Prologue

It was an old, single-decker Bedford OB coach, a fading green bus with rusting chrome work. Once in it's heyday it had taken excited passengers on holiday and made day trips to the seaside. Now it was relegated to the daily school run. It started its journey at the stop furthest from the school and wound its way through the town to the end of our street, which was its last stop before the final fifteen minutes to the school gates. The boy heard it before it came into sight around the corner, the crunch of its gears and the whine of its engine. He trembled slightly, and not just because of the cool March air that caressed his bare legs, but in anticipation of what awaited him on the ride to school. He held his school bag in front of him, it was just two weeks to the Easter holiday, and a welcome escape from this daily torment.

An onlooker would have seen a 13 year old schoolboy named Francis, his hair curling and falling around his ears and shoulders, a white shirt with wide collar and lapels that resembled a blouse, and most striking of all, a pair of short, tight pants, a dark blue in colour made of a crushed velvet material. They cut into his plump thighs and outlined his bottom cheeks. His hairless legs were bare down to below his dimpled knees, below which he wore knee-high white stockings and black buckle shoes.

The reasons for this eccentric and rather effeminate costume went back thirteen years. Francis' mother had always wanted a daughter, and was so convinced that she was going to give birth to a baby girl that she invested in baby girls' clothing. She filled a whole drawer beneath the wardrobe with frilly, pink garments. The child's bedroom was decorated in pink and adorned with cushions and dolls. The child's name was to be Francine. When she was delivered of a baby boy, she swallowed her disappointment, and changed the child's name to Francis. But the bedroom and the décor and the garments in the wardrobe remained. For practical reasons and for pure fancy, she dressed the boy in baby girls' clothes for the first three years of his life, until he grew out of them, and even then, she favoured satin and lace, and frills and bows, and pink and pastels. As Francis grew up it became apparent that he was developing into a very pretty boy and all his mother's instincts and affection that she had harboured for a daughter were now invested in Francis. She was rightly proud of him, and delighted in dressing him up to display his charms and paraded him in the neighbourhood as a trophy. But now that Francis was a thirteen-year -old schoolboy, she failed to recognise that she was placing him in a vulnerable and precarious position, a situation that left him open to ridicule and contempt from his class members.

And now, dear Reader, make yourself comfortable in your favourite chair and in your chosen state of dress or undress, and like every good Boy Scout 'be prepared', for orgasm is guaranteed.

This is Francis's tale in his own words.

Chapter 1
The Journey begins

With the squeal of an errant brake, the bus shuddered to a halt, vibrating to the tune of the idling engine. I raised one buckle-shoed foot and stepped up on to the footplate. I looked up into the face of Dodds the driver, who sat leaning across the wide steering wheel, one hand resting upon its rim, the other upon the gear lever, but Dodds wasn't returning my look, he was looking down at the top of my thighs that were contained within the restraint of the tight velvet, and at the slight bulge of my small parts that I knew were visible and defined. Dodds was a middle-aged man, distinguished only by his thick, black-rimmed glasses that made his myopic eyes appear as if he were peering through the enlarged glass of a fish bowl. And as usual, his fish eyes were only interested in what lay concealed beneath my indecent shorts. Blushing and flustered as usual, I stepped into the bus and made my way down the aisle between the rows of seats. The other children paid me scant attention, busy laughing and talking between themselves. As usual, the only empty seats were at the back of the bus, the back of the bus where no-one else wanted to sit, the back of the bus where the rear bench seat was occupied by Tom, Mick and Barry. They were spread out across the old leather seat, their hair unkempt, rough check shirts, tough denim jeans, dirty trainers resting on the empty seat opposite them. They used foul language, they chewed gum, sometimes they even smoked, they were just beastly, horrid boys. Dodds the driver knew what went on, he had a rear-view mirror, but he pretended to stare steadfastly forward, afraid to confront the fourteen-year-old bullies, but slyly glancing back and obviously revelling in my discomfort.

I hesitated in front of the terrible trio, my shapely body swaying slightly with the movement of the bus, shielding my shorts behind my school bag, and edging toward the empty seat.

"Look who it is!" jeered Tom, "it's Nancy Francy!"

I knew my face must be blushing red as I perched on the edge of the seat, while Mick reluctantly withdrew his dirty foot. I settled back into the seat, my back upright, my soft knees pressed firmly together in a pose which I knew was prim and proper, like a girl, but a position to which I was accustomed. I rested my satchel on my lap, in an attempt to conceal the tops of my girlie thighs and the little bulge between them.

"Has Frannie got her knickers on today?" scoffed Barry.

This was a reference to the fact that my velveteen shorts had a fine white cotton lining which my mummy said made underpants unnecessary, and anyway "underpant lines were visible beneath and spoiled the smoothness of my bottom". And she was right, the other boys were just jealous.

It was like this every day, but some days were worse than others, it all depended on whether the brash bullies had other things to occupy their nasty minds. Of the three, Tom was the worst. He wasn't the ringleader, that was Mick, but Tom was the worst. All three delighted in teasing me, but Tom was the one who wanted to put his hands on me, who wanted to touch me. He looked at me just the same as Dodds the driver did. He was sly about it, I don't think he wanted Mick or Barry to know what he was really like, they would have called him a fruit or a queer if they discovered his dirty secret. But Tom liked to squeeze and pinch my perfect complexion, he liked to give me sly slaps, and he wanted to get inside my pretty pants. Today turned out to be one of the worst.

Tom and Mick and Barry were looking out through the rear window at the traffic behind, and as they often did, they were pulling faces and making rude signs at the motorists behind, and mouthing swear words at them. Then Tom turned round and was looking at me in a way that made my flesh creep. He turned to the other two and began whispering something to them, and all three were now looking at me and sniggering. This had happened before and my reaction was the same, anger and fear. I felt myself blushing and pressed my knees tighter together, gripping my school bag. Without a word or a signal, all three of the bigger boys launched themselves upon me, seizing hold of my soft body with their rough hands, and pulling me off my seat. I didn't cry out, but struggled in silence and in vain as they overpowered me. They dragged me up onto the bench seat and while Mick and Barry held me, Tom's eager hands took hold of the waist band of my best shorts and started to pull them down. He had them down over my swelling hips and pushed them down below my knees. Without underpants, my little cocklet was on show for all to see. They had me up on the seat, my back pressed up against the rear window, the cold glass was hard against my pink bottom cheeks as they made me 'moon' at the following driver. I looked frantically down the bus there was no rescue in sight. Some of the children looked back but quickly faced the front again, embarrassed at my plight, others were looking and laughing. Dodds the driver was apparently intent upon watching the road, but I could see his eyes were raised to his rear-view mirror, relishing the sight of my nudity. Tom had his hands on my hips, pressing my bottom to the glass, but his finger tips were fiddling with my precious pink cocklet. And then, not content with what they had done, Tom twisted me around, and pushed me back against the glass, so that now my cocklet was pressed up against the glass window and on view to the following drivers. As they relaxed their grips and fell back laughing, I was able to break free and stumbled down off the seat, my velvet shorts around my knees preventing me from gaining my balance. I fell at their feet onto the floor of the bus.

"You nasty boys!" I protested as I pulled up my beautiful shorts, I wasn't so angry at what they had done, putting me on show like that, but at what had happened to my lovely velvet shorts, which were now scuffed and covered in dirt from the floor of the bus.

"I hate you!", I cried, and I tucked my cocklet away into the soft cotton lining of my shorts. I picked up my school bag, straightened my blouse, and wiped away a tear from my eye.

I didn't wear boy's pyjamas. I did have a pair, they were white with blue stripes and I had worn them just once. But I didn't like them, they felt coarse, and the buttons dug into my soft skin when I lay on them, and the pyjama trousers were held up with an ugly knotted cord. They felt tight and constricting. So in bed I wore what I had always worn, a see-through sleeveless nightie and a pair of loose fitting tangerine silk shorts. Mummy and I liked the way they looked on me, how you could see my naked flesh through the nightie, and they felt just delicious!

The nightie caressed my skin and the silken shorts whispered against my bottom, and if I rubbed my cocklet through the silk I was rewarded with a wonderful sensation that tingled like electricity. I told my mummy about this one morning at the breakfast table, and she asked me to show her what I meant, so I pulled up the hem of my nightie and rubbed my cocklet up and down, until it got stiff. She laughed and said that it was perfectly natural, and that if I rubbed it without the silk shorts it would feel just the same, but I didn't think so! And when I got out of bed in the morning I didn't have to get dressed, I could stay in my nightie and shorts.

