U. N. Known Writer

Starting Out

Chapter One

The White's lived on what was left of a big country estate which their dad – my mum's forth cousin or something like that – ran. I don't think I'd ever met them, although I knew that I had two cousins of my own over there in Hampton. One older and one younger than I was, and that was about it until the offer came through for the house which, it has to be said, had clearly seen better days.

My parents fell in love with the place the first moment they saw it, as clearly anything was better than the tent we'd been using in our former neighbours back garden, but being a teenager, I was less impressed by the history of the place, and much more concerned about the practicalities of how we were going to live in such an old fashioned place.

True the house was much bigger than the one we'd had, having four large bedrooms, on the upper floor and a further two, up in the attic, along with the normal, kitchen, living room, dinning room, hallway, and so on. In fact all the rooms were larger than what we'd had. It's just that they were all stuck in the past. The previous owners, having died years ago, and had willed it to the estate, under the condition that it was never sold or rented. So it had just stayed empty, until we turned up.

Mr. White had explained to dad that the house needed new plumbing, new wiring, total redecoration, and just about everything else as well but dad was a builder so he could do that, and at least, it came complete with furniture, albeit, rather old furniture so we would finally have beds to sleep in even if the stuff was massive, dark and totally solid.

My parents took the biggest room for themselves and offered me the choice of the remaining once, but I knew what I wanted, I wanted the attic, and that's what I got. All of it, to myself. Mind you, if I'd realised just how much crap there was up there, I may have had second thoughts. There was a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, a single flip top school style desk, with chair, and a metal framed bed. Thankfully the sheets we'd been given by some charity fitted the bed almost perfectly as did the blankets, and while I'd rather have had my old quilt, it was snug enough the first night.

On my second day in the house, after breakfast, with Mum and dad gone on yet another trip to the insurance company, I made a start on clearing my room out starting with the wardrobe. Funny thing was, the wardrobe was practically empty, containing just two items on hangers, a school blazer and a dark grey jacket. The blazer startled me really as my school had done away with them years ago, and this one was red. Not bright red, but a sort of blood red, with a gold badge on the chest pocket that had something in Latin written under it, so clearly it came from some posh school nearby. Both items smelt a little damp when I took them out, and were a touch dusty, but I didn't worry about that, although I was concern about getting my one set of my own clothes dirty – the clothes I'd been wearing when the fire had taken our house – so I left them where they were.

Having failed to clear anything out of the wardrobe, I moved over to the chest of drawers, and finally found something I could throw out. The top drawer being filled with old fashioned vests and Y-fronts that had, at some point, been white, but which were now, a rather unpleasant looking yellow that made them looked like they'd been dipped in pee. The smelled a bit like that too. So they went in the bin bag.

Socks were next, and these had weathered much better probably due to them being made of thicker material than the underwear. All the socks were long too, looking like they'd come all the way up to the knees at least. Most of them were grey in colour, but there were a few light brown ones, which were wrapped up in a small coils of elastic that had faint green tabs hanging down from the side. How odd. Still, that wouldn't stop me wearing them.

Putting the socks aside to be washed, I continued to look to see if there was anything else I could wear. Sure enough the next drawer down held a good collection of shirts. There were some white school ones, some t-shirts of various bright colours, a couple of old style sports vests, with a band of colour around the chest, and even a tan shirt that when I unfolded it, had a name badge on the front, and several other badges sewn into the sleeves. Clearly whoever had lived here had had a son who was in the scouts. An organisation I'd thought of as for "mummy's boys" as like my dad said, they weren't allowed to do anything interesting now that girls had been allowed to join. Back in his days, the scouts had got up to all sorts of much more interesting things. But not anymore. Alas.

I continued to think about how it must have been fun to live back in the days when boys could run around doing just about anything they wanted, without adults wanting to know what and where they up to, as I finished picking through the shirts, for those I could wear, including the scout and school shirts before I started on the final drawer which was to point out a rather obvious difference between boys on my age and those of years ago. Shorts.

There were nearly a dozen pairs of neatly folded shorts in the final drawer in the chest, including two pairs of light grey schools shorts, a pair of tan ones that clearly went with rest of the scout uniform I'd found and not just because of the leather belt it had with it, with the scout embalm on the buckle. Beside those more formal shorts were a basic pair of white shorts to go with the PE kit, with the remaining pairs being more colourful and I guess were used as play shorts. There were no long trousers at all, which meant, that whoever had lived here had done so in the days when boys just didn't wear long trousers at all until they left school. Imagine that?

I put all the shorts into the wash pile – mum would want them cleaned before giving them away to charity or whatever – I carried them all downstairs and left them with all the other stuff to go to the laundrette latter that day.

Back in my room, I started planning how I was going to have things eventually deciding that I'd use the small room as a bed room, and the larger one as a study, sitting, and/or leisure room. That would mean moving the bed, the chest of drawers and the wardrobe which turned out to be rather easy. Well the first two were, as the bed came apart with the aid of a spanner, and the chest, now empty, I was able to "walk" from one room to the other. There was just no way I'd be able to move the wardrobe on my own but I did try and that's when I discovered the drawer in the bottom of it.

There were no handles on the drawer which is why I hadn't seen it before, and in it were the toys the previous boy had played with. The majority of which was taken up by several boxes of Meccano, that old construction kit stuff, with little bits of thin metal and nuts and bolts to hold them together. There was even a collection of little booklets showing line drawing of short trousered boys, making stuff with it, and details about how to do just that.

With the wardrobe blocking the rest of my plans, I had nothing else to do, so I tinkered with the Meccano for a while, joining the bits together in a random way, just seeing what would fit with what but not making anything in particular which, took so long that the next thing I knew was that my parents were back.

Dinner that day was a take away fetched by dad on his way back from the laundrette, as mum both didn't feel like cooking, and the kitchen really wasn't clean enough to risk it yet.

The next few days went on the much the same way. Mum and dad were busy getting the family parts of the house liveable, and I helped them out where and when I could, which must of impressed dad, because at the end of the week, he said I'd shown I was mature enough to repaint my own room. Of course that just meant he didn't want to do it, but I didn't mind.

After hauling paint tins, roller, dust sheets and other bits up to my room, I suddenly realised that I didn't have the overalls I usually wore when helping dad around the house. It was something that happened all the time, after the fire, realising stupid things that you were missing, but this bothered me as I didn't want to risk spoiling the small amount of decent clothes I had left. That's when I spotted the laundry bags which not only contained the few items of my clothes but all the things I'd put out for the charity shop as well. Mum, or more likely dad, had just dumped them all back in my room. Surely in amongst that lot would be something that wouldn't matter if it got a few splatters of paint on it.

The bag was jumbled up, so I had to empty it, and then sort through it, and somewhere along the way, I found myself putting the stuff back in the chest of drawers as I'd found it before selecting a red t-shirt and a pair of slightly stretchy blue shorts with white trim around the waist, legs, and up the hips, that looked like they would be least missed. Then, after shutting my bedroom door, I started to change.

At the age of fourteen, I was still one of the shortest boys in my year, even though I had started to develop in all the places where boys that age develop although I wasn't, by any means, muscular, or anything, at least everything I had was in proper proportion to my height. It's just that I wasn't all that tall.

Pulling the shirt on I was taken at once by just how tight it was and yet it didn't seem to be overly small, so perhaps that was the way it was meant to be. The sleeves were cut really short too, and tight, coming down only a couple of inches from my shoulder, while, for a few seconds I wasn't sure my head was even going to go through the neck opening until, at last it did, only for the opening to seemingly close up again around my neck. The rest of the shirt didn't so much hang down, my chest as coat it. Clinging to me, like a second skin, so tight that it showed up all the lines of my chest, and even some of ribs. Heck, even my stubbornly stiff nipples peeked up the shirt. Weird, but then the shorts weren't any better.

One thing was for sure, the shorts lived up to their name as they sure were short, leaving all of my thighs exposed, which looked really odd as my thighs, thanks to my board shorts, were really whiter than the rest of my legs, but that wasn't the worst thing about the shorts, as like the shirt, they clung to me. This might not have been so bad – okay so maybe it would have – had I been wearing anything under them, but in order to save my boxers I'd gone commando so there was nothing to stop the shorts from showing up everything I had.

Checking myself out in the wardrobe mirror, which was now in my bedroom, I could see just how the dark blue cloth clung to the contours of my buttocks, and even dipped into the crack which, at least wasn't as uncomfortable as a wedgie would have been. Around the front though, the tightness, coupled with the shortness, did little to hide the fact I was a boy as my nuts were pulled up tight into a neat little bump in the front, upon which rested my penis, all of which was very nearly outlined in the material. Still it wasn't as if anyone was going to see me. Was it? Which was just as well as I looked like an overgrown little kid.

For the next several hours, dressed in the strange, old fashioned little boy clothing, having covered up the furniture in dust sheets, I painted the walls in a bright white, undercoat, taking special care not to get anything on the natural coloured woodwork, thinking that I'd be able to do that in a gloss varnish at a later date. As I worked the room slowly came back to life, becoming both brighter and more welcoming than the gloomy hole it had been to begin with.

I was just working towards the final corner when I became aware of the door opening behind me. Thinking it was either mum or dad, I just asked what they thought, without turning around. The answer I got, certainly wasn't the one I was expecting.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Surprise to hear another boy's voice I dropped the brush onto my foot as I turned around to come face to face with my first member of the White family in the form of their youngest son Kurt.

He was eleven. That much I already knew, but what I hadn't expected was the scowl that was on his otherwise cute face, that was curtained in long blond hair, that fell down well over his ears and was, an unruly mess. Other than that, he was a touch shorter than I was, and dressed in similar clothing, only his t-shirt and shorts were in the modern style, with long baggy sleeves, and legs that came down, past his knees, whilst hiding all signs of whatever body was underneath them which mine certainly didn't as Kurt was soon to note.

"Shit I can see your bollocks!"

The words made me blush, for reasons that I didn't understand as I heard, and said worse, many times myself, and it was, after all true, but we were both boys so what did it matter. There was just something about the tone in his surprisingly gruff voice, that made me uneasy enough to put my hands between my legs.

"Too late now, I've seen them!" he laughed, before saying that my mum wanted me to clean up before going downstairs to meet the rest of his family, and then he was gone, before I could even explain why I was dressed like that, and that I normally didn't wear stuff like that. And then, if that wasn't enough, just as he was heading back out of the door, Kurt added: "You'd best hurry up too, or else your dad will spank that big round bum of yours."

It wasn't until I was standing in the over sized shower, washing myself in dribbles of tepid water, that that phrase came to haunt me. Why would Kurt have said such a thing. Sure the tightness of the shorts did make my bum look bigger and rounder than anything else I had, but why had the other boy thought I'd be spanked. My parents had never even threatened to do anything like that, even though I know it had happened back when my dad was growing up. Instead, whenever punishment was needed, I'd be sent to my room, or grounded in general, loose pocket money, that sort of thing. Never anything physical. And yet now that was all I could think about. How odd.

When I finally made it downstairs, Kurt gave me a funny look and smiled when he saw the baggy combat trousers and Nike t-shirt I had on, but didn't say anything about what I'd worn earlier. In fact, I don't think he spoke at all, although his mum did more than enough for him but then so did my mum. Guess that's what happens when Mum's get together. They talk, mostly about the men folk who, unlike me and Kurt, had managed to avoid this meeting. My dad, and his dad, being at work, while his recently turned sixteen year old bother Ross, was apparently sitting a driving test that would allow him to drive on private land, but not the roads.

Chapter Two

A few days after the White family called around, mum started getting concerned that I was spending too much time in the house, and decided that I should have a day off. Unfortunately, this came at what I thought was a critical time, in my decorating schedule, and I didn't want to go, but I had a plan to make mum change her mind, as there was no way she'd let me out of the house if I didn't have anything 'decent' to wear, would she.

That morning I got up and headed directly over to where the old clothes were still sitting in their bin bags. Rummaging through I soon found the perfect things. A bright yellow shirt, that had the word "PARIS" printed on it in big black letters underneath the silhouettes of some of the French capitol's best known landmarks. It was, like all the other shorts, seriously outdated, but at least it wasn't as tight as some of the other things, even if it was a touch on the shorts side. Speaking of shorts, I found a matching pair, complete with a logo I didn't recognise. These were slightly darker in colour than the shirt, but still fairly bright, with just a dark strip running down the hip. They were though, much tighter, and very short. This meant that they clung to my bum like a second skin, and, had this seem that fitted both between my buttocks and between my nuts. This, naturally, showed off my nuts somewhat, although not in an overly indecent way, although you could see the shape of them. To complete the look, I added a thin, childish necklace, a pair of long socks, and my own trainers. Now I just had to wait to see what mum and dad did when they noticed.

My parents didn't say a thing. In fact, I'm not entirely sure they even noticed. Not even when I made a big pretence of trying to sit down with the tight shorts on, and, then when standing again to take my breakfast bowl to the sink, had to stop to pick out the seem from my bum. Instead, mum just carried on asking about what I was going to do, to which I said I didn't know, but that was okay as she had an idea of her own. Apparently they'd found some library books during the clear out, and having rung ahead to explain, it would be okay for me just to drop them off on the way to wherever it was I was going. I was going to protest, but never got the chance. As soon as breakfast was over, I found myself holding a pile of books, in the back seat of our car, and then deposited outside the local library.

With little option but to take the books back, I headed into the library, as quickly as possible and directly up to the counter, where I waited in line for my turn which soon came along with a little surprise.

"Hello, little boy, what can I do for you?" The rather old, and possibly short sighted assistant said, "Are you bring back your mummy's books?"

It took a few moments to realise she was speaking to me, and only after I'd had a look around for a small boy. At this point I should have said something but I couldn't I was too busy blushing as there's nothing more embarrassing for a teenager than to be taken for a little kid. So, saying nothing, I put the books on the counter and let her get on with what it was she had to do in order to get the books back into circulation, while I made a hasty retreat into the bowls of the building at first heading towards the adult section until the same woman shouted out the directions to the children's area.

The library was split into two parts, divided by the desk where the assistants sat. The children's and young adult sections on one side and the rest of the library on the other. and you can guess which part I found myself stuck in. That's right! The kid's section which, at least was empty, but that made me feel even more conspicuous. Anyone over the age of twelve was allowed in the adult section but given that I was well aware I looked younger than that, I didn't dare try to make it passed the counter so was stuck where I was.

