Saturday, 22 July 2017

Scott's Story - Part 12



“Now don’t forget to give the groom a nice smart salute when you are introduced to him,” Emily reminded Scottie as she made some final adjustments to his ringer-bearer’s outfit. “Remember, Marcus is an officer in the Royal Navy, so he’ll expect you to be nice and smart and on your best behaviour.”

“Yes, Emily,” Scottie dutifully replied. Secretly, Scottie was still hopeful of a last minute reprieve from wearing his shamefully brief pink sailor-suit with its astonishing tiny, thigh-baring hotpants. Scottie thought that if he could manage to speak to the bridegroom before the ceremony got underway he might still somehow be spared the humiliation he was sure to undergo.

Unbeknownst to Scottie though, Marcus was facing his own shameful embarrassment courtesy of his playful fellow officers. Little had Midshipman Marcus realised as he stepped ashore from HMS Troutbridge and after receiving the good wishes of Captain Povey (and those of his dear wife Ramona), just how radically his tropical uniform had been altered. Perhaps understandably, Marcus had thought he’d been treated to the last of his shipmates pranks the day before their ship docked when he was set upon by a group of fellow junior officers.

The junior acting assistant steward had given Marcus a message which lured him to a distant part of Troutbridge, there, to his horror, he found out the rumours about what happened to officers about to be wed were true. Quickly he was grabbed and stripped bare while the junior acting assistant steward, a young lad by the name of Joey, prepared the shaving cream.

“Just as well your legs are nice and smooth, sir,” Joey said as he ran his hand up Marcus’ thighs, “It’ll save us a lot of work… and waxing can sting a bit I’ve been told, especially towards the top, sir.”

The other officers were laughing as Marcus struggled when it became clear he was to lose his pubes.

“Try and keep still, sir,” Joey said and without further ado took hold of Marcus’ penis and began to remove the pubic hair with a small pair of scissors, “Won’t take long, sir and we’ll soon have you ready for your wedding night…”

Marcus pleaded with Joey to stop, but amid the laughter of his fellow officers, his words were all but drowned out and soon there was little more than stubble left at the base of his penis.

“Watch out… I think he likes you Joey!” one the the officers called out as they saw Marcus’s penis begin to engorge visibly.

Joey blushed at these words and, as Marcus’ penis continued to stiffen, turned to the officer who had spoken: “Kind of you to say so, sir, but I think it’s just Mister Marcus looking forward to his wedding night, sir.”

“Happen you’re right, Joey, but try and make sure Mister Marcus has some ammunition left for the marriage bed… we don’t want to hear he’s been firing nothing but blanks,” the officer replied jokingly when he saw pre-cum oozing from Marcus’ tumescent penis.

“Perhaps one of you gentlemen would be kind enough to hold Mister Marcus’ penis while I lather up around it?” Joey said asking for assistance, which was duly given as Marcus screamed blue murder.

“Please, sir, don’t move about so much,” Joey said to the wriggling Marcus, “Not while I’m using the razor, sir. Your bride wouldn’t like it if my hand slipped, sir.”

These words did the trick and Marcus reluctantly allowed the junior acting assistant steward to shave off the last of his pubic hair to leave him as bald and as smooth as a billiard ball. Joey rinsed and wiped away the remaining residue from around Marcus’ erect penis.

“There we are, sir… all done,” Joey said as he finished up.

 “Aren’t you going to thank our junior acting assistant steward, Marcus?” one of his fellow junior officers asked as another midshipman twisted his arm.

 “Ouch!! Okay, Okay,” Marcus said, realising that he was unlikely to escape the clutches of his comrades unless he cooperated, so he turned towards the junior acting assistant steward, “Thank you, Joey…”

 “Not at all, sir. I’m pleased to be able to help out.”


 Alan and Adrian had both been surprised when they saw their elder brother was lacking pubic hair, but perhaps not quite as taken aback as they had been when they saw how short Marcus’ white dress shorts were. Marcus was forced to explain to his giggling younger brothers what had happened aboard Troutbridge and how the junior acting assistant steward had shaved him as the other junior offers held him fast. There wasn’t much time for teasing, however. As Adrian reminded Marcus, it was the bride’s prerogative to be late, not the groom’s. So it was just as well the twins were on hand to make sure their shorts-clad, older brother reported to the church on time.

