It's
Not Fair - Peter's Letter 2
By Mike
Ploog
mikeploog_81@yahoo.de
Copyright 2018, all rights reserved
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *
This story is set in
the Puericil
Universe.
This is one of the
letters to the "It’s
Not Fair!"
column, in "Boy Stuff" magazine. In them, boys complain about
how little privacy they are allowed, and about the double standard that
makes
it OK for people to see them naked but protects girls’ modesty. Because
of its length and more edgy nature, it is published as a standalone.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Letter published in the It’s
Not Fair section of the magazine called Boy Stuff:
(this
letter has been written by Mike
Ploog
The response is by Cassie. The letter is published as originally sent.
Before being published in the all ages magazine, some of the more
sexual descriptions were slightly toned down. The request not to be
called Petey was however published as is)
(You can read Peter's previous letter in INF 14
and INF 34)
Peter (age 18)
Dear it’s not fair,
It’s me, Peter, again. Many
thanks for your latest response-letter and your encouraging words.
The reason why I’m writing you
again is because I have to make quite an unpleasant confession. Let me tell you
what happened: You remember how much I hate it being put on Puericil and you
may also remember that Madame has even increased my dosage after the incident
at the beach. I know you told me that the pills help me to be a modest boy and
save me from misbehaving. But I simply couldn’t stand this medicine anymore – a
medicine that subdues my puberty and keeps my peenie so terribly tiny!
So here’s what I did: A few
days after Madame’s return she ordered me to buy a few things for her in the
nearby grocery. I did as instructed but secretly added a packet of chocolate
beans which I had to effort from my saved pocket money (50 Cents a week... but
only if I’d behaved!)
The size of the beans was
comparable to the evil Puericil pills so therefore they were perfect for my
planned “cheating test”. Later that evening when I was alone in my basement
room, I took out a bean and used my tongue to shove it into the cheek pouch
behind my molars. I then took a sip of water and tried to swallow it with the bean
kept in my mouth. It actually took me many attempts to perfect my
cheating-technique but fortunately the number of beans lasted... and that meant I
was ready for the real thing!
Next morning, after breakfast
time when I was given my first Puericil pill of the day, I grabbed a glass of
water, took a swig... and managed to preserve the medicine in my mouth. Neither
Madame nor her daughter had taken notice of it. I tell you, I was so nervous
that I thought even my galloping heartbeat might betray me! A few moments later,
when no one was looking at me, I felt safe enough to secretly spit the pill into
my hand and to shove it into a held ready tissue from my trousers pocket. My plan
was successful! Now I’d all the time in the world to dispose 50 milligram of
puberty killer into the sink... And the best thing was: I managed to repeat my
little cheating ceremony during lunch time and dinner. From that day on I successfully
avoided EVERY single given Puericil pill!
It took a few days until my
Puericil-abstinence evolved its desired effect but after a week I spotted the
first signs of freshly grown light pubes on my formerly bald testies. And I
swear that my testies had grown in size, too. I also felt an increasing urge to
play with my (yet tiny) peenie as I was regularly having a stiffy at that time.
But then the inevitable
happened. As Madame was monitoring me during my evening bath (Miss Valery was
still on her holiday camp) I got another involuntary stiffy – which normally
didn’t happen before my Puericil-abstinence. How embarrassing! Of course, this
didn’t become unnoticed by the strict lady who told me to spread my legs and
inspected my saluting peenie with critical eyes... “You naughty little boy! How
dare you? .... and what the hell is this? Do I see some pubes here?”
Damn, it was obvious to Madame
that I had undergone physical changes! Being worried about my development “down
there” she decided that I needed to see a doctor. Said and done, she soon contacted
a well-reputed pediatrist who is specialized in Puericil and much to my dismay
an appointment was arranged.
You have to know that I’m so
afraid of any kind of doctors! The night before my planned visit to the
pediatrist – a woman called Dr. Melanie Madison – I was nervously shifting on
my mattress in fear of my forthcoming examination. My mind was spinning: What will
the doctor do to me? Will she hurt me? What if she comes behind my broken off Puericil
therapy? OMG, no doubt she will! She’s a professional! I was nothing but devastated...