The assistant at the desk kept glancing in my direction, so I did what you're meant to do in the library and started looking along the shelves for something to read. Of course I didn't really want to read, but even so, after a few minutes of browsing something caught my eye. A badge with Latin beneath it, which took me a few minutes to place, but when I did I realised it was the same one that was stitched onto the breast pocket of the school blazer that was hanging in my wardrobe.

It turned out that the school the uniform belong too, had published a sort of year book every year it had been going and these were kept in the "Local History" section of the library, no doubt, for when the kids did projects on the subject. The books were the strange to look at, all formal laid out, written in a way that it's hard to imagine anyone has every spoken, and dotted with photos of stern-faced teachers, flanking endless class and sports team photos, starting with the youngest and working up to the older boys.

Taking some of the books over to one of the reading tables, I looked through them, smiling at the freshly scrubbed faces, sitting in formal rows, in uniforms just like the one I had, clearly bought new just before the photo was taken, as several of the boys didn't have hands, the sleeves being too long. Yet all of them was very neatly turned out. Socks pulled up, shirts tucked in, caps pulled down firmly on their heads and so on. However as I flicked though the years something became obvious, and that was that it was only the younger years that wore shorts, not all of them as I'd thought.

By the time I got up to the third years, most of the boys had changed into long trousers, and by the following year there would only be one, or perhaps two still in shorts and I wondered why that was. A quick look into the uniform requirements for the school showed that, it was a ruled that all the first formers wore shorts, but after that, it wasn't and was left up to the boys, or more likely their parents, when to change over. Clearly, whoever lived in my house, hadn't been one of those and I wondered what he must have felt like to be the only boy in his class still with bare knees. And if the other boys would have teased him about it.

Clearly as I thumbed through the rest of the book, the school was the centre of these boys lives back then, as it seemed to do everything, up to and including a scout group which, of course, once more matched the uniform that was in my wardrobe. And, just like with the school's uniform, most of the boys in their second year, and nearly all in the years after were in long trousers, but for a couple who, no doubt, were the same ones that still wore shorts to school. And there was a reason for that.

Reading further through the book I came to a passage on discipline, which, not surprisingly was strict, and involved numerous things that were no longer carried out, including corporal punishment. However that isn't the part that caught my eye to start with. Instead I became fascinated by the school's apparently traditional policy of making troublemakers wear shorts instead of long trousers. The theory being that if they behaved like little boys then that was how they were treated, and sure enough, on closer examination, I noticed that at least one of the two boys I'd seen in shorts in the fourth form, had been in long trousers the year before.

Suddenly, I realised that not only had I become hard, but that my hand was holding myself, through the yellow shorts under the table I was reading the books from. Looking down I could clearly see the tent caused by my excitement and it puzzled me. Not the erection itself, but what had caused it. Surely it couldn't be the idea of being made to dress and being treated like a little kid, little kids who would get spanked, and even canned. Punishments that would be both humiliating and painful and which, would clearly lead to the truth to the old tale of boys not being able to sit down for days, if not weeks.

These thoughts confused me, and embarrassed me at the same time, especially as they appeared to make my erection all the harder, and a public library wasn't the place for such things, especially when you're wearing too tight, and too tight shorts with a shirt that won't come anywhere close to covering anything. I had to get out of there.

It took nearly half an hour before my erection would go away, which I spent going through the bookshelves looking for anything I could find that would take my mind off it, which I eventually found, in reading the school's results tables which were printed in the back of each book. Then, when everything in my shorts had gone back to normal, I put the books back, waited until the assistant was busy and then made a dash for the door.

Finding myself outside in the bright sunlight of the day, I quickly changed my mind about heading into town, and instead turned to go the other way, directly back to my new home, and I very nearly made it too.

Unknowingly, I'd just crossed over onto the land of the old country estate I now lived on, when a familiar voice called out: "What are you wearing now?"

Snapping to a halt, I looked around the apparently empty road, to just make out the blond smiling head of Kurt White, standing beside a rather beat up car, that was parked just inside a field. "I went to the library!" I explained, somewhat pathetically, before asking what he was doing there.

"We've been into town for some stuff," he explained, "and this is as near as Ross can drive without going on the roads."

"Oh!" I said, walking over, and getting my first sighting of Kurt's big brother as he came around the car to great me.

"Hi!" you must be the new tenant.

"Yeah!" I said, my mouth a little dry. Ross White may have been only a year older than I was but he looked so completely different. In jeans and white vest that showed off both his deep sun tan and muscular arms, he appeared to tower over me, even though they couldn't have been more than a few inches difference in our heights. Yet as he spoke his next line, I visible shrunk on the spot. "I thought you'd be older."

"Told you!" Kurt piped up, himself dwarfed by his brother, but not noticing it, or even caring, that Ross was able to see clearly over the top of his blond head.

"Whatever!" Ross, dismissed him, before turning back to me, "What's your name?"

"Joe Fletcher!"

"Joey!" Kurt giggled, for reasons that weren't all that clear. Do you want a lift back to your place?"

"I'm okay!"

"It's no problem, we're going back anyway." Ross shrugged, "I've passed my off road test so it's okay, you know."

"Joey's probably scared." Kurt giggled some more, pointing at me. Mocking me, in a way I couldn't let go.

"I'm not!" I replied

"Great, get in then." Ross said, opening the back door for me.

I was still thinking about refusing when I saw something that looked odd. There was another seat, sitting on top of the regular car seat. "What's that?" I asked.

"A baby seat!" Kurt replied, smiling.

It looked too large for a baby, which I pointed out, which turned out to be correct as it was actually designed for a five or six year old, that their mum sometimes looked after.

"I thought you'd know that," Kurt sneered when Ross had finished explaining, "Given that it can't be too long since you sat in one."

"I've never sat in one." I said proudly.

"Really," Ross said, behind me, "I think you'd still fit. Want to try it out?"

"He'd be too scared." Added Kurt before I could say anything.

It was a childish challenge that I should have ignored, but for some reason I just couldn't let it go. Kurt just looked so smug and I so wanted to wipe that from his face, so I agreed.

Climbing into the car, I found it easy to lower myself into the heavily padded seat which was surprisingly comfortable, even if the material it was made from did tickle the backs of my bare thighs slightly.

"Bet the straps won't go around him." Kurt stated and once more I was determined to prove the eleven year old wrong.

Leaning forward I tried to get my arms into the shoulder straps but I couldn't quite do it but, thankfully I wasn't the only one who wanted to prove Kurt wrong.

"The harness can be adjusted." Ross stated, telling me to get out for a moment so he could do it.

Sure enough each of the four main straps that made up the car seat's harness could be adjust via a fold-over slide that could be used to either shorten or lengthen them. What's more, the back of the seat had a series of slots running up it through which the straps could be fed, to make them come out higher up. This is what Ross set about doing, moving them right up to their highest setting, and then lengthening all the others. When it was done he told me to get back in, which I did, bolstered on by the sore look on Kurt's face.

Back in the seat once more, Ross guided me to lean forward and to reach back with my arms so they would go into the shoulder straps which were then pulled up over my shoulders, close to my neck, so they could hang down my front. He then pulled out the two straps from around my side, one of which ended with a large black buckle with a bright red release button in the middle. Into this he fed all the other straps, fastening them all together into it, with a series of loud clicks.

Ross turned to his brother "See Joey can fit into the baby seat."

Suddenly I didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or excited. On one hand it felt great to prove Kurt wrong, but on the other I knew I shouldn't really be strapped into a little kids seat like that. Kurt though, knew what he thought.

"He's not in the seat properly though, there's still one more strap."

"Oh right," Ross said reaching into the car, under the seat and pulling out the missing strap from between my legs. "Sit back!" he told me, which automatically I did, as he pushed it up into the bottom of the buckled where it clicked shut.

"There," Ross said, even more smugly than before, "Now Joey's in the baby seat properly."

"So," the smaller blond boy shrugged, "Does that mean we can go home now?"

"Sure."

They didn't ask me, so I just sat there while Ross went around and got into the driver's seat, while his brother got in beside him.

Soon the car was moving and there was nothing I could do but sit there, safely cocooned in my seat just like the toddler it had been designed for. I was totally pinned into place, even though I could still move my arms, and most of my legs. I just couldn't get out of the seat.

Every now and again, as we made our back home, Kurt would turn around in his seat and stare at me, with that same slightly scary smile on his face from when he'd first seen me all dressed up in the little kid clothes. This got on Ross' nerves and he was always telling his brother to sit down or else he'd end up in the car seat the next time they went out.

Eventually we pulled up outside my house, and that was when I got another surprise. Even more the car had come to a halt I was pressing the big red button but nothing was happening. I thought it was just stiff, so I pushed harder, using both my index fingers but I just couldn't budge it.

"Need some help there Joey!" Kurt mocked, placing more emphasis on the childish version of my name than was needed.

"Yes!" I said, trying again.

"Yes what?" he teased.

I had to say "Please!" before he would get out of the front of the car, and walk around to the back. There he opened the door and simply stabbed at the button. Instantly, the buckle came apart and I was free. Kurt was also giggling again and with good reason.

The buckle that had held me so firmly to the chair, had done something else too. With the crutch strap pulled up so tightly across my groin, the motion of the car travelling over uneven ground had caused it to cause friction across my groin which had, given me another erection. An erection that was, once more, clearly visible through the thin, yellow shorts I had on.

"Seems little Joey enjoyed his ride!" the boy laughed, as I scrambled to get out of the car without Ross noticing just how hard I had become, which, I think I got away with.

Chapter Three

The following week bought no new experiences, and I had my own clothes back, so dressed once more in combat trousers and my red Nike t-shirt, I set about completing the transformation of my bedroom by clearing out some of the less needed furniture. Starting with the wardrobe.

I was clearly going to need some help to shift the heavily constructed unit but, before then I figured I could make a start by stripping it down as much as I could, to make that task easier. This I started to do by removing the loose items from inside, including the blood red school blazer with it's gold coloured Latin Badge, which I lay out on the bed. The Meccano was also unpacked and put to once side, along with a few other of the old age toys that were sitting in the bottom. This left the wardrobe empty so I could see if there were any of the parts that would come apart as, clearly there was no way the entire thing had been bought upstairs in one piece.

After, careful examination I was able to locate some wing nuts, and there were some obvious fastenings that I'd be able to remove. However that wasn't all I found. There was also a cane tucked into the very top of the wardrobe.

I'd never seen a real one before, but it looked just like those in the old comic books with a crooked handle, and just looking at it made me cringe. It looked so lethal, just thinking about being told to bend over to receive 'six of the best' from it, made me shudder. But then no one, these days, would dare to use it on a boy, especially a teenager. And yet, back in the days when my room had last been used, clearly they had, and no one had given it a second thought. Just what had boys back then thought about it, when schools and other places, were allowed to use such things on their bottoms.

As I continued to deconstruct the wardrobe, my mind came back not just to the cane, but also to the red blazer laying on my bed. Yet when Dad finally came up stairs to help me, he didn't mention either of them. Well the blazer he knew about already, but the cane, you'd have thought, would have given raise to some comment or other but instead he ignored it, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to see in a boy's bedroom, which, I guess in that house, it was.

Later that day I once more had the house to myself, while my parents went off in search of the ever illusive insurance claim, and as before I decided to make use of the washing machine without Mum fusing. This of course meant I would have to find something to wear, which is once more when my eye returned to the red blazer once more. Well why not? I thought to myself.

Removing the combat trousers and Nike T-shirt, which I then tossed into the pile for washing before figuring that, probably my boxers should join them. Once naked, I found that my prick was already starting to stir, so I wasted no time in picking a pair of the old style briefs from the chest of drawers, and pulling them up to hold everything in place which they did with easy, given just how tight they were, although that didn't bother me anymore, like it once had, even if I did have to make sure everything was tucked in correctly.

Oddly I felt more naked when I was wearing the small blue briefs than I had done when I'd actually been naked, so went to another chest of the drawers, and removed a crisp white shirt, which I slipped my arms into, and buttoned up. The shirt, like everything else, was slightly too small for me, but did cover up everything it was meant to, even if you could make out most of the contours of my torso, and my nipples, through the thing material. You could also see the blue of the underpants as well, even though the shirt only just covered them. Still, at least I didn't fell quite so naked now, and could put the rest of the clothes on at a more sedate pass.

Picking another couple of items from the drawer, I sat on the edge of my bed to pull on the long grey socks, which I pulled all the way up to my knees before folding them over, so they'd stay there, just like I'd seen in the old photos that lined the staff corridor at school.

The shorts were next, and these proved to be somewhat heavier than I'd expected them to be, which made me feel a little more understanding about the caning issue, as at least they would have offered some sort of protection to a naughty boy's bottom although not that much else, as just like all the other shorts I'd found, they only just made it down onto my thighs before ending. This still showed up the whiteness of my bare legs, compared to my brown knees a little, although the difference had faded over the last few weeks.

A tie I'd found in the pocket of the blazer and this I put on, in the normal fashion, before I picked up the blazer itself and slipped my arms into the sleeves. Like the shorts it felt strangely heavy, as I was putting it on, but once it was up on my shoulders, it felt good. I decided to see what I looked like in the mirror but found the resulting image disappointing, although the reason for that was quickly obvious. I was just too scruffy to suit the clothes, so much so that they just didn't look right.

It took me another twenty minutes to slowly work out everything that was wrong with the way I'd dressed myself. The first was that I needed to tuck the shirt into the shorts and then to do up all the buttons, before fixing the tie close into my throat, in a smaller knot that would allow both the tails to trail down, almost all the way to my waist.

My hair was another problem. It was too long, and too shaggy to be from the period, I was dressing for. I didn't want to cut it, of course, but was able to first brush and comb it out, before pulling it back and tucking it up under the little red cap, which once pulled down formally onto my forehead, gave the illusion that I had short hair once more.

Finally, walking around in socks, was not only slippy but not right, but I'd spotted just the things, a pair of old style brown sandals, that I could buckle onto my feet, just, and complete the look I wanted.

