Terrible Tad 7

By PatrickNaked

Copyright 2022 by PatrickNaked all rights reserved

Terrible Tad 7: Tales of Hammond

It was a few days after that Saturday at my aunt’s that Tracie, Ellie and I presented our latest Tale of Tad to the group at story time. And unbeknownst to the others, it was to be our first multimedia presentation.

We were all gathered in the hayloft of my family’s barn, where we always held story time. Tracie, Ellie and I took turns relating the latest of the boy’s misadventures. Annette took notes for the written narrative she would compose later.

We took our audience through the destruction of the dishes, to Tad’s perilous balancing act and subsequent mud bath, to our attempts to clean the dirty boy before my aunt arrived, to her making him remove his underpants in front of us. Then we paused.

The other girls waited expectantly. They were hooked. This was the best Tale of Tad yet. As the pause lengthened, they began to get restless, wondering at the intermission. But still they waited, following our rule of never interrupting the storyteller till the tale was told. There was always a time for questions afterwards.

We waited longer till they were visibly restless and were about to begin voicing their annoyance. Then we resumed, having created the sense of anticipation we desired.

As we continued to our first view of the naked boy through the living room window, Ellie began producing the photos she had taken. The non-interruption rule died beneath screams of delight and wild peals of laughter. We passed the photos around consecutively, each one illustrating the next phase of the story.

We finished to a literal standing ovation.

We spent at least another hour with the girls perusing the photos of the unsuspecting Tad. I had come prepared and produced a magnifying glass so everyone could make a closer, more detailed inspection of the totality of Tad’s naked body. Tina exclaimed as she held the glass up to one, “These pictures are so CLEAR! I can practically see up his pee hole.”

Since we had taken photos from a vantage point he could never attain, the members of our group had probably seen more of Tad’s body than he had seen of himself… Tad was no contortionist. Soon, the number of girls to access that exclusive view would increase when we showed the photos to our stringers, the little sisters and their friends as yet too young to be full members.

As the meeting broke up, we gave the photos to Annette to put in the notebook along with her written rendition of the new tale. We’d soon have our first fully illustrated story. I had made the firm decision that it wouldn’t be our last.

We were going to need a bigger book. And we were going to need more aggressive tactics.

It was then than our little passive group ceased to exist, and the more militant Hammond Humiliation Society was born.

A few of stories from 1962 were, in no particular order…

The Boy in the Puddle - Patricia’s ten year old brother Tommy, was pounding desperately on the bathroom door one morning while she took the necessary amount of time, and no more, to make sure her makeup was absolutely perfect. As she finished, she heard him cry out, “Oh, nooooo!” She opened the door to see him soaking his pajama bottoms while miserably standing in a growing puddle of pee. He was leaking elsewhere, too, as tears of shame ran down his cheeks. She felt a bit sorry for him, but not to the extent that she didn’t call the rest of the household over to share in the sight.

Now Tommy’s extremely annoyed mother was kneeling down in front of him, careful to avoid his piddle puddle, preparing to remove his sodden pajamas. Patricia and her nine year old sister Gail were watching in anticipation. His father had taken one look and told his mother, “Luckily, I need to leave for work. He’s all yours. Bye, dear.”

Despite Tommy’s repeated objections, his mother began to undress him. She took his pajama top off first. Even the shirttails had been doused. "Honestly, a boy your age... Do I have to put you back in diapers?" This brought a renewed sob from Tommy. She dropped the garment at the edge the puddle.

As she started tugging down his bottoms, he cried, "Mom, the girls are here. They can see."

Mom replied angrily, "You should've thought of that before you peed yourself like a baby. Now, step out of these nasty things."

After she stripped him of his pajamas, Tommy was left in just his wet briefs. He desperately wanted to ask his mother to make the girls leave before the next step, but she was already angry with him. He didn’t want to test her patience any further.

When she pulled his underwear down, he closed his eyes. He knew his sisters could now see his wiener, but he didn’t have to see them see it. Once his mother had tossed the briefs over with his other sodden clothing, he tried to shield himself with his hands, but his mother spatted them, saying "Don't put your hands there. You're covered in pee."

She gathered his sodden garments and stood up before the now naked boy. "Stay here while I take these nasty things to the wash. Don't you dare move and track pee everywhere."

After she had left, he opened his eyes and stood shamefaced in front of his sisters, very much aware of how naked he was. He started to put his hands over himself again, but Gail told him with a smirk, "Mom said not to do that. I'll tell." He dropped his hands resentfully and waited an eternity for his mom to return. His two smiling sisters looked him up and down for the duration, even going around behind him to see his bare backside, too.

They hadn’t seen their brother naked in years. And the last time they had, he had been young enough to not be embarrassed by his nudity. That had changed, and they were going to make the most of it. Tommy could be an annoying brother at times. For his sisters, this payback was delicious.

While they analyzed his anatomy, Tommy begged them to not tell anyone about his accident. If the other kids at school learned he had peed in his pajamas, his life would be over. The girls held a quick conference and told him if he did everything they said for the rest of the year (specifics to be determined later), they would keep his shameful secret.

The boy was dubious of this deal. There was danger there. He’d be basically signing a blank check. He asked Patricia, “How do I know you won’t make me do something even more humiliating? And make me do it over and over. Or a whole lot of somethings? There’s months to go before the end of the year.”

Patricia replied reasonably, “What could be more humiliating than your current situation? Besides, what choice do you have? Do you want to be known at school from now on as Little Tommy Pee Pot? We can make that happen.”

Tommy still balked. He knew his sisters. They could be EVIL.

Patricia told him, “You have until Mom gets back to agree. After that, no deal.”

Tommy heard his mother’s footsteps as she returned from the laundry room. He quickly but reluctantly gave in and agreed to the terms, hoping he hadn’t made the worst mistake of his young life.

Of course, Patricia told our little group, anyway. She had taken a prior vow that superseded any subsequent contracts or commitments. We all now knew of little Tommy’s accident.

Their mother returned with a towel. She made him lift one foot out of his puddle. As he balanced with a hand on her shoulder, she dried that foot, then told him, "Step over out of the pee. Watch you don't put your foot in it again." Now, not only was he naked, he was standing with his feet as wide apart as his legs would allow, one foot in his puddle and one out. He looked down at himself where his swaying wiener and scrotum hung down in the center, looking obvious and obscene. He looked back up at his sisters and their even bigger smiles.

Their mother now instructed Patricia, "Hold onto him while I dry his other foot." Patricia hooked her arm around his slender waist and pulled him to her while mom lifted his foot and began drying it. He obviously did NOT like his older sister handling him in any way while he was naked. While she held him with one arm, she surreptitiously pinched him on his bare bottom with her other hand. He jerked in surprise.

Their mother exploded, “Tommy, what the hell are you doing? You almost kicked me in the face!”