It was half past five early in
the morning, long before Madame would awake, when I quickly got dressed and
decided that there was only one way out of my misery: escaping from town and travelling
back home to my mom! With guilty conscience I tiptoed into the big wardrobe beside
the entrance door, snitched 100 Dollars cash from Madame’s leather purse and searched
through Monica’s fully packed Gucci bag where I found additional 80 bucks.
Yes, I am very aware that
stealing is an unforgivable crime. But you must know I so much needed the money
for the long train journey and possessed only a few pennies on my own whereas
Madame is the wealthiest person I ever met.
Without making the slightest
noise, I secretly left the house, hit the road to the nearby main station and paid
120 Dollars for the needed tickets.
Good thing was that the cute young
counter girl didn’t ask for my (expired) travel-permission which Puericil boys
are obliged to produce if they travel alone (“alone” means without a person in
company who’s at least 14 years old). But bad thing... I had to wait three hours
until my interstate train was announced departure so I prayed to god that they
weren’t already searching for me. Seeing the train eventually arriving, my
heart was beating like crazy. In only a few minutes I would be out of this
hateful small-town! But just as the automatic doors opened, I suddenly felt
someone tapping me on my shoulder...
The two police officers, a
woman and a man, were informed about a young runaway thief and caught me right
on time. “Is your name Peter Williams, young man?” the tall female cop asked me
in a friendly but authoritative voice. She was holding a pair of handcuffs and slightly
touched her baton on high alert. Being scared to death, I didn’t even try to
lie and ruefully confessed my crime so the officer woman quickly put the handcuffs
on me. And she did it right there on the station platform amidst all the astounded
travelers! After she’d checked my ID she put on a pair of latex gloves, snarled
“Now, don’t move, bucko!” and started to body-search me as if I were a drug
dealer! Was that really necessary??? Christ, she even fumbled between my legs and
drove her gloved hand behind the waistband of my undies to check my CROTCH! As
if I would ever hide something between my privates! O, I can’t describe how utterly
embarrassed I was as her initially puzzled look turned into a knowing smile when
she reported to her partner that she’d “found nothing noticeable”.
Anyway, to make a short trip
even shorter I ended up crying in the backseat of a police car while the cops
drove me back to Madame. Well, at least, I didn’t end up in jail as she refused
to officially report my crime. “We’ll handle this our own way, officers. Many
thanks for getting back our little runaway!”
I guess you’re not surprised
when I tell you that the consequences of my failed escape were harsh. Very
harsh! The 100 strokes with the belt I was administered on my bare hiney by
Madame and the additional 80 blows delivered by her fuming daughter – one
stroke for each stolen Dollar – were more than appropriate. But that was just
part one of their punishment regulations!
To prevent me from any further
fleeing attempts Madame decided to lock away nearly all of my clothes and
introduced a new dress code to me: I am now condemned to wear underpants only.
I mean ALL DAY!
“I’m quite sure you wouldn’t
dare another little trip to the station in this outfit.” she simply explained.
I was nothing but shocked but of course my meek protests were in vain. “Any more
complaints and I’ll keep you all bare, young man!”
The only times I am “allowed” to
go out on the street now is once or twice a week when Madame orders me to drop
her letters into the public mailbox 100 yards down the road (at least, this
allows me to secretly send my own letters). Doing this, I always have to be
careful and watch out for the rough neighborhood kids from the lower class
families. They always harass me when they spot me. There’s one particular mean
boy I fear most as he once pantsed me and paraded me around, exposing my
wiggling little peenie to all the laughing kids until he pinned me down and invited
a couple of witnessing young wild girls to spank me which they eagerly did!
The boy who did this to me is
a real bully and despite he’s probably only 12 or 13 and a few inches shorter
than me he easily overpowered me. I’m so terrified of him!
When I told Madame about it she
just blamed me “I can’t believe you’re afraid of a little boy, Peter! But if
you’re really such a chicken, you may ask Valery to help you. She’d practiced
Jiu-Jitsu and even won a few
junior contests where she literally kicked some asses. Didn’t she tell you?
Well, maybe she didn’t because last year she somehow lost interest in martial
arts and decided to take ballet classes. Funny, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m sure
she’s still capable to teach that little troublemaker you’re so scared of a
lesson if it’s necessary.”