 They were met outside the church porch by an anxious Scottie who was, of course, wearing his pink sailor-suit complete with its eye-catching hotpants-style shorts. Scottie was peering into the porch as Marcus and his brothers walked up the path through the churchyard.

 “What on earth!!” Marcus gasped when he saw Scottie with his bottom barely covered by the thin pink hotpants.

 “That’s Scottie… the ring-bearer,” Alan explained helpfully, “Simon’s unwell, so Scottie volunteered to help…”

 “I rather think it was Scottie’s Aunt Violet who did the volunteering,” Adrian corrected his brother.

 Marcus was flabbergasted: “I can’t imagine any sane boy volunteering to wear that outfit…”

 “Have you looked in the mirror recently, Marcus? I mean those shorts of yours are pretty revealing you know...” Alan said.

 Marcus slipped his fingers around the back of the shorts and tugged at them in an attempt to at least cover the lower curves of his bottom.

 “It’s no use, Marcus,” Adrian said, “You’re going to have to face it, those shorts of yours are showing everything… there’s nothing you can do about it…”

 “You’ve got lovely legs, Marcus… trust us,” Alan added.

 “It’s alright for you two,” Marcus seethed, “... you’re both wearing long trousers.”

 At that moment Scottie turned round. He’d been trying to find Marcus  to see if there was anything he could do at the last minute to spare him the humiliation of walking down the aisle in front of the whole congregation in his horrid pink sailor-suit. When he saw Alan and Adrian standing next to a taller boy wearing ridiculously short white shorts, he thought it must be a relative of theirs.

 “Shall I do the introductions?” Adrian offered, “Marcus, this is Scott Harris, who’s standing in for Simon as ringbearer…”

 Scottie nearly fainted: “MARCUS!!” he blurted out looking at the tiny white shorts, “But… but… you… why?!”

 “Oh, it’s a long story…” Alan said.

 “No time…” Adrian added.

 “Oh-oh…” Alan said, “The bride’s mother approaches…”

 “Mrs Bloom…” Adrian confirmed.

 Marcus blanched at the sight of his soon-to-be mother-in-law as she bore down on them.

 “Come along now, Marcus… you too, Scottie, dear. It’s no use you boys standing around talking when there’s so much to do… Penelope is on her way… come along, come along!” Mrs Bloom rattled off her orders, then turned to Marcus, “I’ve a good mind to take you over my knee and give that naughty bottom of your’s a good spanking. What was all that nonsense about your uniform? It looks perfectly in order to me. I’m sure Penelope will agree with me how nice it is to see you dressed in a lovely pair of short trousers for your wedding. I really can’t see what all the fuss was about.”

 With that she took Marcus by the hand and led him in through the church porch, just as if he’d been a tardy ten year old. Inside the church it was cool, cool enough for bare legs to notice the drop in temperature. Marcus felt it and so did Scottie. Not so Alan and Adrian who were comfortably attired in their long trousers. Alan nudged his twin brother as they watched the bare legs in front of them as it became apparent their older brother and Scottie were feeling the chill.

 “Half a crown says Marcus gets goose-pimples before Scott,” Alan whispered to Adrian.

 “You’re on…” Adrian answered, pleased to have something to distract them while they waited for Penelope to arrive and the service to begin.

 Meanwhile Mrs Bloom was introducing her soon-to-be son-in-law to her circle of friends as they stood in the aisle. The ladies were most interested in Marcus’ white uniform and the astonishingly brief shorts. Marcus was forced to explain the on-board protocol regarding the wearing of short trousers in tropical latitudes and at one point was obliged to defend the ludicrous shortness of the shorts he was wearing. Egged on by Mrs Bloom, Marcus found himself declaring how much he preferred to wear short trousers… whatever the latitude!

 Marcus was complimented on his legs and how smooth they were.

 “Boys grow up so quickly,” one lady said, “One minute they’re all smooth and hairless… and the next minute, hair everywhere!”

 “Marcus might not have any hair on his legs, but I’m sure he has some you-know-where…” observed another teasingly.

 “Rosemary! I’m sure if you say one more thing…” Mrs Bloom interrupted.

 “But I was only stating the obvious,” Rosemary countered and then, looking Marcus straight in the eye added, “I’m sure you’ve hair around your, ahem, parts, haven’t you, Marcus? You’re certainly old enough to have at least something to show, I’d have thought...”