The second time I looked in the mirror I saw just what I wanted to see. An old style schoolboy, who couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, and no doubt in the first year at some big scary school, where who-knows-what would await him. Perfect.

Picking up my modern teenager clothes, I headed downstairs to the washing machine, which I fed them into and set in motion and then sat around wondering what to do until the machine had finished it's cycle and all I could think off was homework, so that's what I did.

Back up in my room, at sat at the old fashioned wooden desk, with my books laid out in front of me, but I couldn't really concentrate on the work, as I usually did my best work under pressure of a deadline and this assignment wasn't due in for another week yet. Not that it mattered if it was late, as I was hardly going to get punished, given what I'd been through, and even if I was, it wouldn't have been anything more than half an hour in detention, or ironically, even more homework. Neither of which was anything like what boys in the old days would have had to go through.

With those thoughts in my mind it wasn't long before my penis was waking up once more, and attempting to make a tent in my shorts only to be, thankfully, stopped by the tightness of the briefs I wore beneath them. So clearly the older style uniforms had some hidden advantages over the modern ones. That would also explain why boys in those days were more likely to keep their uniforms on once they got home rather than instantly changing as me and my mates did. Or did that have more to do with the added protection that the shorts offered to a naughty boys bottom.

More than once my mind drifted as I tried to imagine what I would look like laying across my dad's lap for a spanking, and just how much would that hurt? Of course, my dad would never have done that, but there was no one else I could imagine in a position to spank me. My teachers were all too wishy-washy, if not, women, as was the head, or 'principle' as she preferred to be called. She could never wield a cane into a bent over boys bottom. Never. You'd need something with muscles to do that. Someone like Ross White, for example.

Yes, Ross White could certainly spank someone, given the clearly muscles he had in his arms from doing all that work around the estate and for a moment I wondered if he'd every spanked Kurt, but given the way the younger boy behaved, decided that that was unlikely. Still, I bet he could punish a younger boy if he wanted to, and do it properly too. In a way that would make him cry and sob, leaving marks across the boy's bum that would last for days and make it difficult for him to sit down. Yes Ross White could certainly do that. He was big enough, and strong enough, and if he said do something then people would. Not that it was ever going to happen, of course. Or would it.

As my eyes drifted around the room, I saw something that gave me an idea. Well two something's actually, but the idea was the same for both. It was the pair of simple, old style black rubber soled plimsolls. They had no hard parts in them, no metal or plastic, so could be used without causing any real harm, especially if you held them by the heel with the rest sticking out from the front. That would make them into the perfect spanking thing just like they used to joke about at school.

Picking up one of the shoes in the way I thought best, sent a shiver of anticipation through my spine, making me wonder why I'd never thought of doing this before, as it felt so natural. My erection certainly seemed to confirm that idea too.

Next I had to work out just how to do it. Clearly standing up and just bending over was the most obvious but I wasn't sure that was going to work so instead, I did what I thought a school boy would do and bent over the desk.

Holding the plimsoll my right arm went as far back as it could, and then bought the old fashioned footwear down as hard as I could across the seat of the shorts.

THWACK!

There was a momentary pause before a jolt of searing pain ran right through my right buttock, followed by a red hot tingling sensation that seemed to last for ages, but which was probably only really around for half a minute or so.

THWACK!

The second blow, this time delivered from the other side onto my left hand buttock, was if anything a touch harder as I twisted my torso slightly, so I could produce a more substantial sting that made me gasp out loud.

THWACK! THWACK!

Now I figured I had the hang on spanking myself, I wasted no time in getting right into it.

THWACK! THWACK!

In no time at all, I was able to feel the cheeks of my bum, warming up, and turning red.

THWACK! THWACK!

Even with my shorts and briefs still on I knew my erection was back, and that, had it been able, it would have been bouncing around wildly to every strike of the gym shoe.

THWACK! THWACK!

The blows although not all that even, were certainly having the desired effect, causing me to groan every now and again, and then, at every blow.

THWACK! THWACK!

My bum was soon burning, proving that although the shorts did provide the spanked boy with some protection it really wasn't anywhere near enough to actually protect from a real spanking.

THWACK! THWACK!

"Ouch!" I yelped from time to time, whenever the gym shoe struck a particularly sensitive spot, which it seemed to be doing more and more often as the spanking continued and my aim got poorer, and poorer.

THWACK! THWACK!

Tears appeared in the corners of my eyes, unannounced, signalling that I wasn't going to be able to keep this up for much longer.

THWACK! THWACK!

I yelped and started to cry continuously, as I frantically jerked my bottom up and down, and from side to side in a futile attempt to avoid the now failing footwear.

THWACK! THWACK!

Yet, as my right hand continued the self spanking towards it's obvious conclusion, my left hand found a way to speed things up considerably, by heading down, underneath me, where it was able to grab at my erection through the front of my shorts and with seconds it was all over.

THWACK!

The last blow landed without any of the power of those which had gone before it, but by then, the stamina had already left my body, along with the sperm that was already flooding out of my erection and into the little boy briefs. Seconds later I was collapsing from the desk, onto the floor, where I was going to remain for some time, curled up, in my schoolboy uniform, exhausted, with an intensely painfully, but wonderful burning sensation, in my crimson behind.

Chapter Four

A few days after my encounter with the gym shoe, I came downstairs to find the living room was littered with black plastic bags or clothes.

This wasn't all that unusual as people were always dropping stuff like that around the house, using the excuse that we would be needing extra clothes now that all of ours had been destroy. This, of course was right, only they were using it as an excuse to dump all their old crap on us which we would then have to sort out into what we could actually use and what we would have to pass onto some other poor unfortunate to get rid off.

Thankfully I was dressed for doing something like this and was once more wearing some of the abandoned clothes found in my room, as I'd had the intention of doing some more decorating in my room. The gym clothes I'd selected allowing a lot more movement than my own clothes, while it didn't matter if they got splattered in paint, although as the off white shorts were, as usual, very short, and the faded yellow singlet, with the blue trim and strip across the middle, didn't actually cover that much of me, so most of the paint would be on my skin. Of course that would now have to wait while I cleared this stuff, even though none of it would be of any use.

Opening the first bag I came too, my suspicious were confirmed as it was full of women's clothes. Old women's clothes that not only would my mum not be seen dead in, but which wouldn't have fitted her in a million years anyway.

Two further bags had similar or worse things in, which pretty much explained why the bags were still here. No doubt put to one side, for just long enough for the donators to forget about them before Mum passed them on to someone else, who probably didn't want them. However, just before I was going to give up and go back upstairs, one of the bags caught my attention. Unlike all the others this one clearly had something other than clothes in it, as the plastic was pushing out in various places by odd, and clearly hard shapes buried within the bag.

The bag was full of old baby stuff, the likes of which was most unsuitable to a family who's only child was already fourteen, as it had been years since I'd had any need for baby bottle, plastic crumb-catcher bibs, amongst other general baby and toddler stuff. Then came the surprise.

Pulling on a bit of coloured webbing that was sticking out of the bag, and I found myself holding a whole tangled mess of baby and toddler reins that weren't all that dissimilar from the straps on the car seat I'd been strapped into. They were all in one big mess that took careful examination of the differing buckled before I could even make a start at working out what went were, and with what. Some of the buckled were metal, others plastic, and there were even bits of Velcro mixed in.

Sitting on the floor I began working through them, sorting out the differing sets and then laying them out around me, to see just how many there were and what they were for until I ended up with six sets in total. One in the brown webbing I'd first spotted, a similar pair in white, a black set with a complicated-looking buckle at the back, two grey pairs with thin green stripes on them, and plastic clips, and finally a white leather set, with metal clips.

Suddenly there appeared a pair of large trainers right next to my new collection. Slowly I looked up, past the slightly baggy jeans, and over the dark t-shirt with the impossible to read motif on the front to find Ross White staring down at me. "That's an impressive collection." He said, nodding at the straps laid out on the floor.

"Yeah I just found them." I said, stating the obvious.

"So I see," he said, looking around at all the bags, "You mum told mine that there was loads of stuff here, but I didn't realise it was this much. There's even some outside, old cots and stuff, that's why I'm here, to see if any of it is any use. So I bought my tools down to see if I could put any of them together."

"Oh okay." I shrugged. Not sure of what else I could say and intimidated by the way he towered over me.

"You know, I bet some of those things could be made small enough for girls dolls and things, you should sell them."

"Made smaller?" I repeated, like an idiot.

"Yeah, you see those little bars on them there," he pointed, "If you slide them up or down, they'd make the straps smaller so they'd fit onto a kid's doll. Or, I guess, if you went the other way, then they'd fit onto the fattest kid themselves. Heck, they'd probably even fit you. Go on, I dare you."

It was a dare from an older boy who I admired and wanted to impress so there was no way, I couldn't do it, and yet that didn't stop me from blushing as I slide my arms through the straps and then pulling on the rest of the reins on like it was a somewhat ropy jacket, with the large buckle at the front. As I'd already loosened the sliders to the widest possible setting, there was easily enough length in the straps to enable me to push the two parts of the buckle together, with the reins hanging somewhat loosely over my shoulders.

"Told you." Ross laughed, not unkindly, "Now you look like a massive toddler."

Jumping up, I made something of a show of myself by living up to his description, bouncing and running around, the room whilst making outlandish baby sounds. This was something that I normally wouldn't have dreamed of doing, especially with someone else there, but it just seemed the right thing to do, and did make Ross laugh so hard he actually had to clutch at his sides at one point.

"Jesus, you're lively little thing ain't you." He reached down and grab something from the floor, "Perhaps we should put the walking strap on as well, before you break something."

"The what?" I asked, stopping in my tracks.

He held it up. "This thing! It's what the mother would hold to stop you running off. Come here and let's see if it fits."

I walked over to him and turned my back but after a few seconds, nothing happened and I turned back around to see Ross was slightly puzzled.

"Erm, there doesn't seem to be anywhere to attach it, but… Oh wait a minute… I see the problem. The clips are here on your front. You must have it on back to front. Take it off, and have another go."

Reaching up with my hands – I had to use both – to squeeze the clasp on my chest. Then as the straps became loose, I shrugged my shoulders so they would slip down to the floor, where I stepped out of them.

Ross picked up the straps and after a few seconds turned them upside down, before offering them up to my chest, but clearly that wasn't right as the buckle was still at the front. "Maybe you have to put your arms in first, from the front, instead of from behind like a jacket."

I tried it, holding my arms out in front of my and then sliding the reins up them, and onto my shoulders, where Ross, who was now standing behind me, was able to pull them around my back and clip the buckle shut.

"Yeah, that's more like it. Now hold still while I put the walking thing on."

It still took a few moments for him to attach the grey walking strap, onto the twin plastic clips that were on either side of the buckle. I couldn't see what he was doing so just had to stand there, while he did it, but I could hear the click as it finally slotted into place.

"Okay, I think that's it." He said, shaking out the reins to loosen them up. "Try and walk forwards."

I did as I was told but I didn't get more than a couple of steps, before Ross pulled back on the strap in his hand and I was pulled up short. The sensation was one of the strangest I'd ever felt, as if I had lost all control on what I could do, and I guess I should have been embarrassed to be wearing a set of baby reins, that were being controlled by a someone only a year or so older than I was, but, oddly I wasn't. It felt sort of right, in an odd way, given the was I was dressed in the old fashioned little boy clothes, and he was in the jeans and t-shirt, that made me feel as if the age difference between us was a lot greater than it actually was.

"See if you can get free." Ross suggested, and although I wasn't sure I wanted to be free, I had to try.

Reaching around behind me, I couldn't quite make contact with the clasp, as it was just out of my reach. However, while I was doing that, one of the shoulder straps slipped down, and I realised that I didn't need to undo it, as the reins were loose enough so that if I shrugged my shoulder they would fall down on their own. So that's what I did, and soon the entire thing was down around my ankles.

"Darn, you made that look easy." Ross picked up the straps from the floor. "Surely it isn't meant to be that easy. Let's have another go."

I stood still once more with my arms out so Ross could once more slip the reins back up them and over my shoulder and then spent some time, fiddling with them in an effort to make them fit better. This took some time, as he had to adjust all of the bar sliders one by one, to different lengths, and then let some of them out again in order to get the reins balanced properly on me.

Eventually, he finished and the reins became snug. Looking down I could see that the slack had come out of the shoulders, so the straps passing over them were now pulled in away from my arms towards my head, while the chest straps were now taunt against my torso.

"Okay, try them out again Joey. See if you can run away from me."

I did as I was asked, but was almost instantly stopped dead in my tracks when I reached the length of the reins. The harness pulled snug against my body, making it feel more babyish than before which, of course made me feel more embarrassed about wearing them, and quite rightly so as I'd never seen anyone over the age of around four or five wearing them before. But, as Ross encouraged me to run away from him again, I started to enjoy the game, especially one the occasion that the reins slipped out of his hands and I was able to spring into the kitchen.

A stand off soon took place, where we stood on either side of the kitchen table waiting to see who would make the first move. Ross did, making a dash for me, but I was just a bit quicker and able to shake him off and make it back into the living room, where I decided to see what he would do if I took the reins off.

Reaching behind my back with my left arm, I could just about feel the buckle now it was tighter to my back, but only with my fingertips so was unable to squeeze the buckle enough to release it. Attempting to use my right arm gave the same result, so instead I went back to the way I'd used before. However, when I tried to pull the shoulder straps down over my arms, but unlike before, there was no slack in the straps and nothing would budge, not even slightly. I tried wriggling my shoulders but that didn't work either, as there just wasn't a big enough gap in the straps to get my shoulder, or arm, through. I tried slipping my arm under the chest straps and then working the entire thing up, but that didn't work either and all I managed to do was get my hand stuck for a few seconds. Releasing my hand, just put me back to square one.

For the first time I realised that the reins really were escape proof, even to someone of my age. Then I heard voices.

"Hey what's all this stuff?" came Kurt's loud voice from somewhere nearby.

"Mostly baby stuff." His brother answered.

"Yeah I saw the chair and cot and stuff outside. What else is there?"

"The usual." Ross replied his voice coming closer, "clothes, dummies, bids, nappies, and so on. There's even a load of reins!"

"Reins?" Kurt asked, his voice now every bit as close as his brothers.