Tommy tried to say, “It was Patr….” but Patricia interrupted to commiserate with their mother, “I don’t know what’s got into him lately. How long has it been since you spanked his butt?”

“Too long, apparently,” their mother lamented. She leveled a stern look at Tommy. “That changes today. Right after your bath, young man.”

After his second foot was dry, Patricia put her hands under his arms, picked him up to move him away from his little pond of pee. Before depositing him on the floor though, she glanced over to make sure that Mom wasn’t looking. She wasn’t, being occupied with wiping up the puddle. Patricia held Tommy a few moments longer than necessary, staring first into his eyes, then down his body to his little boy parts, then back up again. He squirmed in her grasp, helpless, his feet hanging inches above the floor. She liked physically controlling him this way. It showed she was bigger and stronger than him.

When she sat him down, she made sure that she was between the boy and their mother. Mom wouldn’t see what happened next. She reached out and grasped the head of his wiener between her thumb and forefinger. Tommy gasped. Gail gasped, too. This was unexpected. Patricia pulled on the little wiener, stretching it out just to the point of pain, then released it.

She then took the hand that had just violated him, placed it behind his head and pulled him close. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, “It’s a long, long time till New Years. But don’t worry. You won’t be bored.”

Mom was still wiping away at the puddle. She looked at Tommy, not noticing how pale his face now was. “I’ll have to mop it too after I get you bathed.” She then took the wet towel down the hall to put it in the wash, too.

Tommy endured another eternity of exposure in front of his sisters. He absently rubbed his wiener where Patricia had grabbed him, then realized what he was doing and dropped his hand. Gail snickered. She then graciously offered a series of comments about his anatomy and size to forestall any awkward silence.

At last their mother returned. She told Patricia and Gail to go to school. Tommy was going to have to be late. She warned him, “And if you don’t straighten up right NOW, I’m going to put ‘wet his pants’ on the excuse note to your teacher.”

She then took him by the arm and marched him into the bathroom for a scrubbing, further scolding, and a long overdue spanking for which his bottom was already bare.

The Boy in the Jock Strap - Donna’s eleven year old brother Will was a Little Leaguer. His mom had just bought a new jock strap with protective cup, and insisted on making sure it fit just right. She had him standing on a stool so she didn’t have to bend down as far to examine it. The extremely self-conscious boy was wearing the jock strap and nothing else. She had vetoed all his plaintive objections to this nearly total exposure. Will’s mom seemed not to realize that her son had long since moved on emotionally from the uninhibited child who used to play with naked abandon in the tub while she bathed him. He was still her baby boy.

His older sister Donna, their ten year old sister Nadine, and Nadine’s friend Camille kept looking around the door and giggling at the boy clad only in that strange garment that left his bottom so completely exposed. The bottom his mother kept threatening to smack if he didn’t stop fidgeting and complaining about the girls assembled behind him.

“Tell them to bug off, Mom.” Will told her. “They’re staring at me. They can see my… you know, my private area.”

“Honey,” she replied, “They can’t see anything. They don’t have x-ray vision.”

“They can see my BUTT!” Will cried.

“Oh, pooh. Those girls don’t care about your butt. Quit being silly and stand still.”

His mother decided that she had bought the jock strap a size too large. The waistband was very loose. It barely held onto his narrow hips. That could be a safety problem.

The store rarely took returns once they had been worn, and certainly wouldn’t accept a jock strap that had already snugly held a boy’s prIvates.

Will asked her why he needed a new one, anyway. The old one worked just fine. His mother told him, “That thing was as grubby looking as it could get. Even right after I washed it. I’m amazed you’d want to be seen in it.”

“I DON’T want to be seen in it! I don’t want to be seen in THIS ONE. But who cares what I want? Everybody’s staring at me anyway.”

“No one is staring at you. You’re being paranoid. Now wait here.”

His mother left the room to call Alice Watkins. Miss Watkins was a teacher. Will’s teacher in fact. But she also did sewing on the side for extra income. She assured Will’s mother over the phone that a minor alteration would cost less than a whole new jock strap.

While she was out of the room, the girls, who definitely WERE staring at him, took advantage of her absence. They filed into the room and walked around the embarrassed boy to critically assess his various attributes. Attributes which weren’t normally on display to that extent. Camille, audacious for her age, even ventured to say loudly, “Cute bottom!”

“You’re in luck, honey,” his mother announced as she reentered the room. “Miss Watkins is coming over to fix things right up.”

Will blurted, “Miss Watkins? My TEACHER?” The last word came out as a shriek.

“We’re lucky she has time to do it today,” his mother admonished. “Your first game is tomorrow, and you can’t have your protection falling down inside your pants.”

“She’s my teacher, Mom.” Will was almost panicking. “I see her every day. She sees ME every day. I can’t have her see me like THIS!”

“She’s already on her way. And you WILL behave yourself, young man. Or your teacher won’t just see you. She’ll see you get a spanking.” she paused. “On that bare bottom you’re so concerned about.”

“Let me change out of this,” he pleaded. “I’ll die if she sees me in just a jock strap.”

“She needs to see it on you so she can make the proper adjustments,” his mother told him, her voice tinged with irritation. “Stop being so dramatic.”

Will’s mother noticed the girls had relocated from around the door to entirely within the room while she was making the phone call. She let them remain, telling them to just stay out of the way while Miss Watkins worked. She wasn’t bothered by their presence, and didn’t seem to comprehend that her son WAS, even with all his pleading and complaints.

Will was almost wild with anxiety for the ten minutes it took Miss Watkins to arrive. He was so agitated, he was almost doing a little dance atop the stool his mother forbade him to step down from. Donna had already figured out months ago that Will had a crush on his teacher. This was going to be fun.

The doorbell rang. His mother left the room. “Will kept repeating, “Oh God Oh God Oh God…”

Miss Watkins breezed into the room with his mother. Turning to Will, she paused briefly at the sight of her practically naked student. She recovered quickly and told him, “Hello, it’s nice to see one of my best students outside the classroom.” She winced after saying this, perhaps thinking the word “see” was not the best choice.

Will, already the epitome of embarrassment, winced at the word, too. But his was a full body wince, complete with taut muscles, balled up fists at his side, and eyes and mouth clenched firmly shut. A small moan of despair escaped his tight lips.

Miss Watkins pretended not to notice that he was almost insane with embarrassment, probably so as not to make him even more uncomfortable. She looked uncomfortable herself. The cool demeanor with which she conducted her classroom had slipped. She was flustered and it showed.

Miss Watkins turned away from the boy to the safety of the others, saying hello to Nadine and Camille. She then noticed Donna. “I remember you. You were in my class a couple of years ago.” They all continued to exchange pleasantries while Will looked like he was dying inside. Probably hoping he would just to escape this nightmare.