And so it was on that awful Monday morning, the first of the Easter holiday. I was in my bedroom. My giant Peter Pan jigsaw puzzle was spread out on the floor, half finished. I had completed Peter and Wendy, and now I had to fit all the other characters together. I liked Peter Pan, I often wished that I was him. He looked so nice in his green tunic, with a short, scalloped hem that showed off his lovely thighs clad in green tights. But that was for later, right then I was filling in my colouring book, using my box of crayons. I heard the click of the front gate down below and glanced out through my bedroom window, and my heart froze! There, coming through the gate, was that horrid Tom, but this wasn't the foul, scruffy Tom that terrorised me every day on the school bus, this was a Tom with slicked down hair with a neat parting on one side, this was a Tom with a clean shirt on and a pair of trousers and not those rough, scruffy jeans. Even his shoes looked clean! As he closed the gate and turned toward our front door, I ducked down out of sight and was rooted there, confused and scared, and not knowing what to do. I had to know what was going on.

I scampered out of the bedroom and crouched at the top of the stairs, hiding behind the bannister rail but within sight of the hallway and the front door. There was a knocking on the door, and I bit my lip as my mummy came into sight, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and reaching out to open the door to my sworn enemy.

"Hello" she said, "what can I do for you?

I couldn't quite see him, but I could hear him.

"Hello" he replied, "my name's Tom and I am at school with your Francis".

"He's upstairs in his bedroom" my mummy said, "do you want me to call him down?"

"No, no!" he said hurriedly, "it's really you that I want to talk to, if you don't mind".

"Well, you'd better come in" she said, standing to one side, "we can talk in the kitchen".

"Please no!" I silently screamed. I shrank back further out of sight as my mummy led Tom into our kitchen.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" I heard her say.

"No thank you" he answered.

No thank you! I'd never heard that rotten boy ever say please or thank you to anyone.

My mummy sat down at the table and I could see her through the open door, but I couldn't see Tom, who sat down opposite her.

"What's it all about" she asked him.

I couldn't quite hear everything that they said, but I heard enough, enough to send my poor heart racing and my head to spin.

"The thing is" Tom began, "I am in the 4th form and Francis is in the 3rd form, so I don't get to see him much. On the school bus he sits with the other 3rd formers, (Liar! Liar! I mouthed silently) and at playtime we have different yards. I never get the chance to talk to him or play with him. But I really like Francis. He is always so nice looking and well dressed, and he is so polite to everybody".

"How kind of you to say so", my mummy said, "it's not always been easy, especially without a man about the house, but I am very proud of him, but I'm not sure what I can do to help you Tom".

"Well, I was wondering" the wretched lying boy continued, "if you would let me come round and play with Francis sometimes, now that we are both home on holiday".

I had to stifle my gasp of disbelief.

"Tom, that's so kind and considerate of you", I heard my mummy say, "I'm sure that my Francis would appreciate the company. I know he gets bored being alone up in his bedroom".

"So do I", Tom replied, "and being his friend would mean so much to me, I'm so fond of him".

There was a brief silence, then "Sometimes I want to kiss him!" Tom blurted out.

I wanted to run down the stairs, I wanted to confront them and denounce Tom for the lying bully that he was, But I was rooted to the spot, a prisoner in my own diaphanous nightie.

"Oh you dear boy!" my mummy exclaimed, and I saw her reach out her hand, and I knew she was laying her hand upon his, in a gesture of sympathy and reassurance. "It must be so difficult for boys of your age, with so many mixed emotions. My Francis is very pretty and loveable but he has all this growing-up to come yet. He is thirteen but a very young thirteen/

It may be a good thing for him to have an older boy to play with".

"I would love to play with him, if you think it's a good idea" Tom replied.

"And perhaps you could show him things, you know, the sort of things that he'll need to learn about being a teenager".

"And I would love to show him some things!" Tom exclaimed.

I couldn't believe my poor ears, He had shown me quite enough already on the school bus!

"I tell you what Tom", I heard my mummy say, "I have to go out to the shops but I'll be back by lunchtime, why don't you go on up and give my Franny a nice surprise, and we'll see how you've both got on when I get back?"

I didn't hear any more. I sprang up from my crouched position on the stairs and fled silently up on to the top landing. I was in a panic. I looked desperately up and down the landing. Mummy's bedroom? the bathroom, the attic, my bedroom? But none offered any means of escape. I ran into my own bedroom and shut the door behind me. Below I heard the scraping of chairs on the tiled kitchen floor as my mummy and vile Tom stood up from the table. I cast my eyes around. The window? The wardrobe? Under the bed?

It was useless. And then I caught sight of myself in the wardrobe mirror! Oh my God! That morning, as I had left the bathroom I had slipped into mummy's bedroom and gone to her dressing table and applied a thin coat of her lipstick to my cherub lips and a dab of her perfume behind my ears. He was going to see the lipstick and smell my scent! But that wasn't all that he was going to see, he was going to see what I could now see, a flustered, blushing virginal boy, disguised as a girl in a nightie and silken shorts, the perfect prey for a sexual predator, and I could hear that predator's footsteps coming up the stairs.

Where are my striped pyjamas? I screamed in vain to myself, but there was no time to look for them or put them on. I ran to the far side of my bedroom, shaking with fear and adrenalin, and cowered in the corner. The door handle was turning! I pulled the hem of my nightie down tight, crossed my legs, and with one hand covered my little nipples, and with the other covered myself down there.

The door opened, and in he stepped, a cruel leer on his thick lips.

"Hello Frannie" he said in a voice loud enough for my mummy to hear downstairs, "it's so nice to see you again", and then he pushed the door shut, and in a voice that only we could hear, said "Your mummy wants me to play with you and show you things. So let's get started".

I dropped down onto my dimpled knees and bowed my head, "I'll do whatever you say" I whimpered, "but please don't hurt me" and I just knew that I was going to pee myself.

Chapter 2
The End of the Journey

I awoke to the morning sunlight breaking through the curtains. I yawned and stretched, one of those stretches that goes from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I swung my thirteen year old body from between the sheets and went barefoot and naked out of the bedroom. I caught my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. My young body shone like cream in the sunlight, so round and smooth and cherubic, with no growth of hair or large ….to spoil the symmetry.

I crossed the landing and went quietly down the staircase. In the kitchen mummy and Tom were already there. She was 'greasing up his pole', (that's what Tom called it). Mummy was sitting at the kitchen table and Tom was stood naked before her. The opened tube of jelly was on the table and mummy was massaging the lubricant into his potent, eight-inch [20 cm] cock. His well-toned body, muscular buttocks and thighs belied his age. (I had discovered that he was actually 15, but was in a class of 14 year olds as he had been held back a year because of his poor grades).

Mummy was running both hands up and down his erection, and smoothing the gel over his bulbous glans. She looked up as I entered the kitchen.

"Hi Franny", she greeted me with a smile.

"Hello mummy" I replied.

Tom said nothing, he didn't even look up, but we were used to that, he was too wrapped up in watching and feeling mummy 'grease up his pole'.

Satisfied that her job was well done, mummy stood up, picked up the tube and turned away to the kitchen sink.

Tom was ready for his first fuck of the day.

I went to the kitchen table, bent over the Formica top, and spread my delicious body over it. I gripped the two sides of the table, and then spread my legs as wide as I could. Then I let go of the sides and moved my hands behind me, so that I could spread my bottom cheeks.

"It's alright, Franny" mummy said, "I'll do that".

And she leant over me and spread my lovely bottom cheeks apart, exposing my pink valley and my tight opening. I returned my hands to grip the table edges. Tom moved between my parted thighs and pressed his body against mine, thrusting his eager cock into my valley and against my 'cunt', (that's what Tom called it). He forced that gleaming mushroom head into my resisting boy-cunt, and then suddenly it popped in, and my ring muscle tightened around it. Seeing that he was in, mummy let go of my cheeks, and they closed around his bold organ, like a hot dog in a soft bread bun, And she turned round and went back to the draining board and boiling the kettle for tea.

