Robin clutched the tattered remnants of his shorty-pyjamas and kept close to Hal as the two boys left the pillbox. They approached the gate and a nervous Robin kept his eyes peeled for any sign of the cattle he’d been pursued by earlier. He most definitely did not want to meet the cattle again, but Robin at least felt a whole lot safer now that he had Hal by his side. The boys made their way to a gate, which opened onto a lane, without incident. It was a relief for Robin when Hal closed the gate behind them, but this relief was short-lived as Robin considered the prospect ahead of him. Robin looked down at himself, at his scratched and blistered legs and at the shreds of pyjama material. He was fully aware that these flimsy scraps were all he had to protect him from complete and utter public exposure. Robin was determined to hang on to them come what may.
“Come on,” Hal could see how nervous Robin was and tried to be encouraging, “It’s not far… There must be some of my old stuff you can wear… I’m sure Carol will help.”
The boys started to walk along the lane and gradually Robin gained confidence. They talked and Robin was more than once left open-mouthed at Hal’s seemingly limitless knowledge, knowledge that he somehow managed to convey without sounding like a ‘know-it-all’, or worst of all, in his mum’s eyes anyway, a ‘show-off’. Hal knew the names of all the flowers and plants they passed; he knew the names of the birds and the songs they sung; he knew where everyone lived. He also had an ear for trouble.
“Watch out…” Hal hissed as the boys approach a bend in the lane.
“What is it…?”
“... there…. Didn’t hear it?”
“Hear what…?” Robin asked. He was unnerved by Hal’s reaction. “What is it?”
“If I say ‘run’ just do it… don’t stop and me why, ‘cos I won’t be there.... Get it?”
Robin nodded, his mouth dry, terrified by Hal’s response to the unknown threat. Then Robin heard something… the same something Hal had presumably heard.
Hal was sort of leaning forward, crouching, ready to bolt. A few seconds ticked by as the sound grew louder… voices!!
“Now!! Run!!” Hal shouted. As they turned to run, Robin caught a glimpse of a group of boys heading their way over a small hump-backed bridge. The boys saw them and started to give chase. Robin ran clutching his hands between his legs in an effort to keep hold of what remained of his pyjama-shorts.
“Come on!!” Hal urged and together the boys ran up the lane retracing their steps. “This way… follow me!!”
A narrow lane led to a canal towpath and the two boys made their way carefully along it until they reached a stone bridge over the water. The bridge led nowhere and there was no road or track to be seen either side. Robin glanced up and saw a cast iron plate fixed to the stonework of the arch; it read ‘94’.
“Under here… quick!” Hal said and led them under the arch of the bridge where they stopped and sheltered. After listening carefully for a minute or so Hal added cautiously, “I think we’ve lost them… better stay here for a bit, though...”
“Who are they?” Robin asked as he clutched the tattered shreds of his play-pyjamas to himself.
“Don’t ask…” Hal replied and looked down at Robin’s hands as they held the remains of the shorty-pyjamas close to himself, “...but you can take it as read they would have had your shorty-pyjamas for a trophy… no question.”
Robin gulped as it suddenly occurred to him the danger he’d been in… What if Hal hadn’t come to look for him? What if Robin had met the boys on the lane? Would they really have pulled off his shorty-pyjamas and chased him? Made him do a ‘bare-runner’? Would they have left him stripped nude? Maybe tied him to a tree or something... or left him to get lost with nothing on? The more Robin thought about what might have happened, the more he was grateful for having met Hal while the latter was trespassing in Aunty Daisy’s garden.
The boys lent against the underside of the stone bridge to get their breaths back. It was cooler under the arch and this helped ease the itchiness of all the stings Robin had suffered, although he found it difficult not to bend down and scratch his legs once or twice. Robin waited patiently for Hal to give the ‘all-clear’ and while he did so became fascinated by the light reflected off the water and onto the lichens and mosses that were growing on the underside of the bridge. It helped Robin take his mind off what might have happened earlier had not Hal come along and rescued him. Like the pillbox, the canal bridge that possessed no apparent purpose, felt like a special place and Robin sensed he was sharing some of Hal’s secret knowledge.