"Yeah, there's even a pair that fit Joey."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he had them on a moment ago, and probably still does as I doubt he can get out of them on his own."

"This I've got to see. Where is he?"

At this point, I knew I had little choice but to make myself known so I stood up and walked over to them, trying as much as I could to behave like everything was perfectly normal, which it certainly wasn't as Kurt was quick to notice.

"Wow they really do fit him. Do they work?"

"Of course," Ross called me over, taking hold of the walking straps, and telling me to try to escape which, of course I did, trying to make a comedy out of it, as I was restrained by the reins, flailing my arms around, as my torso become stuck, unable to move an inch against, Ross' tight grip.

"He's really stuck ain't he?" Kurt laughed, before finally turning his attention to me, "What do they feel like?"

"Okay!" I replied unable to think of anything else to say. I'd already realised that I liked the feeling of the straps being all snug around me, and the babyishness of being held helpless as any toddler who would have worn the reins for real. Of course, I wasn't going to tell them that although, from what Ross said next, clearly I hadn't been hiding it as much as I thought.

"You don't mind wearing them though, do you?"

"Guess not." I shrugged, as much as I could with the straps going over my shoulders.

"Maybe he could wear them when he next goes into town." Kurt suggested making me feel a little nervous, as I took him seriously,

"Someone might see me."

At first Kurt didn't answer, but then he agreed with me, sort of, "Okay then, how about you can just wear them about the house, how about that then?"

"I don't know." I hedged but Ross has other ideas.

"What with your clothes and everything you look like a little kid that should be wearing them," he laughed in his nice way, "Just like you should use the car seat in the back of my car."

"I'd have to take the reins off to do that though, wouldn't I?" I asked, a little too enthusiastically.

"No, I don't think so." Ross said, examining the reins once more. "I think you could keep them on and then just clip the reins to the car seat, like they did in the old days, when little kids would wear reins in their highchairs and push chairs and stuff like that."

"There's a pushchair outside." Kurt said, pointing, even though we obviously couldn't see through the wall.

"He wouldn't fit in that?" Ross said the words I was thinking.

"I think he will, it looked pretty big to me, like it was for older kids or them with special needs or something."

Ross raised his eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yeah, we could try it anyway. Sure Joey would want to, wouldn't you?"

"I guess." I half-shrugged, once more restrained by the straps on my shoulders, which settled the deal.

A few minutes later, We had moved out into the yard, where there was another pile of junk that matched the clothes that had been inside. Included amongst them, was a folded-up pushchair. Ross found a plastic hook that kept it folded, and opened it up into the right shape, where another lever locked it into shape and it did, indeed look larger than I would have expected.

"Go on then, see if it's big enough for you?" Kurt suggested.

Slowly I examined it, moving the built in straps out of the seat, before sitting down in it. It was, I have to say, surprisingly roomy. I had elbow space and shoulder space, and the seat felt good and comfortable, as it adjusted to my shape and weight.

"See if you can do up the straps?" was the eleven year old's next suggestion.

I tried it, but in the end, Ross had to use his previous experience to adjust the pushchair's straps so they would fit me properly, but in the end they did.

The chair harness was snug, but not tight by the time everything was done up. It wasn't anywhere as near as snug as the car seat had been as I could still lean forward although, I couldn't get up, of course, as I was still strapped into the seat.

"Oh, I just remembered," Kurt turned away from me sitting there, to address his brother, "Mum said, could you go back home once you've finished putting the cot together."

"What cot?" the teenager replied, "and why didn't you say earlier?"

"I just remembered, and it's the big cot over there." He pointed to a pile of wooden panels leaning against the side wall. "Mum wants to see if anything needs doing to it, before we sell it on."

"Oh great!" Ross shrugged, leaning down to reach the straps holding me in, when Kurt stopped him.

"Don't worry about Joey, I'll sort him out, you get on with what you've got to do, before you get into trouble for taking so long."

Ross, gave his brother a dirty look, but didn't say anything, just went back inside where he'd left his tools and got down to work.

"Right then," Kurt said to me, "Guess we should get out of Ross' way. Hang on tight."

Suddenly, I was moving, as Kurt pushed hard against the back of the pushchair, and set off running around the garden as fast as he could.

I let out a small cry of surprise as I was thrown back into the seat, by the force of the forward motion, and was kept there, holding onto the frame of the old pushchair with all my might, as Kurt took the sharp corners as fast as he could, which caused the buggy to tip slightly from one side or the other.

Eventually, Kurt got tired of that, and, decided to take me back inside, but without giving me the chance if getting out of the chair. This involved him reversing up to the backdoor and them pulling the chair in after him, up the steps. This, understandably, wasn't the most comfortable ride for me, and led to quite a lot of bouncing around which I was none to happy about, and which I let him know once we were back inside the living room.

"Yeah it was a bit rough wasn't it!" He agreed, "But it's not like you were going to fall out, is it?"

"I might have." I protested.

"Okay, okay. I'll see if I can do something about that then."

For a few minutes I was content to just sit there, wondering what he was doing, as Kurt started to fuss with the remaining straps on the floor. Threading and unthreading them, before putting them back together in different formations or just left on their one, singularly.

When he was done, some ten minutes later, he returned to me, and at once started working on the pushchair straps, unfastening them all, before starting to do them up again, in a slightly different formation.

Two straps came back over my shoulders, while another two came up from under my arms around my chest. These were then clipped into the fastening buckle as before. However, what Ross hadn't done last time was to also fix them into the reins as well. Kurt also took his time in adjusting them, much more so than Ross had, making sure that all of them were buckled up as securely as they would go to themselves and also to a second set that came up around my waist. This meant I no longer had even the limited movement I'd had before but was stuck in the seat and Kurt wasn't finished either as next he reached under the seat and found a strap Ross hadn't. This came up between my legs and clicked into the bottom of the main buckled, joining it to both the waist straps and the shoulder harness.

Kneeling down, in front of the chair next, Kurt used two of the short straps he'd removed from the other sets of reins, to fasten my ankles down to the foot rest and, of course together. A second longer strap then used, just behind my knees to keep my legs together and was pulled in turn fastened back to either side of the pushchair so my legs couldn't move at all.

With my head pulled back against the push chair's head rest, Kurt stood behind me, threading a short strap under the headrest and around my neck which he then fastened so the buckle was behind the chair and totally out of my reach, not that this prevented me from trying to reach it of course. But he was ready for that.

"Guess I'd best take care of your handy pandys, now." Kurt said in a humiliating voice as if he was talking to a real baby and not a fourteen year old strapped into a pushchair. Not that I had the chance to complain as he produced a roll of packing tape.

Grabbing my right hand, Kurt, pulled it out as far as he could from the side of the pushchair I was trapped into, and cocked his leg over it so it was trapped between his legs. I couldn't see what he did next, but I could both hear and feel it, as he wrapped loads of packing tape around my clenched fist until it was little more than a helpless lump at the end of my arm. This he then repeated to my left hand, while I attempted, without any success, to use my teeth to remove the tape.

"Bad baby!" Kurt chastised me, when he saw what I was trying to do. "Guess I'm going to have to use the dummy on you after all."

He vanished for a moment, while I continued to try to free my hands so I could get out of the chair, however, all my efforts to free myself stopped when I saw what he'd found amongst the bags of baby items.

The oversized baby's dummy, had a round pink circular mouth cover behind a large ring. The bulb was made from a hard yet subtle silicon ball that was designed to not only fit into the mouth but to adjust itself to fit. "Open wide!" Kurt said, but, naturally there was no way I was going to do that. Or was I.

His small fingers gripped my nose as I attempted to twist my head out of his way, but due to the neck strap I couldn't, and eventually had to open my mouth in order to breath. At this point, Kurt, quickly forced the large soft bulb of the dummy deep into my mouth, where it instantly filled it completely.

Naturally the first thing I attempted to do was to force the dummy out of my mouth but Kurt was ready for that as he already had another length of strap ready, which he threaded through the front ring, and then around behind my head, where he buckled it tight, meaning there was no way I could get the dummy out of my mouth.

With me now silenced but for the occasional meaningless mumble, Kurt returned to strapping me into the chair by pulling my right arm out of the chair and down the outside frame where it was quickly strapped into place at the wrist and elbow. The same was then repeated with my left hand and it didn't take a genius to realise that with my fingers all wrapped up in the tape, there was no way I was ever going to be able to unto any of the straps, even if I could reach them. I was now literally as helpless as a baby and totally at Kurt's mercy.

I couldn't resist the natural urge to shout out in either protest or for help, but wit the large bulb of the dummy filling my mouth, I couldn't make more than a muffled noise that probably even Kurt couldn't hear, let alone anyone else. So I was stuck strapped helplessly into the pushchair, with nothing to do but stare out wildly over the top of the dummy while I squirmed with frustration much to Kurt's amusement.

"Right then. That should keep you safe now." He said, trying not to laugh, "How about we go for another walk? Perhaps we can go into town?"

My reaction was predictable full of both shock and horror, but there was nothing I could do as he pushed me back outside into the sunshine. And right passed Ross who didn't even look around from what he was doing, even when his brother shouted out that we were going into town. The teenager just kept on working on rebuilding the cot that, by the looks of it wouldn't be taking him all that much longer to complete.

I was wheeled from the garden of my new home, down the path and out onto the street. I attempted to cringe down out of sight, but restrained as I was, there was no where I could go so it's just as well there was no one around the quiet country lanes that led into the small town.

Soon fields that lined the lanes started to fade away, and cars began to go past us, making me wriggle and writhe in the restraints, especially when people started to appear, although oddly, other than a couple of looks no one seemed to pay that much attention. At least not until Kurt announced that he fancied a drink.

The village, only had one cafe and that had pretensions above it's station, had tables and chairs laid out on the pavement in front of it, and it was here that Kurt decided to stop. Parking the pushchair at the edge of the tables, facing into the rest of the village, and putting on the brake so that I wouldn't roll away. However, before Kurt went inside to get his refreshment, he took out a piece of paper and using a pen, made up a sign which it put down on my chest, tucking it into the straps so it wouldn't fall off.

Sitting there on my own, I had nothing to do but read the sign, which given it was upside down to me, took some time, but I couldn't believe what it said. Basically, it called me a bully and said I'd been picking on Kurt and that this was my punishment so naturally, when they read that, no one was going to help me and, as things happened, a couple of old ladies who came in after Kurt, even congratulated him on doing such a suitable punishment although they did wonder if perhaps I need a drink as well.

"Don't worry I've got him something." Kurt told them in his best "good boy" voice, "I'll have to take the dummy out, but I'm sure little Joey will be quiet, if he wants a drink, won't he ladies."

The old women agreed with him and so did I as having had the dummy stuffed in my mouth for so long had left my mouth rather dry, to it was more that an relief to get the thing out of my mouth. That relief was short lived when he produced a baby's bottle filled with milk that he must have got in the shop earlier.

It was humiliating but clearly this was the only way I was going to be allowed to drink so I grudgingly submitted to having the rubber bottle teat thrust into my mouth, and then sucked on it. Any attempt to resist, not that there was many of those, was reward with my nose being pinched until I continued to drink the warm, overly sweet milk, which was horrible, especially as it had loads of little bits in it, that seemed like grit in my mouth.

Eventually the milk was all gone, but the only reward I got for drinking it all was to have the dummy forced back into my mouth and buckled back behind my head once more.

"Did you enjoy your milk Joey?" Kurt asked me, once the gag was firmly in place, his voice dropping as he added, "There was something special in it for you. Let's call it Vitamin V, shall we." Then laughing to himself for a reason that I could fathom, we started to go home again.

The walk back seemed to take much longer than the journey into town, not least because not only was Kurt taking him time, but now the sun was beating down on me, and the pushchair had become a sort of suntrap.

Before long perspiration popped up on my forehead, under my arms and all down my back as it was kept pressed into the nylon of the seat. The backs of my thighs became drenched, as we continued but I couldn't do anything but squirm and writhe against my restraints as I moaned into the dummy but that wasn't all that was happening. I got the mother of all erections.

Off and on, for the entire time since I'd found the harness, and especially when Ross was putting it on me, I'd had erections. Even when Kurt strapped me into the pushchair, putting the dummy in my mouth, I got a stiffness in my short shorts but this was something different. This one didn't come and go. It just came, and it stayed. Thankfully the buggy's built in harness covered it up, but all the same, I was all too well aware that it was there, trapped somewhat painfully, inside the too small shorts for the entire journey back.

Arriving back in my garden the first thing I saw from the pushchair was that, Ross was no longer there, but the job he'd been doing was now standing finished on the front lawn.

"Oh great he's done it." Kurt, laughed, running over to inspect the large wooden slatted cot that now stood there. When he'd given it a good look over, he lowered the side nearest to us, slowly turned to me and said something that made my blood run cold. "How do you fancy trying it out Joey?"

I didn't of course, but had no way of saying so Kurt just returned and wheeled me over to it.

"Right then, let's get you out of your chair shall we?"

Slowly, and carefully the eleven year old, undid all the straps that held me to the chair, but only those he had to. The reins stayed on, as did the straps holding my ankles and knees together so I couldn't run away, the tape stayed on my hands, keeping them useless, and the dummy stayed in my mouth so I couldn't voice my protests.

Unable to resist, there was still nothing I could do as Kurt unfastened the buggy's harness, and came face to face with the large tent that poked up the front and centre of my shorts.

"Ah, I see the Vitamin V worked then." The younger boy laughed, but otherwise ignored my clearly aroused stated as he hauled me up from the chair, turned me around and then pushed me down again onto the thin mattress that came with the cot. Then, before I could even recover from that, he bent down, picked up my already bound feet, and spun me around so I was sitting in the middle of the cot. From there all it took was a single push for him to have me laying flat on the mattress. At which point my parents suddenly emerged from the house.

"What's going on here?" Dad asked, not surprisingly when he saw the way I was all done up in straps, with a dummy in my mouth.

"We were playing?" explained Kurt, offering no further words.

"And what about all this stuff?"

Without hesitation, Kurt blamed his brother for anything and everything, up to and including the mess he'd made inside the house while he'd been looking for things to humiliate me with, all of which made my dad so made he went off steaming to use the phone so he could give the innocent fifteen year old a piece of his mind.