Tom moaned and I groaned, as he exerted pressure and inched his way into me. Taking it up me still took my breath away but at least now I wasn't screaming and shouting, just suffering in a sort of silence. I think that Tom was a bit disappointed, I knew that he liked to hear me scream and shout. When all eight inches were firmly embedded in me, he began the fucking process, my young immature body sliding across the Formica top with his muscular exertions. We knew when Tom was reaching his climax, his strokes became fast, short and violent, and while to begin with the only sound he made was heavy breathing, now he began to use very bad language, words that I knew both mummy and I were still not used to hearing."Take it like a slut, you sissy faggot! I'm going to pump my man-seed into your fucking cunt!"

And then, as he pumped his load into me, he fell forward, his weight crushing me, and lay prostrate over me, until the last drop of cum was out of him and into me. And then he stood back up, accepted the cup of tea that mummy handed him, and walked unsteadily out of the kitchen, to climb the stairs, wash himself, and drink his tea.

I continued the morning routine. I pushed myself upright from the kitchen table and caressed my little stiff and still hairless cocklet, which had grown to its full three inches whilst I was being fucked. I reached out for my 'special saucer' from the draining board and set it down on the kitchen floor. Then I squatted over the saucer on my haunches, pulled apart my bottom cheeks, and waited while Tom's cum juice dribbled out of me and into the saucer. When as much of it as possible had drooled out of me, I used my finger to get out the dregs. Then I changed my position so that I was kneeling over the saucer, and said to mummy,

"Look mummy", I'm doing it!"and started pulling on my little cocklet.

I don't know why I felt it necessary to say this to mummy, but for some reason it was important to me that she watched me. Mummy stopped washing the dishes, and looked down at me as I nipped, squeezed and pulled at my pathetic appendage.

It was seconds, not minutes, before I got that lovely tingling feeling and my cocklet spat out its meagre drops of weak, watery fluid. It pooled in the saucer with Tom's copious output.

I shuddered and stood up, and handed the saucer to mummy. She carefully poured and scraped all the cooling cum into my cup of tea, so that it swirled and half floated in the brew. Mummy ruffled my hair and I took my cup of tea back upstairs, where I would drink it in front of Tom, according to his instructions.

It was the end of the school holiday and on Monday it would be back to school on the old green bus. So much had happened in the last few weeks since Tom first confronted me. From an innocent, blushing, virgin little fruit boy I had sucked cock, learned to wank, had discovered what lay beneath my tight foreskin, experienced my first cum, and been raped. And all with mummy's help! And it seemed so long ago. That first day when mummy had let him in, gone to the shops and left me alone with the horrid beast.

The door had opened, and in he stepped, a cruel leer on his thick lips.

"Hello Frannie" he said in a voice loud enough for my mummy to hear downstairs, "it's so nice to see you again", and then he pushed the door shut, and in a voice that only we could hear, said "Your mummy wants me to play with you and show you things. So let's get started".

I dropped down onto my dimpled knees, my see-through nightie wrapped around my effeminate body, my girlie panties visible and bowed my head, "I'll do whatever you say" I whimpered, "but please don't hurt me" and I just knew that I was going to pee myself.

Tom said nothing, but strode purposefully to where I cowered in the corner. He stood over me and I could smell his denim jeans. I didn't dare look up, and staring down saw that some pee-pee had leaked out and wet my best panties. I heard mummy shout "See you later" and then the sound of her slamming the front door shut and setting off for the shops.

"What do you want?" I half muttered, half wailed in fright.

"Now that your precious mummy has gone, you're going to find out, you little choirboy, or should that be 'queer boy'?" and he sniggered at his own joke.

"Please go away!" I begged. But Tom wasn't going anywhere. He began unbuckling his belt and his jeans dropped down to his knees, revealing his muscular thighs and a pair of underpants that had a massive tent protruding in front.

I stared at that grotesque bulge, and wondered what on earth the bully boy had shoved down his underpants to create such a shape, and why. Tom hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his cotton pants and pushed them slowly down, and the cause of the bulge sprang free and was revealed.

I had never seen anything like it in my short life. And why should I have, or any other thirteen year old, for that matter. He must have read the shock in my face. At the top of my rounded thighs, I had a little pee-pee spout, but Tom had something quite different, it was a threatening, swollen weapon. It didn't stand upright, but, perhaps because of its weight, it hung forward horizontally. I don't know how long it was, maybe eight inches [20 cm], but it looked to my horrified eyes to be as long and as thick as my slim forearm. It had a swollen head that looked like a purplish mushroom, and at its very tip, there was a single drop of clear fluid. The whole thing was dark brown, compared to my pink thing. And along its length were protruding veins, that made it look to my young mind like a Mars bar, and almost as square. At its base there was a tight patch of ugly black hair and beneath that, where I had a delicate little wrinkled sac, he had what looked like a leather pouch, swollen and heavy.

It was inches from my face. I dared to glance up at his face and saw his self-satisfied grin.

"Touch it, play with it" he ordered.

I didn't want to touch it, and I didn't know how to play with it. I raised a tentative hand and extended a finger tip, the nail deep red with varnish, and touched the shaft. The whole thing sort of shuddered, bobbed up and down, and came back to rest. I was so scared, but also sort of fascinated. I adjusted my kneeling position to make myself more comfortable, and I felt that somehow what I was doing was right, that it was in the natural order of things that I should bow and kneel to this superior sex object.

I touched it again, and the drop of fluid slowly fell from the monster's eye, and hung suspended from a single gossamer thread.

"Kiss it" he hissed.

I wondered where to kiss it, I still had lipstick on my lips, would he get angry if it smeared his thing, and I didn't want to taste or come into contact with that liquid stuff that swung and lengthened. I pursed my sweet lips and lightly brushed them against the side of the purple, bell-shaped head.

"Not like that", he admonished me, "open your sucking mouth!"

I suddenly realised his purpose and opened my mouth to protest, but at the same time he seized hold of my soft hair, pushed my head back, and pushed his eager cock into my little mouth. I wanted to scream but I was gagged, I wanted to pull my head back and spit it out, but he held me firm, and that horrid thing touched the back of my throat and I started to retch. I coughed and spluttered, and now tears did run down my rose cheeks.

"Kiss it, lick it, suck it, you faggot!"

I managed to break free and tried to crawl away, my nightie riding up to expose my young, shapely thighs and my pee-stained panties, but now I was pressed up against my bedroom wall. While I lay there sobbing, he kicked off his shoes and cast aside his trousers and pants. Now he knelt down over me, pinched hold of my ears and drew my face into his lap and buried his cocklet into my poor mouth. He pumped it in and out of me,

Then he pulled out, struggled to his feet, and dragged me up by my wrist. He went over to my bed, taking me with him, then reached down and threw my toys and dolls onto the floor. He turned and sprawled on his back on the bed, his legs apart, his man-thing throbbing and drooling.

I have thought since that this was the moment to escape, to run from my bedroom, screaming down the stairs, and out of the front door. But that is the gift of hindsight, the fact is I was just too scared and confused. Where would I run to, in my bare feet, in my see-through nightie and damp panties, with lipstick and nail varnish on me? And what if he sprang off the bed and came after me, and caught me? What he was doing so far was bad enough, but what punishment might he inflict on my tender body if I tried to escape? I was a wimpy coward, and I knew it.

And their was another fact. I was only thirteen and he was fifteen, but there is a huge difference between the two ages, both mentally and physically. I was an effeminate pre-pubescent weakling, he was a dominant, potent young male. And there was a subconscious feeling that this was in some way meant to be, a natural order of things, that I was bowing to the inevitable. But my big fear was knowing that in two weeks time I would have to return to school, in two weeks time I would have to make that ride on the school bus, and face the threat from Tom, Dick and Harry.

I stayed standing between his parted legs.

He closed his knees, trapping me between them.

"Lift your nightie up, you pathetic cock-sucker" he said. I was going to do it anyway, but why did he have to use such nasty words to me?

I took hold of the hem of my nightie and slowly raised it up. He was stroking his fat cock I hesitated when the nightie revealed my lovely dimpled knees and smooth round thighs.

"Keep going!" he ordered.

I inched it up and now I knew that he could see my delicate penis and my tiny ball bag. He burst out laughing but there was something else in his eyes as well as laughter, a sort of greedy look.

"All the way up!"

I raised my nightie until it was over my head and I could only see him through a cotton mist, knowing that now all of me was naked to him, including my tender nipples.

"Fucking gorgeous!" he cried out, and in a strange way I felt flattered.

But I felt so rude displaying myself to him.

"Please can I put it down now?" I begged him.

