The Mailing List

The Mailing List 5

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.

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This story is set in the Puericil Universe.

These are extracts from the email correspondence between four boys, who became friends as cabin mates at summer camp. All their families are believers in the Conservative Resurgence and in the need to keep boys under strict parental control to prevent them from becoming juvenile delinquents. In fact, the summer camp where they met is run along those lines. All four are given Puericil as a way of making them easily manageable and docile.

There is more boyish chatter in the list, but I have only included the bits most relevant for those interested in the treatment of boys under the Conservative Resurgence.

One of the boys, Brandon, 13 years old, is son of the famous psychologist Dr. Cassandra Miller, who has written several bestsellers about parenting boys and keeping them under strict parental control. He has two older brothers.

Zachary (or Zac) is also 13. He has a larger family, with four sisters, two of them older and two younger, and also a younger brother. He is a sport-loving boy who only started taking Puericil recently, although his mother has always believed in the Conservative Resurgence parenting style.

Cody is the youngest one, at 12. He has a twin and his mom is a new convert to the Conservative Resurgence parenting style.

Benji is 13 and has been recently adopted, so he has an adoptive mother and younger sister. Before that he lived with his elderly grandmother until she died.

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PART 5
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From: Brandon (Brandon Stanley Miller, age 13)

Hey Benji,

I was thinking about what you told us the other day, about how your sister Olivia didn't let you cover yourself with your hands because "touching your peenie is rude".

Your sister and my mom must think alike, because look at what happened today:

Mom took us (my brothers and me) to the beach. We were wearing our swimming suits and T-shirts in the car, and then we got to the beach, mom set up the beach umbrella and us boys could go play in the water with this beach ball we got. Then we would come out and dry ourselves under the sun, and then we would do some big sand castles...

We had a great morning, but then it was time to leave, so mom called us. When we got to the umbrella she said, "We are leaving soon. Suits off, boys."

We looked at each other. There were many people on the beach, and there's no way they wouldn't see us.

"Can we have a towel to change under," Tyler (my 15-year-old middle brother) said.

"Of course not," mom said. "You are not girls, to need so much privacy."

"But mom, it's cold," I said. It was the first thing I could think to have mom let us use a towel, but it was silly because it was hot in the midday sun.

"Cold?" my mother chuckled, "I guess I could warm you up, but starting with your bottom. No more arguing. Suits off now."

We looked at each other again, but we know there was no helping it. When mom gave an order she didn't like repeating herself, and if we delayed more we would end up getting spanked right there. Mom always says that if we don't like people to see us getting spanked we shouldn't have misbehaved in public.

Jason (my 17-year-old older brother) was the first to take off his speedo. He was there naked in front of God and everybody, and by then we were the center of attention. Everyone around seemed to be looking at us, and there were plenty of girls too.

Tyler and I looked again at each other, then at mom, who was looking like she was running out of patience, and then we pulled down our suits too.

So there I was, naked like a baby in front of everybody on a crowded beach. I saw a girl my age grinning and looking at me, and I covered my peenie with my hands.

"Hands away from there, Brandon," mom said loudly. "I won't have my sons playing with their peenies in public."

There were chuckles around us, and I quickly took my hands away, blushing beet red.

"Give me your suits," mom said.

We gave them to her, and she spend a good couple of minutes examining them while we squirmed there, naked like the day we were born for everyone to see.

"There's some sand in them. Go rinse them in the water," she ordered, giving us our respective swimsuits.

We took them and ran to the water, rinsed them and went back as quickly as we could. Adults all around the beach followed us with their eyes, grinning, and kids (of both sexes, but mostly girls), more openly curious, followed us around.

Mom again took her sweet time, squeezing and kneading each of our suits in turn to get the water out. Then she looked at us.

"Come here, Brandon. Turn around, I want to see your bottom."

To my mortification, she grabbed one of my buttocks and separated it from the other to see into my crack.

"As I expected, there's some sand in your bottom. I swear I don't know how you boys get sand in the most unsuspected places. Anyone would think you spent the morning rolling about in the sand. Go to the water, the three of you, and wash all the sand out. I don't want any in the car."

So we ran to the water again and went in for a quick wash.

