Mrs Wilding smiled indulgently at Oliver then looked at her son Stephen.
"You see how a lovely short haircut can make you look extra smart?"
Stephen remained silent, he always tried to be non-committal to his mum's
questions, it was his way of trying to avoid trouble. It rarely worked. His mum
continued to eulogise about Oliver. "And his amazing smooth legs, do you
have to shave him, you know where Vera?"
Mrs Evans blouse expanded as she enjoyed the praise being heaped upon her.
"On no, luckily Oliver has shown no signs of sprouting hairs anywhere
thank goodness. His legs are as smooth as his face, the only thing I have to
look out for is the odd hair at the base of his penis and on his scrotum. I
soon whisk them out with my tweezers."
Both boys stared resolutely at the floor. Oliver because he was actually
becoming quite annoyed at hearing his most intimate details being discussed and
Stephen because he was wincing at the thought of hairs being extracted by a pair of tweezers. He was disappointed to learn that seventeen year old
Oliver had such a hairless existence, he could not contribute anything to the hair
growing competition, his own body being quite hairless but he was hopeful that
by the age of seventeen he would be positively hirsute.
"Oh yes, and how delightfully smart Oliver looks from head to toe Vera,
you must be very proud of your son. Now I must have a keepsake of such a smart
boy, especially as he is wearing his lovely yellow play shorts." Mrs
Wilding pointed her camera at Oliver.
"No! Oliver Evans stretched out his hand is if he could snatch the
image from the air.
It was bad enough that his mother had sent him to school wearing a pair of
his play shorts but now he had returned home and discovered Felicity Wilding
and her son Stephen had come "visiting" and Mrs Wilding wanted a
photo as a keepsake for goodness sake.
It had all started last evening when Oliver decided that at seventeen years
of age as he was the man of the house it was his job to open the new jar of
mayonnaise. Unfortunately he opened it all over himself, covering his
regulation, grey flannel short trousers with a large dollop of
mayonnaise.
His mother had not been best pleased and since there was no chance of his
shorts being clean in time, he was despatched to school that morning wearing
his yellow play shorts along with a note for his form teacher.
It must be pointed out here that the school had no policy enforcing sixth
formers to wear short trousers. That particular rule applied only up to fourth formers,
such as Stephen. It was Mrs Evans herself who advocated that boys should
continue to wear shorts, not only for the health benefits, (Oliver had never
found out exactly what these were), but also because although Oliver was
seventeen, she took the view that as long as he was living under her roof, she
would decide what he wore. Without argument.
Oliver's day had been disastrous. His form tutor, Mrs Ledbetter, had read
his mother's note to the entire class.
Dear Hyacinth
Please excuse Oliver's appearance. I have had to send him to
school today in a pair of his play shorts as he was a very naughty boy last
night, he soiled his school short trousers rendering them unfit for
purpose..
Yours sincerely
Vera Evans.
Miss Ledbetter had silenced the guffaws that came from her class as she read
out the note but she then called Oliver out to the front.
"So Oliver, you were a naughty boy last night and soiled your shorts,
that was careless of you. I shall have to check to see that you have not soiled
yourself again."
Miss Ledbetter proceed to examine his yellow play shorts thoroughly. Her left hand felt the material of his shorts while her right hand rested on the
inside of his smooth, hairless inner thigh. Hyacinth Ledbetter had always been
intrigued by Oliver, she wondered why he meekly accepted his mother's decision to dress and apparently treat him
as a little boy. She promised herself she would find out more about Oliver and his mother.
Miss Ledbetter then deliberately placed her body in the way of the
watching class, blocking their view, then let her hand linger on his thigh, visibly increasing his
discomfort.
"P.p..p..please Miss, it wasn't like that. I..I..I didn't...really
s..s...soil...." He attempted to explain himself whilst the class laughed
at Miss Ledbetter's successful attempt to humiliate him.
Oliver desperately tried to divert his thoughts before he was thankfully
sent him back to his desk with a light swat to his bottom and a remark about,
"managing to survive the day without soiling yourself if you please Master
Evans."
Everybody had laughed themselves silly and Oliver had experienced a quite
awful day of teasing about being a pee-pee pants and worse. No wonder then,
that he was annoyed at returning home and finding Mrs Wilding there attempting
to capture his appearance on camera.
Almost immediately Oliver knew he had made a mistake.
"Oliver! How dare you talk to Aunty Felicity in such a manner. You know
very well not to be rude to grown-ups."
Mrs Evans apologised to Mrs Wilding. "I am so sorry Felicity, I know
exactly what lies behind Oliver's behaviour. Because of all the upset last
night with his school shorts, by the time I got Oliver bathed and gave him his
supper it was eight thirty before he was tucked into bed, half an hour after
his usual school bedtime. When Oliver doesn't get a full night's sleep he
becomes very irritable and bad tempered, as you have just witnessed."