"You can put it down and you can go down!" and he laughed and I guessed what he meant and so I dropped my nightie down and sank to my knees. I rested my hands on his thighs, which were coated in fine, dark hairs. I didn't want to put that sticky, knob-head into my mouth and be choked again, so instead I put my face alongside his cock and opened my mouth and ran it up and down the cock's length, like I used to run my mouth up and down my mouth organ. He seemed to like this as he started to make low moaning noises.

"Oh yes, you fairy faggot, lick my dick. That's it, now play with my balls!"

I turned my attention to that leathery pouch that hung beneath his saliva-streaked Mars bar.

"I didn't tell you to stop sucking, bitch" he shouted, and now he directed that bulbous head back into my panting mouth. I was licking and sucking it as hard as I could, like a puppy suckling on a bitch dog, and with my hand I felt for his ball bag. I groped around and then felt one of his balls. I knew from my own exploration of my own tiny sac that they contained two peas, but Tom didn't have a pea, he had something that felt like one of those stuffed olives that mummy sometimes bought home from the supermarket. I rolled it around between my finger and thumb, hoping that was what he wanted.

"Not too hard" he admonished, "now play with the other one".

And so now I had to use both hands to fondle his balls while my mouth was still sucking on his big cock.

"Suck my balls, sissy", he said, and then he started muttering but when I looked up he wasn't talking to me, he was talking to himself and looking up at the ceiling. He began to open and close his thighs, crushing my head in a vice-like grip, so that I couldn't hear anything, only the pounding of my own blood in my head. And then he suddenly sat up and leaned forward. He shoved me back onto my haunches and held my poor head back by my shell-like ears with one rough hand, with the other he seized hold of that crude organ and began to vigorously massage it with his hand, and breathing so hard that I thought he was ill.

"Keep your fucking mouth open, you sissy slut!"

And then something awful happened, something so disgusting and unexpected that I thought I would faint. I was shot in the face with a thick jet of creamy goo! It hit me across my eyes and forehead, and before I could close my eyes, another stream of his stuff splashed across my nose and lips, and then it was everywhere, in my hair, trickling off my ear lobes, smeared across my lips, and dropping in gobbets off my chin. But worst of all, it was filling my mouth, choking me, and he pinched my cheeks hard so I couldn't close my mouth, and he pumped and loaded that vile slime onto my tongue. I knew then that I was going to die. I knew that he had poisoned me, spitting his venom into me just like snakes do. But he wasn't going to let me die in peace. He kept his cock-head over me until the final drops of goo were spent, and then he began using his fingers to scoop up the mess off my face and feed it into my mouth. The foul liquid began to roll off my tongue and trickle down my throat. I was choking and spluttering.

The nasty brute released my head, groaned out load, and fell back onto my bed. I scrambled away on my hands and knees, coughing as I went, and fled out of my room and into the bathroom- I slammed the door shut, turned on the tap and began retching into the bathroom sink. I sucked in great gulps of water, convinced that I was breathing my last.

But I didn't die. I didn't hear Tom leaving, and by the time that mummy came home, I was wrapped up in my big, pink fluffy bathrobe and curled up on the lounge sofa. mummy knew that something was wrong but I couldn't tell her, I didn't dare. That night when it was time for bed, I went to sleep in my rough boy pyjamas and not in my sissy nightie, it made me feel safer somehow, but as I fell to sleep, my hand went into my pyjama bottom and I stroked my little cocklet, and I was haunted by the memory of Tom's big, throbbing man thing, and I was still stiff when I awoke in the morning.

I lay awake trying to think of a plan, something to do or to say that could save me from this brute Tom and his awful rude behaviour. I was not the smartest boy in the class, nowhere near, but I was the prettiest, but that wasn't any help to me now, perhaps if I wasn't so pretty Tom would not have picked on me. What would a clever boy do? And then I remembered the 'Tales of Brer Rabbit' from our school book, and how he tricked his enemies into doing what he wanted. Perhaps instead of resisting him, I should pretend to befriend the monster, and even call him by his name. Anything rather than have to undress and have him hurt me.

Mummy worked part-time in the Oxfam shop in the High Street. She usually dragged me along with her because she said I was too young to leave all alone in the house. I found the shop boring and I knew that I got in mummy's way, but today I was glad to be going, it was the perfect excuse to be out of the house and free from any unwelcome visitors. Or so I thought.

Right after lunch and as we were getting ready to go out, I heard the click of the garden gate, and my heart sank as I heard a heavy knock on the door.

"Who can that be?" mummy asked aloud.

But I knew, and I felt those unmistakeable shivers of fear run through my thirteen-year old frame.

"Hello Tom! What a pleasant surprise" I heard mummy greet the beastly boy.

"Look who's come to visit you" mummy said, and then to Tom, "we were just on our way out, but now that you're here Franny can stay in and you two can play together instead".

"Thanks, that'd be great" Tom replied.

I was left out of their conversation. And that's how I felt; insignificant, minor, a silly little wimp. Taken for granted. But how could I protest?

'Please mummy, I'd rather go with you and stand around a charity shop'.

'Please mummy let me come with you, otherwise this big, rude boy will take all my clothes off and make me suck him'.

I never even got to put my nice velvet jacket on. Mummy kissed me goodbye on both cheeks and left me alone at Tom's mercy, and he didn't have any mercy.

I was trembling like a leaf but I started to put my plan into action.

"Hello Tom" I greeted him, forcing a smile onto my sweet, pink lips, "what should we do today?"

"Never mind Hello Tom" he answered "get those clothes off and get ready to suck on my cock".

"Why don't we do something else Tom?", I stammered, "I'll let you do anything you like, just so long as I don't have to suck your thing again".

I didn't care what else he did, because as far as I was concerned, there was nothing worse than having to suck him.

"Like what, you fairy faggot? he demanded.

"We could play a game", I suggested, "anything you like. I've got lots of games up in my bedroom".

He had stopped unbuckling his trouser belt and was looking at me slyly.

"Okay" he said, "we'll play a little game. You go on upstairs and I'll be up in a minute. And why don't you get out of those street clothes and put something pretty on?"

"Oh thank you Tom" I gushed, and skipped from the room, sure that my secret plan was working. I ran upstairs thinking what game we should play. Blind Man's Bluff? Hide and Seek, Postman's Knock? Maybe a board game. I knelt down at my pink toy box and rummaged for the Snakes and Ladders.

I heard Tom coming up the stairs and hurried to get out of my shirt and trousers. I was just pulling on my pastel blue panties when the door swung open.

"There's no need to put those on" he said, and so I just stood there completely naked, covering my little cocklet with my hand. He had been into the cupboard under the kitchen sink, because he was holding the green string and some clothes pegs that we kept in there.

"What game are we going to play Tom?" I asked, beginning to fear that my clever idea was not going according to plan.

"You said anything, as long as you didn't have to suck my cock".

"Yes Tom. We could play Hide and Seek. I'll play without my clothes on" I begged.

But Tom wasn't listening. He pulled out the chair from the corner of the room and told me to sit on it. I sat down and made myself comfy, crossing my girlie legs. But Tom knelt down and uncrossed my legs and forced my knees well apart, and then tied my ankles to the legs of the chair with the green string. Then he stood up, pulled my hands away from covering my little innocent cocklet, and tied my wrists behind my back.

"Please Tom", I whined, "I don't like this game, please let me go".

I felt so helpless, my little cocklet and ball sac drooping between my parted thighs.

Tom pulled out the velvet-topped stool from my dressing table and set it before me, then he sat on it facing me.

"My pretty little fairy" he sneered, "all trussed up like a chicken ready for stuffing"

I still thought my plan was working, he wasn't making me suck his fat snake. But as I was about to discover, there were things worse than having to suck his cocklet.

"Where's your titties?" he asked.

I looked down at my narrow chest, confused, "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Why haven't you got girl's titties?" he demanded to know.

Now I knew that lots of the boys in class had nipples, some of them big brown nipples, and Georgie Porgie, the fattest boy in class, had bosoms that sagged. But all I had were two things like insect bites. I suddenly felt inferior, incomplete.

"I don't know!" I moaned.

"Well, let's do something about that" he said, and he reached out and pinched hold of my little nipple between his finger and thumb. His thumb was hard and the nail was dirty. Disgusting! And he twisted. I yelled out but he just twisted and pulled harder. "Cry all you like, you nancy boy, there's no-one to hear you. Anyway, I like it when you cry out like a little girl" and he pinched my nipple. Then he went to work on my other nipple, pulling it, twisting it, pinching it. I was crying all the time now, and begging him to stop. Then he did both nipples at once.

