This story is written in English, rather than my usual American.  So that "fag" is either a cigarette or an English public school boy who acts as servant to an older schoolmate while "poofter" is a derogatory term for homosexual much like the American "fag".  This is because a major premise of the story, short verses long pants, er, trousers as an indication of age is a British one.  It also give me an opportunity to have misspellings in two languages.

I got inspired to write this from reading Mike Ward's "Shorts" stories on MMSA malespank.net which I recommend.  Unlike Mike who writes from the older brother's point of view, my narrator is the younger brother.  My loyal readers will not be surprised to see that he is an assertive lad.  Several British writers have mentioned "The Famous Five" in their Malespank stories.  This is a children's adventure series by Enid Blyton started in 1942.

Thanks to Paul Crewe who created the Happy Holidays Guest House in his story on MMSA malespank.net for permission for my characters to spend a week there.  Thanks also to E.B. and Vincent (on MMSA) who turned my American into English.

The following story is fiction.  It contains scenes of spanking and (implied) sex.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

After I published this story, I received an email from Pip who said that how his life was.  I then wrote in close consultation with him a fictionalized version of his real life story: Our Younger Brothers, Our Caretakers.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

---

Big Brother's Keeper – Part 1/3

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

1: INTRODUCTION

It was devastating.  Here I was – a happy, fun-loving normal fourteen-year-old – rather I had been until an hour ago.  Now I was totally miserable.  Naked, crying like a little kid into my pillow even before my new lights out time of nine o'clock with my bum flaming red from the first spanking I ever had.  And it was all my brother's fault.  Yes, it was Richards' fault.  I know what you're thinking; how I'm the victim of delusions rather then injustice.  No, I'm not a total angel but I'm also smart enough to give that impression much of the time.  Gather close, and I shall explain.

Four days ago my stupid, idiotic, wimp of a big brother let mum find proof positive that he smoked, drank and had porno (complete with cum stains).  He is sixteen-years-old, more than two-years-older than I, and he kept a bottle (empty – probably his first.  Some souvenir; will he keep his first used condom too?), some fags and the porno mags where mum could and DID find them.  He even had been hiding a pair of school shorts with them.  Actually, I did not find out about those for a month.  I'll get back to them later.  When the you-know-what hit the fan, mum and dad not only hit the roof but went through it.  Dick got his bum spanked right proper.  Dad stripped him down to his birthday suit pulled him across his lap and spanked away.  As his bum turned red, his howls grew louder.  "Don't hurt your hand, dear, use this." is exactly what mum said sweetly, handing him grandma's old hairbrush.  It was a heavy oak brush about three inches across (7.5 cm).  Just like the ones in stories the old folks tell us about.  This really did a number on his arse.

Not only were his cheeks red hot, the rest of him was also red.  This was because Dad had stripped him completely before he finished lecturing him.  Thus he was blushing from mum, as well as dad, seeing his bat and balls – complete with his bush which he just started to grow a half year ago just as I did.  Although he is more than two-years-older than I am, I'm at least as developed sexually as he is.  Mum had never seen his bush before and hadn't even seen his tackle since he was twelve when it was still boy sized.  I thought that this was somewhat crueller than it had to be, although mum did not even look.  On the other hand, even I thought that he really earned the spanking for his stupidity.  I also thought that it was hypocritical for dad to beat on him for stuff that he does – I don't think that he fucked mum just twice and they both drink.  And although dad does not smoke now (I'll give him credit for that), he did – having started at sixteen which is Dick's age.

Eventually, dad stopped spanking him and stood the crybaby up.  He no longer cared about his stuff hanging out for his arse was on fire.  They made him stand in the corner for a half hour while I was sent to do my homework.  Just before dinner, mum came to our room, got some clothes for Dick and told me come down for dinner.  Once we are there, she dressed Dicky like he was a five-year-old.  No, not with clothes in a style appropriate for a five-year-old but actually dressing him.  It was not so bad when she put the blue polo shirt on him but when she tucked his balls into his pants he nearly fainted.  (Truth be told, that was pretty bloody awful.)  Then the grey school shorts and knee socks.  He looked like a kid from at least thirty years ago rather than the 1980's or his namesake from The Famous Five.© YLeeCoyote

Dad read Dick the riot act.  Dick was told that he was going to be dressed in this school boy uniform from now on; everyday not just school days.  What I did not realize at that moment is he would have shorts and NOT longs.  Then I got hit with the next salvo, just like Dick.  "New rules for BOTH of you.  I'll work out the details and tell you by the weekend.  You boys have been running wild far to long and your mother and I have had more than enough."  We ate the rest of the meal in silence.

