Saturday, 18 June 2016

Robin: Part 4

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.

                                                                                              Story Index


Thursday, 2 June 2016

Robin: Part 2

The strident voice of mummy made Robin jump. “I hope you’re not showing off in front of Alice?”

Robin twisted his head round. Mummy didn’t like boys who lacked self-control, but no matter how many times Robin had tried to explain that boys in general and he himself in particular couldn’t always account for the behaviour of their willies, mummy would still accuse him of being wilful. ‘Wilfully showing off’, was the way she put it, as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough for a boy to have an erection in front of mummy.

Alice turned to her mother: “Mummy... look what willy-winky is doing…”

“Please… I can’t help it…” Robin pleaded, his penis still pointing resolutely towards Alice.

“Willy-winky is being ever so naughty… isn’t he mummy?” Alice said. She seemed to Robin to be intent on making matters worse for him. What was it with girls? he thought. Why did they always want to get boys into trouble? Wasn’t it bad enough to be kept standing in the front-room, in the nude, with everyone watching?

Alice’s mum ‘tut-tutted’ her disapproval. It was clear that she too took a dim view of boys who showed off. That ‘tut-tut’ appeared to be a signal, although it was lost on Robin. At once Alice dropped the lemon-yellow nylon pyjama-jacket into her lap and, in the blink of an eye, smacked the head of Robin’s penis sharply with her open right hand. The sudden slap took Robin by complete surprise. Even though the head of his penis was covered by his foreskin the blow had stung enough to bring a tear to Robin’s eye. Alice had smacked Robin’s penis so hard that it was a few moments before it stopped bouncing and when it did waggle to rest it was only to receive another slap from Alice’s hand.

“MUMMY!!” Robin yelled, “Mummy… make her stop!”

But it was clear mummy was not going to intervene. Instead she told Robin what a naughty, wilful boy he was being, telling him he had no excuse to get excited and to show off in front of Alice who was only trying to help mummy get him ready for bed.

“But mummy… she’s hitting my… my willy!”

“Don’t be such a baby… It serves you right for showing off in front of Alice…”

“Ow!!” Robin jumped as his willy received a third smack from Alice’s hand.

As Robin’s penis waggled to rest again it became apparent that Alice’s ministrations were having an effect… Robin’s penis was now almost limp.

Then, almost as if nothing had happened, Alice picked up the lemon-yellow nylon pyjama-jacket again and jiggled it in front of Robin and spoke: “I hope willy-winky has learnt his lesson?”

Robin said nothing and stood sulking.

“Well… has he?” Alice said when no reply was forthcoming.

Robin pouted: “Yes…”

“That’s better,” Alice said and turned to her mother, “I think it’s best if I put Robin into his special nylon pyjamas tonight, mummy. What with willy-winky being so naughty…”

“Best to be safe than sorry,” Alice’s mum agreed.

Robin really didn’t understand the logic. It was Alice who’d asked to see the horrid lemon-yellow nylon pyjamas. It was Alice who was going to put him into these pyjamas whether he wanted to wear them or not. It was Alice who’s teased him while he was kept waiting in the nude… teased him so much that his willy had started to go all stiff and bonky. There had been no question about winky misbehaving, but now somehow Robin was taking the blame for being put into his ‘special’ pyjamas! How unfair was that?!

Then Alice asked Robin another question: “Is willy-winky going to make a mess in your pyjamas tonight?”

Inwardly Robin groaned: “I… I don’t know…” he replied.

“... but why did willy-winky misbehave if he’s not going to make stuff?”

Robin turned to mummy. Surely she would understand, he thought. He knew mummy thought winky was naughty on purpose, but he wanted her to stop Alice from asking him any more embarrassing questions. Mummy must have seen something in the way Robin looked and decided that a mother’s advice was needed.

“Alice dear, in time you will come to realise how boys can sometimes have great difficulty in controlling their little winkies. Boys always blame winky, but it's all down to a lack of self-control. Why, winky often misbehaves at bathtime… doesn’t he, Robin?”

“Yes, mummy…” Robin replied with his head bowed in shame.

“... but just because willy-winky is being naughty in front of you, Alice doesn’t mean he’s going to have a little accident and make a mess…. does it, Robin?” mummy said.

“No, mummy…”

“Now you’d better get Robin into his pyjamas, Alice... it’s already way past Robin’s bedtime.”

“Yes, Mrs Greene,” Alice replied and turned her attention once more to Master Robin.