"Don't you like it Franny?" he laughed, "all little fruits and faggots like having their titties played with. Go on, admit it, tell me how much you like me playing with your little titties"

"On no!" I gasped and groaned, "it hurts so much!"

"Tell me you like it!" he shouted, and then he began pulling my titties out from my chest, stretching the delicate flesh out in two obscene pyramids.

"Oh yes Tom!" I screamed, "I like it!" If I agreed maybe he would stop.

"Please pull on my little girlie titties. Please pinch them and twist them"

"That's better" Tom laughed, "tell me more. Why do you want me to pull on your faggot breasts? Do you want me to make them big tits so real men can suck on them?"

"Oh yes" I sobbed, "I want you to pull on them so hard that it hurts, I want you to pull and pinch them so that they get big and puffy and I have to wear a bra like mummy!"

Oh my God" What had I said? I hadn't meant to, it had just come out! I was confused, I was saying anything just so that it would stop. But that wasn't all, my pathetic little penis was standing up all by itself.

"Yes, that's it, pull them out so they stay out, I want to be a real girlie!"

And then Tom let go of my left nipple, but it was only to clamp a clothes peg on my poor nipple. I looked down aghast. My pink nipple was squashed out in the peg. And then he stuck a second peg onto my right nipple.

"You wanted us to play a game, aren't you glad you're not sucking my cock instead?"

Through my tears I could see that he was laughing at me. My poor sissy titties were aching, at least sucking his cock hadn't actually hurt me. So much for my clever Brer Rabbit plan!

"Please, please!" I begged, "take the pegs off my poor titties, I'll suck your cock instead"

"Oh no, faggot Franny, this was your idea, so you only have yourself to blame. I want to keep on playing"

With my arms pinned behind my back, my chest was forced forward, pushing my titties in his direction. Offering them to him.

But now he shifted his attention away from my clamped, bruised titties, and he extended that rough thumb with its dirty fingernail down between my spread legs.

"Oh no, not my little cocklet!" I wailed.

It was still stiff. He felt my wrinkled, pink sac and held my poor balls in his grip. He rolled them. I didn't dare breathe, I couldn't move, I was frozen with fear. What if he squashed them!

"Let me suck your big cock!" I pleaded, "I'll lick it and kiss it like before"

With the fingers of both hands, he separated my pea-sized balls and teased them apart until I was sure he would split the bag and they would fall out!

"Oh please" I cried, "I'm just a little sissy and I'm so sorry and I want to please you".

And then the second, worst thing of my life happened. Worse than when I thought that he had poisoned me with his cum juice and I had thought that I was going to die.

He took hold of my quivering stiffie.

"What's this?" he asked.

What did he mean? "It's my cocklet" I said. My nipples had gone numb with the pegs.

"What's it for?" he asked.

"For doing pee pee" I replied.

"Why is it sticking up" he asked.

"I don't know, it got up when you were playing with my titties" I said.

He started to twist it and pull it, like he'd done to my nipples. I struggled against the strings that bound me.

He started to push and pull on the outside skin. I was feeling that strong, electric feeling that I sometimes got when I played with it in bed, or when I pulled on a new pair of silky panties or caught sight of myself in the mirror. It made me writhe my bottom on the chair.

Then he began to push the skin down hard, and that's when the awful thing happened. He pushed the skin right down to the bottom and there was a ripping feeling, like when mummy pulled off a sticking plaster, and before my eyes, my cocklet popped out from its skin and there was a little bulb with the pee-pee hole in it. I shrieked in horror, what was it? I knew that I would have to be rushed to hospital in an ambulance, and if I didn't die then I would have to have an operation to put it back.

But Tom ignored my screams, seeming only to enjoy them, and kept on messing with me.

"What have we here?" he asked, "a little sissie's cocklet-head, just hatched out!"

I watched down in a morbid fascination, as this strange bully boy invaded my body with his crude hands and defiled me. I felt betrayed by my own body and cocklet. But what made it worse was that I was feeling good down there. Just like twisting my nipples had made me lose control, so his pulling on my little boy's thing made me squirm and gasp with excitement.

"Let me go!" I shouted, and in my desperate effort to escape the chair tipped over backwards and it crashed to the ground with me still tied to it. My downfall was complete.

I lay there breathless and crying, like the stupid young boy that I plainly was. My little cocklet was shrinking, going back into its skin tube after its first ever outing, one of the pegs had fallen off its nipple, while the other one clung on.

Tom obviously thought that it was all so funny!

He was still laughing as he bent down and pulled the remaining peg off my tittie.

"Help me" I implored him.

With strong hands he hauled me and the chair upright. I looked down at my body, worried that I might have scratched or bruised my pretty, delicate skin, but I was unmarked, except for my titties and cocklet, which were glowing red from their mistreatment.

"Are you enjoying our game, you little cock-sucker?" he asked.

"No I'm not!" I protested "why couldn't we play a nice game, like Hide and Seek'".

"You silly little sissy!", he laughed, "you play your games, and I'll play mine", and he grabbed hold of my left nipple and started to twist it and hurt it, and soon I was begging him to stop and begging him to twist it harder.

"Are you ready to stop being a silly bitch and suck my cock?"

"Yes please!" I responded eagerly, and I opened my mouth and held my head back. Tom stood astride me and released his weapon from his trousers, and wiped its large, glistening head over my face. I thought how my own little knob-head, seen for the first time today, was so insignificant compared to his blunt instrument.

"I'll teach you to try and be smart, you little cocklet. I've got my own plan and it starts right here".

"What's that?" I gulped.

"You want to suck my big cock into your sissy mouth?"

"Yes please, Tom" I said.

"Then beg".

"What do you mean?" I asked stupidly.

"From now on you beg for everything nasty and everything nice" he explained, "just so you and your precious mummy can't accuse me of making you do anything against your will. You're going to beg me to play with your sissy tits, you're going to beg me to wank your pathetic dick. You're going to beg to lick and suck my cock. You're going to beg me to spank your beautiful bum. And to do a lot worse things as well"

My head was in a spin. Why did he mention my mummy? Why did everything he said sound so mean and cruel? And why did all those naughty words he used rhyme so? Lick and cock. Cum and bum. Suck and fuck. Wank and spank?

"So start begging, faggot!"

"Please Tom", but I got no further.

"Who said that you could call me Tom? From now on you only call me sir, do you understand?" and he hit me across the face with his truncheon cock

Tears sprang from my eyes. "Yes sir!" I cried.

Still tied up as I was, I could only move my head and couldn't avoid his cock.

"Please sir", I begged, "please may I suck your big cock into my sissy mouth?"

"Maybe", he replied, and slapped me with his thing again. I couldn't believe how much it really hurt.

"Please sir, I'm begging you, please let me kiss and lick and suck you. I'll eat and swallow down all your sticky juice"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.

I already had my little, pink tongue sticking out, ready to feed on his cock.

"What about my balls?" he wanted to know.

"I'm sorry sir, please can I suck and lick your balls first?"

"If you insist" he laughed. Without being able to use my hands, I had to bury my lovely face into his horrid crotch and locate his balls with my mouth. I sucked them in and chased them around with my tongue. It was horrible, like sucking on a carpet.

I was glad when he pushed me away and let me get on with sucking his angry cock into my soft and succulent mouth. I fed on it like a hungry pup. There was something soothing about doing it, and when he got hold of my ears and thrust harder into my mouth, I yielded and bobbed my head up and down, and his juices and my own saliva began to run down my chin and drip off. I felt my little cocklet starting to respond, and this time as it stiffened, I felt the tight skin drawing back and I knew that my new-found dick-head was exposed. Suddenly I wanted to be a good sucker, suddenly I wanted to be more than just a pretty girl-boy, I wanted to learn how to please a real boy, and if that meant having my titties pulled, perhaps I should surrender.

I sucked him long and hard, until my mouth and tongue were aching, and then I choked and spluttered on his man juice, my head and hair and face smeared and clotted with his cream.

When Tom untied me from the chair, he stood back and stretched, and his big cocklet was lolling and swaying from his pants, and from its end hung a long strand of silver thread with a drop at its end. I scampered to him on my hands and knees, and caught that sliver of cum on my tongue, and then took him in my mouth again, and licked him clean.

That night, as I sat on the couch with mummy and watched television, she suddenly leaned over and wiped my long eyelash with her finger tip, "You've got something stuck on your eyelash" she said, and wet her finger tip and cleaned off something that I knew was a bit of Sir's cum.