Now tell me: How can I, an 18
year old young man, ask a ten year old girl (!) to protect me against a brutal teen
boy?! No way! Just imagine Miss Valery would really beat up the mean bully...Christ,
that would mean she’s SO MUCH stronger than I! How embarrassing!
However, my new dress code is
not even the worst part of my punishment fate. As you know, I’d spent 120
Dollars for the train tickets – and that means a debt burden of 120 Dollars. In
order to regain this huge amount, Madame heavily increased my workload. Simply
put, I now have to slog the whole day. No spare time, no time-off on Sundays
and of course no television! I even have to do garden work in the adjoining
neighborhood estates, both inhabited by rich widows, Mrs. Frampton on the left
and Mrs. Rousseau on the right. Can you imagine how degrading it is to present
myself to those old ladies in nothing but my cartoon undies while I have to
foster their huge flowerbeds or paint their fences for no more than 50 Cents per
hour? That’s not fair!
You have to know that I hate
working for Mrs. Rousseau! She is nothing but wicked and has the habit to
“encourage” me with her old-fashioned broom whenever I slow down my work. At least, Mrs. Frampton is
nice to me and often “rewards” me with an extra apple for being “such a
diligent boy”, though I don’t like it when she’s caringly fondling me as she
likes to cuddle my hair and sometimes she actually strokes my bare skin admiring
my undies and my “cute little tushie” which makes me feel a bit... uncomfortable.
Yesterday, Mrs. Frampton even tried
to lure me into her mansion. She was standing in her porch, dressed in a black
negligee and offered me to earn some extra money. It would be a “special job
that only boys can do” she said with a strange smile. And though I badly need
the cash and had no clue what the friendly old lady wanted me to do, an inner warning-instinct
told me to resist.
So I sheepishly refused her
alluring offer pretending that I was late and needed to go home... but looking
back I tend to regret my decision. This is where I need your advice. What do
you think? Should I go with her, if she invites me into her house again? She
would pay me 2 Dollars plus additional 2 Dollars if she’d be satisfied with my
efforts! And she promised it would be “easy money”.
I would also like to tell you
what happened during my rescheduled examination at Doctor Madison and the resulting
treatment (she put me on Puericil again, a much stronger dosage form now, rectal
suppositories!) but that’s another story and you know, my immense workload allows
me only very little time to write.
That’s not fair!
Peter
P.S.: I was so happy when you
told me that Miss Monica didn’t actually kill any mice – but is it really true??
I still believe these rubber things must be mouse baits because I spotted several
similar looking items in a wrapper when I searched Monica’s bag for money and they
were labeled as “jelly flavor”. Mice do LOVE jelly!
The magazine published response:
Dear Peter,
Thanks for writing again. It makes us happy knowing how our friends are
doing, even though you seem to have got in quite a lot of trouble since last
time we spoke.
You really should have listened to my advice. I know you don’t like
Puericil, but you should accept it with good grace. You are a very immature
boy, and you need to be supervised and controlled by adults, or more mature
kids, so that you do not make bad decisions and get into trouble. That’s where
Puericil comes in. It helps you accept the supervision and control you need, by
making you less rebellious and less violent, so that you remain a good boy
instead of turning into a juvenile delinquent.
It doesn’t really matter that Puericil delays your puberty and keeps
your peenie so tiny. What does an immature boy like you need a developed peenie
for, anyway? You can still use to pee, and you don’t really have more need of
it until you grow up and mature. You are not a man, you are an immature little
boy, so it does not matter if you have a tiny little peenie. When you mature,
there will be time for it to grow and become more grownup-like.
But you didn’t listen, and instead you made some really bad decisions.
Which only goes to show how immature you are, and how much you need to be tightly
controlled.
I’m surprised and appalled about what an elaborate plan you followed to
avoid taking your Puericil. That was very bad and naughty of you! And of
course, once you stopped taking it, you only became rebellious and
unmanageable, and you made even worse decisions. Decisions that put your
precious life in danger.
Of course, did
you expect your disobedience to be undetected for long?