 Marcus didn’t know what to do. To say that he had pubic hair would be an obvious lie, but there was simply no time to explain why he hadn’t and what had happened on board his ship. He blushed, tongue-tied…

 “Well, Marcus?” his very soon-to-be mother-in-law Mrs Bloom enquired, “What have you got to say?”

 Pleease, thought Marcus, this can’t be happening, before he raised his eyes upwards towards the barrel-vaulted roof of the church as if for guidance.

 “I, er… that is to say…” Marcus said hesitatingly, before he heard the voice of one of his younger brothers.

 “No… no he hasn’t,” Alan said flatly, “His shipmates saw to that before Marcus landed!”

 “Bald as a coot,” Adrian added helpfully.

 For once the ladies assembled in the aisle were stunned into silence.

 “Well I never did!” Mrs Bloom finally exclaimed, “You mean to say... what, all of it?!”

 “Not one single hair was left, Mrs Bloom,” Alan confirmed.

 “It’s a sort of tradition, Mrs Bloom,” Adrian said cheerfully.

 Marcus sought to apologise for his shortcoming, but was promptly interrupted by Mrs Bloom.

 “It is not I to whom you should apologise, but I rather think that an explanation is due to Penelope,” she said.

 Marcus hung his head in shame. What little self-confidence he felt in front of Mrs Bloom had faded… rapidly. This was a fine way to start married life, he thought.

 “Yes, Mrs Bloom,” he said.

 Further misery was curtailed, or at least postponed for young Mr Midshipman Marcus as the first chords of the ‘Wedding March’ rang out and everyone hurried to their places.

 Marcus managed to hiss: “Why did you have to say anything?” to his brothers as they stood by the altar.

 “Just being helpful,” replied Alan.

 “We could see you were in a jam,” Adrian added.

 “All part of the service,” Alan concluded.

 “By the way, Marcus... love the tan-line,” Adrian said, drawing attention to the pale white flesh of Marcus’ upper thigh that was now fully exposed by the ludicrously short white shorts.

 Shut up,” hissed Marcus as he tried to regain some courage to face the ordeals to come.


 It was Aunt Violet who had been persuaded to ‘give away’ the bride. It has to be said that Penelope was a bundle of nerves and it needed someone of Aunty Violet’s natural authority to make sure everything went smoothly and that the bridesmaids and the ring-bearer behaved themselves.

 Scottie was not at all pleased, but hardly surprised, to find his Aunty Violet had such a prominent rĂ´le in the proceedings. After all it was Aunty Violet who had dragooned him into taking Simon, the bride’s younger brother’s place as ring-bearer at the wedding. Thus Scottie had been squeezed into the ring-bearer’s outfit, a truly hideous pink sailor-suit, designed for a twelve year old and to match the outfits the four bridesmaids would be wearing. There had been no time to make any adjustments to the outfit Scottie was to wear as the seamstress was far too busy with putting the final touches to Penelope’s wedding dress and the bridesmaids’ outfits.

 As Scottie stood holding the ring-bearer’s cushion in the draughty church porch, he could feel a cold breeze tickle the lower curves of his bottom, the cheeks of which Scottie knew could be seen peeking out from under the ridiculously short hot-pants which formed such a noticeable part of his outfit. Scottie wondered whether he had ever felt so miserable.

 From the porch Scottie watched as Penelope got out of the car with Aunty Violet and walked towards him. As the final few seconds of their approach ticked by, Scottie grew ever more anxious about what was to happen next when he was to walk down the aisle in front of Penelope holding the cushion on which would be placed the rings… the rings! Where were the rings?!

 Panic can do strange things to teenage boys. Scottie was no exception and through a combination of extreme anxiety, nervousness and panic, he began to feel an unwelcome, but all too familiar pressure building in the front of his already obscenely tight hot-pants as his penis pressed against the thin cotton.

 Oh, please, NO!! Not now...please,’ Scottie pleaded to himself, just as Adrian came with the wedding rings. Adrian immediately saw what was happening and thought it hugely funny. His reaction simply added to Scottie’s distress.

 “A wank would sort that out,” Adrian whispered to Scottie as he arranged the wedding rings carefully on the cushion Scottie was holding, “That’s what I’d do… I’d go and have a good wank,” Adrian continued as he teased Scottie, “... y’know really nice wank… that’d get rid your hard-on, but you’d want to be careful not to get spunk over your nice outfit… that’d be a dead giveaway that you’d been wanking...”