Wednesday. And Sir didn't come.

During the morning I was quite pleased as each moment passed and he didn't appear, but I was also a bit upset. And then when mummy said to get ready to go to the shop I think I secretly wanted to stay, I thought that if he came and I wasn't there he would be angry and punish me. At the charity shop I hung around and did the things I normally did. I sorted through the bags of second-hand clothes. In one I found a girl's gym slip, navy blue with pleats. I held it against me, the hem was nice and short and revealed my sexy thighs. I wished we could wear girls gym slips at school, I wasn't any good at exercises but I liked short shorts and ankle socks.

But I was distracted. Why hadn't Sir come. Had I upset him? I knew he could be doing lots of other things, but I sort of felt rejected. Didn't he want me anymore? Wasn't I a good enough sucker? And then I thought that Sir could have his pick of any boy he wanted but he had chosen me. Perhaps even now he was with another boy! And then I got this awful idea. Maybe right now some other boy was sucking his cock! I was so angry. I was the prettiest boy, who else might he be picking on? I convinced myself that he was in bed with another boy, maybe Georgie Porgie because he had fat tits. It just wasn't fair.

When Tom arrived the next morning (Thursday) I actually felt a bit glad and made up my mind to be the best sissy boy possible.

I told mummy that we were going to do homework together and didn't want to be disturbed. She gave me a strange look, but said to call down if we wanted a drink.

I was wearing the gym slip that I had brought home from the shop, and a white blouse, and no panties. Tom was wearing a t-shirt that was stretched over his muscular chest and a pair of dungarees. He was such a young man for a teenager.

I stood demurely before him.

"Please sir, please can I take my clothes off?" I begged.

"Why, why should you?"

"So that you can see what a stupid little faggot I am" I answered.

"I already know what a stupid little faggot you are" he replied.

"Please sir, I want to take all my clothes off so that you can see what a pretty sissy I am"

"Who says you are pretty?" he asked

"Oh please let me take my blouse off so that I can prove what a girlie boy I am" I persisted.

"Why your blouse?" he asked, playing along.

"Please sir, so that you can look at my little titties and play with them"

"Alright nancy-boy, but just your blouse"

"Oh thank you sir!" I cried.

I quickly undid the pearl buttons and threw the blouse aside. I pushed my chest forward.

"Please sir" I went on, "please get hold of my titties and pull them and pinch them. Pull them out hard and make them big enough for a man to suck".

"Then get your stupid arse here!" he shouted, and pointed at the floor in front of him. I scurried forward and stopped right before him.

"Now what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I'm begging you to hurt my boy nipples. I want proper girl tits that will please you".

And that was exactly what he did. I had to stifle my screams and shouts so mummy didn't hear. When I could bear it no longer, I started begging again,

"Please sir, please can I take my gym skirt off?"

"And why should I want to see you without your … skirt?"

"Please sir, so that you can see me completely naked, with nothing to hide from you" I answered.

"Well go on then" he said, "but make it quick, you snivelling little queer!"

"Thank you sir" I said, and unbuttoned the gym slip and dropped it to the floor. I stood to attention in front of him, my hands behind my back, giving him a full view of my lovely, slim body.

He pointed at my little cocklet. "What use is that to anybody?" he sneered.

I looked down ashamed at my tiny knob.

"Show me something useful!" he said, "turn round and show me your cunt"

I had no idea what a 'cunt' was. I was only thirteen. But I turned around and said nothing, not wanting to show my ignorance.

"Go on!" he demanded, "bend over and show me your faggot cunt"

"Yes sir" I said, and bent over.

Tom was impatient now, "Spread your legs wide apart" he instructed, "now put your hands behind you and spread those bum cheeks wide open".

Was a 'cunt' a bottom? I pulled my full, soft cheeks wide apart.

Tom was quiet now, but I could hear his heavy breathing.

"Please sir, am I making you happy?" I asked.

From my bent over position, I looked back from between my parted thighs and saw that Tom had his bloated cock out and was rubbing it up and down. And then he strutted right up to me and his cock began shooting, splashing his cum juice all over my bottom. I felt a stream of it running down between my spread buttocks and coating my closed hole. The rest was trickling down the back of my hairless thighs. Tom was sighing and shaking the head of his softening cock over me. With one finger he scooped up a dollop of his cream and reached around me and smeared it over my face and lips.

"Oh thank you, sir" I said.

After we had been to the bathroom, we went back to my bedroom and Tom made me sit down and listen to what he had to say. He told me that I was going to have a talk with mummy and all the things that I had to say. I suppose it was all part of his "plan" but to my innocent young mind it was shocking and a mystery.

"But I'll never remember all the words!", I complained.

"Use your own words, faggot, use any words you like, just make sure that you make it sound like you mean it. And remember, you leave the door slightly open and I will be listening all the time, and if you mess it up, I'll bite your sissy tits off!"

I was scared and trembling as I pulled a nightie over my head and was sure that I would forget some part of what I had to say.

Naked apart from my nightie and barefoot, I went out of the bedroom with Tom following behind me. I hesitated at the foot of the stairs, I could hear mummy using the vacuum cleaner in the lounge, I turned around and Tom was standing on the stairs behind me. I walked into the lounge and almost closed the door behind me, but left it open a few inches.

"Hello Franny" mummy said, and turned off the cleaner.

I went and sat down on the couch and said "Can I talk to you mummy?"

"Of course you can sweetie" she said "but where's Tom?"

"He's reading Peter Pan" I lied.

Mummy settled down next to me on the couch. She was wearing her housecoat which was open at the front, revealing her full, juicy breasts. I snuggled into her, as I often did when I was upset or when we had one of our cosy chats. I glanced back at the door, I knew he could hear us, but was he peeping in as well? We had our backs to him on the couch so I didn't think he could see what I did next. I pressed my face into her bosom and mummy pulled her coat open to offer me her big nipple. I clamped my lips around it and began to suckle. It was something we did when I was unhappy or feeling very babyish, like when there was a thunderstorm and I would crawl into her bed. I wondered for a moment if I would ever have suckable titties.

Now I had to say all the things that Tom had told me. I let go of her teat.

"Mummy", I began, "I really like Tom"

"I know you do, sweet pea" she answered.

"No, I mean I really like him".

"And I'm sure he's very fond of you" she answered.

"Mummy, I like him so much that I want to kiss him". There! I'd said it, and there was a moment of silence.

"Well" she said quietly, "I don't think that you should tell Tom that. It's perfectly normal for small boys to develop a crush on someone. Usually it's a school teacher, or a pop star, or a footballer, it's called 'infatuation' and it feels like love but it passes with time".

"But you don't understand mummy, he's so big and strong, sometimes I want to touch him" I continued.

"Touch him how?" mummy asked.

"I don't know" I said, "anywhere I suppose" and now I had to say those things that made my cheeks blush and were so embarrassing!

"Mummy, sometimes when I look at him, it makes my little cocklet stand up stiff"

"Oh my goodness me!", she gasped, "you certainly mustn't tell him that!"

"I can't help it mummy" I went on "yesterday I saw him in the toilet and I saw his thing and it was so big and I felt sort of jealous" and I decided there and then to say something to explain the sudden appearance of my dick-head from its hiding place, "and looking at it made me get so stiff that my cocklet head popped out".

"Oh Franny!" she cried, and she reached down and raised the hem of my nightie to look at my cocklet. She pulled the skin back and examined it, "did it hurt?" she asked.

"Not really" I said, "will I get big like Tom?"

Mummy laughed, "I don't think so, my little princess, some boys are meant to be just boys" and she dropped my nightie back in place.

And then I heard a slight noise from the hallway and I glanced back and now I felt sure that he was hiding there, listening.

"You're not angry with me, are you mummy?" I asked

"Of course not darling!" she reassured me, "and I wouldn't be surprised if Tom doesn't suspect that you have a crush on him. He's seen you in girl's clothes, and in your nightie and panties, I'm sure that if he was offended he wouldn't keep coming back to play with you".

If only she knew the truth!

"I suppose so" I said, "I had better go back upstairs".

I expected to see him in the hall or going back up the stairs, but he was nowhere in sight. Nor was he in my bedroom or the bathroom. He had gone. And then I realised that the noise that I had heard must have been him slipping out. He had tricked me again.