“Come along now, Robin… you heard what mummy just said… it’s well past time for your bed-e-byes,” Alice said and for all the world making it sound as if it were Robin causing the delay, “Why on earth you insisted on showing me your nylon pyjamas… I suppose you thought you could have a bedtime extension while mummy undressed you… keep quiet while I put you into your pyjamas, Robin… there is no need to make a fuss… just because you think it’s clever to show off and let little willy-winky misbehave, there’s no reason for… Robin!”

Robin had turned his back on Alice. He was so upset at being accused of wanting to be put to bed wearing the horrid, itchy, lemon-yellow nylon pyjamas and of deliberately trying to extend his bedtime, that tears of frustration had started to trickle down his face. He, a fourteen year old boy, didn’t want Alice, a little girl and his junior by some two years, to see him reduced to tears by her taunts and teasing.

“Robin…” Alice repeated.

Mummy was about to intervene, but she looked over at Mavis, Alice’s mum who signalled that it might be best to let Alice deal with Robin in her own way, and she changed her mind.

“Robin… turn around and let me look at you,” Alice said. She was still holding the lemon-yellow pyjama-jacket with its frolicking bunny-rabbit print. “Don’t be shy, Robin…”

Robin glanced towards his mother and the unsaid instruction was clear enough. He slowly turned to face his tormentor again.

“You see what happens when you stay up past your bedtime, Robin?” Alice said sweetly, “I’m sure that if you’d behaved yourself earlier and gone to bed when mummy had you in your pyjamas the first time, we wouldn’t have had all this fuss and silliness, would we? You’re an overtired little boy, Robin and the sooner we get you tucked up in bed, the better… Now let’s have your arms into your pyjama-jacket.”

Robin was too upset to put up any resistance. He’d stopped crying, but the salty tears were still damp on his face. Robin felt utterly ashamed for allowing himself to be so completely humiliated by a girl two years younger than he, but what choice did he have? None at all... not if he was to avoid admonishment. As it was, Robin knew he was perilously close to being the recipient of a red-hot, stinging botty. Willy-winky misbehaving had not helped his cause. Such was the depth of Robin’s shame, he stood meekly in front of Alice as she carefully buttoned up the pyjama-jacket. The nylon felt cold and cheerless against his bare skin. Robin hated wearing his special pyjamas.

As for Alice, why that evening she had found new depths to her understanding of girls superiority over boys. Robin might be older than she, but like all boys could never be considered mature enough to look after himself properly. Boys, in her view, were silly creatures who thought that just because they had willy-winky to play with, girls were somehow inferior to them. Well, they were wrong and the fact they thought that way only proved her to be right.

It was time for Robin to be put into his nylon pyjama-bottoms. Alice remembered what Robin’s mummy had said about rubbing in some calamine lotion for the heat-rash the nylon pyjamas sometimes caused. She offered to apply some, but Robin politely declined. Alice pulled the itchy pyjama-bottoms up and made sure the pyjama-jacket was tucked neatly in before she pulled the waist-cord tight and tied a knot.

“On your own head be it… just don’t expect mummy to come up and see to you if you get a heat-rash on your little boy-bits,” Alice said as she carefully smoothed a few creases from Robin’s pyjamas. Then she turned to his mummy, “Robin’s all dressed in his nice pyjamas and ready to be taken upstairs and tucked up in bed, Mrs Greene.”

“Thank you, Alice… we’ll take Robin up to bed in a moment, but first I want to tell you how impressed I am with how you’ve helped me to get Robin ready for bed. Your mother has every reason to be proud of you.”

Alice blushed at the compliment paid her and thanked Mrs Greene. Then it was time for Robin to be taken up to his bedroom. Climbing the stairs Robin at once started to feel the uncomfortable effects of the nylon rubbing against his bare skin, but he was determined not to say anything for fear of having the calamine lotion being forced upon him and applied by Alice.

Robin’s bedroom was typical for a boy his age. As Alice looked around and surveyed the chaos, she marvelled that anyone could live in such an untidy mess. Her mouth fell open when Mrs Greene explained that Robin was made to tidy his room regularly, but that it only took him a day or two for it to look just as cluttered as they saw it now.

“At least Robin’s bed is made up properly,” Alice said as she looked at the small, single divan. Robin blushed as Alice drew attention to the bedspread, the Superhero design of which was the same as the winceyette pyjamas Robin had been put into earlier. Alice leant forward to pull the sheets down a little way and then plumped the pillow. “Come along, Robin… into bed with you,” she said, sounding for all the world as if she’d been putting boys to bed for years. Robin climbed into his bed and Alice made a great fuss of tucking him in properly.