While Will had been waiting with dread for his teacher’s arrival, he had begun sweating, something he did when he was nervous. Now that he had moved beyond nervous into completely overwrought, his sweating had become profuse. It ran down his face, his body, arms and legs. It collected in the waistband of that damned jock strap.

Will was very aware of how sweaty he had become. He kept trying to wipe it off his body, but that just smeared it around. What must Miss Watkins think of him? He saw himself as he imagined she must; a sweaty, disgusting boy wearing nothing but a damp jock strap. She would never see him as anything else ever again.

After all the chatting was out of the way, Will’s mother drew Miss Watkins’ attention to waistband. Everyone gathered around in front of the boy to get a good look.

“Yes,” Miss Watkins stated, “It’s definitely too loose. Here…” She got down on her knees and took the sides of the waistband between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and adjusted the whole thing just a bit. As she released it and leaned back to look, the already slack jock strap, now without even the aid of friction on Will’s sweat-slick skin, fell to the boy’s feet.

There was a long moment of silence as everyone in the room stared at the suddenly very naked boy. Then the girls all began screaming with laughter.

Will hardly heard them. He was staring at Miss Watkins, who was staring at him. Since she was on her knees, his boy parts were directly in front of her startled eyes, so that was the part of him she was staring at. She could see everything between his legs. His peter and balls.

How could he ever walk into her classroom again after this? How could he stand up before her in class to answer a question? He’d have to drop out of school. Run away. Become a hobo. Be anything but the sweaty boy standing naked in front of his favorite teacher.

And worse, he was frozen, like one of those nude statues at the museum. He was too stunned to move. His face registered the war within him… his mind screaming at his to body to move, to cover himself, to run. And his body refusing, adamant in its immobility. He found himself in the contradictory state of being so mortified by his nakedness that he could do nothing to alleviate it.

His mother had to step in to rescue her son, pulling the jock strap back up. But in doing so she managed to slide it up between his peter and balls, pushing his peter upwards. When the strap reached his hips, the head of his peter was sticking up over the top of the waistband. The girls saw this and the decibel level of their screaming laughter doubled.

Will finally reanimated. He looked down at himself. His peter seemed to be staring back at him. With an anguished sob, he tried to bolt from the room. “Not so fast, honey,” his mother said as she caught him around his slippery waist and swung him back towards the stool with his feet completely off the floor. As she did this, the jock strap once again flew down to his feet. But this time it went beyond and ended up across the room. Will was naked again. His mother set his feet down again on the stool.

Will burst into tears. He was so overcome, with his face buried in his hands, that he still failed to cover himself. Miss Watkins tried not to look, but couldn’t help herself. Will, the boy who was always so smartly dressed, who always had a smile for her, who sat in the front row in her class ready to answer any question, was now naked, sweaty and crying hysterically. She couldn’t reconcile the difference.

She was still on her knees before him. His genitalia were hanging right there, not two feet away from her face. And she couldn’t NOT look. She tried and failed to avert her eyes. She took in every detail of his young manhood and what was visible of his scrotum behind it. During the eternity of that brief moment, she realized that she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to look. She wanted to touch. She began to wonder if the accident with Will’s jock strap had been an accident at all. Had she subconsciously engineered the poor boy’s nakedness?

She was a teacher of young students, and this moment ushered in a growing awareness of something disturbing she had no intimation of before… that as much as she loved teaching, and as excellent as she was in doing it, she was entirely unsuited to the profession. She had glimpsed her own particular monster, one that had been slumbering inside and was now awake. One that perhaps had dreamed while it slept, and it’s dreams were what guided her into her position as a teacher. Now it hungered in earnest. And what it hungered for was right in front of her, not two feet away.

All these thoughts are known from the note she left behind days later.

Will’s mother finally managed to curb his crying, just as she had done when he was a much younger boy. She cooed, “It’s alright, baby. Everything’s alright. Mommy’s here.” The boy would normally have been embarrassed by this display of motherly love. But this was not a normal day. Not anymore.

Miss Watkins recovered a bit. She told Will, “I’m so, so sorry. I’ve never done anything like that to a client before. It was a lot more loose than I realized.” It wasn’t evident that Will even heard her. After his crying had stopped, he seemed to have retreated inside of himself.

His mother finally shooed the girls out of the room. They didn’t stay gone for long, sneaking back to peek, but were discreet about it and remained undetected.

His mother then retrieved the wayward and somewhat sweaty jock strap and helped Will back into it. He hadn’t spoken a single word.

Miss Watkins went to work on the jock strap, pulling the waistband tight and pinning a fold of the excess cloth on each side so that it fit as it should. She then gently told Will that she now had to hand-stitch the waistband, so he would have to remove it. “I would normally have you go to your room to change so I could sew it, then have you change back to check the fit. But since I’ve already seen you… and I’m so, so sorry about that… we might as well do it here. It’ll save a lot of time and I’m not going to see any more than I already have.” She tried to tell herself that convenience was the only reason she suggested he stay standing there naked while she worked.

Will, looking near-catatonic, didn’t respond. He was numb. His brain apparently couldn’t handle the overload of emotions brought on by his mother, his sisters, a girl he didn’t even know, and Miss Watkins, the teacher he had such a crush on, seeing him in, and then out of, a jock strap. Rather than risk burning out its circuits, the brain’s breakers had tripped, shutting it down.

Will’s mother stepped in told Miss Watkins that was a very good idea. She slid the strap down and had him step out of it. He complied impassively. Miss Watkins took it and began to stitch where the folds were pinned, glancing up occasionally at the naked boy on the pedestal. She was aware that her glances tended to linger.

She finished the stitching and handed the jock back to Will’s mother, who had him step back into it. She slid it up his legs, careful to not catch his peter this time. The fit was just right. His mother slid it down just a bit to insert the protective cup into its pouch, then pulled it back up. Perfect. Her boy was safe on the field. At least part of him was. She’d fret constantly about the rest.

As Donna watched from around the door, she wondered why Mom and Miss Watkins didn’t seem to realize they were handling a damp jock strap that had just been wrapped around Will’s sweaty balls. Ewww.

As Will’s mother gazed at her near-catatonic son, she recognized the signs. When Will experienced a trauma… when his dog died, when she and his father divorced, when his team lost a game… when he dropped his toast on the floor peanut butter side down… he would immediately shut down rather than deal with the emotional aftermath. Once he had slept off the psychological blow, he was better able to cope. This day would be no different. She was sure of that.

She led him, still a zombie, to his room where she slid his jock strap down one more time and tucked him into bed. “Sleep now, honey. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” It was only three in the afternoon, but he was instantly asleep. She kissed him on the forehead and quietly left.

Hours later, long after midnight, he would wake up screaming.