Friday had always been my favourite day of the week. It was the last day of school before the week-end, but it was also "bath night". Every Friday night mummy ran a hot bath for me. She would fill it with foamy bubble bath and perfumed bath salts that turned the water pretty colours. And I would stand up in the tub and she would shampoo my flowing locks and wash me from head to foot, including my private parts, and when she had finished I could lie in the soothing water and play with my rubber duck and plastic mermaid. So I was not very happy when Tom turned up that night.

"Hello Tom" mummy greeted the big bully, "you're just in time for Franny's bath night. Would you like to help me bath him?"

I couldn't believe my ears! I was so capable of bathing myself, I didn't need his help, I mean, I wasn't a baby, I was thirteen! I stared at mummy with shock and disbelief, but she wasn't even looking at me.

"Of course I'd like to help you bath your pretty boy" he replied, and I knew he was making fun of me, "in fact, why don't you put your feet up and I'll look after him myself?"

"Oh how kind of you" she said, and she turned to me, "Isn't that kind of Tom, Franny, he's going to look after you. You'll like that, won't you?"

Having been made to tell her how much I liked him, I couldn't lie now.

"Yes mummy" I sadly agreed.

Mummy ran the bath as usual, and added all the bubbles and salts, then said "I'll put your bathrobe on the radiator Franny, and bring it up just as soon as it's nice and warm" but then left me alone with Tom. He was stood beside the steaming bath, hands on his broad hips, smiling that evil grin, and now I had to pull my nightie off over my head and submit.

"Come on, don't be shy, my pretty little lover boy" he laughed, "get that sissy nightie off and let's see that pink, faggot body that you love so much".

"Don't be so nasty!" I cried, but pulled the nightie off, and crept slowly toward him and the waiting bath tub. In the half-misted up wall mirror I caught sight of myself, slim, virginal and beautiful. I was prettier than any other boy that I knew, and prettier than most girls. I think that with a pair of plump titties I would have been perfect. I saw the way that Tom was looking at me, and I thought I saw hunger, or greed in his eyes, I didn't know it then because I was too young, but I know now that it was lust.

I stepped into the bath, it was just the right temperature, and I quickly slid down and sank myself in the foam and bubbles. But Tom wasn't about to wash me or play mermaids and duckies. He hauled me up to my feet. I was all slippery and smooth and flushed from the heat and the soap.

"Now beg me!, fruity boy" he said.

"Beg you for what?" I asked, knowing that something nasty was coming.

"Beg me to clean you inside" he said.

I didn't know what he meant, I prayed he wasn't going to wash my mouth out with soap.

"Please sir", I begged, "please clean me out inside".

"Good, just remember it was you that begged me to do it. Now bend over and show me that lovely bum of yours"

Fearing the worst, I mumbled "Yes sir" and bent over and rested my hands on my soft, dimpled knees. And then I felt something poking at my bottom hole and I realised that it was Tom's soapy finger.

"What are you doing?" I cried, "please leave my bottom hole alone!"

"But you begged me to do it, you silly sissy, so now I'm cleaning you out".

"Ouch!" I shouted as he forced his wicked finger up me. It hurt so much I couldn't believe it. With his finger firmly embedded in me he began to push it in and out, and twisting it around.

Just then the door swung open and there was mummy clutching my bathrobe.

"Good heavens!" she cried out, " what on earth is going on?"

Before I could say anything, Tom answered, "Franny begged me to do it! He said he wanted me to clean him inside"

"Is this true Franny?" she said.

"Yes mummy" I muttered miserably.

"We'll speak about this later" and she sounded quite upset. She hung up the robe and even before she had closed the door behind her, Tom carried on vigorously finger-fucking me.

Saturday morning Tom had football practice and he played a match in the afternoon so mummy and I had the house to ourselves. I was watching television when she sat down beside me. I cuddled up to her and I knew that she was annoyed at me because she didn't offer me her breast to suck on.

"I don't understand you these days, Franny", she said, "you're behaving like a Lolita, like a slut. I asked you not to tell Tom that you had a crush on him, and I definitely told you not to touch him, and instead you go and ask him to touch you. And you know that we have an enema tube that we use when we want to irrigate you, but you persuade poor Tom to shove his finger up your pussy".

"I'm sorry, mummy, I promise I won't do it again".

"Well, I think it's time that all three of us sat down and had a talk about the pair of you.

I shuddered at the thought.

That afternoon mummy took me up to her bedroom and sat me down at her dressing table.

"I want you to look extra special for Tom when he gets back from his game of football and we settle down for our chat. Now take off all your clothes, sweetie-pie". I quickly stripped off. Mummy brushed my long curly hair and then clipped on pearl ear-rings to my delicate lobes. She applied her best eye-liner and mascara to my excited eyes, and dabbed blusher onto my cheeks. Then she carefully applied bright red lipstick to my pouting lips. I thought that I looked like a painted doll but mummy said that she wanted to create a certain image. Then she surprised me by circling my little nipples with lipstick too. As a finishing touch she sprayed some of her perfume onto my neck and wrists. She then opened a drawer and pulled out a cellophane bag containing brand new matching tangerine nightie and panties.

"I was saving these for you for your birthday but I hope today will be a special occasion too".

Putting on new panties always thrilled me and as I pulled them up over my lovely legs, my cocklet became quite stiff and the head popped out again.

"Naughty Franny" mummy laughed, "tuck that silly little pee-pee away".

With the nightie on I posed in front of the chevalier mirror and performed a pirouette.

"You look enchanting" mummy cried, and she was right, I did!

We were waiting in the lounge when Tom came in through the back kitchen door.

"We're in the lounge!" mummy shouted out to him.

Tom came in and took in the scene. He had come straight from the football game and was still in his striped football shirt and black, brief shorts. His muscular torso filled out the shirt, you could see the outline of his chest, and his strong thighs and buttocks stretched the flimsy fabric of his shorts. His manly bulge was obvious. He seemed to be damp and I expected to see clouds of steam.

We were sitting on the same side of the dining table and Tom pulled up a chair opposite.

"As you know Tom", mummy began, "Franny is very fond of you and has confessed to me that he wants to kiss you and touch you in an intimate way. After what he asked you to do to him in the bathroom, I think it's time to explain some things to you about my pretty boy. Franny is different from most boys, he's not just prettier, he is softer and much more effeminate. As you also know, Fran likes to dress up in girl's clothes and I have always encouraged him and helped him to choose the nicest garments. By the time he was six his little sac was still empty because his balls hadn't dropped, and I had to take him to the doctor who induced them to drop down".

So far I hadn't minded what mummy had said but suddenly I felt bad about her telling him my most private secrets. But what upset me most was the way she was talking about me as if I wasn't there. Mummy continued,

"Some people think that it's an old wives' tale, but I believe that the longer that you breast-feed a child, the longer he will stay with you and the less likely he is to fly the coop, so I kept Franny sucking at my breasts until he was eight or nine, and still to this day he insists on having the occasional suck, especially when he's scared or unhappy".

"Gosh! I'd like to see that!", Tom said with a wicked grin, and from where I was sitting I could see that the end of his fat cocklet was showing out of the leg of his football shorts. I had to do something or say something to stop this awful meeting, and without thinking I blurted out, "Mummy, what's a cunt!"

There was a stunned silence and I instantly regretted my outburst, but then Tom sprang to his feet and rounded the table to where I sat quivering.

He dragged me roughly to my feet and shouted angrily, "How dare you interrupt your mummy when she's talking!" and with that he sat on my chair and pulled me face down across his knee. He flipped up my nightie over my waist, wedged the panties into my bottom crease, and smacked my bottom. And kept on smacking it! I'd never been spanked before and I was crying like a baby as he punished my lovely bottom and the back of my girlie thighs. As I wriggled and twisted across his lap, I could feel his big dick digging into me. He must have spanked me twenty times when mummy said "Alright Tom, that's enough. I think he's learned his lesson. That's the trouble with not having a man about the house, boys lose respect and discipline".

Tom threw me off his lap and said, "Now go and stand in the corner until we call you back!"

I ran sobbing into the corner of the room, faced the wall and carried on crying. It wasn't just because my botty was red and sore, but because I was so miserable.

"Now where was I?" mummy asked.

"You were telling me how sissy Franny still likes to suck on your lovely, fat titties" Tom replied.

"Honestly Tom!", mummy cried,"I never said they were lovely and fat. You're making me blush. Anyway, I'm sure you'll see him sucking me soon enough, but I think he may soon prefer to be sucking something else".