Dad drove us to school in the morning and Dick's troubles started immediately.  It certainly did not help that mum had taken her wooden spoon to the back of his thighs – below the shorts – for not having his socks properly pulled all the way up.  Even though few guys got spanked these days, we all knew about the marks left by spankings and Dick had some fresh ones.  He was rejected by his friends.  The uniform was not the problem for everyone wore them at our grammar school.  The shorts were the problem.  Even the first form kids wore longs.  Shorts were definitely little boys stuff.  He was a loser big time.

I probably should explain what this shorts stuff is all about for the non-Brits.  Up until about 1960 the British schoolboy was always in uniform.  There were minor differences between schools but basically they were the same – a cap (gone by the 80's), shirt and tie, blazer, short trousers, knee socks (and they better be pulled up!) and dress shoes (shined).  Long trousers were a sign of age and maturity.  By the eighties, however, even primary school boys wore longs except, perhaps, in the most posh public schools.  So being the only one in our school with shorts marked one as strange and as a baby.

It was three days later that my sky fell in.  Dad told us the new rules and I lost it.  Well to be more precise, I lost my nut.  Believe me, you would have also.  I ranted at the injustice of it all: "Dick does wrong and I'm turned into a freak. I gotta wear shorts not only to school but everywhere and a nine o'clock bedtime like I was ten!  You must be daft.  This is 1982 not 1882!"  (I thought that was a clever line.  Neither mum nor dad thought so.)

Dad first snapped at me to be quiet but I just yelled more.  I finally stopped when he slapped me.  He had never done that before and I was stunned.  Then he ripped off my shirt and yanked down my trousers.  I soon found out why Dick was howling so much when he was being spanked, even before the hairbrush action.  Yes, I knew that spankings are supposed to hurt but I was not prepared for the pain and the total helplessness of the situation.  As he started his assault, he sent Dick for the hairbrush.  In just a few minutes, I felt like I was only five-years-old and I was even bawling like one.  And spanked I was until I thought that I would never sit again after I felt the hard wood hairbrush.

Then I was led upstairs and ordered to clean my teeth and wee.  You think that weeing with a morning hard-on is tough, try it when you're fourteen, with a flaming tail and your parents are watching.  It was only after dad mentioned nappies as an alternative and mum went to deal with Dick that I was able to.

In the morning mum came in to wake us and make sure that we dressed properly.  It was like when I was under ten when Dick and I both went naked almost all the time, particularly on our holidays at the shore.  Somehow mum never noticed that both of us were now men, well, young men with appropriate signs.

Dad dropped us off at school and we walked into hell.

2: FIRST SCHOOL DAY

After what I observed happen to my big brother, particularly on his first day as a shorts-boy, I was determined not to let that happen to me.  I resolved to remember some advice that dad gave me when I entered grammar school: "Don't be a wimp.  If you are, you'll find that every guy in the school is a bully.  If you don't stand-up for yourself, everyone will use you as a doormat.  If you fight and lose, they help you up."

I had seen how Dick, make that Dicky now, let everyone push him around.  Even the first form kids.  I was not going to let that happen to me.  I was going to stay Julian and not be regressed back to the baby Jules.  The first challenge was in the playground.  I approached my usual place where my mates were.  They started in immediately.

"Well, another shorts, sissy boy."

"Too young to wear real trousers, little boy."

A wolf whistle and "My, my what pretty knees, Jules.  I'll bet the girls will swoon when they see you."

That was the one.  Smith was just an average guy – neither a wimp nor sports star – I grabbed him by his tie.  I twisted and pulled it tight so that it was choking him.  I used it to control him like one does with a dog on a short lead.  (Alexander was absolutely right about not going into battle with a beard.)  "That's Mr. Wicks to you, boy.  And the girls don't care about my knees but what's inside the shorts."  I pulled him down so that he was forced to his knees and shoved my crutch into his face and kept it there.  Normally, I would have been a bit embarrassed to have a hard-on in the playground but not at this moment for it made me look more threatening.   "But you wouldn't know about that yet.  It's not long trousers that make you a man, Smithee.  Understand?"  I let go of the tie.  The other guys started to laugh. 

"Yes, Mr. Wicks." he said.  I helped him up.

I had won the first test.