The Boy in the Shower - There was that time when Barb discovered that the bathroom in a rustic lake cabin her parents had rented had a very special secret. There were five holes, about two feet from the floor, in the plywood wall between the bathroom and the bedroom she and a Tina, who had been invited along, were staying in. A shelf above the holes on the bathroom side hid them from sight. The holes had a direct line to the open shower, less than four feet away.

Whether these holes were by prurient design or the builder just used substandard materials, they had no idea. But the girls immediately knew just how to utilize them.

They watched Barb's fourteen year old brother Zach shower every night of a five day, four night holiday weekend. And as her brother was smitten with Tina and saw her in a very formfitting swimsuit for those four days, he did much more than just wash himself every night in the shower.

Tina noted he had a nice plump penis that fulfilled the promise the bulge in his jeans had made every day she saw him in school.

Luckily for the girls, after Zach had soaped his peter up each time, he’d turn away from the shower spray so as to not wash the soap off. This gave them a full frontal view of him as he stroked himself languidly, eyes closed, no doubt lost in a fantasy involving himself, Tina, and lots and lots of sex.

Barb enjoyed the show because she was now ‘one up’ on her brother in their endless game of sibling rivalry. More than one up, actually. This put her WAY ahead. Tina enjoyed it because he was a boy. And really cute. Had he not been Barb’s brother, she probably would have long since reciprocated the obvious, awkward attentions he always made towards her.

The girls knew each time Zach was getting close to fulfillment when his slow, dreamy strokes began to speed up. Soon he would be frantically, furiously pumping himself, head thrown back, every muscle in his body taunt. Since he was still turned away from the shower, when he released his surge of boy stuff, it would spurt out all over the floor of the bathroom. One long string of milky white fluid after another.

Then he’d lean against the shower wall under the spray, exhausted. He’d continue to stroke himself, slowly again. He would bring himself to a second orgasm, not as powerful as the first, but clearly still pleasurable.

After drying off, he’d use the towel to mop up his sticky mess from the floor. He would bend over to do this while he moved about the bathroom trying to find and erase all traces of his illicit act. This afforded the girls a comprehensive view of the rest of the boy’s body. Especially when he was bent over and facing away from the girls. His butt cheeks and swinging ballsack were just inches away from the girls’ avidly spying eyes.

Barb was ecstatic. Not only had she seen her annoying brother masterbating for four nights in a row, but she had seen *every*square*inch* of him. She cooly thought of all the ways she was going to use this against him. Starting with adding Zach to the growing list of unfortunate boys in our group’s archives. All the girls would soon have a detailed account of Barb and Tina’s holiday highlight.

Tina was as ecstatic as Barb, but not in the cool, calculating way of her friend. Quite the opposite. Hers was a hot lust at the sight of this cute boy pumping his plump one.

I had been invited along on that trip, but my parents had insisted I spend the holiday at home. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.

There were four other families in cabins around that part of the lake. Barb, Tina and Zach had become acquainted with the kids and they all played together very well. They swam in the lake, hiked through the surrounding woods, played card games, and just had fun in general. They did all the things holidays at the lake were made for.

Of the four families, there were four boys, aged seven through sixteen, and five girls, aged nine through fifteen.

On the evening before the last day of the holiday, Barb and Tina had invited them all over to their room for a going away present. The Zachary Nightly Shower Show.

There was barely contained chaos on the bedroom side of the wall as all the kids clambered for access to the spy holes. They all watched the oblivious Zach give them a very naked display of his private passion. Perhaps because it was the last evening, Zach pleasured himself three times, the last of which producing only a small dribble. But from all the expressions crossing his face, it was just as gratifying as the first time. It was as exciting for Tina, too. Whether Zach’s ministrations ended in a torrent or a trickle, she just like to see his stuff come out of his peter. It was so private and personal.

It was all Barb and Tina could do to keep their guests quiet enough to not alert Barb’s parents to the proceedings. Zach didn’t present a problem there. He was too lost in a world of delirious sex with his fantasy Tina to notice anything beyond it.

The younger boys and girls found the sight hilarious, and had to clamp their hands over their mouths to keep from laughing out loud.

The older girls were no less excited in their own way, and only grudgingly and briefly gave up their spot at the spy holes so others could see.

The older boys were more subdued. Perhaps out of a sense of solidarity with their fellow adolescent male who was being so visually violated. They also may have felt exposed themselves, as if it were THEY were on the other side of that wall. All these girls were seeing what a naked boy looked like. And seeing what a boy did when he thought himself alone. Would the girls now look at THEM through that lens to see them naked beneath their clothes? To know what they did during their own private moments? Girls weren’t supposed to know that boys did this. Now their sisters, even the youngest ones, had unauthorized access to the hidden world of boys and the secret acts occurring there.

For one boy, this fear was immediately realized when his little sister turned to him and, in a whisper that all could hear, asked, “Do YOU do that?” As all eyes turned to him, he stammered out a very unconvincing “No… Of course not. I’d never do that.” Now the whole room knew that he did.

The last day was a short one as all the families had a long drive back to their respective homes. The dynamic among the kids was different, and Zach was confused by the change. The younger girls and boys kept giggling at him. The older girls all held a barely concealed smirk on their faces and kept looking at him in a way that made him quite uneasy. The older boys were uncomfortable around him. They kept looking like they wanted to tell him something, but then thought better of it.

They had all gotten along so well, but Zach felt they weren’t parting on good terms for some unknown reason. What had happened?

On the drive back, when Barb’s parents thought the kids were all asleep in the back seat, as all but Barb were, she heard her mother say to her father in a quiet but accusing voice, “Your son took even longer than usual in the shower this weekend.”

Her father whispered back, “Leave him alone. He’s a teenaged boy. There were lots of pretty girls about.”

Her mother countered, “YOU don’t have to deal with his disgusting towels.”

Barb was amazed. Their parents KNEW about Zach’s bathroom habits. They knew he masterbated, and did it often. This might be something else she could use. She looked over at her sleeping brother. He had a slight smile and was muttering to himself. Was he dreaming of Tina? She looked down at his crotch. There was indeed a bigger bulge than usual.

A few days later, Barb informed Zach of what they had done. What they had seen. She even told him about inviting all the other kids over to watch him unknowingly perform his private acts for a public audience. After all, you can’t have one up on your brother if he doesn’t know he’s been trumped.

She was prepared for anger or tears. She was going to enjoy either. What she got was neither. After the initial delicious look of shock and betrayal, Zach’s face went completely blank, his expression as dead as if that shock had been fatal. He turned and walked away. A vast, frigid void had loomed between them ever since.

As for Tina, she had decided to hell with it. Even though Zach was Barb’s brother, and therefore tacitly off limits, Tina had been as interested in him as he in her. Now she had seen all of him and she liked what she saw. Not just his naked body, although that was certainly a pleasure to behold. She was sure that as he frantically pumped away at himself, it was the thought of her that drove his hand. He had done it nine times in five days, all with her in his mind. She had found a boy who was obsessed with her. And because of this, she was becoming obsessed with HIM.

