Rodney's Nude Humiliation Ch. 06

She sipped her cocktail.

She reached out. The boy nearly jumped outta his skin as her hand took hold...

Meanwhile in another part of town Rodney Ricketson was leaving the Elm Street home of Mrs Una Carruthers, the sewing lady and costume maker.

Oh, how high had been his hopes when he had arrived an hour earlier. Yes, he was to be fitted with a new Indian brave's loin cloth. This one would have no flap hanging at the rear. He and all the boy's would rehearse and, finally, perform with their bottom's bare. Terrible- but a rumour had spread that at least the front cloth would be bigger! By now Miss Cuff and the headmistress and all the mothers would have to appreciate that the front flap was positively indecent! That well developed boys could easily be glimpsed, that those with little pricks would even be seen, so small was the covering, that if they got stiff- and, let's be realistic, surely all ladies knew that this happened without cause among boys their age- the flap got shunted aside. Boys had been rehearsing with erections on view! Females giggling at what they saw.

All boys had been asked to model at home, for mothers, sisters, female cousins, aunts, neighbours. They all suffered the same problem: a frontal flap that offered little cover, especially when they moved. Or if their pricks moved.

Rodney's friend Kerry Fulbright had found pictures in The America Encyclopedia of young Indian braves with loin cloths as wide as aprons, right across their groins, shielding everything and hanging securely. He said he had showed his mother. He had told her that's that what they should be wearing. She had laughed it off, smiled indulgently, then agreed and said she would raise it with the school. Word had spread among the boys: they would get bigger flaps!

And there was hope on another front. Brewer's Baptist Pastor Ben Albright was said to be appalled at the immodesty of the costume. Boys had mentioned it to him, red with shame. He had gulped as they told him about their private parts being revealed, so scanty were the flaps. He seemed distrait when they hinted at erections being revealed, at women savouring the view during rehearsal. Almost wild-eyed with sympathy.

So for Sunday School Camp out at Lake Roosevelt he had asked boys to put on a preview of Miss Cuff's production. To see it, himself. He had seemed shocked, tremendously agitated, at the near nudity they presented when they walked onto the stage in the mess hall at Whispering Cedars Baptist Retreat. He had inspected them close up. Lifted flaps, leaned in close. Made boys turn and show their rears. He had interrogated each boy on how many females had been there when he had performed. "What, a girl your own age?" In a quailing voice he had asked whether they had had to model for mothers? Sisters? Sweat had appeared on his forehead as he pressed for details. "Did it hurt your feelings? Did you get...aroused?" He seemed to suffer a hot flush.

He had even ran one up himself overnight, so, he said, he would know what it was like. When he had the boys dress in the loin cloths the next day for morning prayer by the lake's edge, he himself wore his own with his makeshift flaps cut from a plaid shirt. He kept the boys in their loin cloths through breakfast in the mess hall, on their daily nature walk through the pine forest. When boys had suffered erections his own lumpy, uncircumcised penis had also emerged, pointing skyward, shoving his plaid flap to one side, reaching up to his broad, hairy tummy.

With fierce sincerity, though, he had promised to go to the headmistress, even the school board, to plead that boys must be attired in exercise shorts if there were to be females in any audience. Or be allowed to wear underpants under the loin cloth. Then, as at every one of his camps, he suggested they skinny dip in the lake "in a spirit of Christian brotherhood, as the blessed disciples did." He watched carefully as boys followed his instruction and shucked out of their loin cloths. He dropped his own makeshift one and followed their bare backsides into the water, hands over his groin, sheltering an unsavoury erection.

Yet surely his pleas on their behalf would count.

As they talked about it, boys became optimistic that the new costumes would now properly cover their fronts, save their honor. Kerry assured them his Mom had put it to Miss Cuff: a generous-sized frontal flap, just like a little apron- one that would stay in place, not move about. Even if there was no rear flap. Even if their bottoms were displayed their fronts would be shielded. Pastor Albright had assured them. He had personally seen the principal, told her the present costumes were "way outta line."

So Rodney had approached the fitting, accepting there'd be no rear flap but expecting a big concession when it came to the front one, a big gain for all their modesty. He was sure- an apron-size flap. To hide everything, even a full-scale, bolt hard erection. Even a thick, nine inch erection, like his.