It was the third period class that would get me an encounter with one of the teachers.  The master was Mr. Locke and he was the least liked member of the staff.  I even once overheard other teachers refer to him as an arrogant bastard.  He had already hassled my brother so I was certain he was going to do the same with me.  I hope my prepared speech would do the job.  "Another Wickie in shorts.  Are you and your brother trying to start a fashion trend or are you just throwbacks to the forties?"

This was going to be the most important speech I ever made in school.  "Mr. Locke, my parents have determined that this is the most appropriate attire for Richard and I to wear regardless of what other parents might decree for their sons.  We are dutiful children, quite mindful of the commandment of Exodus chapter 20 verse 12.  I will, of course, sir, convey your displeasure to them so that they can obtain any guidance necessary from the Headmaster, sir."  I was also painfully aware of another verse that Dad had taken to heart: Proverbs 23:12.  (That's the one about using a rod on your child.)

As I took my seat the class started to laugh.  I had spoken respectfully, quoting scripture (as he liked to do) and yet put Deacon Locke in his place.  He turned red.  My mates now knew the fact that I did not have any choice in the matter.  Then there was a rapping from the rear of the classroom.  Silence swept the room as everyone turned and saw that Headmaster Williams had entered the classroom by the rear door.  I hoped that he heard everything live rather than hear a twisted version from Locke later.  I was not going to have to wait to find out if I was dead or a winner.

"Master Wick." he said.

I rose and addressed him in my most genuine respectful tone.  "Yes, sir."  I waited.

"My compliments to your parents.  You may tell them that their decision about your uniform is well within the bounds of what is appropriate for this school.  Also, that it was quite refreshing to hear a young gentleman referencing scripture in such a positive manner rather than blaspheming."

"Thank you, sir.  I shall tell them this evening."  You can believe me that I really meant that.

He spoke a few private words to Locke before saying: "Carry on, Mr. Locke." and leaving.  I sure hoped that he had chastised him.  Regardless, I knew that in a couple of hours that there would not be any harassment for Dicky or me from the teachers because of the shorts.  It certainly did not hurt my status with my peers having bested Locke and getting the head's commendation for doing so.

Lunch, surprisingly was fun thanks to a little first form kid, Timothy Brine.  A tough, undersized kid, with an oversized vocabulary, who didn't take any crap from anyone no matter how big.  He claims that he is descended from admirals of the same name.  In truth, he does look like Midshipman Brine as painted by Copley back in 1782.  My brother had joined me on the queue for lunch (he was still being shunned by his classmates) and when we were walking to a table the little pipsqueak made loud comments about the babies in shorts and their private table much to the amusement of his mates.  I handed Dick my tray and yanked the little bastard out of the queue.  Grabbing a chair I sat down and pulled him over my lap.  "Little boys need to learn to respect their elders."  He started to complain bloody murder even before I did anything.  "Sometimes they need to be spanked to learn."  He continued to complain but he did not yell.  "And if they complain, they lose their trousers and their PANTS and get it on the bare."  Everyone went silent except this kid.

"You wouldn't dare, shorts-boy." he challenged.  And I don't think I would have otherwise.  I gave him a hard SPANK right on his longs and stood him up.  He started to laugh thinking I was through.  I was not though for I quickly pulled open his belt, slid down his zipper, lowered his trousers and yanked his pants down to his knees.  His little rod was hard and he turned red.  He went back over my lap and I spanked him some more.  I never hurt him but he knew that I could.  I stood him up and helped him dress.  He was not crying and told him to get back on queue – on the end.  I got a round of applause which I ignored in favour of eating lunch with Dicky.

A few minutes later, tray in hand, he approached our table and asked permission to sit.  "Why?" I asked.

Timmy paused a second.  "First, sir, so I can apologize properly." I nodded and he continued.  Second, you will look good being kind to a lowly first former."  I continued to nod now with a smile.  "Third, it will boost my image which has had, er, a very precipitous drop recently, sir."

After Timmy sat down, he did apologize quite sincerely for teasing us and thanked me for not spanking him to tears.  That would have been really horrid in front of all his classmates.  We were then interrupted by the lunch duty teacher.  "Wicks, there was a report that you spanked this lad."

And little Timmy spoke up.  "Certainly not, sir.  If he had I wouldn't be sitting and certainly not at his table, sir."  The teacher just smiled and walked away.

"Timmy, now if you feel that you did not get the spanking you earned, I certainly can give it to you." I told him with a smile.

"That is not necessary, sir."

