, who will no doubt take appropriate action in the light of your behaviour… or you stay in the competition and accept the punishment which the judges have agreed you deserve. I feel it only fair to warn you this punishment will be of a corporal nature and it will be administered here and now…”

Before his partner in horseplay could say anything, Max spoke: “We want to stay in the competition and will accept whatever punishment… Doug, will you keep quiet…” he hissed at Douglas, who would at least wanted to be consulted before accepting punishment… corporal punishment at that. But Max had his own reasons for jumping in and telling Miss Prism which option they would take. The last thing Max wanted was for his school to be told what he and Doug had done. He had only entered the Smartest Schoolboy competition to get out of a jam… well it wasn’t so much as a jam as the threat of expulsion from school due to a fracas in the changing-room during an away match. It was only by the skin of his teeth that Max had managed to cling on to his place in his school’s rugby first XV. Reluctantly he’d agreed to enter the Smartest Schoolboy competition as a form of penance, to convince his school how truly sorry he was and how much he regretted his behaviour, so that last thing Max needed was for a report to to wing its way back to his school informing them of his lapse in conduct.

Douglas on the other hand had no such concerns and would rather have avoided summery punishment. But Max managed to have a hasty few words with Douglas to explain his  propensity for landing in the soup and his need to avoid word reaching his school about his and Douglas’ prank. So in the spirit of schoolboy loyalty Douglas acquiesced and agreed to accept punishment from the competition judges.

“Good, I’m pleased to hear that,” Miss Prism said, “It will save us a great deal of paperwork.” And having said this she turned to one of the competition assistants and said a few words out of earshot. The assistant, the same girl who had a few kind words for Julian before he went on stage, nodded her head and slipped out of view into the wings. She wasn’t long and returned with a thin crook-handled schoolboy cane, part of a display the organisers had erected in the lobby. The theme of the display was ‘Schoolboys through the Ages’ and as such had a variety of items associated with the education of boys over the years. The use of the cane was perhaps not as common as it used to be, but it was nevertheless still felt that it warranted a place in the display. There were in fact a number of punishment instruments including a range of tawses, a martinet, as well as a variety of canes.

Miss Prism asked the girl to place the cane on the desk in front of her before sending the assistant back once more to the display. This time when she returned Max and Douglas were startled to see she was carrying the martinet.

“Thank you, my dear,” Miss Prism said as she took the martinet and dangled it by her side, giving it a quick shake so the lashes all hung together freely.

There was quite a buzz in the audience at this unexpected turn of events, but the hall fell silent as Miss Prism rose from her chair to walk across and take centre stage.

“I believe we have our dear friends and neighbours in France to thank for this little instrument of correction,” she said as she once more shook the martinet. “I am told that it is extremely effective at seeking out those parts of a boy’s body that may have escaped punishment by other means.”

Douglas dug his elbow into Max’s side and hissed: “... look what you’ve let us in for…”

“... can’t be any worse than the cane…” Max whispered back feigning nonchalance.

“... I wouldn’t be too sure…” Douglas replied.

“So what the judges and I propose,” Miss Prism announced, “is that each boy in turn receives six strokes of the cane on his bare buttocks after which each boy,” Miss Prism paused and smiled good-naturedly, “then enjoys a continental treat to round off their reward for their uncouth behaviour.” She looked out into the auditorium and scanned the faces looking for any sign of dissent from her proposals. None was forthcoming. It appeared the audience was keen to see Max and Douglas taken down a peg or two.

“Julian!” Miss Prism said rather sharply, “I’m sure you would like to help prepare these two naughty boys to receive their just deserts. If you would be so kind as to lower and remove the rugby shorts from Max and Douglas, that would be most helpful and at the same time a fitting recompense for their behaviour toward yourself.”

It seemed a bit unfair to order Julian to relieve Max and Douglas of their rugby shorts, since he was still clutching his swimming trunks and was otherwise completely naked.

“Please, Miss Prism… might I put my swim trunks back on?” Julian asked.

“I suppose so, but do get a move on…”

Julian thanked Miss Prism, but he suddenly realised he was faced with a dilemma. If he turned his back to hide his front from the audience, they would be presented with his bare bottom - and of course the boys lined up at the back of the stage would get to see Julian struggling to pull up his trunks anyway.