He had stood buck naked on the stool while Yuela the maid had insisted on taking waist measurements again, her broad Negro nose inches from his penis. Then she had left the fitting room, leaving the door gaping open. Still, there were no girls around this time and things were quiet- except for one lady, there for a dress fitting, who had peeked from the hallway. She had let her gaze linger. She could see everything of course including his red pubic hair. But Rodney did not get stiff, having jerked off four times during the day. Yes, not even Yuela's stiff white apron had excited him this time. The lady stared good and hard, then pulled herself away.

The maid eventually returned.

With the costume.

Rodney saw that there was no rear flap.

And as Yuela pulled it up his legs he saw that the front flap...

...was even...

...tinier...

...than before!

Whaddddt?

They had actually REDUCED the size.

Yuela drew the band up to sit on the root of his penis and the frontal flap settled, hanging down...and it was both narrower and shorter!

On both sides Rodney's penis shaft would be seen, uncovered.

Yes, the flap was narrower than before...

And shorter! His entire fat glans, sheltered in his foreskin, hang below the flap. In fact the end of the flap kinda settled on his coronal ridge, putting the shape of his penis head on display. And there was no covering for his low hanging balls at all!

And this was before he got the remotest bit swollen with excitement!

He spluttered protests! He begged! He teared up! He declared he could never be seen in rehearsals in this! He asked to talk to Mrs Carruthers, the seamstress, and the maid went off to find her and she was about 10 minutes getting back (during which time another lady there for a fitting had peeked in, eyes bulging when she saw a naked boy on a stool with a tiny, token flap over his powerful genitals.) Mrs Carruthers had looked him over behind and declared that, yes, it was much more "aesthetically pleasing" to have no flap in the rear and how good it was to see a young boy's bottom on display. She half-sung the ditty:

"Boys not yet in their prime

Find nude games sublime

A loin cloth they would wear

Their buttocks to bare!"

And she and Yuela laughed out loud, Mrs Carruthers patting Rodney's bottom cheeks.

She declared there was nothing to be embarrassed in letting girls and ladies see your "nice strong glutes." Then she had fiddled with the front. She had raised the elastic cord higher on his red pubic bush, covering some hair but putting more of his penis shaft on display. And looked at the effect. Studied it from a distance. She had juggled the flap around. She had grazed Rodney's penis stem as she tugged it this way and that. At one moment the edge of her hand had lingered on his penis stem, at another her palm had cupped his balls as she fiddled with the band and the flap. Rodney noticed at these moments she was smiling from the corners of her mouth. She stepped back to stand with her maid and look intently, hand on her chin.

Then she shook her head.

"Nonsense!"

She pronounced the fit was perfect and there was nothing for him to complain about. She said that all the boys would be wearing smaller flaps. Miss Cuff had personally laid down the new measurement. The teacher had apparently researched the subject in the Minnesota Museum. She had reached the view there was more evidence of young Indian braves getting around completely nude than there was of them wearing any silly loin cloths. And when they did wear them they were precisely this size, yes, a bit more petite than the first version.

Rodney spluttered about "apron sized" loin cloths, about Kerry Fulbright's mother and what she had agreed to, about the Baptist Pastor and his keen interest in boys' modesty but it all came out jumbled and confused and he was actually crying and sick of standing on the stool in front of them, his groin at eye-level, and the sound of another female visitor in the hall.

"It's all Miss Cuff's decision, and all you boys are in the same position," enunciated Mrs Carruthers. "Now pull your clothes on...and, Rodney, go home and let your mother see. I think she will agree the new costume is very elegant, worn by an athletic young fella like you."

And he looked down at the flimsy, fragile rectangle of cloth dangling from the root of his penis, only now half way down his stem! Half way down- because Rodney was beginning to stretch! He was getting an erection! The two women had noticed and were smiling slightly as they fastened their beady eyes on his privates, mushroomy glans pulling out of the foreskin. He quickly stepped down to pull his clothes on.

On his way through Brewer's streets he had a lot to think about, one question especially: how long before his mother would ask him to model the new costume? This damned new loin cloth with no back flap and a smaller front one that would shield nothing.

And whether his sister and cousin would be there when she did. Or that damn nosey Mrs Reilly.

He did not anticipate one possibility. Did not allow it to enter his mind at all.

No sister, no cousin. No Mrs Reilly.

But something worse: that when his time came to model the new costume his mother might be entertaining her bridge club, a big lively gathering of Brewer's ladies, all eager to get a glimpse of Rodney and his legendary mushroom penis head and his freakishky low-hanging testicles.

Having heard his mother on the subject at Mrs Reilly's afternoon meeting...

...having been stimulated by talk of supervised masturbation of errant sons...

...having been served drinks by naked, erect 18 year olds...

...it might be said, very eager indeed.