After we talked a while, I gave him a challenge.  We would met after school tomorrow and he would apologize publicly and accept a spanking if he was wearing longs all day.  If he was in shorts, no spanking.  Then we'll see if you're a man or boy.

He thought about it for a few minutes and then got a couple of classmates.  Jim, he explained, was a chum and Karl, well, just a classmate and he asked me to repeat the challenge.  As soon as I did, he put out his hand and he said accepted as we shook on it.  Everyone moved on to the next class.  As I walked I wondered if Timmy thought wearing shorts as challenge would be easier if that fact was known or that he wanted to make it harder to back out.

I did not see Timmy until the next day at lunch.  He was in shorts and he broke out of the queue to join Dicky and me.  That meant that he got served before any of his classmates and he was eating with higher form guys, who he tried to hang out with.  I asked how he was getting along.  "A little teasing but since everyone knew that it was a dare from you, pretty good.  You are quite the hero for what you said to Locke."

"I guess you won't be getting that spanking later." I said.  He just smiled.

After school we met in the back of the playground.  He showed up with a batch of his classmates including the non-chum Karl.  He gave me a very nice apology which I accepted and we shook hands.  Then he continued: "Mr. Wicks, I feel that my behaviour yesterday requires more than just words to atone for."  With that he reached into his satchel, took out a plimsoll and handed it to me.  "Would you please oblige me with six of the best, sir."  Then he dropped his shorts and pants and assumed the position.

It was certain that he was playing some game with his mates that I did not know about but I was not going to spoil it for him.  "Certainly, Master Brine."  I gave him three moderately hard slaps on each check leaving his bum quite crimson.  He stood up, pulled up his pants and shorts and thanked me.

His mates gave him a cheer.  Then they went for Karl.  Apparently there had been some wager and Timmy had won.  It was time for him to pay up.  "Well, Karl, will you take twelve from Mr. Wicks or eighteen from me?" asked Timmy.  Karl went for the twelve from me.  He just dropped his trousers and pants and assumed the position.  Karl had an arse made for spanking.  I proceeded to give him six slaps on one cheek hoping that he would not take it in silence.  He broke on the sixth one on the same spot.  I really was not fair to him but I really like the way Timmy was handling all of this.  Timmy said that this was enough but Karl, to his credit, refused any concessions.  I gave him the other six but spread them out on his other cheek.  We all shook hands and I saw Timmy and Karl go off together like new chums.

Timmy, now back in his normal uniform with longs, joined Dicky and me the next day at lunch.  He thanked me for yesterday.  He was particularly appreciative of how I made Karl yell with the plimsoll.  He did not think anyone else noticed that I had given Karl six on one spot, since no one mentioned it, but when you're the littlest guy in the class you got to fight all the time not to be picked on.  He had found his father's old shorts years ago in their attic along with lots of stuff that he had played with over the years.

He felt that the whole exercise proved to his mates that he was not just a little boy who followed everyone else but did as he wanted.  The spanking here in the lunch hall made him look like a little kid but asking for the plimsoll showed that he was a man; well, at least not a kid.  This was particularly true since he took it better than Karl did.

3: BATHING IS GREAT FUN

One of dad's new rules was awful in every possible way.  Dicky and I were to be given baths together.  Dad had not thought this out at all.  Sure as little kids, we were bathed together but then we not even half our current sizes.  They started by stripping us and leading us to the bath.  Dad filled the tub with water half way up and told us to get in and sit down.  With some difficulty we did and as we manoeuvred around, the water rose to the top and even splashed on to the floor.  Mum quickly let out some of the water and then mopped up the floor while dad started washing us.  It did not go so badly when he did our heads but the lower he got the more difficult it was.  There simply was not room for two almost fully grown teen boys in that tub.  The situation got even worse when mum finished the mopping and tried to wash Dicky while dad was trying to wash me.

Dad eventually decided that we should stand but even then they had problems.  They had to keep bending over to rinse the flannel to wash our top parts and then kneel to wash our legs.  The middle was a different problem.  It is one thing to wash your little boy's privates but it is quite different to suddenly start doing it to your adolescent son who has pubes and knows about sex.  Mum just wiped the washrag across my bum (missing the crack completely) and could only get to within 6 inches (15 cm) of my groin before she told dad that he better finish up my front.  Dad did not do much better with Dicky.  He also skipped the crack and only did the front of Dick's prick and balls.  He then did the same to mine.  He rinsed us off with the dirty water and was about to hand us towels.

