Sunday, 25 October 2015

Another part of my story featuring Stephen, mogg's character.

Stephen sat uncomfortably in the back of the vicar's car as the middle one of three. His mum sat up front while to his left sat Miss Ledbetter, to his right sat Oliver's sister, Pamela who had arrived home just as they were leaving.

Pamela had looked amusingly at Stephen as her mother, Mrs Evans, had given her a brief summation of what had transpired earlier and how Oliver had misbehaved so badly he been put to bed early in disgrace.

"I see Steviekins is wearing Oliver's old pyjama romper, it certainly suits him," she had said, using her pet name for him before disdainfully pinching his cheek and speaking in such a babyish manner as to make him want to crawl away in embarrassment. Stephen's mum and the other ladies present readily nodded and confirmed their agreement that Stephen did indeed look, "lovely and snuggly-wuggly all weddy for night-night in his cosy-wosy jimmy-jams."

Pamela, whose older brother Oliver had previously been despatched so humiliatingly to an early bedtime, decided she would accompany the departing group as she had arranged to meet her friend Rachel, Stephens cousin.

Pamela was highly thought of by the local adult females as one of those girls who had been noted as, "sensible and mature for a girl of her age," so sensible in fact that she had long been one of the first to turn to when a babysitter was required, even when the "baby" in question was older than the babysitter.

Now, at the age of sixteen, she had for a long time enjoyed total authority over older brother Oliver. If required to she could dictate his pyjama time, his bedtime, when he was due for a haircut and how short it should be, what food he could eat, oh, and she could even choose a suitable little song for him to sing before his bedtime to those assembled if she so desired. Yes, Pamela was privy to every aspect of her older brother's life, even down to taking him to the outfitters to be measured for such important things as play shorts.

Now, as she sat beside Stephen, she patted, then squeezed his pyjama clad thigh. "It's been a while since I have babysat you, little one, is seven thirty still your beddy-byes time Steviekins, or has mummy decided you become overtired easily and need an earlier night-night hmmm?" She teased, speaking in that syrupy, babyish manner that people usually adopt when speaking to toddlers.

Stephen was about to complain to his mum that Aunty Pamela was teasing him but Miss Ledbetter began to engage her in conversation about sewing so he held his tongue.

As the vicar fought to discover first gear, his thoughts turned to the previous time he had had the misfortune to experience Aunty Pamela's authoritative nature.

His mum had volunteered to work on Saturday's at the charity shop on the High Street to cover for one of the usual ladies holidays. Stephen had naively thought this would mean he would be left to his own devices for the few hours she would be absent, instead, his mum had agreed that Pamela that she would come to, "keep an eye on him".

Even worse, his mum had made it clear that Pamela, who he was to address at all times as Aunty Pamela, had full "grown ups" authority over him. His mum made it quite clear that Aunty Pamela's word was law and any disobedience on his part would not be looked on favourably. Stephen protested that it was not fair that a girl who was a mere few months older than him should be in charge and designated a grown up when he was barely trusted to tie his own shoelaces. His mum of course had ignored him, once her decision was made she was not going to change it.

Pamela had arrived earlier than expected that Saturday morning. This was upsetting for Stephen as he was still having breakfast wearing his blue, Winnie the Pooh pyjamas. Stephen was officially subject to one week, "naughty boy's pyjamas" punishment. His mum had found what she maintained, were suspicious stains on the inside of his pyjama bottoms. Even though he had vehemently denied her claims he had been punished by being made to wear his most babyish, little boy pyjamas. This his mum proclaimed, was to make him realise he was not, "as much of a big boy", as he thought.

Pamela had allowed herself a slight smile seeing Stephen in his infantile night-attire before recovering her composure and solemnly offering to,"take Stephen upstairs to get ready".

In his bedroom, she rummaged through the clothes in his dresser looking for a suitable play outfit for him.
"I can dress on my own you know Pamela, I am almost sixteen." he said petulantly, adding, "I'm almost a man."

Stephen had tried to look tall and manly, a grave mistake when you are a good six inches smaller than your younger, female babysitter and wearing a pair of pyjamas a ten-year-old would have been embarrassed to be seen in.

Pamela laughed at his outburst, then retorted, "almost a man? Don't be silly. You're fifteen, you're wearing little boy Winnie the Pooh winceyette pyjamas and you go to bed at seven thirty. And if you forget to call me Aunty Pamela once more I'll smack that naughty bottom of yours for you."

Stephen was deflated at her admonishment, he certainly didn't want to be spanked by her so he silently obeyed when she urged, "come along then, let's get you out of those cute jimmy-jams and into some play clothes."

Pamela unbuttoned his pyjama jacket and slipped it off his shoulders, with a shake of his arms it fell to the floor then, she pulled down his bottoms until they lay bunched around his slippered feet.

 "Oh Stephen," she giggled, as she surveyed the smooth, hairless region of his genitals. "I am afraid you have no manly attributes here at all, none whatsoever, and what's this?" As she spoke she wiggled his penis between her thumb and forefinger. "My baby cousin has a pee-pee bigger than this, I shall have to start calling you Baby Steviekins from now on shan't I?" She laughed.