You know very well that you are too immature to be allowed to bathe
without supervision. Madame and the girls see you naked every day, so
of course they could not
miss the guilty signs for long. And good thing that they see and
inspect your
peenie so regularly, because at least that way they discovered the
problem
before it got even worse. Of course, Madame was worried when it seemed
that
your medication was not working, and of course she made an appointment
with the
doctor to make sure you were all right.
You should not be so scared of doctors. They just want to help you and
have your best interest in mind. Even if the examination sometimes are
uncomfortable, it’s done for your own good. That you were unable to see that is
just another proof of your extreme immaturity.
Then you made an even worse decision: you ran away! I bet you wouldn’t
have done anything so bad, so juvenile-delinquent-like, if you still had been
taking your Puericil like a good little boy. You also stole Madame’s money. Oh,
Peter! That was so bad and naughty of you! That’s how you repay her care?
But the worst is the risk you took. A small, completely immature little
boy like you should not be alone and unsupervised in the city. Anything bad
could have happened to you, being so naïve and immature! A bad person might
have taken you away!
Thankfully, the policemen found you in time, before something worse
could happen. You were embarrassed because the police-lady searched you? Well,
you were lucky she didn’t bare your bottom right there and gave you a good
spanking for causing so much trouble! I know I would have, because no matter
how much I like you, little boys can’t be allowed to be so naughty. I’m
surprised she didn’t, because when she felt how tiny your peenie is, she could
have do doubts about your immaturity. No wonder she told her partner that she
had found nothing noticeable there!
Madame was kind not to press charges. She could have, you know, just to
give you a taste of what happens to juvenile delinquents, so that you are more
grateful that you are tightly controlled so that you don’t become one.
The spanking you got on your bare hiney with Madame’s belt was bad, but
you have to remember how naughty you had been, and how dangerous your behavior
was. Who can blame them for blistering your little bottom so that you would
learn never to be so naughty again!
I’m sorry you were also restricted to wear only your underpants. At
least it’s true that you wouldn’t dare run away like that, so that means you
won’t get in so much trouble again. And it could have been worse. You could
have been restricted to be naked all day! Imagine that! Anyone could see all of
you, anytime! I’m sure that’s coming if you do something like this again, so
make sure you don’t!
The rectal suppositories are like that too. I’m sure they are
uncomfortable and embarrassing, but they are meant to help you keep out of
trouble, little man!
I’m really
sorry that bad little boy bullied you, Peter! You are 18, and
he is just 12 or 13, but I bet he is a rough and bad-behaved boy. No
wonder you
are scared. You really should ask Miss Valery to help you, you know. I
mean,
OK, you would be an 18-year-old boy asking a 10-year-old girl to
protect you.
But really, what’s there for you to be embarrassed about? She already
supervises your baths, doesn’t she? Think about it, she makes you strip
naked and watches everything as you bathe yourself. Everything! And
then she inspects you to make sure you did a good job. Think how much
more mature than you she is. Compared
to you, she is like a grownup, that’s why it doesn’t matter if she sees
you all
naked, and that’s why she takes care of you and not the other way
around. So
then, how is asking her to please protect you from the bully any
different? You
need to forget that you are 18 and she is 10. What matters is that you
are an
immature little boy and she is a mature young lady.
So, please, heed my advice. Ask her for help, humbly, and be grateful
and respectful if she protects you.
I’m really sorry that Madame gave you extra chores, but she is only
trying to teach you right from wrong, and that there are consequences when you
are naughty.
Peter, you need to work hard and be good and obedient so that you won’t
be treated so strictly. I’m sorry Mrs. Rousseau is so rough and strict, but
remember you brought this on yourself. At least Mrs. Frampton treats you more
gently, even if she sometimes makes you feel uncomfortable. If she is not
ordering you to do that special job then you do not need to do it, so if you
feel comfortable you may just refuse politely. Tell her you are too immature
for what she needs.
I hope in your next letter you’ll tell me that you have been a very good
boy and earned back Madame’s trust.
A very big hug to you. Remember that if you are punished harshly it’s
only for your own good!
INF
P.D. Believe me, she
didn’t kill any mice. Those rubber things are actually condoms. That’s
something that grownups sometimes use when they have sex, but you do not need to
worry your little head about such grownup things. Just know that no animals
were involved, and therefore no animals were hurt. Miss Monica was just teasing
you.
(The End)