"Father, with all due respect, this bath is not up to the rigorous standards that you taught us years ago.  You haven't done our navels, arse cracks, the underside of our penises and scrotums, nor under our prepuces.  Also, you rinsed us with the dirty, soapy water."

I was afraid that dad would explode but I was NOT going to be a filthy, stinky slob.  I already had more problems, particularly at school, than I wanted.  Dad was as embarrassed as mum that he could not wash us properly.  We had been totally obedient and compliant boys doing exactly what he had said to do.  I still wonder how he would have washed all these parts and particularly how it would have felt when he skinned me back, but I never found out for he took the only rational course.  He opened the drain and let the water out.  Then he said to rinse out the tub and shower properly.

Dicky and me had no problems washing each other.  After all we were already in the tub together.  Neither of them ever mentioned bathing us again.  It did have another good effect.  After such close inspection of our bodies it no longer mattered if they saw us naked anymore.  Since we were not permitted to close either our bedroom or bathroom doors it was better not to be so concerned with them seeing us naked.  Even more important, a shower curtain provides sufficient privacy for wanking.

4: VISITS TO THE HEAD

The final bell of the day had rang and everyone was heading out of the classroom to do more fun things than the board of education had ordained would be good to torment me and my mates.  It was now a couple of weeks after I started to wear shorts to school.  Then there was that awful squeal of the PA system coming on.  "ATTENTION STUDENTS.  ATTENTION STUDENTS." then in a softer voice "Who, sir?" which probably should have been off mike.

"The shorts boy, er, Wicks, Mrs. Notting."  There was a roar of laughter through the corridors as everyone knew there were exactly two students fitting that description.

The she repeated it directly into the mike and thus throughout the school: "Wicks, report to the Head's office immediately.  Wicks, report to the Head's office immediately."

I moved towards the head's office quickly.  Instinct, a.k.a., common sense, said that something was not good.  When I arrived, Mrs. Notting sent me into Headmaster Williams' office directly.  Once I was standing in front of him, Williams started to lecture me about some improper conduct in Mr. York-Kent's history class.

"Begging your pardon, sir.  I'm not in any of Mr. York-Kent's classes."  Mr. Williams paused and studied the paper before him and then me.  Before he could speak there was a knock on the door and my brother entered.

"Oh, you're quiet right, Wicks Minor.  It is your brother, just gracing us with his presence, who is at fault."  (Mr. William's long past at a public school often showed in his speech.)  Rather than giving me leave to go, he immediately proceeded to lecture Dicky on his rudeness.  It was his finish that was most interesting.  "Since your parents have decided that you should dress in the more traditional style, I shall punish you in the more traditional manner.  Unfortunately, the Council has banned the use of canes so I shall use this paddle."  Dicky went pale as he pulled a wooden paddle out of his desk.  It was about two feet long, four inches wide and more than a half inch thick.  It looked very hard.  "Drop your shorts and pants, Wicks Major and lean over the back of that chair."

Dick hesitated, too shocked to move.  "Now, boy." and then to me.  "Wicks Minor, you better hold your brother in place."

Dicky was like a zombie.  I opened his belt, shorts and along with his pants pulled them down to his knees.  I turned him around and bent him over the chair back.  I knelt on the far side and held his wrists as tightly as I could.

"Six, Master Wicks."

"Be brave, Dick." I whispered hoping he would not disgrace himself further.

Mr. Williams got into position and swung the paddle.  WHACK!!

"YOWEEELL!" screamed Dicky.  Tears were already forming in his eyes.

WHACK!!

Again Dicky screamed.

The third one: WHACK!! with the same result.  "That's halfway; Dick be brave."

WHACK!!  Dick yelled and started to cry.

WHACK!!  Dick was crying a lot and it was hard to hold him in place.  "Just one more and it will be over."

WHACK.  Mr. Williams was gentle with this one, but Dick was now out of control and bawling like an elementary school kid.

I stood Dick up and held him as he cried.  The Head left the office and I tried to get Dick to stop crying.  It took quite a while.  Then I pulled up his pants and shorts and fastened them.  I shoved the two soaked (tears and snot) handkerchiefs into my pocket and led Dicky out, picking up our satchels as we went.  I headed for the bog, praying that it was empty.

I washed his face with cold water and then dropped his pants again to closely inspect his arse.  It was red and hot but not nearly as bad as one would have thought from Dick's howls.  I stuck some paper in the drain hole and had Dick perch on the basin.  Then I turned on the cold tap hoping it would calm him down so that we could go home.  I did not want to meet anyone with my brother crying.