After a short while Hal decided it was safe enough to make their way to his house. Hal knew all the shortcuts of course and the boys managed to double back without any sign of their pursuers.
Finally, and with Robin’s head once more full of all the possibilities of what might have happened, the boys arrived at Hal’s house. Robin stood on the path that led up to the back-door. Nervously he again clutched himself between his legs as he held fast to the last few fragments of his shorty-pyjamas, all that stood between him and the unthinkable public humiliation of total nudity. Hal went on ahead to make sure everything was okay and peeked through the kitchen window. To Robin’s consternation, he saw Hal turn back with a look of horror on his face as he proceeded to run back down the path towards him. Hal carried on running past Robin and he called out:
“Crikey! I forgot… honestly, Rob… I forgot… can’t explain...” and before Robin could say anything Hal ran off and left him.
Robin, mouth agape, stood looking down the path at Hal’s receding form. He couldn’t think what was so terrible that even Hal would rather run away than face it… whatever it was must be worse than the gang of boys they’d escaped from not more than half an hour earlier, Robin thought. But it didn’t make any sense… what could possibly be worse? Not at Hal’s own home surely?
Under any other circumstances Robin’s instinct would have been to run and follow Hal, but the morning’s events had knocked the stuffing out of him. Robin was exhausted and being chased by the local gang had just about depleted what little reserves of energy he had left in him. But even so, he was just about to walk back to the gate to see in which direction Hal had gone when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He cringed instinctively and turned slowly and came face to face with Hal’s sister, Carol.
What Hal had genuinely forgotten was his sister, a Ranger Guide, had that morning been giving First Aid lessons to a couple of young Girl Guides in the kitchen. Hal knew from past experience how much his sister Carol preferred to use a live ‘patient’ to show the girls how to deal with various imagined accidents and he wasn’t about to get involved again. Much as he valued his new friendship with Robin, there were limits!
“Dear me… you have been in the wars,” Carol said as she took stock of Robin’s scratches and the numerous red spots and bumps where he’s been stung by the nettles. “Running about with hardly anything on… no wonder you’re so badly scratched,” Carol said as she took hold of Robin’s arm and gently, but firmly turned him round and led him towards the house. “What on earth have you been up to, Robin…? And what have you done to your clothes? Mummy’s not going to be very happy with you, is she?”
Robin was almost too embarrassed to say anything, but felt compelled to try and explain that he hadn’t set out to ruin his clothes; that he had suffered a series of painful accidents which had resulted in him tearing and ripping his play-clothes. Then how matters had been made worse when he and Hal had been chased by a gang of boys. But Robin acknowledged to himself that Carol was right about one thing… mummy was sure to be furious when she found out what he’d done to his shorty-pyjamas.
“We’d better get you inside and have a look at those scratches and stings… looks as though you got one or two bites as well… come on,” Carol said and a reluctant Robin was helped through the open door and into the kitchen.
Whatever Robin expected it certainly wasn’t two young Girl Guides who, as well as their Guide’s uniform, were each wearing a white apron emblazoned with a red cross. The girls’ eyes lit up with undisguised excitement at the sight of the nearly nude boy. Robin turned to try and escape but Carol had already closed the back-door and was standing in the way of his retreat.
“You’re in luck, Robin…” Carol said. Robin looked at her as if she was mad, but Carol ignored him and carried on, “I’ve been giving First Aid lessons to two new Girl Guides as part of their induction from the Brownies. We don’t often get real live patients for lessons… particularly boy patients who’ve been and got themselves into trouble…”
“... but… but, I’m okay now… honest. Hal… er, Harold got some dock leaves and rubbed them where I’d been stung… please, I’m okay, really I am,” Robin pleaded, but Carol, just as bossy as Hal had warned him earlier, was simply not going to allow Robin to leave without giving him a thorough examination and administer any treatment she deemed necessary.