Felicity Wilding nodded in agreement and confirmed that Stephen was exactly
the same and that was why it was important that boys had a regular pyjama time
and bedtime.
"Come along then Oliver, lets get you undressed and into your
jimmy-jams, you obviously need an early night to catch up on the sleep you
missed." Oliver visibly began to well up. "But mummy..."
Mrs Evans held up her hand to silence her son in a manner he knew was not to be
argued with and she immediately began removing his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt
as she spoke. "Stephen, would you run upstairs to the airing cupboard and
bring me down a clean pair of pyjamas for Oliver please."
Up to now, Stephen had been a reluctant observer. He knew only too well how
easy it was to fall foul of all the rules and regulations his own mother
imposed on him so he wasn't about to put himself in the firing line by refusing
Mrs Evans request. He went upstairs and opened the airing cupboard door, there
on the shelf were several pairs of pyjamas. He closed his eyes, grabbed a random pair
from the middle of the pile and went back downstairs.
Oliver was already bare naked and his mother was carrying a bowl of water
and some wash flannels. "This is a good idea of yours Felicity, a pre
pyjama time wash will be much quicker than a bath." Stephen watched as his
own mum took a flannel and, after rubbing in soap, began to wash Oliver's legs.
"Yes, it's a lot easier, I often give Stephen a quick pyjama time wash
with a flannel rather than wasting all that hot water. Don't I Stephen?"
Mrs Wilding continued to move the flannel up Oliver's naked seventeen year old
body.
"Yes mum, he said, sheepishly handing Oliver's mother the pyjamas. It
was only then that he realised he had not done Oliver any favour with his
random pyjama selection.
Mrs Evans proffered the pyjamas to Stephens mum.
"Would you mind starting his pyjamaring Felicity? I'll just get rid of
this." Mrs Evans scurried away with the bowl of water. Stephens mum held
up the pyjama jacket. "How lovely, Toy Story jimmy-jams.
Now Stephen himself was subject to a strict pyjama and bedtime regime and
his mum made him wear pyjamas that were far too childish for a boy of fifteen,
but Oliver was seventeen.
Stephen made brief, apologetic eye contact with Oliver as his mother
unbuttoned the pyjama jacket, held it by the shoulders and jiggled it. As any
boy who is regularly dressed in his pyjamas knows, a female jiggling a pyjama
jacket initiates a response where the pyjamaed one automatically inserts his
arms into the sleeves and prepares to be "buttoned up".
From experience, Stephen knew his mother would start with the top button.
"Was Woody your favourite or Buzz?" His mum enquired of the
hapless Oliver as she worked her way down the buttons.
"Actually it was Jessie the cowgirl. He had quite a crush on her.
That's why I bought those jammies for his birthday this year, didn't I
Oliver?" Mrs Evans had bustled back into the room just as Stephens mum
finished buttoning up Oliver's pyjama jacket that was just long enough to
reduce his embarrassment by concealing his penis. He did still look ridiculous,
as only the tips of his fingers were exposed due to the length of his pyjama
jacket sleeves.
Oliver visibly blushed upon hearing his mother's words. To have it
announced, that not only did he have a crush on a fictional, pixellated
character, but also that he had received a pair of Toy Story character
winceyette pyjamas for his seventeenth birthday was excruciatingly
embarrassing. Stephen sympathised.
His mum smoothed the pyjama collar of Oliver's pyjamas and ran her hand down
the front of the pyjama jacket. "Lovely and soft and cosy," she said.
" I think Stephen could..."
Felicity Wilding paused. Her hand resting on Oliver's crotch. "Vera, I
think you need to see these."
Stephen had sensibly taken out his school book and now sat half peeking,
half cringing behind it as his mum lifted up seventeen year old Oliver's penis.
"You see, three, no, four hairs sprouting. I expect you want to do
something about them before you put him to bed?
Oliver had to suffer the indignity of the two woman peering at his testicles
as though they were in the local butcher shop examining the produce. "I
was in such a hurry to get him to bed last night that I let him wash himself
down there when I went to fetch his pyjamas. Why didn't you tell me you had
sprouted hairs?" She scolded crossly.
"Sorry mummy." Oliver was attempting to be as contrite as possible
but Stephen was not the only one to notice his use of the infantile,
"mummy".
His mother grabbed one of the rogue curly hairs with her tweezers as
Stephens mother held his penis out of the way. Peeking over his book, Stephen
was close enough to see Oliver's skin extend outwards as the hair resisted Mrs
Evans pulling action. "Ow it hurts." Oliver yelped as the hair
refused to yield.
"Don't be such a baby Oliver. I have it now, only three to go."
Eventually the hair had submitted and was triumphantly scrutinised by Mrs Evans
before she returned her attentions to the remaining hairs. Having realised
resistance was futile, the three other hairs feebly conceded defeat and
succumbed to Mrs Evans tweezers without much fight. Stephens mum ran her hand
over the now hairless region and lowered his penis.