This left Kurt to make a dash for it, leaving me to the added humiliation of having to get my mum to get the tape of my hands so I could release myself from the rest of the straps, Only to realise that I couldn't even do that, and in the end had to ask her to unfastened the reins from my back as well, while all the time, trying to keep myself hidden around the side of the cot, so she wouldn't see the lump in my shorts.

A lump that refused to go down for the rest of the day, and most of the following one as well thanks to the Viagra, Kurt had slipped into the baby milk he'd fed me, right there, out in the open, in the middle of the village.

Chapter Five

It took me a few days to get over the humiliation of the buggy ride into town, all strapped up like a baby, although, strangely, I still made sure that the harness that had got me into that particular mess, wasn't given away, when the rest of the donated clothes were. Somehow, I just knew I would have a use for it sometime in the future. Before then, however, I had to try and put right some of the other things that Kurt made wrong. The first of these was to make it up to my parents, by clearing up all the mess the younger boy had made, and a bit more, which worked. That only left the matter of making it up to Ross for the trouble I'd inadvertently got him into.

It was nearly a week later when I realise that I would have to do something more pro-active, to make it up to him, and I called his phone, but he never answered. Instead, his mum came on the line, telling me he wasn't there, but would be back later if I wanted to see him, as he had to looking after the house that night. It was the perfect chance, and I grabbed it, From what his mum has said, he'd got in a lot of trouble after what had happened at our house, and that, no doubt would have upset him. All I had to do was convince him that his little brother was behind it all, which I didn't think would be all that difficult as he must know what Kurt was like. The only thing was, he didn't really know me, at least not as the teenager I really was, so I decided to put that to my use.

After, telling my mum I was going over there, I slipped back up to my room and changed into the schoolboy uniform that had been left in my wardrobe. It was, I reckoned, the perfect clothes to prove that I was a 'good boy' who wouldn't have dropped him in it, so I took great care to get the look right, even pulling on the deep red blazer with its Latin crest, and the cap. The tie was tied, properly, the shirt iron and as crisp as I could get it. The grey socks were pulled all the way up. I even put on the light brown sandals, even though there were a little too small for my feet, and which would slow my progress to his house but which looked the part.

AS luck would have it, I arrived at the White house just as Ross did, but in plenty of time for me to take up what I hoped was the perfect image of a penitent schoolboy. My bare legs slightly spread, my hands behind my back, and my head slightly bowed both down and to one side, so I looked up at him from under the peek of the cap.

"What the hell do you want?" he snapped, which wasn't quite the greeting I'd hoped for, but gave me something to work with.

"I wanted to say I was sorry, for what happened at my house." I said simply.

"I'm listening!"

Quickly, I explained what had happened as bust I could, making sure to point out that it wasn't really my fault, and how his brother had tricked me into going along with his plans and how I'd been unable to stop him because he'd gagged me.

For a moment, after I'd finished Ross was quiet, but then he said: "That does explain why Kurt was laughing so much when I got punished for what happened."

"You, you got punished? I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, there ain't nothing we can do about that now, is there."

"Well, you could tell someone and then Kurt would get punished as well."

Ross laughed. "Oh that ain't going to happen. Kurt would never admit to things like you do. He just ain't that sort of kid."

"I'm sorry." I said again, not sure what else I could say, until inspiration hit me, "I guess I should be punished too, for what happened."

"You? My parents would never punish you, you're not their kid, plus you clearly go to some sort of posh school know all about that discipline stuff!"

"Someone else could though." I prompted, an idea forming in my head. "You could!"

"Me?" his head cocked slightly to one side, as if he hadn't quite heard what I'd said which was just as well, for at that very moment, my voice halved in volume.

"Um, you can, like punish me. I did, did you wrong by letting you take the blame so you should be the one to spank me, like the naughty little boy that I am."

I hadn't really intended to say the bit about 'spanking' or even call myself a 'little boy' even though I knew that was how Ross saw me, but somehow they both seemed to seal the deal.

"Have you ever been spanked before?" he asked.

"Not really." I blushed, for no real reason, although Ross thought he knew.

"Man, you really are a good little boy aren't you." He laughed again.

"I guess."

"Well then, probably about time you did get one, just so you know what's it like then, I guess."

I didn't say anything, completely lost in the thought that Ross was talking about giving me a spanking as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Well, perhaps it was in his family, down here in the country, but it sure wasn't to me. And there was the matter that he was only a year older than me, despite being rather more muscular and clearly more mature.

"If I do it though," he continued, "I'll do it properly. It won't be a little kid's spanking, but a real one, with the paddle Dad always says he'd use on Kurt but never does."

"Oh!" was all I said to that.

"Don't worry, it's only a small paddle and meant for use on the ten year old bums."

"Where?" I splattered.

"Your bum? It's that thing between your legs and your back, that is currently covered by your shorts trousers."

I shook my head, "No I mean, where are you going to do it."

"Oh right, we'll go around the back of the house, to one of the sheds. I fact you go right now and I'll go and get the paddle."

I did as I was told, happy that there was no one around to see me sneaking into the large shed that was just beyond the back of the house, and where I discovered the car I'd seen Ross driving on our first meeting, still with the car seat, I'd been strapped into, in the back. The sight of which did little to easy the butterflies that were nestling in my stomach, and which had started to fly rings around my intestines, by the time Ross turned up.

Having taken off his work shirt, the fifteen year old stood in the open doorway, silhouetted, by the sun behind him, that bounced off the white vest he was now wearing, making it contrast against the deep tan of his muscular shoulders and arms. One of those arms, now holding a small wooden paddle that I couldn't take my eyes off. It was, after all the first paddle I'd actually seen, and it looked painful.

"Scary ain't it?" Ross laughed, flashing it from side to side, "That's what dad got it for to scare Kurt, but my brother ain't scared of nothing. Still let's see if it really works shall we."

I watched, as he pulled out a chair from beside the door and sat down on it. "Right then," He said, once he was settled, "You'd best take off your uniform so it don't get messed up."

As I'd already thought about this, I wasn't surprised this time, but did feel nervous about undressing in front of him as, after all, he was around my age, and all teenagers were nervous about such things. Still, I was dressed like a ten-year-old so had to try and act like one. So although I kept my eyes from looking at him, I tried to keep as calm as possible, while I slipped the blazer down my arms, and found a handy nail, protruding from the side wall, to hang both it, and the cap from my head on. But then I hesitated. Not sure just how far to go.

"Shoes and socks too, and your shorts." Ross prompted, his voice full of more authority than I was used to, even from my dad.

Standing one leg in turn, I unbuckled and removed my sandals, and then the long grey socks, which I bundled inside them for safe keeping. Then, keeping my back, to the teenager, I popped the button, ran the zip on the grey school shorts, before lowering them down my legs, and hanging them up with my blazer.

"Okay, that's good, come over here."

Dressed now, only in briefs, school shirt and tie, I walked over to him, carefully on bare feet, while, must to my relief he put the paddle down on the floor beside the chair before he patted his lap, "Okay, climb aboard."

Turning, slightly I lay down, as best I could, across the lap of the slightly older boy, until I was staring at the floor.

It actually felt good at first, being over someone's lap, but then I saw him pick up the paddle once more. "Don't hit me too hard!" I pleaded.

"Don't worry," he said, raising the tails of my shirt up, and patting my rear with the paddle, gently: "You've been bad, haven't you, getting me into trouble and all that."

"I guess!" I mumbled.

"Well then, get ready for your first real spanking then." Then, without saying anything else he raised the paddle and bought it down on my secretly fourteen year old bottom.

WHACK!

My body jerked as the pain shot through my bum, and up through the rest of my body, not that I got all that long to feel it, before more blows followed.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Three more landed. Each as hard, if not harder than the first one had been, simultaneously stinging and burning my rear.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

My head spun around, as I cried out. "Ow! Ouch! Stop! That's enough!"

"NO it isn't." Ross snapped back, very much into his role as my disciplinarian. "This is what happens to bad boys." And then he gave me some more as if to prove his point.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

I jerked and squirmed and even tried to put my hand back to protect my rear, but Ross just grabbed it and seemingly effortlessly twisted it up behind my back, rendering me even more helpless than before.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

At this point I started to feel a tear wheeling up in the corner of my eye and then rolling down my face. And soon it wasn't alone.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The sound of the wood falling on the poor protection of the nylon that covered by rear, echoed around the shed, making each blow seem even louder than it was.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The pain was quickly becoming awful, much worse than anything I'd been able to do to myself, causing me to both cry like a baby while, complaining as only a punished little kid can. "Ow! Stop! No! Ouch! Hurts! Please!" But none of it did me any good.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Ross White kept on spanking me, paddling my poor defenceless bum, to give me my first real punishment, while I cried, and squirmed, and cried some more. My legs kicking out, pointlessly, as my bare toes curled with every lick.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"This is to teach you a lesson." He said, panting, his breath onto my back.

"P-p-p-please stop!" I begged, with snot now collecting at the end of my nose, "It h-h-h-hurts!"

"It's meant to hurt, little boy." And with that he gave me what turned out to be the last round.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

I was, by now, laying rather limply over his lap, but the moment he put the paddle down, and released my arm I was off, jumping up from his lap, rubbing my bum, and walking around the shed, crying at the burning coming from my rear.

"Go and stand in the corner!"

I turned sharply to where Ross was still sitting on the chair watching me.

"It's what happens after a spanking. Go and stand in the corner with your hands on your head and think about what you've done. Go on." He picked up the paddle once more, "Unless you want some more that it?"

Quickly I did as I was told, feeling even more like a naughty little schoolboy, as I stood there, with my hands folded on my head, like I hadn't done since I was in infant school.

It can't have been more than ten minutes or so, before Ross announced that he had to go back in the house, and that I could go home just as soon as he was gone and I was all to eager to do so. Not because I wanted to get away from the teenager who'd just spanked me, but because I wanted to see what state my bum was in.

I made it home, in nearly twice the time it had taken me to get to the White's house, partly due to the sandals pinching my toes, but mainly to do with how the tight shorts rubbed against my burning rear. Thankfully, though, there was no one around, when I got home, to ask why I was dressed like a schoolboy, or to notice that I'd been crying so I could go right up to my attic room and lock the door.

Opening the wardrobe, to expose the mirror, I quickly unbuttoned my shorts, and pushed them down along with my briefs to inspect the damage. My bum was the brightest red I could have imagined. The colour was deep, and crisp and much more even than my own efforts had ever been. In fact it would have looked more like my bum had been painted rather than spanked if it wasn't for the few round outlines of the paddle that marked my flesh on the very edges of the redness, around the tops of my legs and into the small of my back.

Clearly, being spanked by someone else was nothing at all like spanking yourself. Or could it just be that Ross was so much stronger than me, from all his time working around the estate. Yet as I viewed my rosy bottom with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction, I knew that I'd pretty much enjoyed the experience despite the pain, and as if I needed confirmation of that, my erection as back.

Ignoring the waving hardness in front of me, I popped over to the bathroom to get some hand cream that I knew would sooth the burning sensation I still felt, before returning to the mirror to apply it which is what I did for the next ten minutes or so before other thoughts started to enter my head.

I was in the somewhat obscene position of leaning over, legs spread, with my bottom pointing towards the mirror while one of my hands spread my cheeks apart so the other could apply the cream to the inside of my crack, when I can't a reflected glimpse of my own anus.

The tight, closed up, wrinkled nether hole wasn't something I was in the habit of looking at, but as I watched, my body flexed and to my amazement, the small hole actually opened up about a centimetre. Not for the first time I wondered just how such a small hole would be able to take a full sized adult prick. Not that I'd ever seen one, but I knew they had to be bigger than what I had, especially Ross' as, after all, everything about the fifteen year old, was bigger than me. And yet there were all those stories concerning how posh little boys, like I tended to dress like, would be fucked up the bum, by the bigger boys, like Ross. But how?

Carefully I touched my own hole with my finger, but instantly my body resisted, and closed it tight just as the tip had started to enter.

Not to be put off I picked up the bottle of hand lotion, and squirted out a dollop onto the end of the same finger which I then put back right where it had been with a lot more success, as my finger disappeared into my own bottom, right up to the first joint.

Pushing again, with slightly more force, than the first time, and my finger went in further, until the second knuckle brush across the outside of my hole.

Now I wondered if my entire finger would go up my bum and sure, enough it did and I was able to look back at the mirror at my own, home made, real life, pornography, at the apparently young boy, still wearing his school shirt and socks, with a finger pushed all the way up, his well spanked bottom.

In no time I was wriggling my finger around inside, and found, that if I pushed it at an angle that would send it towards the base of my erection, it felt so much better than anything I'd ever felt before. So much better in fact, that within seconds, my left hand had no option but to grasp onto my erection from the outside, just as I erupted, shooting my clearly teenage seed all over the floor of my new bedroom.

Another half an hour later and all the obvious signs of what I'd done were gone although, when I went to sit down, I winced with pain so ended up having to send myself to bed early with a mysterious stomach ailment that meant I could only be comfortable when laying on my stomach, which meant I had to miss dinner but that was a small price to pay to keep my bum save from the hard wooden kitchen chairs.

Chapter Six

I picked up the phone almost on the first ring, unaware at the time that this was the very call that I'd been waiting for.

"Hey, it's Ross. What are you up to?" he said, his voice sounding even more mature over the phone than he did in person.

"Not much!" I did my best to hide my excitement that he had, finally called, and apparently didn't know anything about the things his little brother had made me do.

"Great. Want to see a movie?"

I almost agreed on the spot but managed, just to keep myself in check, "I guess but it'll take me a few minutes to get ready."

"Sure, whatever, it'll take me that long to get there, won't it." Ross sounded happy, even as he was making fun of me, even if he did sound like a big brother joshing his kid brother, but that was okay, as I'd always fancied having a big brother.

Anyway, after Ross had hung up, I darted upstairs, and took of the clothes I'd been wearing around the house and went over to the chest of drawers I'd inherited, to pick out something special. Thanks to Kurt, I no longer had any clothes of my own, so had been wearing the old style gear all the time, or at least, those of it, that looked at least part way modern, around my parents. Ross, though didn't need that consideration so I picked out the clothes I come to like best of all those in the collection.