A few days after they returned, Tina approached Zach in the schoolyard and shyly said hello. She didn’t know the day before, Barb had told him what they had done. Zach, expressionless, turned and walked away from her as he had with Barb. He never spoke to Tina again.

The Tale of a Thousand Pricks - On the same weekend Tracie, Ellie and I were watching Tad get bathed, Annette’s family was attending an extended family weekend reunion at her aunt’s in San Antonio. Her aunt and uncle were quite well off and had a large house, swimming pool and two acres of landscaped yard. While the adults congregated inside with drinks and hors d'oeuvres, the younger generation of eleven or so accumulated cousins and whatnots romped around outdoors. Swimming, playing tag in the yard, etc.

Annette hadn’t seen her fourteen year old cousin Bradley, her aunt’s son, in over a year. She used to have the hugest crush on him. To her delight, he had gotten even cuter than before. Her crush blossomed anew.

Bradley was playing with a football with a few other boys while Annette sat on the lawn watching his every move. He was running backwards to catch the ball and landed in his mother’s ornamental cactus garden, with only his thin swim suit as ineffectual armor against the cactus needles.

The next four hours found Bradley laying face down on the dining room table, sans swim suit, while the rest of the family extracted thousands of tiny cactus needles from his perforated posterior, legs, inner thighs and… elsewhere. He had to keep his legs spread wide for the entire procedure. Even his ballsack bristled like a pin cushion.

These weren’t the big cactus spines that looked wicked, but were much easier to see and extract. They were the tiny needles that came in bunches and took meticulous, close up care to remove. Bradley’s surgical squad had to move in with their eyes mere inches away from his naked bottom and ballsack to do their delicate work.

A call had gone out to the surrounding neighborhood to bring all the tweezers anyone could find. So a parade of neighbors, adults and kids alike, trooped in and out of the house bringing tweezers, needle nose pliers and other possibly helpful tools. Many stayed to help with the extraction. As one person would succumb to eye strain from the painstaking and intimately close work, another would take over. It was times like this that brought people together.

Bradley’s entire neighborhood got to know him so much better that day.

There was a large mirror on the dining room wall on the opposite end of the table from all the activity. Bradley could face forward from his prone position to see reflected therein the team of volunteers working on his backside. He could also see the crowd of onlookers that had gathered in the large dining room to watch the proceedings. Almost everyone he knew was there. And many, many more he didn’t know. He felt beyond naked. His face remained redder than his injured bottom.

There were many well wishers who came up to him, patted him on the head or his bare back and assured him everything would be alright. He would pull through this.

To make matters so much worse, all the kids in the neighborhood attended Bradley’s school. And each and every one of them had observed the naked human porcupine with his legs spread wide on the dining room table. Some of them, boys and girls alike, had even taken over tweezer duty from other exhausted volunteers. From the following Monday on, his school days were going to prove interesting.

Bradley was a brave boy and bore it as best as he could. But he reached his limit about three hours in, when two of his saviors, stationed on either side of the table, had to spread his butt cheeks wide and hold them that way so others could begin the removal of the hundreds and hundreds of needles nestled therein. Part of the medical team of the moment was a very pretty girl in his class. He had been building up the nerve to somehow break the ice with her for weeks. He now heard her exclaim from where her head was practically buried between his legs, “Oh, no! He’s got them in his anus, too.” Ice broken.

His composure dissolved in a flood of tears. For the next hour, he wept bitterly at the hand life had dealt him. And he hadn’t even gotten to the part where three strong men had to hold him down while his mother applied alcohol to his thousands of tiny wounds.

Annette was right there through it all, selflessly attending to the boy like Florence Nightingale. Mopping his sweaty brow. Rubbing the taut muscles in his back. And towards the end, wiping his tears away and helping him blow his nose. We were all so proud of her.

Bradley had never been smitten with Annette as she was with him, but after his prickly predicament and her unwavering support through his darkest hours, he saw her in a whole new light. Theirs was necessarily a long distance relationship, maintained through a series of sloppy, sentimental love letters that surely made the postal carrier nauseous by mere proximity.


The Boy in the Mirror - I had earlier thought we girls had seen more of Tad’s body on that Saturday than he had seen of himself, because no boy could attain the vantage point we held.

But I was wrong. I learned that a DETERMINED boy could do just that…

Not long after bath time with Tad, we took on two new stringers, Donna's sister Sarah and Sarah’s friend Ava, who were ten and eleven years old respectively. We had used Tad’s photo array as a recruitment tool. He was their first naked boy, if only in two dimensions, and they were excited to see more. Hopefully boys from their class. And even more hopefully, in the flesh.

I warned them that it wouldn’t all be naked boys, and Tad was the first we had actual photographic record of. Many of our stories didn’t involve nudity at all. And of the ones that did, she might never be the one who witnessed it all first hand. She, like the rest of us, would experience the thrill of it vicariously through story time, reading the notebook, and hopefully looking at the photographs.

But I also assured her that we were working on ways to engineer some unwanted exposure instead of just waiting for fate, happenstance, and luck to reward us. Soon, we were going to be making our own luck.

Not long after cautioning the girls to not get their hopes up about immediately seeing a naked boy firsthand, they found themselves in exactly that situation. A boy who was exposed completely in more than just the flesh.

Sarah, Ava, and their friend Wyatt, who was eleven, were playing at Sarah’s house. Sarah’s mother was tasked with taking care of the kids all day. Unfortunately, she received an emergency phone call from work, telling her she HAD to come in. She called her friend Caroline, who lived about a mile away, and asked her if she could watch the kids for a few hours.

Caroline, a notorious grouch, grumbled but agreed. She wasn’t as grumpy as my aunt, but she came in a close second. Her sister Hannah had been living with her for a few months. Hannah was her sister’s opposite. Funny, kind, easy going. She had just gone through a divorce, and even that hadn’t dented her good natured disposition.

The divorce was why she was living with Caroline at the moment.

Both sisters were somewhere in their forties. I had no idea which was the eldest. They were addressed only by their first names, even by the neighborhood kids.

After Sarah’s mother had dropped the kids off, they were subjected to a seemingly endless list of do’s and don’ts, mostly don’ts, for a successful, spank-free stay at Caroline’s house. Caroline pointed out all the things to stay at least twenty yards from at all times. Like her collection of elephant statues, her antique mirror, her china cabinet full of rare, fragile plates, dishes, gravy boats and cups, (good thing Tad wasn’t there) and much, much more.

The kids played for hours. They ran barefoot through the backyard in a game of tag. They played Monopoly and Yahtzee in the living room.