“Nonsense… dock leaves… pah! Old wives tales… you need some proper lotion rubbed in,” Carol said as she quickly assessed the full extent of Robin’s injuries. “I’ll bet these still itch like mad,” she said looking at the red spots and blotches on Robin’s arms, legs and back, “You’ve got a nasty looking rash across your shoulder blades… have you been scratching it?”
Robin admitted that he had. It had been almost impossible to resist scratching himself even though Hal had warned him not to.
“I see… well girls,” Carol said as she turned to the young Guides, “what do you suggest to stop Robin scratching himself?” she asked.
As if in class the two youngsters both raised their arms at once and squealed: “SPLINTS!!”
Horrified, Robin looked from the girls to Carol and back again. He waited for Carol to dismiss this ludicrous suggestion.
Instead Carol asked: “And why do you recommend splints?”
The girls both raised their arms again.
Carol pointed to one of the girls: “Heather…”
“Please… because it will stop Robin from scratching… because if we put his arms into splints, he won’t be able to bend them to reach where it itches…”
“Yes… yes, Heather, those are very good points… and it will also allow you to practice the proper procedure…”
“But I don’t want my arms put into splints!” Robin cried when he realised Carol agreed with what was to him a preposterous idea.
“That’s enough of that…” Carol snapped as if she were a hospital matron making sure her ward was behaving itself before doctor’s rounds, “We know what’s best for you, even if you don’t… isn’t that so, Guides?”
Heather and Shirley eagerly agreed that Girl Guides knew what was best for silly boys who fell into stinging nettles and brambles and ended up tearing their play-clothes and covering themselves in scratches, stings and bites.
Robin was almost trembling as he watched the girls organise themselves with terrible efficiency that belied their tender years. Directed by Carol, who stood firmly by the back-door denying Robin any chance of escape, the young Guides soon had the splints, together with rolls of surgical gauze and bandages, laid out on top of the big wooden kitchen table.
The girls turned. One held a pair of long pointed scissors, the other a pair of forceps which she opened and closed with undisguised relish.
“Should we put our masks on?” Shirley asked.
“... to prevent infection,” Heather explained.
“That’s a very good point, girls… yes, put your masks on as a precautionary measure,” Carol advised.
With their face-masks in place the two Girl Guides, Heather and Shirley, looked positively menacing to Robin. He surveyed the table top and more than ever wished he’d not decided to explore the field. Why couldn’t he have just stayed put in Aunty Daisy’s garden?
Robin felt Carol’s hand on his shoulder again and he was led towards the table. A wooden stool was placed next to the table and Robin was told to lay his right arm on the table-top. Like a lamb to the slaughter Robin did as he was told. Any tardiness on his part was met with a reminder that it was his own fault he’d got into such a mess and that he should be grateful the Guides were there to help him.
Under Carol’s experienced tutelage Heather and Shirley bound Robin’s arms to the splints. Carol held Robin firmly as she supervised the young Guides on the best way to ensure the splints stayed in place and they made sure the bindings were nice and tight so that Robin was quite unable to bend either of his arms. It was during this process that Robin became concerned about the last remaining fragments of his shorty-pyjamas. With his arms in splints it was going to be impossible for him to ensure he was decently covered. He started to panic.
Robin twisted on the stool and tried as best he could to free himself, but it only took a sharp slap on his legs from Heather for Robin to stop him wriggling.
“Ouch! That hurt!” Robin said. His legs stung enough already without having them slapped by a young Girl Guide, but if he thought he’d get any sympathy from Carol, he was mistaken.
“Remember Guides, we need to ensure the patient is fully under our control as well as our care. Like Robin, who doesn’t appear to know what’s best for him,” Carol said while looking straight at Robin. Her meaning was unmistakable and one that Robin was all too familiar with… behave or face the consequences. Then Carol added, “Well done Heather for using your intuition. A little slap was all that was needed to remind Robin how to behave…”
“Can I try it?” Shirley asked eagerly, “Can I have a turn…? Can I slap Robin’s legs?”