The white Addidas shorts with the elasticated waist and the twin red stripes up each thigh were somewhat tight, and took a bit of wriggling to get into but they did make my bum look really tight and round, and spank-able, which is just what I wanted Ross to think.

On top, I picked out a simple vest like thing, that had red horizontal strips around the body, up to the armpits, where two thicker red straps went up over my shoulders. This too was slightly too small on me, so clung to my body, and tended to part company from the top of the shorts to show my stomach, but that was all part of the look, I was going for.

Unfortunately, I was so wrapped up in getting ready that I didn't even hear Ross ring the doorbell, so that by the time I got downstairs again, I was just in time to hear my dad, say to him, "… You're a great influence on Joe, than his other friends used to be back in the city."

"Thank you," Ross smiled, speaking to my dad like he was an equal, "I think Joey will enjoy the movie, and I'll be sure to drive carefully and… ah there's Joey now."

There passed a few more minutes of chit chat, all of which I was left out of, which did give me the chance to admire Ross who had apparently dressed up for the occasion, and was much smarter than I'd ever seen him before, in light tan slacks, with a black belt, crisp white shirt, and even a blue tie, fastened around his neck. His hair was even neatly combed, into a side parting. It was no wonder my dad had taken to him.

Eventually, my dad and his new best mate Ross White, finally parted company, and we headed out to the car but when I made for the front seat, Ross's hand landed on my shoulder and guided me towards the back, where the toddler seat was still fitted. "That's where little boy's sit." He told me, opening the door, and reaching in to move the straps out of the way.

Obediently, I climbed into the car, and settled back into the plus seat. Ross then lent back in, and started to fasten the harness around me. Pulling the shoulder straps around either side of my head – they didn't need adjusting like last time so clearly he'd prepared them in advance – then pulling the side ones around over my hips before reaching under the seat and pulling up the crutch strap. Carefully he fitted all five points into the buckle, his fingers brushing across repeatedly across the front of my overly tight shorts as he snapped the buckle, I knew I couldn't undo, shut. Instantly, my penis stiffened up, from both that light touch, and from the knowledge that I was once more trapped into the seat with no hope of getting out, unless someone let me, just like a little kid.

To distract Ross from the hardening tent in my shorts, I tried to make conversation, "So where are we going then?"

"To see a movie." He said, which surprised me.

"What really?"

"Yeah," he backed out of the car, walking around to the driver's seat, which he got into, "What did you think I meant by 'going to see a movie', then?"

"Don't know. I thought it was code for something?"

He started the engine, put the car into gear, and we headed away from the estate. "Code for what?"

I attempted to shrug but couldn't as the harness was too tight to let me, and anyway, Ross wouldn't have been able to see it. "Don't know! So where are we going then?"

"There's a temporary drive in over in Hampton." Ross expertly moved from one small lane to another, "That's where we're going."

"But I thought you weren't allowed to drive on the real roads?"

"I'm not. That's why where on the back roads, ain't it."

"Oh," I'd already realised that, but then I realise something else, that we wouldn't be able to do the things I'd been thinking about in such a public place, so I started to complain. Well, more whine really, "I don't want to go."

"Why not?" he asked, reasonably only I didn't have a reasonable answer for him so I just whined that I didn't want to go, and kept repeating it, endlessly.

"Typical," snapped Ross around five minutes later, "I try to do something nice for you and all I get is a load of grief, perhaps I should turn around and go right home now and pick Kurt up instead. What about that, then, Joey?"

The mention of my nemesis, broke my mood as he was the last person I wanted to see. "No please don't." I begged.

Ross looked at me in the rear view mirror for a few minutes, before suddenly snapping back to the front view as another car approached from the other direction. "Okay, I won't but… oh shit…hang on."

Few a few minutes there was silence between us, as Ross made a quick side turn into the deserted car park of the local church, where he pulled up, beside the building, in the deserted car park, killed the engine and checked his watch . "It's okay we've got plenty of time. That was a mate of my dad's," he explained, "He must be going to get something, so he'll be back in a minute, while just have to wait here until he's finished."

Given that we were now alone, and with time on our hands, it seemed a good enough time as any, to make my play, "Are you going to spank me again?"

His head spun around so fast, that it totally messed up his hair, "You what?"

"If I've been naughty and upset you, then you should spank me."

"Really?" he smiled, "We'll I might just do that, you know, Joey."

My hands went to the buckle that held me in the toddler's seat, but of course, I couldn't shifted, so eventually had to ask Ross to do it. "Sure!" he said, removing his own seat belt, reached back between the seats and with one hand, squeezed the buckled until all the straps popped out with a series of loud clicks. "Come and get in the front with me."

Climbing out of a small child's car seat when you're fourteen and trying to hide your erection in way too small a pair of shorts, isn't the easiest thing to do but eventually I managed to open the front passenger door of the car, only to find that Ross had shifted from the driver's chair, to a position in the centre of the car, so he was astride the gear stick, with one of his legs in either of the foot wells. And he was patting his broad lap.

Gulping down, a lump in m throat that nearly matched the one in my shorts, I climbing in the car, not sitting down, but going in head first, until I was laid out across his lap. As I did so, Ross reached down, and eased up the back of my shirt even though it wasn't anywhere near covering up the target area he was interested in. So interested that he got started right away.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The spanks landed hard on the seat of the small, tight shorts.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

There were no pauses between the blows, other than for the micro seconds it would take from Ross to change his aim from one buttock to the other, or to land right in the middle.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The blows seemed harder than they'd been the last time, and continuous.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Despite making small grunts at many of the strikes to my backside, I didn't yet feel the need to cry, but that would soon change.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Tears were just starting to prick at the corners of my eyes when, all of a sudden Ross stopped spanking me.

"Why have you stopped?" I asked.

He picked up his hand from where it had been resting on my bottom, and showed me the redness of his palm, "My hand is sore."

"Oh, hang on." I said, and started to scramble backwards across his lap, out of the car and walked around to the driver's door. "If I do it this way," I explained, "Then you can use your other hand."

"Good idea," he smiled, "But this time, you have to loose the shorts, okay."

The lump raised back in my throat, but I nodded, and started to climb back into the car, until I was laying across his lap in the other direction. Before I settled in though, I reached back down to my hips where, with much wriggling, and a helping hand from Ross, I was able to easy my shorts down to my thighs.

"No undies, Joey?" Ross laughed.

"Oh they came down too." I tried to make it sound like a surprise but, of course, it wasn't, I'd done it on purpose and I think Ross knew that, so he didn't push it any further and just got down to business.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Ross landed spanks that were both louder and harder now before, as they landed on my bare flesh.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Apparently unconcerned now about if he hurt me or not, Ross spanked away.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Tears filled my eyes, as I lost count of the number of blows that were falling on my unprotected rear.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

It was the first time I'd been spanked properly on my bare rear, and it stung more than anything.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Soon my tears were turning to sobs that wracked through my body as my bottom burned.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Eventually, after what had to be a good five or ten minutes of solid spanking Ross, stopped spanking, with the words, "Well, you asked for it after all." And then he gave me another round, to 'grow on'.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

When it had all died down, I managed to turn around slightly from where I lay across the front seats of the car, and raising myself up onto my elbows, look back at my bottom which was redder than I'd ever seen it before. This was the most severe spanking I'd ever received, but the way Ross was now gently caressing my rear, made it feel an awful lot better. And it wasn't just me either.

As I was half laying there, I became aware of something hard poking me in the lower stomach. At first It just assumed that this was the gear stick which, after all, had to be down there somewhere, but when it started to throb, and shift about, I finally realised what it really was. Ross's erection.

Pushing myself back from his lap, for a second time, Ross must have assumed I was making my way out into the car park, but I wasn't. Instead, I stopped, just as my hot, burning rear, hit the external cool air and then, before Ross could do anything, I ran the zipper on the teenager slacks.

Right in front of my face, Ross's erection rose up out of his trousers, tenting up the front of his boxers, with a stain that continued to spread across the cloth as I lay there, staring at it.

"Go on then!" Ross prompted me, smiling down at me.

My hand reached out, into his boxers, popping the small buttons on his underwear until Ross's prick came out from it's prison, to roar up in front of my face.

It may have been just that I was so close to it, but it looked enormous. A good deal bigger than mine, and certainly bigger than the only other boy's organ I'd seen that close up. That of Ross's little brother Kurt. And there was more.

Ross's groin had a different smell about it. A far more musky smell, that filled my lungs and caused my own erection to throb in a way it had never done when I'd been faced with Kurt's eleven year old erection. Which made me wonder if the teenager would taste different as well. There was only one way to find out.

The large hands that had so recently been spanking my bum, came to rest on my head, easing it downwards, as my lips pressed against the top of the erection.

My lips parting, as the large organ slowly worked its way into my mouth. Ross's hands staying on my head, caressing my hair, as I licked up and then swallowed all the pre-cum that had leaked from his rampant organ.

To my surprise Ross's erection got even harder but thankfully no larger in seconds, and then, just as my tongue trailed itself around and then across the top of the hot crown, it erupted.

My mouth flooded with, hot, copious teenage ejaculation, that I had little option but to swallow down whole, which I did, not raising my head until I was sure that I'd drained every drop from Ross's prick.

"God-dam," he sighed, doing himself up, "That was good, but if we don't get a move on we're going to miss the movie."

Rather disappointed at being disappointed like that, and with no time to do anything about my own erection, I backed fully out of the car until I was standing in the church car park with my bare, and very red bum, exposed for all to see.

"Come on, get back into your seat." Ross instructed me, already starting the car, and closing his door.

Fearful of being left there, I moved as fast as I could around to the other side of the car – purposely going around the front so he couldn't drive off – pulling up my shorts over my sore bum as I went.

Sitting back into the toddler's car seat, I winced as the soft, plush padding made contact with my sore bum, but couldn't shift about into a more comfortable position, as Ross was already reaching back between the seats to buckle me in. And then I was stuck there, once more.

We arrived at the small theatre with minutes to spare before the movie started give Ross only just enough time to buy the tickets – an Adult one for him, and 'child' for me – before we crept into the dark theatre. Ross actually taking my hand, like I was a little kid, pulling me behind him as he looked for a pair of seats together, which we settled into, just in time for the previews to finish and the movie to start.

The film was great, and for most of it's running time, managed to take my mind of the soreness I was sitting on, but not the seemingly huge figure that sat in the seat beside me.

Ross's arm came around my shoulder part way though, pulling me sideways so my head rested against his shoulders, making me feel all protected by his presence, making me feel all snug and warm inside, in a way that I hadn't done since I'd been a very little kid. And I liked it. Loved it even. My penis, or 'willy' as I'd come to think of it, certainly did as it throbbed inside my shorts.

And despite it all. The childish clothes, the duel spankings, sucking him off, while getting no relief myself, I'd never felt so contented as I did, right then. Never.

Chapter Seven

I woke up from a heavy, and strangely dreamless sleep a few days later, and, just as it had been ever since the cinema trip, I put my hand behind me to feel my bum. The previous day, I'd been unable to feel the resulting throbbing from Ross White's heavy spanking and this morning there was nothing.

Disappointed by that, and the realisation it would be another few days before Ross returned from the errand his family had sent him, on, I turned over, rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock, noticing, at once the note that had been placed there.

It was from my parents – well who else would sneak into my bedroom and leave me a note? – saying that they would be out all day, and perhaps over night in, yet another attempt to pin the insurance company down, on getting us a new house. This, naturally, meant I would have most of the day to do whatever I wanted, and I knew just what that was, as I glanced towards the second room that made up the attic where I now slept.

Climbing out of bed, I stretched, feeling my non-growing body creak and groan, as it slowly came back to life, as I made my way to the bathroom.

As always I slept in my underwear, but the boxer shorts from before the fire were now replaced by the mini-briefs of a by gone age, which had to be lowered before I could urinate. And I don't just mean the front either. The briefs were so tight that I couldn't stretch the waistband enough to lower it down in order to get my 'willy' out, but had to roll the entire briefs down to my thighs before I could let fly with a yellow stream into the toilet bowl.

Walking back into the attic, I slipped past my own bed, and round into the second room where what remained of the donations were now stored. This was the families 'emergency' fund. The things we could sell, should the insurance not come through, or which would come in handy some time down the line. Which category. Most of it fell into, I wasn't sure, especially all the baby stuff.

Looking in the top most box I was once more taken by the apparent size of the nappies, most of which looked way too big for a baby as they lay folded in their clear plastic wrappings, looking all virginal in white, with the tapes pulled back, and covered in little Teddy bears. There were also bottles like the one Kurt had forced me to drink the warm milk, laced with Viagra, outside the village café, while I was helplessly strapped into the pushchair. The pushchair was also there, as was a very sturdy looking changing table and a play pen, made of the same solid looking wood, as the cot.

The cot was pushed up against the side wall, and looked just as it did when Ross had finished putting it together in our yard on the same day I'd become stuck in the pushchair. Since then it had been dismantled and bought upstairs, where a top part had been added – Ross had originally wondered why he had some parts left over – along some more fittings that he hadn't used.

Staring at the cot, I wondered, not for the first time, just what Kurt had intended to use it on that day, had my parents not come back home and interrupted him. Given what had happened at our next meeting, I could only imagine that it would have involved me being tied up in some way or other, most likely inside the cot. And that sounded like fun. So much fun in fact, that I actually wanted to try it. And now was my chance.

The cot was a good distance of the floor and easily large enough for me to lay myself out on the thin mattress and be bound like that too. Plus there were two more advantages. The first being that it was directly opposite from the wardrobe, so if I opened the closet door I'd be able to see myself all tied up and helpless. This would give me the best feeling in my willy, which would lead to point two, the best part about being tied up. The fact that I wouldn't be able to play with myself.

The plan was set and I started to get the things I would need together. The first being the toddler harness, of course, plus a good assortment of the other restraining straps, that I'd managed to keep hidden.

Unable to put the harness on in the correct fashion with the release catch behind my back, in case I got stuck I had to settle for putting it on, the other way around, with the catch in front. However, before I clicked all the straps into the clasp, I made sure they were tightened that little bit more, so the slack Ross had left in them to allow for my clothes, was taken out. This time, when I clicked the harness closed, the straps pulled tight on my skin, both over my shoulders and around my chest, under my arms.