Miss Prism saw Julian dithering: “Come along, do hurry up, Julian, if you want to put your swim suit back on… and there’s no need to be quite so modest about it…”

“Yes, Miss Prism…” 

Surprisingly Max offered to help and suggested that he and Douglas stood one in front and the other behind Julian while he pulled his trunks up. That way they would afford Julian some privacy. Miss Prism gave her consent and the two rugby boys positioned themselves in front and behind Julian.

Of course Julian - and Miss Prism for that matter - should have realised that Max and Douglas were up to no good. The minute Julian had pulled his tight little trunks up to his knees, the two boys simply stepped to one side leaving Julian, hobbled by his own trunks, facing the audience with his hairless boy-parts on display once more.

The audience roared with laughter as Julian stood frozen to the spot. The boys behind him giggled and blew a few wolf-whistles, while even Miss Prism was seen to smile indulgently at these further antics on stage.

“Oh, that’s got to be worth getting the cane for…” Max whispered to Douglas.

Douglas grinned: “Nice one, Max… God, he doesn’t know which way to turn…”

“... and those tiny little trunks are so tight…”

“... he can’t pull them up without making a complete fool of himself…”

Poor Julian. His tiny trunks were harder to pull up than ever. As he struggled under the spotlight he began to perspire which made matters worse as the little trunks stuck to the damp skin of his thighs. Julian fought to pull up his trunks, twisting this way and that and in the meantime putting on an entertaining display for everyone watching. The most obvious solution would have been for Julian to run into the wings, but when he tried, with the trunks only just past his knees, the best he could manage was a sort of duck-like waddle and this only very slowly. Julian had never been so humiliated in his life. He was, and he knew it, a laughing-stock. No one appeared to have any sympathy for his plight simply because everyone was having so much fun watching him struggle to pull up a pair of absurdly small boy’s swimming trunks.

As one lady was heard to say to the lady sitting next to her: “He should never have put those silly little things on in the first place!”

“I agree… it’s his own fault if he can’t get them back on again… really, they’re far too small for him.”

“Boys… they’re so vain. I bet he thought he looked like a real lady-killer wearing them…”

“At his age too!”

The ladies laughed.

There was a kerfuffle in the audience as one of the spectators moved along a row of seats in an attempt to get to the aisle. No one wanted to miss a thing and so the people she passed were none too pleased to be asked to move out of the way, if only for a brief second. Having extricated herself from the row, the woman marched down the aisle straight towards the stage. She climbed up the steps ignoring the raised voices from the judges table and strode across the stage to where Julian was still struggling with his swimming trunks. Julian registered movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head sideways.

“MUM!!”

This was worse than ever! Bad enough to be caught naked in public, but to have his mum come striding up out of nowhere like a mother hen and with that look in her eye that could mean only one thing… she was intent on helping... oh, the shame.

“Julian… whatever do you think you are doing? Here, let me see to it…”

Without another word spoken Julian’s mother bent down and brushed his hands out of the way. She took hold of the the little trunks and yanked on them with a force that would have done credit to a weightlifter’s ‘snatch’. It took three more hefty tugs before mum had restored Julian’s competition swimming trunks to their rightful, proper place. The audience cheered and Mrs Raft waved in acknowledgement.

Miss Prism walked over to thank Mrs Raft and spoke: “Sometimes what’s needed is a mother’s touch. I think that Julian might need a break after entertaining us with that performance. Perhaps you would be good enough to deal with these two boys and remove their rugby shorts…”

“With pleasure…” came the reply followed by a roar of approval from the audience.

Julian’s mother made short work of the rugby shorts of Max and Douglas and she placed them on the judges table. Only the boys’ bottoms were bared since they both wore jock-straps. As it turned out the jock-straps were both a blessing and a curse for Max and Douglas since on the one hand it preserved their modesty, but on the other it meant that the martinet could be used with full force and effect with the boys’ thighs spread wide as the genitals were, to a certain extent, protected by the jock-strap pouch.

Miss Prism, as it turned out, was experienced both in the use of the cane and the martinet. To administer the cane each boy was ordered to present himself in the classic schoolboy ‘touch-toes’ position with legs straight and bottom pushed out to receive each stroke.