When lunchtime arrived, Hannah realized they didn’t have enough supplies for the three additional mouths, so she organized a trip to the grocery store. Caroline decided that everyone should go. But Wyatt, who hated any type of shopping, whined about going to a boring ol’ store so much that she finally gave in and let him stay. She warned him that if he touched anything in her absence, she would spank his ass to death.

Hannah grimaced at her language, but said nothing. She had grown used to her sister’s rather coarse way decades ago.

The trip to the store and back took about forty five minutes.

After lunch, everyone retired to the living room. As Caroline entered she noticed right away that something was amiss. But she wasn't sure just what it was.

She glanced around the room to see what had triggered her alarm, and finally saw that her beloved antique mirror was hung slightly askew. It wasn't like that before. Had one of those rambunctious kids bumped into it?

When she approached to straighten it, she saw a vertical crack running all the way down the center of the glass. As she stared at it in horror, something else caught her eye. Something very odd. There were two footprints on the glass, one on either side of the crack. Footprints of small bare feet. What was going on?

Stepping away from the mirror, her foot bumped something on the floor. It rolled away a few feet. It was the flashlight she always kept on the kitchen counter.

Containing her rage, she made the kids line up before her. She pointed out the crack and the footprints, then demanded, “OK, who’s the culprit? Which one of you did this?” The girls looked confused. Wyatt looked at the floor. If Caroline hadn’t already guessed who the perpetrator was, that would’ve given him away. Wyatt would never be a successful poker player.

Caroline let a little of her rage through, just enough to color her words a savage red. “What do you see down there on the floor, young Wyatt?” she demanded. “Perhaps two bare feet?” Wyatt jerked his head up at her, eyes wide. Then dropped his head again, knowing he was caught.

Caroline continued, “You’re the only one barefoot. The girls went to the store with me and Hannah, so they put their shoes back on. You stayed here, and stayed barefoot. Now what the hell did you do to my mirror?”

Wyatt began apologizing, but she cut him off. “Save the sorrys for later. I want to know what you did and why.”

Wyatt lowered his voice and asked if he could tell her in private. “Hell, no!” Caroline bellowed. “Those girls have as much right to hear it as I do. When you refused to ‘fess up, you knew suspicion would fall on them as well as you. And they would’ve been suspects, too, if it weren’t for your bare feet. You’ll tell me now and you’ll tell me here.”

“Caroline, I can’t!” Wyatt wailed. “I’ll tell you in private. You and Hannah both. I’ll tell you everything. But Sarah and Ava can’t hear it. They can’t!” He looked to Hannah for support, but she just shook her head.

Caroline’s rage increased as her patience decreased. She warned him one last time, “You’d better start talking now, or I’ll spank your ass till you do. However long it takes. My hands are rough and calloused. They can take the abuse. Can your tender little butt say the same?”

Wyatt looked like he collapsed in on himself. He let out an anguished noise as tears began to run down his cheeks. “I took it down so I could look at myself.” he confessed.

Everyone else in the room looked confused. This explained nothing. Hannah stepped in now and said in a calming voice, “Why did you have to take the mirror down to look in it, honey? It’s not that high up,”

“I wasn’t looking at my face,” Wyatt explained in a small voice.

Caroline leaned toward the boy and said in a quietly chilling voice, “You better stop playing games and start explaining, little man.”

“I was looking at myself… underneath. I just wanted to see... you know... what I looked like... you know, underneath."

Caroline looked at him, still confused. "You wanted to do what?"

It was agony for him to repeat it. "I wanted to look at myself... underneath. You know... where you can't normally see." He paused, sobbing some more. "I don't know why. I just did. I put the mirror on the floor, took my clothes off and squatted on it. Then I looked in the mirror at… you know where. I used the flashlight so I could see everything better."

Sarah and Ava looked at each other in shock. Then both, as if on cue, began braying laughter. They were both doubled over, looking almost to be in agony. These weren’t giggles. These were full on belly laughs.

Caroline was still trying to process the information. “You stripped naked in my living room?” She looked around herself as if wondering if she should bleach the entire room.

“Not everything,” Wyatt told her. “I kept my t-shirt on.” He looked at her hopefully, as if this made up for his lack of clothing everywhere else.

Hannah asked him, "Honey, do you hurt down there? Is something wrong? Is that why you wanted to look?”

"Noooo," he told her, miserably. The idea of some non-existent pain in his private area seemed to embarrass him even more. "I just wanted to see." He became very emphatic. He wanted everyone to understand why he did what he did, even as it was something he probably didn't understand himself. "I'd been thinking about it for a while. For weeks. I was just... curious. You know. I've seen my front, you know, looking down at myself… and in the mirror, all my life... you know, my thing and... my balls."

He flinched as he said this. It embarrassed him to say those words in front of the females standing around him. As if saying it was the same as actually revealing what the words represented. "And I've looked over my shoulder to see my... you know, my bottom in the mirror. But there's part of me I never could see that way." He stopped, looking at everyone's faces for some sign any of them grasped what he was trying to say.

Not seeing any promising signs, he continued, "I could feel all around under there… with my hands. I did that a lot. I mean a LOT. For weeks. Usually in bed or when I was taking a bath.”

Now that Wyatt had started talking about his secret obsession, he couldn’t seem to stop. It had all been pent up inside for too long. He was gaining momentum. He couldn’t force the words out fast enough.

“It felt good to do it. Really good. You know, to feel around down there. Especially when the water was all soapy. I wasn’t touching my thing. Mom had told me about that. Don’t touch it unless I’m peeing. Or washing it. And she said not to wash it too long, or bad things could happen. So, I wasn’t touching it. Not much. Not on purpose. But it’s right there, you know. Sometimes I’d bump it. But I wasn’t playing with it. But it still got… my thing, you know, it’d get…well, you know.”

Wyatt stopped, “You DO know what things do, right?” He waited a moment, but received no response from his stunned audience. “They get… well, hard. And stick out. When I was younger, and taking a bath, I’d stand in the tub and hang my washrag on it. Anyway, mom has been asking here lately what’s taking me so long in the bath. She even asked me if I was playing with my thing. THAT was embarrassing. I told her no, of course not. You told me not to do that. And I wasn’t. It wasn’t my thing I was touching. It was that other part. Like, behind my.. well, you know. My balls. That area.”

Caroline was beginning to regret pulling the plug and releasing this flood of information. Everyone was looking at everyone else. They were all deeply uncomfortable.

“I was hoping that touching would be enough. But it wasn’t. I needed to see it. So I tried bending over and looking back at myself in the bathroom mirror. But the mirror was too high. I thought about bringing a chair in. But how could I explain THAT if I got caught?”

The girls had long since stopped laughing. They were too fascinated by their friend's very personal, very bizarre confession. Just as Wyatt had seen a whole new side of his body in Caroline's mirror, they saw a whole new side of him in his words.