“I don’t see why not,” Carol replied, “It’s as well to have some practice…”
Robin couldn’t believe what he was hearing and foolishly struggled some more which of course gave Shirley ample reason to smack his legs.
“OW!! Stop that!!” Robin yelled, “Stop it… it’s not fair!!”
The long pieces of wood had been bound tightly with gauze to his arms, one on each side in such a way that it was impossible to bend his arms at the elbow. At the same time Carol had taken the opportunity to rub some lotion onto those parts of his forearms which had been stung when Robin fell from the pillbox into the patch of nettles. The lotion felt soothing at first, but was already wearing off leaving Robin’s arms just as itchy as ever… only now he had no means of relieving the overwhelming urge to scratch himself!
“Now, Guides, I think it’s time to find out the full extent of the patient’s injuries,” Carol said, “Can either of you suggest how we might best go about doing that? Yes… Shirley.”
“Lay him on the table…”
“Good… that will make it easier to examine Robin… Okay then, let’s help Robin up onto the table, Guides… that’s it… lay back, Robin. Shirley is right, this is the best way to examine all those scratches and bites… good… now keep still Robin… What next, Guides? Remember we have to make certain and examine the patient thoroughly… Yes, Heather, what do you suggest is the next step?”
“Take off his clothes…” Heather said decisively.
Robin would have jumped from the table had Carol not have held him firmly by the shoulders. What few scraps of his shorty-pyjamas Robin still had left, he was determined to hold on to… but for the blessed splints he might have stood a chance; with them in place on his arms, his cause was hopeless.
“Please, Carol… do you have to?” Robin resorted to pleading, “Please, Carol… I’ll keep still, but please… please don’t…”
But Robin was ignored.
“Now Guides,” Carol continued, “We have to assume the patient has sustained injuries that are not apparent… therefore we should try to avoid moving the patient unnecessarily.” Heather and Shirley nodded, “So Guides, what’s the best way of removing the patient’s clothing without causing undue movement… Yes, Heather…”
“We should cut off the patient’s clothing so that we can remove it without moving the patient,” Heather said as if she was reciting her answer from a textbook.
“Please, Carol... please, don’t...” Robin pleaded, but again he was ignored. The First Aid lesson was a far more important matter than any embarrassment Robin might have to suffer it seemed.
“Very good, Heather… removing the patient’s clothing by cutting it away is precisely the right answer,” Carol said, “This method should always be used in cases like this one in front of you in which the subject has sustained injuries due to a fall…”
“... but, but… I’m okay… really I am… I walked here… honest...” Robin tried to explain from his position lying flat on his back on the kitchen table.
“... whether or not the patient says otherwise,” Carol continued as she talked over Robin and drowned out his feeble protests, “You should assume nothing and check everything…”
“Right… who has the scissors?” Carol asked the young Girl Guides.
“Me…” Heather answered, her voice slightly muffled by her mask.
“Good… We will start cutting away the boy’s top,” Carol announced, “... what there is left of it, that is. It looks as if it’s the remains of a pair of boy’s pyjamas… shorty-pyjamas perhaps… Now carefully, Heather, I want you to cut through these pieces at the boy’s shoulders. He seems to have lost most of the buttons at the front, so we should be able to remove the rest of the top without much difficulty once the shoulders are taken care of… that’s it… ease the scissors underneath…”
Robin kept perfectly still, not even moving when he felt the cold scissors touch his bare flesh. This was not through any wish to be cooperative, but because Robin was terrified what might happen if he moved and Heather’s scissors slipped as she snipped the thin strip of his shorty-pyjamas.
“Good, Heather… now pass the scissors to Shirley and let her cut the material on Robin’s other shoulder,” Carol instructed the Guides.