Already I was started to feel constricted just by putting the harness on, wished that Ross was there, to take hold of the reins, and guide me around like a little kid, but that wasn't going to happen, so I just had to get on with what I'd got planned.

Taking some more of the straps I fastened them to the base of the cot, and threaded them through the bars on either side, with the adjustable slide, and a fastening, at the end that came to lay on the thin mattress.

It took some time to do this, as I needed to repeat the operation, eight times, until there were straps at each corner, as well as sets a third of the way down the cot, and a third of the way up. Once that was done though, I had nothing left to do, but get myself ready.

For a second or two, I thought about taking off my briefs but in the end decided to leave them on, as after all, I was going to be in a bed, of sorts, so should probably wear the same as I did at night even if I doubted I'd be doing all that much sleeping.

Picking up some shorter lengths of strap, I fastened one around each of my thighs, tight enough so that they wouldn't be able to slip, but not so tight that they would hurt me, all that much. Ankles straps were then put on as were wrist ones. Then, once I'd put a small pillow at the head of the cot, it was time to climb in.

It was tricking doing the next bit as the lid on the cot made it impossible for me to sit up properly, and I was left having to crouch while I fixed the straps attached to the bottom corners of the cot, to the ones around my ankles and then adjust them so that my feet would be correctly spread out, to as near to the corners as they would go, without actually touching anything.

Once that was done, I was able to finally lay down, albeit, not quite flat yet, as I still had to do the same with the straps around my thighs. These, were attached to those going through the bars at the sides of the cot, and before I could fully tighten them, I pulled up the open side, through which I'd entered, until the catches attaching it to the lid, clicked into place.

With my thighs strapped to the sides of the cot, and to each other, via a short length of strap, I'd managed to render my legs all but totally immobile, and set about doing the same to my upper body in a very similar fashion.

The straps coming through the side bars, a third of the way down from the head of the cot, I now attached to the harness I still wore around my bare chest, at the sides, under my arms. These would ensure that I would be unable to either sit up, or to wriggle about in the cot even though the central part of my body would remain unfettered.

My willy was, by now, about as hard as it was going to get, and given this would be the last time I'd be able to do anything with it. I took the chance re-arrange myself, positioning my willy so that the head was caught under the waistband of the mini blue briefs I wore, so that it too would be unable to move around, whilst still being clearly visible both in the mirror, and to un-reflected eyes, looking down my bound body.

At the stage I wished I'd thought of having something to gag myself with, but I hadn't and it was too late to go back now. A look over at the clock on the other side of the room, told me that I still had a good few hours to what I wanted before my parents would come home, so I got on with it.

This was the tricky bit, and took more than a few attempts to get right. First I had to get both my arms into position over my head, where the straps connected to the top corners of the crib were waiting for them. Now came the tricky part. Fastening the first strap around my left wrist was fairly easy, as I could do that with my still free right hand, but once that was done it got rather trickier, especially as once I'd attached another strap that would connect my wrists to each other. In the end, the only way I could do it was to loosen the straps intended for my right wrist. Put my wrist into position and then, slowly and carefully, easy the slides down to tighten them again with my fingertips. This seemed to take forever but once it was done, I was totally unable to move.

Laying my head back down on the pillow, I drew in the full sensation of being so tightly bound to a bed and let my imagination run wild, as I thought up a story of just how come I could end up like that for real. All of these stories had one thing in common. Ross White. In all of them, it was the fifteen year old, who had kidnapped me, and tied me up, so he could turn me into the obedient little brother that Kurt wasn't.

From time to time, I struggled against the bonds that held me, to make the stories in my mind seem all the more real. But what I didn't realise is that, while I was doing this, the way I'd fixed the straps, meant that, whenever I moved they actually tightened up. For most of them this didn't really matter as I'd already done them up as tight as they could go, but for those on my wrists, it would prove to be a fatal mistake.

It was a good ninety minutes after I'd first started when I felt the urge to pee, starting to come on. For another thirty minutes or so, I was able to ignore it, but then I wasn't, and I realised I was going to have to end my adventure early, which is when I realised just how stuck I was and not just because the straps had tightened either.

Looking up from where I was laid out, I had a much clearer view of the way the cot was constructed than I'd ever had from the outside. In the name of Health and Safety, naturally there was nothing on the inside that could injure the infant it was designed to hold, but this also mean that all the release catches were on the outside too, including those that held the sides to the roof. What's more the designer had ensure little hands wouldn't be able to reach them, so there was no way my fourteen year old ones would either. Not that my hands were going anywhere anyway.

I had tied my feet in a way that prevented any movement, and thanks to the slides slipping down, now my hands were trapped in exactly the same way. I couldn't even get my fingertips too them, let along ease them upwards to give myself the slack I needed to free myself. I was now very definitely tied up.

Time moved on while I thought of, and then discounted any number of plans to free myself, yet at the end of all of them, I was still stuck just where I'd been at the start.

My arms, legs and most of my body ached from being stretched out and immobile for so long, yet there was nothing I could do, and, of course the need to pee still hadn't gone away. It had just gotten stronger and I couldn't even squeeze my legs together to help prevent the inevitable from happening.

Sweat appeared on my body as I concentrated on not peeing so much that it started to ache deep inside my belly, until I literally had no option but to let go, or else I'd have burst.

For a further hour I lay there as the once warm urine started to both cool down and dry out, and then things got more interesting, as I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the wooden stairs to the attic where I lay trapped.

Chapter Eight

Once I heard the door to my room click open, I knew I was in trouble, as instead of my parents poking their head around the door, there was a smaller, blonder head, who, didn't seem at all surprised to see me.

"Found him guys." Kurt called out, over his shoulder, pushing the door all the way open. "Looks like little Joey got started without us."

There was the sound of running feet before the Hammond twins appeared on either side of their leader, with confused looks on their faces. "Jesus, who did that to him?" Kane asked for them both.

"He did." Kurt's smile got wider, "He did it all by his little self didn't you Joey."

I said nothing as he came closer to the cot I'd managed to get myself trapped inside, but before he could say anything else, one of the twins asked what the odd smell was.

"Piss." Kurt pointed at the wet spot I was laying in, "Looks like someone has wet the bed."

"Er gross!" the twins both said as Kurt came up to the head of the cot to peer at me through the bars.

"Poor little Joey, did you have to go pee in your bed."

I said nothing as there was nothing I could say. I was, after all fourteen, and had been caught not only tying myself up, but doing so in a baby's cot, and then getting so stuck that I'd been forced to wet myself, just like a baby. And, from the look on Kurt's face it was about to get worse.

"Don't worry little Joey," the eleven year old said, "We'll take care of you and in return you will do everything and anything that we tell you, is that understood?"

Again I didn't know what to say, but as it turned out that didn't seem to matter as once he'd finished speaking, Kurt turned his back on me, called his two henchmen over and started whispering to them. Every now and again, one, two, or all of them would turn and look at either me, or some part of the cot before turning their attention back to each other.

The consultation continued for a good five minutes before, at long last, the three young boys came back to the cot and much to my relief started to remove all the straps that held me down. However, they didn't release me completely from my bondage. Instead, they just unfastened those points where I'd attached myself to the bed. Releasing my ankles and wrists from the corner posts, and the straps connected to my thighs and chest harness. They didn't remove anything else though, so my hands and ankles remained loosely bound to each other, and, of course, the harness remained on.

"Come on then, little Joey time to get out of bed." Kurt instructed me, pulling on the harness straps so that I would roll towards the edge of the cot, and then, with a sharp tug out onto the floor.

I landed with a thud, having no time to get either my hands or knees under me before I fell. Thankfully the twins were then on hand to help me up onto my knees beside the cot. However, when I attempted to get up to my feet they prevented this, and kept me where I was. Slowly bending me over the side of the cot until, to my horror, I was looking directly at the wet stain I'd made in the middle of the mattress.

"This is what happens to naughty boys who wet themselves." Kurt took a hold of the back of my head, and shoved me right down, face first into what remained of the puddle.

I tried my best to twist my head to the side, but there was no where for my face to go other than into the damp, and smelly mattress.

"You have to learn." Kurt said into the back of my head as he handed over control of my head to the twins while he reached down for something beneath the cot itself.

SWOT!

The first smack of the youngster's trainer across the seat of my briefs stung more from the surprise than anything else.

SWOT!

The second one, stung more, because it was harder. Pure and simple.

SWOT!

The third, and those that followed, carried on the trend.

"You wait." Kurt said between blows.

SWOT! SWOT! SWOT! SWOT!

"Until the guys at school hear how you wet your bed like a little baby."

SWOT! SWOT! SWOT! SWOT!

My bum was still tender from the heavy spanking Ross had given me, so it didn't take long for me to be reduced to begging the youngster to stop.

"Please! Please! I'll do it!"

SWOT! SWOT!

"DO what?" demanded Kurt, punctuating his words with yet more blows.

SWOT! SWOT!

"I'll do whatever you want? Just stop spanking me."

SWOT! SWOT! SWOT!

"In a minute!"

SWOT! SWOT! SWOT!

When the blows finally finished, Kurt put his shoe back on and the twins released their hold on me. Not that I moved, much even though I was free, the three of them content to leave me leaning over the side of the cot, while they got ready for what they had in mind to do next.

It was some time before what was next actually happened, and it wasn't until Kurt came back into the room carrying a big black bag that it did. This surprised me as I hadn't been aware that he'd actually left the room, so I didn't get all that much time to wonder what was going to be inside the bag.

"Right then, let's get little Joey cleaned up shall we?" he said to the twins with a grin, "Get him up on the bed again."

Once more I was laid out on the cot, but thankfully away from the wet patch this time, but with the straps once more applied to my wrists, harness, thighs and ankles.

"First things first. Let's get you out of those stinky panties shall we. " Kurt produced a pair of scissors, and much to my horror started to snip up the sides of the only thing I was wearing until, he was able to yank the briefs away with a tug, leaving me naked.

"I bet you're stinky areas are all sticky ain't it." The lad joked, producing a packet of baby wipes from his bag which he then proceed to use, to clean up my lower stomach area. And lower.

As soon as the soft, medicated and surprising soft touch, of the wipes started to approach my willy, I started to stiffen up, which made the twins nudge each other and giggle but, other than that it was ignored.

Kurt took his time cleaning around my groin, my willy, around, and even under my nuts, using most of the packet of baby wipes that he would throw away whenever they became to poor to use anymore and I have to say that I was starting to feel a little better despite the stinging still coming from my backside.

"Right then, I think that's done. Now let's make sure that this doesn't happen again, shall we."

Kurt returned to the big black bag and once he found what he was looking for pulled it out so I could get a good look at it at the oversized disposable nappy he held.

Even if I hadn't been strapped to the cot I doubt I could have made a movement as I was frozen to the spot while Kurt ripped open the packaging on the nappy, and laid it out on the mattress between my forcibly spread legs.

The twins lent a hand with the next part, one on each side of the cot, raising my middle section up so Kurt could slide the nappy under my bottom. Then I was dropped back onto it. The front part was then pulled up between my legs, and over my still erect willy. The protective covering ripped from the tabs, before they were then fastened, tightly around my hips, to hold the nappy in place.

When it was done, it didn't feel all that bad, sort of like strangely cushioned underwear. It was tight on my body but in the last few weeks I'd got used to that feeling, but the material of the nappy was a lot more soothing and comfortable than the tight briefs and shorts I had been wearing. And yet, just as I settled into the comfortable feeling this gave me, I found myself become more uncomfortable at the thought of being babied like this.

"Right then, here's what's going to happen." Kurt told me, "From now on you are going to do whatever we tell you, whenever we tell you and right now you are going to be our baby so no doing anything that big boys do or we'll have to punish you. Got it?"

I was about to reply that I understood, when a gurgling noise from my stomach interrupted me and I realised that something else was about to happen. I just wasn't sure what I could do about it. Kurt though, had noticed my sudden discomfort and asked.

"Well, what is it?" he asked, "and remember you're a baby now, so don't go using no words a baby wouldn't, or else."

"I…" I hesitated, as I tried to rephrase things the way he wanted and yet not die of embarrassment, "I… I… have to go poo."

The three boys, looked at each other and then burst out into giggles before Kurt could bring himself to say the thing I least wanted to hear… "Well, don't let us stop you, Joey!"

I looked up at them, like they must be joking but clearly they weren't especially when they all left the room, and left me to my fate.

Laying alone once more in my bedroom, I pulled against my bonds but they, of course, didn't give and even if they had done, before he'd left Kurt had made sure to slide the cot side back into place so I wouldn't be able to get out of the cot, even if I could get out of the straps. I was stuck, and that realisation, just made things worse.

I started to sweat, my toes clenched, my stomach rumbled, and then it was all over, as my bowels emptied themselves into the nappy.

Instantly the boys came back into the room – clearly they'd been just outside the door waiting for the sound, or smell of me messing myself – and the teasing started.

"What's it feel like?" Kane asked, his nose wrinkling.

"All warm and mushy!" prompted his brother, who was keeping his distance so he could make sure to capture the entire scene on the camera he was holding.

"I bet little Joey wants his nappy changed now doesn't he?"

I nodded rapidly to Kurt's question, that was exactly what I wanted.

"Well you have to ask nicely."

"I… I've made a poo-poo." I started, watching their faces to see that I was going in the right direction, "Please can you change my nappy."

"There's a good little baby Joey." Laughed Kurt, reaching down and ripping open the tabs on either side of the nappy and pulling it open, which at once released even more of the smell. A smell that made all four of us turn a little green as it truly smelt terrible.

"Jesus, that stinks!" Kurt announced wasting no time in pulling it out from under me, and dropped it into the disposable bag Kane was holding.

The smell that remained once the nappy was taken away by one of the twins to be thrown away, only came from me, but as Kurt once more set about cleaning me up that soon started to clear the air until finally I was once more wearing a nappy, only this one was nice and clean and fresh and feeling a hell of a lot better than the one that had just come up.

After that, things got even better, as the straps were slowly removed from me, which was great as my arms and legs were starting to feel like they weren't even part of me anymore. However, when I attempted to get out of the cot on my own, Kurt soon pushed me back down again.

"What do you think you're doing. You're a baby remember and babies don't walk, they crawl."