When we came back we hoped we would be allowed to cover up then, but that was not to be.

"I'm not putting on your dry swimsuits while you are so wet. Just stand there in the sun until you get dry," mom told us.

"Aw, mom, can't we use a towel?"

"No need. The sun is healthier."

So we had to stand there for several minutes while everyone stared, enjoying the show.

One little girl, about eight or nine years old, more intrepid than the rest, approached us.

"Hi," she said to my mom. "Why are your boys naked?" she asked.

"Hi there," mom said. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Carla."

"Well, Carla. They are naked because I had them rinse off the sand and now I'm waiting till they are dry to put on their dry swimming suits."

She twisted her pigtail, thinking.

"But everyone's seeing their peenies."

Mom laughed at that, amused by her spontaneity.

"That's true," mom said. "But they are just boys, so it doesn't matter. You wouldn't like to be naked on the beach, would you?"

"Nuh-uh," she negated with her head firmly. "Everyone would see me."

"Well, that's natural, because you are a girl and you need your privacy. But boys don't need modesty. They think they do, but they really don't, that's why it's called false modesty."

"But why don't boys need modesty?" The little girl asked.

"Well, you know that boys are less mature than girls, don't you?"

"Yes, everybody knows that," the girl nodded.

"Well, boys are not mature enough to need modesty. They think they do, because they see girls and grownups being modest and they think they need modesty too, but actually they don't."

"Wow," the girl thought about that. "Not even the big one?" She said, pointing to Jason.

Mom chuckled again. "No, not even the big one... Jason, come here."

My older brother approached warily.

"Tell Carla," mom said, "are you allowed to bathe yourself?"

"No."

"That's right," mom told Carla. Then she said to my brother, "So who bathes you?"

"You do. Or Emma," Jason, said, looking down at his feet, mortified and unable to look at the girl's eyes. Not that she minded, because her eyes were staring at Jason's peenie.

"Emma is their babysitter," mom explained. "She is a young girl, only a couple of years older than you, but already she's much more mature than my boys. So, you see, boys are so immature that they can't even bathe themselves properly, so you'll understand that they are not mature enough to need any modesty."

The girl nodded absent-mindedly, fascinated as she was with Jason's peenie.

"Can I touch his peenie?" she suddenly asked.

"Have you never seen a naked boy before?" mom asked her,

"I have seen my brothers, but they are little."

"Well, my sons are just like your little brothers, only bigger. Yes, you can touch their peenies if you want. Tyler, Brandon, come here. This girl wants to know what bigger boys' peenies look like."

We had no option but to obey, and we stood around this little girl while she touched and examined Jason's peenie as much as she wanted, and then did the same to Tyler's and mine.

Tyler's peenie got hard under her manipulations, and then she insisted on making Jason's and mine hard too.

A bunch of kids, mostly girls, was surrounding us by then. Carla was the bolder one, the others were content with watching everything. There were giggles and whispered (and not-so-whispered) comments. I overheard a group of girls about 10-years-old comparing the size of our peenies. One advantage of being the youngest is that my two brothers, being older, concentrated more attention. One disadvantage is that I, being younger, had the smallest peenie. At least mom is not one of those mothers who use the version of puericil that keeps boy's peenies really small like a little child's. Ours were normal size. Or would be, if they weren't a bit shivered by the cold water and the shame.

Still, normal size or not, I don't think it's possible to be more embarrassed than we were. Naked as a jaybird in the middle of a crowded beach, not even allowed to cover ourselves, with a bunch of kids, most of them girls, surrounding us and staring in fascination. Mom of course was unsympathetic. She has little patience for our "false modesty".

I heard one girl, who looked about ten, taunt his slightly older brother, "See? Those boys are naked because all boys so are immature that it doesn't matter who sees them. That's why mom still helps with your bath. I'm not going to rest until I get her to let me help with your bath too, so I'll see you naked every day. I'll see your peenie and your bottom every day, and I'll touch them too! And you'll never ever see me naked!" She looked smug as she teased him in a singsong voice, and her brother looked quite worried.

Finally, with Carla's curiosity fully satisfied, mom let us put on our dry swimming suits and we left the beach, dressed but still red-faced.

(The End)