Robin fixed his eyes on the scissors and followed them as they were passed from one girl to the other. Once more he kept perfectly still as Shirley snipped through the few threads that held his pyjama-top in place. The girls were then told to pull what remained of the top from Robin and he closed his eyes briefly as he felt the material being removed. A few seconds later Robin was left wearing nothing more than the tattered shorty-pyjama shorts and his red plastic play-sandals. Laid out on the kitchen table with both arms secured in splints, Robin felt like some sacrificial offering as he watched his own bare tummy moving up and down. Robin tried to control his breathing while he waited nervously for the next stage of his disrobing at the hands of the Girl Guides.
Meanwhile outside, Hal had immediately felt guilty about leaving Robin in the hands of his sister Carol and her two trainee First Aider Guides, Heather and Shirley. Hal knew only too well what embarrassments could befall the unfortunate boy who found himself being used by Carol to demonstrate First Aid techniques. He had found himself at the mercy of First Aiders on more than one occasion and knew them to be both uncomfortable and humiliating encounters. Indeed the reason Hal had run off and abandoned Robin was the memory of the last such encounter when he found himself with one leg encased in plaster and his head held immobile in a neck-brace in front of six giggling Brownies who were then taught how to remove a patient’s clothes. Hal blushed at the memory.
Now his sister and her putative First Aiders had a subject who’d had a real accident… Hal shuddered to think what Carol’s young Girl Guides would do. So he slowly made his way back to his house, stood at the gate and gazed at the back-door. He told himself he couldn’t abandon his new friend, but he also knew that whatever he said would make no difference and there was no question of him being able to rescue Robin. He walked cautiously along the path and then peered in through the kitchen window. What he saw both shocked and excited him.
Hal had only ever been on the receiving end of one of his sister’s First Aid demonstrations. There could be no possible excitement in being one of Carol’s ‘victims’ (for that was what Hal felt like when he was roped into one of these demonstrations). Being surrounded by Girl Guides younger than he was, all eager to see and touch the parts of a boy’s body that normally remained out of bounds; that was absolutely no fun at all. But… but, on the other hand, to see another boy lying helpless on the kitchen table… Wow! That was something else altogether and Hal’s feelings of guilt evaporated instantly.
Hal simply couldn’t help himself and it was with undisguised glee that he took in the scene. Although one of the girls was standing between the table and the window Hal could see quite clearly into the kitchen and when the girl moved Hal saw Robin’s arms were in splints. A quick glance and Hal also saw his sister instruct the other Guide to do something. It was like they were going to operate on Robin as both Guides were wearing face-masks that were attached by loops over the girls’ ears. Hal could also see that Robin’s shorty-pyjama top, or what had been left of it, had been removed and he realised that he was just in time to see the shorty-pyjama shorts being dealt with in a similar manner!
Hal pressed his face as close to the window as he dared in his eagerness not to miss anything and watched as one of the Guides leant forward over Robin. In her hand Hal could see a pair of scissors and he knew the Guide was about to cut through what was left of Robin’s shorty-pyjama shorts. Like a surgeon at work the little girl eased the scissors underneath the remaining cotton fabric and proceeded to cut upwards until she reached the waist of the shorty-shorts. Robin, Hal saw, looked petrified as the Guide glanced up at Carol for confirmation that she should cut right through the waistband and the white pyjama-cord. When Carol nodded Hal was sure that behind the face-mask the little Guide smiled as she made the final snip.
It was an agonisingly slow process, since the scissors now had to be passed to the other Guide to cut through Robin’s pyjama-shorts on the other side. This meant Hal had to move position the better to watch the procedure. Just as the other Guide had done this one snipped through the pyjama fabric and through the cord as well. Now Hal could see how the material had fallen away to leave Robin’s hips and the side of his bottom quite bare. All that remained of the shorty-pyjamas was a small, flimsy piece of fabric that rested on his boy-bits. Not for long! Hal thought mischievously.
As he watched the events unfolding through the window, Hal was also experiencing major nob trouble. He hadn’t had his usual morning wank and so was already feeling decidedly bonky. The excitement of witnessing Robin’s plight had added to this feeling and Hal’s penis was standing smartly at attention in his trousers.