Tom and mummy both laughed and then she continued her talk.

"Franny is still very immature, even for a thirteen year old. He has no body hair, his voice shows no sign of breaking, his cocklet is too small, and although he gets stiff he can't squirt yet. I was hoping that maybe you could show him how to wank it properly, to help him to squirt"

"Of course I will", Tom said, "I'll wank his little cocklet a dozen times a day".

"That's a real help, Tom, I'm sure Frannie will be grateful. I know that Frannie would make a kind and considerate husband, but I don't think that he would ever be a success in the bedroom. I don't think that his little cocklet could ever satisfy a woman, there just wouldn't be the penetration necessary".

"But he could definitely satisfy a man" Tom said.

"I know you're right Tom" mummy agreed, "I've seen the way Mr Dodds the school bus driver looks at him, and I've seen the way men in the park and in the swimming pool are always hanging around him. It's only a matter of time before one or more of them lead him off somewhere and do dirty, sex things to him. If it has to happen, then I would rather it happened with someone that he knows, someone that he likes, and in the comfort of his own home, where I can comfort and support him".

"Don't worry" Tom assured her, "I'll enjoy doing all the dirty sex things to him".

Still stood sniffing in the corner, I began to understand the meaning of the expression "doomed".

"Come on Franny" mummy called out, "you can come and sit down again now".

I went back to my chair, wiping my eyes.

"Oh Franny, just look at you!" mummy exclaimed, "all your mascara has run, come here and let me fix you".

"Now Tom" mummy said, "now that we've had our little chat, why don't you sleep over tonight? As you know, Franny has a queen-sized bed so there's plenty of room for both of you to snuggle up".

I was lost, and I still didn't know what a cunt was.

But I was to find out that night.

Tom arranged me on my bed. He made me kneel on my hands and knees, then pushed my head down into the feather pillow, and pulled my bottom up into the air. He knelt up behind me and began to probe at me with his angry cock.

"Now you'll find out what a sissy cunt is" he promised, "because I'm going to fuck yours! Now beg me to do it"

"Please sir" I said, my voice muffled by the pillow, "please fuck my sissy cunt. Please sir, I'm begging you to do it. I want to be a real faggot, Oh fuck me and make me ashamed!"

He forced the mushroom-shaped head of his cock into my tight rosebud. I had never felt pain like it, and I screamed in agony. He didn't force it all the way in, just held its head there with my cunt gripping it tight. Then he raped me like that. In spite of my screams, mummy didn't come.

It was Sunday and the school holiday was half over.

We both went downstairs naked, Tom leading me by grasping hold of my private parts and pulling me after him. Mummy was preparing tea and toast in the kitchen. She looked up and smiled when she saw the pair of us.

"Don't go near the window Tom" she warned him "someone might see you".

"I gave sissy a bit of a fucking last night" he said, "not the whole way, just the bell end".

"I know" she replied, "I heard".

"He was really tight, I had to hold back".

Mummy reached out and fondled Tom's knob head, which responded by stiffening.

"You must be careful" she warned him, "you could harm yourself, you could tear your foreskin".

And then she turned to me, "And how are you Franny?" she asked.

"My cunt's sore" I declared.

"Of course it is, silly boy, but if Tom fucks you enough you'll soon get used to it, it might even turn out to be your erogenous zone".

"What's one of those?" I asked, unable to pronounce the strange word.

"Just wait and see" she said.

Mummy laid out the cups and saucers on the table and buttered toast on plates.

"Have you had a wank this morning?" she asked me.

"No mummy!" I replied.

"Well have a quick one now before your toast gets cold" she told me.

"I've got a better idea", Tom said, "let him wank off over his toast, then if he does squirt he can eat it up, I reckon eating cum will help him develop".

And so I stood naked next to the table and pulled on my cocklet, but apart from experiencing the delicious electric shock, I didn't squirt any juice.

"Never mind" mummy said, "it'll come soon enough, I hope. Now sit down and eat your toast. And later on, perhaps Tom will try to fuck you again".

"But mummy" I protested, "it hurts too much!".

"I'll nip round to the corner shop and get some cream" she said, "we'll rub that into your cunt".

"I don't want his cunt hole to be too soft" Tom said, "I like to hear him scream!"

When she came back she took out the tube of oil and rubbed it into my hole. I had to kneel down first and beg Tom to let me suck him. Mummy said that sucking his cock would make it nice and wet and help to lubricate me".

He bent me over the kitchen table and mummy sat beside me, holding my hand, while he started to fuck me. This time he forced all of his cock's eight inches into me. I didn't stop screaming.

On Monday morning I had my first cum. Maybe swallowing Tom's slime really had helped. It was at the table and over my toast. I was standing there, wanking my little cocklet so hard that my balls were jiggling a dance and I was getting that tingling sensation that I loved so much, when Tom ran his fingers down my spine and around my clenching bottom. Then he parted my soft cheeks and probed at my cunt with his fore-finger, then found the entry and pushed it in. Suddenly I felt this overwhelming rush and as he finger-fucked me, I stood to attention, my whole body stretched and balancing on tip-toes, then I mewed like a cat and squeaked as something erupted from my cocklet, and a little spurt of cloudy stuff spattered onto my toast. Not a lot, just a pathetic sissy squirt, but enough to bring cries of delight from Tom and mummy, and tears to my eyes.

On Wednesday, Tom told me where he had been on the last Wednesday. As I had feared, he'd been with another by.

"I was with Georgie Porgie", he explained, "he doesn't have any friends, he's a sad, lonely little creature, just ripe for fucking. Everyone makes fun of him because he has a fat arse and titties like a woman. So I told him that you really like him and want to be his friend. He got real excited. I also told him that you'd like to play with him. So when you go back to school next week you are going to invite him round here and you're going to play with him, and I mean you're going to play with his titties while I sit and watch and wank. You're going to teach him how to be a sissy queer just like you"

"Yes sir" I replied, "we'll do everything to him that you've done to me".

An onlooker would have seen a 13 year old schoolboy named Francis, his hair curling and falling around his ears and shoulders, a white shirt with wide collar and lapels that resembled a blouse, and most striking of all, a pair of short, tight pants, a dark blue in colour made of a crushed velvet material. They cut into his girlie thighs and outlined his bottom cheeks. His hairless legs were bare down to below his dimpled knees, below which he wore knee-high white stockings and black buckle shoes. But on closer examination the observer would have seen the trace of lipstick on his sweet lips, and would have noticed the plump nipples, stiff and poking through the thin fabric, and lower down, he would have seen the stiff bulge in his skin-tight shorts, and a damp patch. And he would have sensed the confident, even brazen, sexual attitude in such a young boy.

As the old Bedford bus approached the stop, old Dodds the driver relished the sight of sissy Francis waiting to board. But now when Franny got on, he didn't go to the rear of the bus where Tom and Dick and Harry were sprawled, but stopped midway, where chubby Georgie Porgie sat, deliberately staring out of the window, with the seat next to him empty. Georgie's school tie was loose and the top buttons of his shirt undone, partially revealing his fleshy chest, his fat tits waiting to be felt. Sissy Francis gave a sly smile at Tom and then sat down and turned his attention to an excited Georgie.

It was two months later, and Tom had promised a special surprise for my fourteenth birthday in June. Georgie had slept over and we were both up early that Sunday morning. We both dressed in matching, white blouses with just three buttons down the front, and I wore navy hot pants, and Georgie wore a navy mini-skirt, both items left our bottom cheeks exposed. White ankle socks and buckle shoes, of course.

I wore a small bra, my extended tits not filling it, while Georgie's fat tits overflowed his bra. I was jealous of his plump breasts and large bottom, but I was slim and prettier. We walked together, hand-in-hand, to the corner of our street. Two sissies together. The sun was out and the world was asleep. But if anyone had looked out of their window, they would have been surprised to see and hear the old school bus, out on a Sunday, making its way up the hill to the corner where we waited. It stopped and there was old Dodds the pedo driver, leering at us. We stepped aboard, and there was Tom grinning from ear to ear. I saw a pair of handcuffs hanging from the overhead rail. And there were two other men there. I recognised them both, they were regular visitors at the park and the kiddies swimming pool. But the biggest surprise was the third man, who sat sprawled out on the back seat, his trousers down round his knees and rubbing his erect cock. Georgie and I both looked at each other in shock, then we both burst out laughing – it was Georgie's dad!

The End