A few minutes later Stephen was being presented to his mum. Pamela had made him put on his red plastic sandals, worst of all, she had discovered his old yellow play shorts, he hadn't worn them for over a year and they were really really short, they had probably only an inch of actual leg length and were so tight that most of his bare bottom was on display. Pamela had run the palms of her hands across the fleshy parts of his bottom before giving his buttocks a few robust slaps and proclaiming, "plenty of room in those yet, you can wear them for another year at least."

"Arms up," she ordered, as she pulled a pale blue singlet over his head, this was another item of his play clothes that he had considered well past their play by date, but Pamela had other ideas. The hem of his singlet, basically a sleeveless t-shirt, made no attempt to meet the waist of his shorts, in fact, there was a good four-inch gap that revealed his bare midriff to the outside world. Finally, she had combed his hair forward, down into a boyish fringe and pausing only to pick up his discarded pyjamas, led him back downstairs to his mum.

Pamela had dressed him as she would a toddler and to most people, a fifteen-year-old wearing a red, yellow and blue ensemble would be a strange sight, but his mum had actually clapped her hands when she saw him.

"Oh lovely, the perfect outfit for a sunny day, what a lucky boy you are to have such lovely play clothes."

Stephen didn't feel lucky, in fact, he felt downright humiliated as Pamela passed the Winnie the Pooh pyjamas to his mum who proceeded to examine them, as she did every morning, for tell-tale-signs of Stephen having disobeyed her and played with his pee-pee during the time he was in bed.

This was something his mum had expressly forbidden and Stephen was always nervous as his mum closely inspected the crotch of his pyjamas, he knew he was under surveillance and took precautions, but he never knew if something had reared it's ugly head whilst he was sleeping, so to speak. Satisfied he had been a "good boy", his babyish pyjamas were despatched to the wash hamper.

His mum had kissed him goodbye and waved to him from the bottom of the garden path. "Don't forget to be a good boy for Aunty Pamela."

Soon Stephen was sent out to play, blushing as Aunty Pamela had ushered him out with the words, "off you go from under my feet Baby Steviekins,"  and with a warning not to forget to come home for lunch.

Stephen seldom played with his contemporaries, although he was almost a man, he still enjoyed playing games that needed youthful imagination and so he had been pleased to meet up with Cyril, Mavis and Granville. He enjoyed his games with this younger trio and they always accepted his somewhat strange apparel without comment and so, a game of Cowboy and Indians was quickly underway in the woods.

Stephen was the Ringo Kid, a mean ruthless varmint who had forcibly taken Running Deer, otherwise known as Mavis, from her tribe to be his squaw. Little Bear and Two Dogs had tracked them and had managed to capture the Ringo Kid and release Running Deer.

The Kid had been tied up and tortured to reveal the whereabouts of the cache of stolen Winchester rifles, the torture had involved Running Deer lowering his play shorts as he was tied to a tree and tickling him with the feather from her headdress until he talked. He hadn't talked, instead becoming very excited and desperate to go home to cure this excitement.

Bizarrely, for some reason, Little Bear and Two Dogs decided that they too should be similarly tortured, unfortunately by the time Running Deer had tortured the three of them into submission he realised that he was late for lunch.

With one bound he was free. However the Ringo Kid wasn't much of an athlete, as he was making his escape he came to the rope swing across the stream, with the trio of injuns close to recapturing him, he slackened his pace just at the moment he should have quickened it.

Instead of sweeping Errol Flynn-like across the stream and landing deftly on the other side, leaving his pursuers behind with a nonchalant wave, he found himself clinging to the rope, suspended over the murky water. Unable to hold his own weight, the rope slipped through his hands and he dropped into the water.

Stephen could see Aunty Pamela peering down the road from the bottom of the path as they approached.
Cyril and Granville had run off, leaving Mavis to help Stephen home. He had stopped crying but the odd sob was still audible as he faced Aunty Pamela on the garden path.

Stephen's legs, arms and face were covered in grey slime and his hair was matted with the same slimy substance, what's more, his play clothes were now soaked and ruined.

"He fell in the stream," Mavis volunteered somewhat obviously.

Stephen had moved forward toward the door. "You can't come in like that you naughty boy, think of the mess you'll make indoors," Aunty Pamela had said, blocking his path.

"But...but. I need a bath."

Aunty Pamela had smiled mischievously."Yes, yes you do, don't you." Stepping forward, she gingerly grasped the hem of his sopping wet singlet and pulled it up over his head.

"What... what are you doing? " he had asked, as she dragged his play shorts down to his ankles.
As Stephen bent down to pull his shorts back up, he was hit by a blast of icy water.

Pamela was using the garden hose to wash him. Manoeuvring the jet of water to back him up against the garden wall, she adjusted her aim to ensure the grey slime slid from his slender frame as she worked her way down his body.

"Stop...stop.. ," he struggled to get the words out as the cold water made him gasp for every breath, but she continued, using the power of the water to turn him around to clean the back of his body, paying particular attention to his bottom. "Have to make sure you are especially clean there," she said.