“Well done, Alice,” Mrs Greene said as she brushed a stray piece of cotton from Robin’s bedspread, “I couldn’t have done better myself… I’ll have to think of you whenever I need a babysitter for Robin and I could use an extra pair of hands at bathtime…”

“MUMMY…!!” Robin blurted out as he made his feelings known, “I’m fourteen mummy… I don’t won’t a girl in the bathroom… I mean…”

“Whatever’s the matter, Robin,” mummy interrupted, “Alice is a very sensible girl and I’m sure…”

“But mummy… I’ll be in the bath...”

“What of it, Robin? Alice has already seen all there is to see... and helping me with you at bathtime is no different from helping me get you ready for bed… now is it?”

Robin wasn’t convinced by mummy’s argument, but knew it would be pointless to quarrel. It never did any good to disagree with mummy as he knew to his cost, so he mumbled something that sounded like an agreement.

“Straight to sleep now, Robin… No reading-time tonight, it’s well past your bedtime,” mummy said, “You’ve Alice to thank for persuading me to allow you to stay up so late…”

As his bedroom light was switched off and Alice and his mummy left his bedroom, Robin had a thought. Well, if I’ve been put into my ‘special’ pyjamas, mummy won’t be that surprised if I ‘accidently’ have an emission during the night, he reasoned. He stared up at the ceiling, smiled and thought to himself, ‘and there’s only one way to be sure that I do have an emission…’

Robin slid a hand down beneath the sheets until his fingers reached the fly-gap of his detested nylon pyjamas. The very thought of doing something as naughty as playing with himself had already had an effect on his penis and in seconds Robin had eased his stiff rod through the fly. It felt so good to stroke his penis after so much torment and embarrassment. Robin thought he deserved the pleasure of a good wank after all he’d been through. He took his penis in both hands and played with his foreskin before squeezing his fist around the head of his very, very stiff penis. Alert to every little noise he made, Robin started to masturbate and as his breathing became heavier, so his need for release became more urgent. Like most boys the quality of his orgasm was secondary to the climax itself, so it wasn’t very long at all before Robin felt himself approaching the point of no return and with a muffled gasp squirted his cum over his nylon pyjamas. He carefully wiped his sticky fingers and eased his penis back into his pyjamas-bottoms before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning mummy came to wake Robin. He decided speak first: “Sorry mummy, I think I’ve had another… um, emission…”

“Oh, darling... it was probably all the excitement last night… it’s just as well Alice put you into your special pyjamas…”

“Yes, mummy.”


On their arrival at Aunty Daisy’s house in Lockton mummy had discovered there were no play-clothes for Robin to wear. Mummy decided there was only one thing for it and that was to put Robin straight into his pyjamas. Quite understandably she was not going to risk Robin getting his best clothes scuffed and dirty. Robin had travelled to Lockton dressed in his short trouser suit and if you were fortunate enough to see Robin on the train, you would understand the emphasis was most definitely on the word short. Unlike his school uniform shorts which Robin had been wearing ever since he started at St John’s when he was eleven, Robin’s short trouser suit was a relatively recent addition to his wardrobe. It was, perhaps, a signal from mummy that Robin would be expected to wear short trousers for a good while yet.

Naturally Robin was thrilled when mummy said to him one day about seven months ago that it was time she bought him something nice to wear other than his school uniform. Robin immediately began to think of long trousers and denim jeans and all those other styles of casual clothes he’d seen boys wearing… boys who generally laughed and pointed at Robin when they saw he was wearing play-shorts. I’ll show them, thought Robin.

However, Robin was in for a disappointment when he discovered what mummy had in mind. It wasn’t to be casual clothes, it was to be a short trouser suit! And not just any old short trouser suit, it was to be something she called a continental short trouser suit. Where, or from whom mummy had heard about the continental suit, Robin had no idea, but that was the least of his worries. Robin had never before seen anything like it in his life. The little shorts were even shorter than his three year old school shorts. We mustn’t forget that Robin had grown quite a bit in the last eighteen months; into that stage of a boy’s development when his legs were becoming disproportionately long and it seemed as if his school shorts were exposing a little bit more upper thigh each day.

The cut and feel of the continental shorts was new to Robin and as he pulled them up he was astonished to find how little there was to the legs… indeed there didn’t appear to Robin to be any legs to the shorts at all! Not surprisingly Robin complained about how exposed he felt wearing the continental shorts, but was told that was how they were supposed to look… that was the fashion. It was also the fashion apparently to wear little ankle socks and sandals with the continental suit.