Remembering just how quick the eleven year old was to anger, I dropped down to my hands and knees, and with my big white clad, nappy covered bottom high in the air, followed the three of them out of the bedroom and towards the stairs.

Going down the steps on my hands and knees was somewhat daunting, but thankfully, Kurt allowed me to pounce down on my buttocks which didn't really help with the recent spankings I'd had, but was a lot safer then going down head first. Still I was grateful that the twins went down in front of my, while Kurt followed, still carrying the big black bag over his shoulder, and holding my reins in his hand.

One the lower floor we went first into the living room but not before I'd managed a glance into the kitchen where I was sure I saw what looked very much like an oversized baby's high chair.

"Before you eat your din-din," Kurt said, pulling the reins so I'd look towards him, "There's something I want to do. There's something I need to check. Keep still."

Standing behind me, at the entrance to the hall, Kurt unfastened the tabs on the sides of the nappy and allowed it to fall down to my knees. Then, leaving it there, he rummaged around in his bag for a few minutes, before pulling something out which I couldn't see.

"Keep still!" I was warned as hands came onto my recently slippered buttocks, spreading them apart. Then I felt something hard being pushed against my bum hole, but before I could do anything to resist it, the twins were holding me firmly by the sides and Kurt shoved it in.

The object was about three inches long, and about an inch in diameter, yet still I whimpered from the pain as it was pushed into my bottom, yet somehow managed to keep from making a sound even as my nappy was pulled back up again.

"Okay, time for din-din."

I was lead into the kitchen, still on my hands and knees, towards the high-chair, that was indeed there. Kane, running ahead slightly to open up the table top on it's hinges, patting the seat.

I crawled over towards it, and then up to the level of the seat, despite the movements of m legs causing the object inside my rear to go in all sorts of weird, and painful places. I then turned around, and slowly sat down onto the hard seat.

The moment I sat down, Kurt closed the table top down, and clipped it into place, tight across my legs which pushed the item in my bottom all the way inside me, making me wince. Not that the three boys appeared to notice as the Able fastened the harness I was wearing to the back of the high chair, and Kane, placed a large baby bib around me. Kurt, meanwhile bought out some jars of baby food.

Spoonful by fairly disgusting spoonful I was fed the mashed up food by the eleven year old, who even when through the entire pretence of doing the "Open the tunnel for the train" routine while all I could think about was the object buried deep in my bum and the strange sensations it was giving me.

When the food was finally gone – all three jars of it – a baby's bottle was produced and plugged into my mouth where I had little option but to suck down the overly warm, and slightly bitter tasting liquid until that too was all gone.

"There's a good little baby boy." Kurt patronized me, "Open wide!"

I did as I was told half expecting some more milk but instead, I found a large size dummy was pushed between my lips. It had a hard plastic bulb on the inside that seemed to fill my mouth, and which was far from comfortable but already I knew better than to attempt to spit it out, so like the baby they were treating me as, I just sat there sucking on it.

"There's a good baby," the patronising continued, until Kurt produced small tied up plastic bag. "Now be a good baby and throw away your dirty nappy."

In a few clicks I was released from the high chair and finally allowed down onto the floor, next to the bag which I tentatively picked up in my one hand before a tap of Kurt's foot on my rear, urged me towards the back door.

There were a few more similar kicks before I finally arrived at the door to the outside which, gleefully, Abel rushed to open for me so I could see the outside world beyond.

My cheeks glowed in my embarrassment as I was urged out into the garden, trying as I could to behave like this was a normal thing for a fourteen year old to be wearing a small, disposable nappy, and nothing else other than a dummy in his mouth, as he went over to the rubbish bins at the end of the yard and drop it inside.

Once that was done, I turned and started crawling as fast as I could back to the house, only to find it completely empty. The boys had, for some reason completely gone, and I soon found out why, when I heard my parent's car pulling up in the front yard.

Flying into a total panic, I jumped to my feet and rushed up to my room, only to be stopped in my tracks when I remembered the high chair still in the middle of the kitchen, complete with now empty pots of baby food around it.

Acting as quickly as I could, I shoved the chair back into a corner of the room and covered it with a cloth, before scooping up all the other baby gear I could find, and rushing upstairs, just as my parent's key turned in the front door.

The nappy came of in seconds to be replaced by now what was becoming my normal clothes of shirts and a T shirt. The rest of the gear thrown under the cot where I could deal with it later, before I headed back downstairs, trying to act as if nothing had happened, and explain how I'd managed to put the high chair together, whilst trying to forget about the thing that was still stuck up my bum.

Chapter Nine

A note from mum told me she and dad weren't going to be back any time soon which gave me the chance to do something I'd been dreaming about ever since the day the three eleven year olds had turned me into a teenage baby. Not that it had very much to do with that part of what happened.

Dashing to my room, I stripped off the shorts and vest I'd been wearing, and went into the room where the cot was still set up. The closet door was open and I could see myself in the mirror, looking younger than I had done for many years. My body was still smooth and hairless from the hair remover, but other than that, I guess I looked pretty much as I had done before. The tan marks from where such short shorts and sleeves, marked my arms and legs much higher than they had done. While my main torso, also had a faint tan that seemed to bring focus upon my nipples, that had started to puff up a little, at the same time as my stomach had hardened. And it wasn't the only thing either.

As soon as I'd entered the cot room, my willy had become stiff, but again, not for that reason but for the memories of the one thing that had been perhaps the most unexpected about the entire babying experience. This wasn't being strapped in the cot, having my face rubbing in my own pee, being forced to wear, and then use a nappy, or even being fed mush in a high chair. No, it was the thing that had been pushed into my bum. That's what I couldn't get out of my mind.

The object had turned out to be a rubber handle from a skipping rope, or something like that, and while the initial experience hadn't been all that pleasant, the longer it had remained inside me, then the more I had come to realise that my bottom was becoming a major pleasure zone, be that from being spanked, or from having things pushed up there.

In the days that had followed Kurt's most recent scheme to humiliate me, I had carried out a few more experiments of my own, with various things I'd been able to find around the house in the hopes that I could find something that was, at least, more comfortable going in, and then out, than the plastic handle had been.

The best item I'd found, had been somewhat surprising, in that it was a white porcelain pestle that my mum had found for the kitchen but, I was sure had never actually used which was just as well given what I was doing with it.

The pestle was around eight inches long, with a knob on one end, and a smooth tapered handle that seemed perfect for sliding up my bum, and which could then be used to poke around inside my insides, until I found that spot that always sent me over the edge. And this was one of those times.

Leaving my room, I ran naked through the house, which like so many things wasn't all that unusual anymore, but which still made me hornier, and I went into a crazy sort of skit that involved me leaping onto the couch and bouncing up and down, just like a little naked baby, until I fell down onto my back, and waggled my legs in the air, exposing myself completely to anyone that could see. Not that anyone was there.

My bum hole was, by now, starting to throb a little so I knew it was time to move on into the kitchen.

I moved slower this time, as if teasing myself, taking the time to put a little roll into my step, so my hard willy would rock from side to side, and my bum hole tingle even more.

Through the windows I could see the yard with the bin where I'd disposed of the nappy I'd soiled – and later buried under more rubbish – and I was tempted to go outside and do what I had to do, but figured that I'd probably already had more sex in the open then most boys my age – whatever age that was at the moment – so continued into the kitchen instead, just like I'd planned.

Opening the kitchen drawer I found the pestle right where I'd left it last time, all alone in the corner, wrapped in an old cloth so it wouldn't rattle around and draw attention to itself. At the same time I did this, I felt a drip of pre cum ease itself out of the head of my willy and drop down to the floor where it landed in a little puddle between my feet.

"Shit!" I said to myself wondering if it would stain, and then thinking that I'd better clean it up in case it did, but then, as I was reaching for the cloth I wondered what Kurt or Ross would think if they'd seen me dribbling on the floor.

The answer was obvious and soon I was down on my knees, licking up my own cum without a second thought. It was, after all, my own cum, and anyway, I wasn't like I hadn't tasted another boy's before. Hell even Kurt had managed to produce something when I'd sucked him off although nowhere near as much as Ross had, obviously.

Soon I was pretending it was Ross's cum I was licking up and that he was the one making me do all the dirty things that I had already done, and those I was about to do. Yet, before long the pestle was once more calling me.

Taking the pestle out of the drawer I unwrapped it from it's cloth before wasting no time in sticking it into my mouth and starting to suck on it which I continued to do as I made my way back into the living room, and the sofa.

It was cold and hard but still it felt enough like what I wanted so that I could imagine it was Ross's organ I was sucking on, getting it good a wet for where it was going to go next. With my eyes closed I pictured Ross standing in front of me, with his seemingly man-sized willy pushing back and forth into my mouth, as I sucked him on to a huge ball-churning orgasm that would make him shoot, and shoot and shoot.

The pestle of course, couldn't shoot, but there was something it could do instead. It could go up my bum.

By the time I was ready the pestle was really wet from the sucking and licking my mouth had given it, which allowed me to place it down, between the cheeks of my bottom, and shove.

I was in a bit too much of a hurry, and it hurt at first when the hard object slid past the tight muscles of my bum hole, making me yelp involuntarily, but then as it continued to sink inside and reach that special spot, I gasped with pure pleasure.

Leaning back into the sofa's embrace, I worked the pestle rod in and out of my hole, while my willy throbbed and oozed away without me once touching it.

I could almost imagine Ross was there, fucking me, turning me on, talking to me. Asking me things. Wondering where I was. Asking if I was home.

IF I WAS HOME?

My eyes shot open and sure enough there was someone standing there.

"Hi Joey!" the muscular youth said to me, a sly grin on his face. "Having fun?"

I couldn't move. This couldn't be happening. Surely. And yet, even as I question if I was imagining all this, I was aware of Ross coming into the living room, walking directly over to where I'd been enjoying myself, and looking down at me.

I tried to think of something to say but what could I? I was naked after all. And had an erection. And had the pestle shoved nearly all the way up my bum.

"So…!" he said, as I stared up at him, enthralled once more by his heavy set body. His shirt pulled tight across his pecs that his nipples seemed to be poking right through it.

And then, he reached down and openly adjusted the front of his somewhat baggy jeans, where, before my very eyes I could actually see his erection start to grow.

Suddenly his hand reached down, grabbed my ankles and lifted both my legs up high in the air, which both forced me to slide down a bit on the sofa until my bottom was right at the edge, while at the same time, totally exposed myself to him, except for the part I had covered with my hand. The same hand that was holding the rod up my bum. A hand he soon snatched away.

"Well, well, who is a naughty little boy then." He laughed, swapping both my ankles into his left hand so his right one could sweep down, and spank my exposed rear.

"Naughty little Joey!" he repeated, slapping my bum, lightly although still hard enough to make it sting.

He had both my ankles up in the air, so there was no way I could protect my bum, from either the light spanking or what he did next.

Reaching between my buttocks, Ross took hold of the end of the pestle that poked out there, and pushed it back inside me. Instantly I gasped with delight, and flopped back onto the sofa, while my willy let go with another small drop of pre cum.

"Like that, don't you?" he teased before letting go of both my improvised sex toy and my ankles.

"Please!" I begged, even though I wasn't sure what I was pleading for. The thoughts going out of my head as I sat up, with the pestle still inside me, causing it to touch me in just that spot one more time, in such a way as to clear everything from my head.

Ross looked down at me, a grin on his face, and one hand, groping himself through his jeans one more time. "You know, I think you owe me a favour."

"Yeah, sure anything you want." I blurted out.

The fifteen year old smiled at me, and then pulled off his t-shirt, to show his big hard pecs and rock-hard, washboard abs. Then his hands went back lower, towards his jeans, but they didn't caress this time. Now they simply flicked the button, ran the zip, and then let them fall to the floor to expose himself for the first time in front of me.

It was big, very hard, and already wetter than the pestle had been when that had gone inside my bum hole, which gave me a pretty good idea of what Ross was intending to do with his prick.

"Lift your legs up again, and spread them wide." He told me, as he stood there slowly stroking himself while I complied, laying back down on the sofa and exposing myself to him in the crudest way possible.

With one hand continuing to hold his erection, Ross reached down with the other to remove the pestle from my rear. Then when that was dropped onto the floor, his fingers returned to my hole and pushed themselves inside me.

Instantly my little erect willy started to throb in time to the fingers that were now moving around inside me and even more liquid started to drip from me, down onto my belly.

"Want this, don't you, Joey!" Ross said, removing his fingers and lowering himself down so that the head of his prick would line up to hole.

Ross pushed, but my stubborn hole resisted him.

"Loosen up." He told me and I tried my best, but it wasn't easy, yet despite our problems we made headway.

IT took some time for Ross to work the crown of his prick inside my but once the enormous head entered, the rest of his prick seemed to go in a lot easier, although not entirely pain-free.

Soon Ross no longer needed to guide himself and his hands came around to grasp my hips, holding me steady as his erection travelled deeper and deeper into my body until at long last his big muscular body pressed up tight to my slightly reddened buttocks. His heavy coating of pubic hair brushing against my naked little boy body, as if I needed a further reminder of just how mature he was than me, as he started to fuck me for real.

The movements were slow at first, whilst I got used to the sensation of having another boy's prick moving in and out of my bum hole, but as soon as my body's resistant started to subside, Ross's motions started to speed up.

My hands lay uselessly at my sides, but then they didn't need to do anything, as the motion of his prick through my sphincter caused my willy to throb, which in turned increased my sensitivity towards the thrusts he was making inside me.

Soon both the speed and tempo of Ross' fucking started to increase. His hands dug into my hips slightly, as his hips continued to slap against my buttocks into I was sent totally over the top.

"Oh shit!" I yelped as my willy ejaculated all over my chest and belly, yet Ross continued to fuck me even as my willy was drained of it's last liquid and fell back into it's deflated state.

As my orgasm passed so my muscles relaxed including my bum hole, which allowed Ross to thrust himself even deeper into me which was just starting to become uncomfortable, when he climaxed inside me. Even so I felt ever single throb of his ejaculation as it spurted out into me.

And so ended my first real fucking. Once he was done, and recovered enough, Ross just pulled up his jeans, put on his shirt and left. I never did find out the reason why he'd turned up at the house that day, but I doubt if either of us really cared, as we had more than enough to think about as it was.

The End