It was almost an hour after the usual dismissal time that we left the school.  Fortunately there was another bus that we caught.

Our parents were displeased the Dicky had been rude, disappointed at his juvenile behaviour but quite happy at Mr. Williams' discipline method.  He said that he would call him and thank him.  I'm sure that he did and I knew that mere detentions were not in my future any more than in Dick's.

It was about three weeks later, that I got into a scuffle with a couple of fourth form blokes in the hall.  The three of us were hauled off to the head.  This was definitely the wrong day for this to happen for what had occurred at the town's comprehensive school just a mile away.  It was on page one of the local newspaper: "Student Brawl & Riot. 2 in Hosp."

"I will not tolerate this sort of hooliganism at my school.  Fighting is not permitted here.  Understand."

"Yes, sir." we said in unison.

He then took out the paddle.  My fourth form attackers were most surprised.  "The paddle is still permitted by the Council as Wicks learnt a couple of weeks ago.  Drop your pants and get over that chair, Adams."  Adams started to object but Williams cut him off with a curt: "You'll get an extra stroke for every addition word."  Adams clammed up, bared his bum and got into position.

WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  went the paddle.  Adams had grunted a few times but took it well.  His arse was glowing.

"Hayes, you are next.  Get into position."  As Adams pulled up his pants. Hayes dropped his and replaced him over the chair.  Although Adams had been sexually neutral about this, Hayes was hard from watching his chum's bum get roasted.  I was somewhat hard and I hoped that I would not get any harder.  Mr. Williams did not waste any time but quickly delivered the six swats: WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  Hayes turned as red as Adams had but he was not nearly as stoic for he yelped twice and yelled once.  He was still very hard when it was over but looked like he was about to cum for he was dripping pre-cum.

Now it was my turn.  "Wicks get into position." the head commanded.  Like Adams and Hayes, I dropped my pants and bent over the chair.  I gripped the front legs tightly knowing that this was not going to be fun.  My prick was still half hard.  WHACK!! crashed the paddle down on my bum.  It hurt all the way to my head.  I clenched my jaw to keep silent.  WHACK!!  The second one was worse.  I gripped the chair even more tightly.  WHACK!!  Three; halfway.  This was hurting more than the spanking I had gotten from dad.  WHACK!!  Four; just two more.  WHACK!!  Five; I yelped.  I clenched my teeth even tighter for the last one.  WHACK!!  It was over.

"Get dressed Wicks.  I don't want to see you boys in here again.  Get your passes from Mrs. Notting and get to your classes."

"Yes sir." we said together.  We each knew what was going to happen in our next class.  It was PE and our red bums would be the talk of the school very soon – as soon as we were in the showers.

"Wicks," said Adams, "you took that very well." and offered me his hand.  "I guess that you're not a little sissy boy shorts-boy."  We all laughed.

"You took it better." I told him.  "Now what do we say in the showers?"

It turned out that the answer did not matter.  The coach figured out how we could avoid the questions.  We quickly changed into our PE outfits of T-shirts, jock straps, PE shorts, socks and trainers and entered the gym.  The Coach was just finishing up some demonstration when we handed him the late pass.  The Coach read it and smiled.  He handed it to one of the squad leaders and told him to read it to the class.

"This is a late pass from the Headmaster to The Coach for Adams, Hayes and Wicks for today.  The reason:  'Getting a paddling.'"  The class went crazy and into hysterics.  Even The Coach had trouble restoring order.  The three of us were embarrassed and blushing but the worse was yet to come for The Coach made us tell what had happened.  Then he asked the class if they would like to see the results.  The ayes were unanimous.  We required to remove our shorts and bend over to display our crimson bums to the class.  We got a round of applause.  We were ordered to leave our shorts off for the rest of the class so to allow our tails to cool.

The Coach directed that we be left alone in the locker and showers.  If anyone is really curious a personal demonstration can be arranged.  The warning worked for although we were stared at in the gym, locker room and showers nobody dared to say anything.

Adams and maybe Hayes also must have said things to their classmates because the shorts remarks from the fourth form guys dropped a lot.

End of Part 1.  Go to Part 2

You can see twelve-year-old Midshipman (later Vice-Admiral) Augustus Brine as painted by John Singleton Copley when he enlisted in the Royal Navy under his father who was an admiral at that time at: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/10527  The original (a significantly more powerful image) is in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.    Return to the story.

© Copyright A.I.L., March 27, 2001

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