Hal was spellbound and as he continued to watch through the window, his right hand gravitated towards his trouser pocket and slipped inside. He was thankful he had chosen this particular pair of trousers to wear as the pocket had a nice big hole through which Hal’s fingers quickly burrowed and eagerly wrapped themselves around his stiff nob.
Hal was an expert at furtive wanking and held the class record for masturbating during each of his teachers’ lessons at school. It was, so far, an unbroken record, one that was authenticated after the class in the boys’ toilets, when Hal displayed the evidence of his cum to the other boys who were taking part in the challenge.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Carol had stepped forward and picked up the forceps. The expression on Robin’s face was one of horror as his eyes followed the forceps as Carol moved them closer to the tiny piece of pyjama-fabric.
Hal could see that his sister Carol was saying something to the Guides as she waved the forceps over the remains of Robin’s shorty-pyjama shorts, although he might have been surprised to hear what was being said.
“As Guides we must remember the importance of patient dignity,” Carol was saying in a departure from her previous somewhat dismissive attitude towards Robin’s finer feelings that took Robin by surprise, “This boy, Robin you see in front of you has suffered a serious and traumatic experience and we should do our best not to make it any worse…”
“As First Aiders it has been necessary for us to remove most of Robin’s clothing in order to assess the full extent of his injuries… The question we now face is whether it is likely Robin has been stung or scratched in this area…” Carol waved the forceps, using them as a pointer, over the tattered remnants of the shorty-pyjama shorts, “... which would necessitate the removal of the patient’s final article of clothing. Or should we decide the patient’s dignity outweighs such considerations and therefore leave this area covered which would allow Robin to retain a degree of modesty…?”
Behind their little face masks Heather and Shirley were disappointed to hear Carol talk as she did. What did it matter how the boy felt? Between them they had almost stripped Robin bare. It would be unthinkable to stop now, after all hadn’t Carol said only a few moments ago they should ‘assume nothing and check everything’? One glance at the expressive eyes of the young Guides told Carol all she needed to know about what the girls were thinking. Heather and Shirley wouldn’t be satisfied until they’d seen and examined everything...
However, Robin was, for the moment at least, under the distinct impression he was to be given a reprieve and that he would be spared total nudity. But that was before another thought entered his head…
As Carol listened to the young Girl Guides as they argued the case for examining every part of their patient, Robin was battling to stop himself from thinking about his penis.
What if…? Robin had thought, what if he got an erection as he lay on the kitchen table in front of the girls? The more he tried not to think about this, the more Robin knew he’d never manage to unthink it…
Robin’s arms were immobilised in their splints and with just a few square inches of flimsy winceyette left covering him, what boy wouldn’t feel as vulnerable as Robin did at that moment?
“Please, Carol…” Robin begged, aware he was in danger of complete humiliation, “Please can I go now… I’m okay, really I am…”
But Carol was more interested in hearing from the girls their reasons for the removal of Robin’s last little piece of clothing. She ‘shushed’ Robin to be quiet.
Robin knew that once he started to think about having an erection… or rather not having one, there was simply nothing he could do to stop himself from dwelling on how defenceless and exposed he was. An erection would be impossible to hide, since he could do nothing to cover himself. Once that idea had wormed its way into his consciousness, Robin could do nothing to rid himself of it... and as boys throughout the ages can testify, the thought alone of not wanting to have an erection is guaranteed to cause one.
As Carol discussed the question of patient dignity with Heather and Shirley, Robin struggled think of something else… anything that might take his mind off his penis.
“So, Guides… you think we should proceed with the removal of this…?” Carol said as she delicately used the forceps to lift up the remaining piece of shorty-pyjama that covered Robin’s boy-bits. Teasingly Carol only lifted the material a little way, not enough for the girls to actually see anything underneath. Carol let the flap fall back, but by which time Robin’s penis was on the move.