He continued, "Then I saw the mirror. Your mirror. And it wasn't big like our bathroom mirror. It’s only, what… like two feet wide? I could put it on the floor. So I got it down and squatted on top of it. After I took my clothes off. And I used the flashlight. And I could see everything really good. Part of me I’d never seen in my whole life. It all looked just like I’d imagined it, but different, too. It was GREAT. And my thing was hard again. Even though I never touched it. It was so hard, it hurt. I was afraid it wouldn’t go down before y’all got back from the store. Then what would I do? I did touch everything else, though. I was touching it and seeing it at the same time… simultaneously.”

Wyatt eyes took on a faraway look, remembering.

Caroline wondered what she’d have to do to make it all stop. Would the police understand?

“Then, while I was doing all that, I started feeling like I had to pee. Really bad. I mean, REALLY bad. Like, it was INTENSE. All of a sudden. Like I was going to start peeing before I got halfway to the bathroom. That’s happened before. I thought, at least I’m not wearing any pants to wet. But then, since I’m not, it’ll go everywhere.”

Hannah looked away. Should she stop this? COULD she stop it? Wyatt was like a runaway train.

“So I grabbed my thing and squeezed it, to stop the pee coming out till I could get to the bathroom. But that made it worse. It made me need to pee more. I stood up and that’s when it hit me. This feeling. Like, it wasn’t pee. It was something else. Except nothing came out. No pee, no nothing. It was weird. But it felt great, like my whole thing just exploded. But in a good way. Know what I mean?” Looking at their faces, he decided they didn’t.

“Anyway, I had never felt anything like that before. It was so good it was scary. That’s when I think it happened. When the mirror broke. When whatever happened with my thing… you know, happened. Then y’all pulled up in the driveway and I thought ‘Oh, crap.’ And I had to get my clothes on and hang the mirror back up. I barely made it before y’all came in the door. So that’s how I broke the mirror.”

Wyatt then almost collapsed, suddenly spent after discharging that torrent of overly intimate info into the room.

For several long moments, no one spoke. Then Ava broke the silence with an awestruck “Oh, my GODDDDDDDD.”

Caroline said slowly, almost in wonder, "Well, I believe I've heard everything, now. I could go the rest of my life and never hear anything to top this one. This one is it." Her anger seemed to have drowned beneath the deluge of Wyatt’s unsettling account.

But it quickly blazed back to life. “What the HELL is wrong with you, boy?” she shouted. “Are you deranged? What other kinds of sick thoughts are squirming around in that brain? Eleven years old. Can’t even spit any spunk. But you’re somehow still obsessed with… with God knows what. I heard the whole thing and I still don’t know. I don’t WANT to know. I already know way too much.”

Her sister told her quietly, "Children are curious about their bodies."

Caroline's, "Well, he can be curious on his OWN damn mirror."

She gestured at hers. "That's a priceless antique. And now it's ruined!"

Hannah told her, "The frame is antique. And it's not hurt. The mirror itself was cheap. I was with you when you bought it."

Caroline made a hrumphing noise. “It’s ruined because I’ll never be able to look at it again without seeing that little pervert there squatting on it naked, whipping himself up into some dry jollies.”

Wyatt looked like he was beginning to wake from a deep sleep. As he became more aware, a look of horrified realization contorted his face. The well of tears ran over again. What had he done? Why had he blathered out all his most private thoughts and deeds to everyone like that? To Sarah and Ava.

Hannah continued, "Let it go, Caroline. I think the boy has suffered enough. He's embarrassed to death. And now his friends know way more about him than anyone ever should. I think he’s paid the price for that cheap piece of glass.”

Hannah turned to Sarah and Ava. "I hope you girls respect Wayne's privacy on this. Don't go telling everybody at school. He's your friend, and this could really hurt him."

Both girls shook their heads no. They would NEVER say a word. All the while Sarah was planning on how to present their first story to the Humiliation Society. Everyone was going to be impressed. This one was GOOD. And as she and Ava would soon learn, it wasn’t nearly over.

Wayne, tears running down his face, asked Hannah. "Do you think I’m a... pervert?"

"No honey," she told him, kindly. "I think you're just a very curious boy. And it's your body. You have a right to be curious about it. And to know it as best you can. Besides all that, everyone does things they can’t explain to others. Everyone has their private moments. You just need to be a little more careful when you have yours and not break things.”

She placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And be a little more selective in what you share. You don’t need to tell everybody everything. Leave a little bit of you for you.” She squeezed his shoulder gently. “And maybe your dad can tell you about that pee that wasn’t pee.”

Sarah and Ava looked at each other. They were wondering about the pee that wasn’t pee, too.

Caroline stepped in, then. "This is all very touching, Hannah. But it ain’t over. I invited that boy into my home and this is how he repaid me. He got naked in my living room, of all places, and he busted my mirror while looking up his own butt with a flashlight."

She spoke directly to Wayne, "You wanted to know what your 'underneath' looked like? Well, I'm going to know what it looks like too when I turn you over my knee to spank you bare assed. I'm going to see every last detail and I won't need a mirror to do it."

"Caroline..." Hannah said.

But Caroline was on a roll. "And I'm calling your maw. She needs to know what her little boy has been up to. She needs to know where his hands have been. Constantly. By his own admission. She needs to know where he's been looking. And she needs to pay for my mirror."

She turned to Hannah, saying, “If this is going to be too much for your delicate sensibilities, you can leave the room.”

“No,” Hannah replied, resigned, “I better stay to make sure this doesn’t get out of hand.” She knew her sister.

Caroline sat down in a straight backed, armless chair and beckoned Wyatt over. He shuffled his feet reluctantly the whole way.

Caroline told him, “You like to get naked in my living room? Then, FINE.” She grabbed the tail of his shirt with both hands and pulled it inside out over his head. He was doubled over by the sudden, violent motion. He staggered back upright shirtless.

Sarah and Ava both felt a small thrill seeing Wyatt’s bare torso. They had seen it many times before. At the local pool, playing in the yard in the summer heat. But this time was different. Perhaps because that bare skin was a prelude to an entirely bare body. And perhaps because he hadn’t willingly taken the shirt off himself. It had been removed from him forcibly by someone else.

Caroline unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled down his zipper. Wyatt was too terrified of her at that point to even try to resist. Even though a shrill voice in his mind was screaming that Sarah and Ava could see him. Were about to see all of him.

He already felt naked because of that idiotic, overly detailed confession that seemed to come gushing out of him all on its own. Now he was about to BE naked. Everyone was going to see all that he was today, inside and out.

Caroline yanked his jeans down to his ankles, exposing his white briefs. The girls both let out small gasps. They were seeing Wyatt in his underwear. Sarah was hoping Caroline would pause to yell at the boy some more so that boy-in-his-underwear moment would last just a little while longer.

But his briefs quickly joined the jeans. His thing bobbed up and down when it was roughly freed from his underwear.