The little jacket which came with the suit was also very short, what is known as a bum-freezer. It was cut as the name suggests, no lower than the boy’s lower back to leave the short trousers completely on show. The jacket had long lapels that went right down to the boy’s tummy, so that a splendidly colourful waistcoat could be seen.

The continental suit was most definitely not what Robin had in mind when mummy had told him she was going to buy him something new to wear. But as mummy explained, she wanted Robin to look smart and to have something nice to wear for special occasions. Of course one such special occasion was the trip to Lockton and now, quite understandably, Robin was told to change out of his nice suit.

“Come through to the front-room,” Aunty Daisy said and Robin understood he was to be treated just the same as he was at home. “I think I have something we can change Robin into that might be better than his bedtime pyjamas… now let me see… what did I do with them? Why don’t you get Robin out of his nice little suit while I go and find what it is I’m looking for?”

Robin, though delighted to be spared being put into his pyjamas at two-thirty in the afternoon, was nonetheless cautious in his optimism. Whatever it was that Aunty Daisy might have for him to wear in the absence of play-clothes could in all likelihood be as hideous as any other clothes Robin had been expected to wear over the years. So as mummy ‘helped’ him to undress, Robin began to wish he hadn’t forgotten to pack his play-clothes.

Mummy was just about to relieve Robin of his ultra-brief underpants when Aunty Daisy reappeared. As the underpants were removed to leave Robin bare-nude he tried to make out what Aunty Daisy was holding in her hands.

“Oh… excuse me,” Aunty Daisy said and turned to leave the room when she saw that Robin was completely bare. She’d expected her friend Olivia to leave Robin's underpants in place.

“No need to be embarrassed, Daisy… Robin doesn't mind, do you darling?”

Mummy didn’t expect a reply and Robin knew very well he could hardly object since he was always put into his pyjamas downstairs at home… no matter who happened to be visiting. But this state of affairs didn’t mean that Robin was in anyway inured to being stripped bare in front of mummy’s friends. Far from it. Robin constantly found himself embarrassed beyond belief and nothing he said had any effect. He was a boy and boys, he was told, needn’t worry about something so trivial as being seen in the bare by mummy’s friends. Or mummy’s friends’ daughters, he might have added.

Aunty Daisy held out the garments she was holding. There didn’t look to be much there to Robin.

“I believe they’re called ‘shorty-pyjamas’,” Aunty Daisy explained, “They were left some time ago by Eunice’s son when they came to stay… ooo, must have been nearly a year ago… charming little boy, a bit younger than Robin… twelve I believe… but I’m sure they’ll fit… and they’ll be just the thing for Robin to play in...”

“That’s very good of you, Daisy,” Olivia said as she thanked her friend.

The shorty-pyjamas proved to be short in every respect. Not only were the pyjama-bottoms just as short as Robin’s shortest school shorts, but the pyjama-top was short-sleeved as well! In fact you might as well have called the top ‘sleeveless’ since the ‘arms’ only just about covered the top of Robin’s shoulders.

The shorty-pyjamas were described as ‘lightweight summertime nightwear for boys’ and clearly designed to be worn on warm nights when it was too hot for regular boy's pyjamas. They were therefore made from the lightest possible winceyette cloth and the fact they had been well worn, made them appear to be very flimsy indeed. On the plus side this meant the teddy-bear pattern had, in parts, faded.

Mummy thought the skimpy shorty-pyjamas were the perfect solution to the absence of Robin’s play-clothes. Together with a pair of red plastic sandals (which had been packed), it was all that Robin needed to enjoy his holiday.

“What do you say, Robin?” mummy prompted her son once he was dressed in his hand-me-down play-pyjamas.

“Thank you, Aunty Daisy,” Robin said, but felt anything but thankful for his playwear. Already he felt extremely exposed in the shorty-pyjamas.

“Now why don’t you go out and play, Robin?” Aunty Daisy said, “You can leave me and your mother in peace for a while so we can catch up with one another…”

“I dunno… can’t I stay in?” Robin replied. The thought of leaving Aunty Daisy’s house to go outside and play he found frankly unnerving.

“Don’t be such an old sick-in-the-mud, Robin,” Aunty Daisy childed him, “It’s lovely and sunny outside… go out and make the most of it…”


“That’s enough, Robin… Do as your Aunty Daisy says and leave us in peace for a bit,” mummy said settling the matter, “... but don’t go too far,” she added.

There was no danger of Robin venturing further from the house than he had to. He felt very vulnerable in his shorty-pyjamas and so contented himself with exploring Aunty Daisy’s garden. He found there was a field beyond the bottom of the garden and his natural boyish curiosity soon got the better of him. He was just about to clamber over a gate when he heard a boy’s voice behind him:

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… there’s stock in that field and they wouldn’t take kindly to a little boy in his pyjamas running about…”

“I can’t see anything,” Robin said.