"There, that's much better," Pamela turned off the water as Stephen stood, shivering. Pamela turned to the watching Mavis who was open-mouthed at what she had witnessed. "Thank you so much for bringing Stephen back," she took his hand and turned him toward toward the front door, "you may go home now."

Mavis, however, stood transfixed, looking on as Pamela led Stephen to the front door. As his sopping wet shorts were still around his ankles, he had to shuffle slowly toward the door

"There's a good boy Steviekins," she encouraged. Stopping at the threshold Pamela bent down and removed his red plastic play sandals so he could finally step out of his shorts. "Wait there a moment," she ordered the completely naked, shivering boy and closed the door.

"Please. I want to come in..." He wailed, but she was gone. By now, far from leaving, Mavis had been joined by some of the other kids who had been playing nearby and had heard Stephen's screams.

"Hoi, naked boy, I would sell you a pair of trousers but I can see you have no money on you." One wag shouted from amid the sniggering crowd.

Stephen, ignoring the jibe, knocked desperately on the door with his one free hand, the other was cupped over his genitalia. "Aunty Pamela, aunty Pamela, please let me in," he had begged.

Finally, the door opened and Pamela began to lay a trail of newspaper pages on the porch floor.
"Step.. step... step, " she repeated as he made his way in.

Indoors she had berated him. "What on earth do you think you were up to. I was sick with worry. Wait until your mum hears about this. Your lunch is ruined."

Stephen's head was spinning as he listened to her scolding him, for some reason he became excited as she told him off and he could feel the stickiness of pre-cum against his palm.

Pamela stopped mid-sentence. "Hands on your head this minute! Are you?... You naughty little boy, how dare you."

Stephen stood with his hands on his head, his pee-pee was protruding slightly and the gland glistened with pre-cum. Pamela took paper tissues from the box on the occasional table and used them as insulation as, to his surprise, she took hold of his erection. "You must be ill from swallowing dirty water, ill or just an extremely naughty little boy, and I mean little. Just what will your mum say when I tell her."

The thought of explaining himself to his mum diminished his excitement but Pamela still had hold of his penis as she led him toward the chair that faced the bay window. Pamela placed tissues on the seat and told him to bend over the chair and not to move under any circumstance.

The gathering of kids hanging around outside had lost interest but this new activity rekindled it as Stephen was clearly visible from the street lying prostrate across the chair.

He was anticipating a spanking, however, when Pamela returned she felt his forehead, "hmm, slightly warm, let's find out if you are poorly shall we?"

He was puzzled when he saw her dip her finger into the jar of petroleum jelly, he was startled when he felt the glob of jelly penetrate his rectum, he was surprised when his penis once again began to stiffen as she worked the jelly into his anus and he was frightened when he felt something penetrate him.

"Sssh..sssh..," she soothed as Stephen began to whimper,  "I'm just taking your temperature, doesn't your mum use the rectal thermometer when you are ill?" She inquired, adding. "Just stay still for two minutes, there's a good boy

Stephen had never heard of a rectal thermometer and outside, the audience of kids were equally puzzled, "up periscope," the wag quipped as the highly visible Stephen lay naked across the chair.


  1. There seems to be something missing after "immediately". Could you fill it in please.

    Very good story btw. Does he call his mother "Mum"? i should have thought Mummy to be much more appropriate!..
    Also please where can i find the story about Oliver that is referred to at the beginning? I LOVE stories where the poor male is already an adult, either older brother, father or husband....

    1. Hi Teddy, I posted this part prematurely hence the odd collection of words and sentences that appeared. Stephen does call him mother mum, as decided by mogg who originally created the characters, although this may change in the future if his mum decides Stephen is getting, "ahead of himself". You can read what happened to Oliver if you click on Augusts postings beginning Oliver is safely tucked up in bed. Have a read and let me know what you think. Plus there are loads of other stories on this site that feature adult men being humiliated and spanked by strict ladies.

  2. Dude, I love your Stephen and Oliver stories, they're so good. They feel like they were written by Mogg himself, you really get the feel of them right. Here's hoping the next instalment won't be long. They're so good.

    1. bitter_arron, thanks for commenting, the next parts in my head, it's just writing it that's the problem.

  3. I'm glad to see some new work from you. I really like Steven's new special jammies so please get that next chapter out soon so we can learn more.

  4. A fine addition to the Stephen and Oliver stories, Wincy.

    Looking forward to the next part. Thank you.


  5. Right before the last paragraph there's a large blank space with the word "Immediately". I'm curious what was supposed to be in that blank space.

    1. Nevermind. I was looking at an old version of the post.

  6. I have over the last six months or so skimmed through your blog reading and enjoying some of your writings. I always loved your tales involving Oliver and Stephen I think you have replicated the feeling Mogg generates with his stories perfectly this one is no exception.
    Just felt it was about time I commented.


  7. Stephen, although it was never my intention to imitate mogg I accept your comment as a compliment, thank you.