Hannah said, “Caroline, really…”

Sarah and Ava gasped again. Wyatt’s boy parts were right there. All of him was right there. The boy they had known almost all their lives was naked, only a few feet away. They stared at his thing, at his balls.

Wyatt, shocked at his nakedness before a small crowd, looked over at the girls, his friends, and saw where they were staring. He burst into new tears.

“Step out of them,” Caroline commanded. When Wyatt looked at her, uncomprehending, she said, “Step out of your jeans and drawers. Then get over my lap.”

Wyatt complied. He kicked his way free of the clothing around his feet. Now, since he already had no shoes or socks, he was truly, completely naked in front of two women and two girls.

Ava whispered to Sarah, “Did you see how his thing kept bouncing around when he was getting out of his pants? Oh my GOD.” This was so much better than the static photos they had seen of Tad. This was in person. And in motion.

Caroline pointed at her lap. Wyatt gingerly lay across it, quailing at the unwilling intimacy of his naked body laying over this woman’s legs. His bottom was now facing the girls. His legs were slightly spread and his balls hung over the side of Caroline’s leg. Everyone in the room was getting a very close look at Wyatt’s underneath. His obsessive desire to see himself there had resulted in EVERYONE seeing him there. Sarah thought of that old adage her mother used, “Be careful what you wish for…”

Caroline held one of Wyatt’s arms behind his back and commenced his bare assed spanking.

She would raise her arm all the way up, then bring it all the way down hard on his bare bottom. Over and over. Wyatt bawled like a baby and struggled in her grasp. His reddening butt cheeks wobbled and wiggled with each smack. His legs spread wider as he struggled, revealing even more. The girls watched it all, completely mesmerized.

Finally, Hannah stepped in and said, “That’s enough. More than enough. Let the boy up.”

Caroline grudgingly released him. Wyatt crawled off of her lap and stood crying and rubbing his bottom. The rubbing motion caused his thing to jiggle more, much to the girls’ delight.

They felt bad for him, even after learning of the weird things he did. But they also couldn’t deny the enjoyment of seeing their first naked boy in the flesh, not just in a photo. A naked boy they knew. They also couldn’t deny they reveled in watching his punishment, his humiliating naked punishment, and each wished it was her hand on his bottom.

Hannah helped the crying boy get dressed. She kept stabbing angry looks at her sister.

Wyatt couldn’t look at the girls for the remainder of their time at Caroline’s, knowing all they had heard and seen. But as Hannah drove them home that night, he whispered to them in the back seat, “Please don’t tell anyone about this. About me and the mirror. And me touching myself. And y’all seeing me naked. And the spanking. All of it. Please, please don’t tell. Please.”

Sarah glanced over at Ava. They shared a look. They both liked hearing him beg.

Sarah whispered back to Wyatt, “Well, I don’t knowwwwww…”

“Oh, come on. Please,” he hissed. He was starting to cry yet again. “I’ll do anything, just don’t tell. Please. Please.”

Sarah wanted clarification, “Anything?” Her tone should’ve warned him, but he was so desperate he didn’t notice.

“Yes,” he said urgently. “Y’all can’t tell anyone.”

Sarah twisted the knife. “Well, actually we CAN. We COULD tell anyone. We could tell EVERYONE.”

“No, please,” Wyatt said.

Sarah and Ava both got a strange, disturbing yet pleasant feeling as they listened to Wyatt quietly beg and watched the desperate, pleading look on his face.

“Caroline’s going to call my mom, and that’s bad enough. She’s probably calling her now. My mom’s going to know everything. All that stuff I did. Before and at Caroline’s house. I don’t know how I’m going to walk in the front door. If y’all tell anyone else, especially at school, I’ll die. I really will. I’ll die of shame. Please.”

Sarah consoled him, “Don’t worry. We’ll work something out.” And she would say no more.

We had recently commenced the blackmail division of The Hammond Humiliation Society. It’s charter was simple. Silence for show. If word of a boy’s misfortune could be damaging enough if it became widely known, we offered that basic, straightforward trade. Everybody wins.

And here, one of our first victims was offering that trade before we even had a chance to suggest it. “I’ll do anything.” We would soon put that bold statement to the test.

A couple of weeks later, Ellie, Annette, Donna and I were in the local park. Ellie had her trusty camera with her. We saw Wyatt about fifty yards away, sitting on a bench. He had been flying a kite, but had grown tired of it.

We were going to make his day interesting again.

"Hi, there," I called to him as we came near. "Wyatt, isn't it?"

He looked at us curiously as he stood up. He wasn't used to being approached by older girls. "Um, yes?"

I took the direct approach. It's best to be up front. "Why don't we take a walk into those trees so we can be alone?"

Now he looked apprehensive. "W-Why?"

"Don't worry. We just want you to show us something."

“It’s time for me to go home,” he told us, nervously. “My mom will be waiting.”

I told him, “Surely, you’ve made her wait before.” With that I took one of his arms and Donna took the other. We marched him into the cover of the trees. He struggled, but was no match for the two of us. No one else was around to see.

Wyatt had been grounded for those two weeks, after his conduct at Caroline’s house, so we hadn’t had a chance to discuss his promise. His “I’ll do anything.”

Once we had escorted him through the trees and thick foliage to a small, bright clearing beyond, we stopped and released his arms. He looked terrified. I felt bad about that, and told him not to be scared. We weren’t going to hurt him. We were going to help him, in fact. We were going to make sure that no one outside of our Society ever knew about that day at Caroline’s. About the mirror. About all of his really revealing statements. About what he did in the bathtub and his bed. All he had to do in return was fulfill his promise.

I, in my capacity as club president, presented him with our formal acceptance of his generous offer. When I told him what was contractually required of him, he began to cry.

But when I told him what the penalty was for breach of contract, he eventually, tearfully complied with our terms. Anything was better than having all his schoolmates picturing him, like Caroline was cursed to do, squatting naked on a mirror looking lovingly at his underneath.

As he slowly started pulling his t-shirt over his head, Ellie took her camera out of its case.

While he posed according to our directions, we made him tell us everything that had transpired all over again, this time including what he was thinking at the time. We wanted a a well-rounded account.

And we took LOTS of pictures of his underneath.

The next day, when a very angry and humiliated Wyatt approached Sarah and Ava, they both emphatically denied telling anyone about that day at Caroline’s house. They didn’t know how word had gotten out. Maybe it was that mean ol’ Caroline, getting in one last twist of the knife. She seemed the vindictive sort.

Collecting these stories and creating our own new ones kept us quite busy that year. And the most recent Tale of Tad, the one that had transformed our group of girls into a Society, was still ongoing. It hadn’t ended on that Saturday at my aunt’s. As it turned out, its consequences carried on far beyond. I could still hear echos of it for many years to come.