“They’re over on the other side of that rise… they’re probably grazing in the next field… the gate’s open so they can come and go,” the boy explained, “If you don’t believe me… but I wouldn’t go in there in your pyjamas…”

“These aren’t my pyjamas,” Robin said and told the boy how he was visiting and how his play-clothes had been left behind at home and how his Aunty Daisy (“She not my real aunty… she’s a friend of my mum’s” he explained) had found him an old pair of shorty-pyjamas to wear to play in. Robin stopped rambling on and looked at the boy who was wearing the type of casual clothes of which Robin could only dream. He realised that it was probably just as well his embarrassingly juvenile play-clothes had been left at home.

“My name’s Harold,” the boy announced, “But everyone calls me Hal… What’s your name?”

“Robin… everyone calls me, er Robin,” Robin joked, trying to make light of the fact that no one had given him a nickname.

“Well I’m going to call you Rob,”  Hal said firmly, then added “… if that’s okay with you?”.

Robin suddenly felt as if he was going to get along with Hal: “Sure… sure… I’d like to be called Rob…”

“Let’s shake on it then,” Hal said and the boys solemnly shook hands.

“Hal… do you mind if I ask you something?” Robin asked.

“Ask away… you can ask me anything, Rob,” came the reply.

“It was… well, how come you’re allowed in Aunty Daisy’s garden?”

“Hmm… well the honest answer to that is that I’m not… In fact I’ve been forbidden to set foot inside…”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Hal smiled a big generous smile: “When has that ever put you off doing anything? Rob, haven’t you learnt that there’s nothing more exciting than doing something when you’re told not to do it?”

Robin considered this piece of wisdom and Hal’s explanation seemed perfectly reasonable and he swore not to tell a soul how he’d seen Hal in the garden.

“Look, I’ve got to go now,” Hal said, “Let’s meet up tomorrow… okay? I can show you around if you like.”

“Yeah, that’d be great… I’d like to do some exploring… that’d be fun,” Robin replied and the boys agreed to meet the following day straight after breakfast.

“Tomorrow it is,” Hal said, then added, “By the way… those shorty-pyjamas… cool…” He turned and disappeared.

Robin stood still and savoured Hal’s compliment. Wow! No boy had ever said anything as remotely nice about his clothes as Hal had just done. He felt himself blushing… blushing with pride!

Time seemed to drag for Robin the following morning. He couldn’t wait to get changed into his shorty play-pyjamas and out into the garden again to meet his new friend. He wolfed down his breakfast with little thought to the inevitable mess he was making.

Aunty Daisy reprimanded him: “Just look at you... food everywhere, Robin… what’s all the hurry?”

“I, er… I wanted to do some exploring… It’s a terrific garden…” Robin replied, adding a bit of flattery and thinking it might help.

“Well that’s very kind of you to say so, Robin… but I thought you were a bit reluctant to go out yesterday… what’s changed your mind?”

“I dunno… nothing really,” Robin replied evasively, careful not to give away Hal’s secret.

“You know what boys are like, Daisy… one minute they don’t want to do what you ask them and the next they can’t wait… Robin’s just the same,” mummy said.

Robin thought this appraisal was a bit unfair, since he always tried his best to do what mummy asked. It would be unthinkable to flatly refuse to do what mummy said... that path led straight to Mrs Walsh.

“Now let’s get you out of your pyjamas and up into the bathroom for a wash before you go out to play,” mummy added.

“Why not use the kitchen, Olivia? You can give Robin a strip-wash here… his shorty-pyjamas are still in the front-room where he left them last night,” Aunty Daisy said.

“Good idea, Daisy… okay Robin, let’s get you out of your pyjamas…”

Robin still felt rather shy being undressed in front of Aunty Daisy and would have preferred the relative privacy of the bathroom in which to be given his morning ablutions and changed ready for the day ahead. But it was not to be and just like every other day, mummy helped him out of his pyjamas and then supervised Robin as he washed himself, taking command of the facecloth when she saw he wasn’t doing it properly. For instance, mummy was forever criticising the state of Robin’s ears, “... you could grow potatoes in there…” she would say.

So, while Aunty Daisy got on with some chores in the kitchen, Robin, bare-nude once more, had his morning wash at the kitchen sink. Afterwards as mummy towelled him dry, Robin wondered what he and Hal would get up to during the day.

Robin: Part 3                                                                                        Story Index