"All nice and smooth again Vera, we can finish getting him into his
pyjamas now. Oh....."
There was about three inches of material after the last button on Oliver's
pyjama jacket and into that space his penis began to rise. It formed a V in the
material, as first of all it extended horizontally before slowly rising
vertically to about forty five degrees before pausing, as if it were a dock
yard crane in the middle of a funereal salute. From the tip of his penis now
began to ooze a gooey substance commonly known in the school playground as
pre-cum. It dribbled over the edge of his penis as gravity sent it towards Mrs
Evans front room carpet before it stopped and elastic like, retracted upwards
slightly.
"Oliver! Stop that at once. How dare you show me up like this."
His mother was annoyed and ashamed of her son when less than fifteen minutes
ago she had been bursting with pride.
"I can't help it, I was trying to be good when Mrs Wilding had a hold
of my thingy and then I started thinking about Miss Ledbetter.... and.."
His voice gave way as tears began to form. "I said stop that. Hands on
head at once. "
Mrs Evans had armed herself with Oliver's school, ruler. Twelve inches of
clear plastic that she slapped his still part raised penis with very firmly,
once on the shaft and once on the tip from where the goo was still emanating.
"Onto your naughty stool immediately you disgusting boy." Oliver
had doubled up as the slaps to his penis were received, but he straightened up
again almost immediately with two slaps to the back of his legs that were
delivered with more force than the first two. He stepped on the rickety looking
wooden stool and placed his hands on his head as instructed. Even now the urge
to please and obey his mother was forefront in his mind.
Stephen peered from behind his book at the seventeen year old perched on
a wooden stool with his hands on his head. The act of which, raised his
Toy Story motif pyjama jacket just enough to expose his sticky, now shrivelled
penis. And now Stephen had an insight. His book was George Orwell's 1984 and
there was no doubt in Stephen's mind that he now understood why Winston Smith
was prepared for Julia to suffer his mortal fear. Stephen was pleased that it
was Oliver up there, pleased that it was not him that had been punished and
humiliated in such a fashion.
Stephen was eager to leave the Orwellian scene behind, unfortunately Mrs
Evans insisted Oliver was to stay half naked perched on his naughty stool while
the two women took tea. Eventually Felicity drained her cup.
"Well, I think it's time we got this naughty little boy of mine finally
tucked into bed."
Oliver's penis was subjected to a rather rough flannel wash before his
mother went to the sideboard cupboard and returned with a packet of Dry-Nites
pyjama pants Oliver looked distressed but he had been punished enough
and now just wanted to be put to bed out of the way.
"Pyjama pants are required because once Oliver has been on the naughty
stool his bedtime is a confined one, that means no getting out of bed unless
there is a flood or a fire, Oliver understands this don't you?"
"Yes mummy," replied the subdued seventeen year old as his
feet were threaded into the Dry-Nites.
Stephen was still intrigued enough to notice the pattern on the front of the
pyjama pants was the dinosaur version.
He recognised them since those were the
very same pattern as his own Dry-Nites pants.
As "compensation", for his behaviour, Stephens mum was given the
task of finishing what she started and helped him into his Toy Story pyjama
bottoms, pulling the elasticised waist up high and letting it ping under his
rib cage.
"There, all ready for beddy-byes. Oliver, thank Aunty Felicity for
putting you into your jimmy-jams and apologise for being such a naughty little
boy," requested his mother. Stephen recognised the look of anguish on
Oliver's face as he mumbled, "thank you Aunty Felicity." His mother
looked exasperated. "That's not what I said, try again."
Oliver took a deep breath. "Thank you for putting me into my jimmy-jams
Aunty Felicity and I am very sorry for being such a naughty boy."
Satisfied at making her son act like a six year old, Mrs Evans took hold of
Oliver's wrist, "I wonder how much longer I will have to continue
with Oliver's pyjama time and bedtime Felicity, she mused.
"Oh I am sure for a long time yet Vera, a very long time,"
ventured Mrs Wilding looking at Stephen, as Vera Evans appeared very pleased
with the response.
"Up the wooden hill we go then."
"Come on mum, let's leave" urged Stephen. Mrs Wilding looked at
her watch, "goodness you're right Stephen, if we don't catch that
bus, we'll be lucky to get home early enough for your own pyjama time. Say
night-night to Oliver and give Aunty Vera a night-night kiss."
"Actually I would like you to come upstairs, just until I get Oliver
settled, it will only take five minutes."
Mrs Wilding checked her watch again, "just five minutes then."
If truth be told, Felicity Wilding was very interested in Vera's
disciplinary techniques and was happy to continue witnessing Oliver's
punishment. Stephen meanwhile was extremely worried as he too was ushered
upstairs. His mum was too involved in this for his liking.
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