 “Oh, go away!” Scottie blurted out to his tormentor, who knew the very use of the word ‘wank’ was often enough to cause some boys to become ‘over-excited’. Indeed Scottie’s penis was by this time extremely uncomfortable inside the tight little hot-pants, so uncomfortable that he wanted to at least have the opportunity to adjust his boyhood. But as he was now holding the cushion with the wedding rings, this was not an option and Scottie realised he would have to walk down the aisle, leading Penelope and the bridesmaids, and pray no one (apart from the twins, Adrian and Alan) would notice the bulge showing between his legs.

 “What’s that! What did you say?!” Aunty Violet called out when she heard Scottie’s outburst.

 “Nothing, aunty… Er, just a pesky fly or something, but I think it’ll buzz off in a second… won’t it, Adrian?” Scottie responded, proud of his quick thinking for once.

 “See you at the altar,” Adrian said with a smile and as he walked back into the church, Emily came out. Scottie immediately tried to position himself so as not to give away his guilty boy-bulge. This was difficult to achieve what with Aunty Violet on one side and now Emily on the other. The last thing Scottie wanted was to upset either of these two.

 “I just wanted to make sure Scottie was behaving himself,” Emily announced, making Scottie feel like a little boy as she always managed to do with considerable ease, even more so now that Scottie was wearing the humiliating pink sailor-suit that had been designed and measured for twelve year old Simon.

 Emily must have noticed something was not as it should be when, without a word spoken, she took the cushion from Scottie, turned and put it down on a settle. Scottie knew what Emily had seen and immediately moved his hands to cover the incriminating boy-bulge between his legs, but it was too late. Penelope saw it and so did Aunty Violet. The four bridesmaids scuttled around to see what was happening as Emily took Scottie by the ear and pulled his head down so that his tight little hot-pants were stretched so much they looked as if they’d burst apart.

 A rapid tattoo of hand-spanks rained down on the back of Scottie’s legs and the exposed lower curves of his bottom, as Emily scolded him for being such a thoughtless, naughty, inconsiderate boy. The sharp smacks echoed around the church porch and were loud enough to be heard by the assembled guests waiting in the nave. Even Marcus heard the rapid-fire slaps and at once recognised them as hand on bare skin. He shifted uncomfortably moving his weight from one leg to the other, while unconsciously rubbing his own very bare thighs.

“Sounds like Scottie’s getting it,” Adrian ventured.

 “What do you mean?” Marcus asked distractedly.

 “He had a hard-on,” Adrian answered.

 “Serve him right,” Alan said, “He should’ve had a wank before he put that outfit on… asking for trouble if you ask me… Did you have a wank this morning, Marcus?” he asked his elder brother matter-of-factly.

“Mind your own business,” Marcus said, still preoccupied by the sounds coming from the church porch.

 “What was that, Marcus?” Mrs Bloom asked.

 “What was what, Mrs Bloom?” Marcus asked, trying his best to sound polite.

 “That noise… it sounds like someone’s being spanked,” Mrs Bloom elaborated.

 “That’ll be Scottie,” Adrian explained.

 “What on earth has Scottie done to deserve a spanking?” It was Mrs Bloom’s turn to be annoyed, “Doesn’t he realise he’s holding up the ceremony? Honestly… boys!”

 Alan leaned closer to his older brother and whispered: “I hope you did have a wank this morning… wouldn’t want you to be given a spanking like Scottie. Do you think Penny would spank you if you got a hard-on in church?” Then, with a wicked look in his eye, Alan glanced at Penelope’s mother, “... or maybe Mrs Bloom would.”

 Marcus found it difficult to laugh off his younger brother’s teasing comments. Like Scottie, he too began to feel an unwanted pressure in his absurdly brief shorts. The sound of Scottie’s spanking and his brother’s taunts had triggered some unfathomable response in his grey cells. Coupled with his complete absence from masturbatory activities for the past few days, in order to be ready to perform his conjugal duties, Marcus realised he was facing a spiralling and potentially hugely embarrassing crisis.

 A few moments later, when Scottie appeared, all eyes in the church were turned towards him. Scottie held the cushion, upon which the wedding-rings were to be seen, as he started to walk slowly down the aisle. It was not difficult to see that Scottie’s face was red, with the unmistakable sparkle of fresh tears trickling from his moist eyes. Behind Scottie came Penelope the bride escorted by Aunty Violet, then followed the bridesmaids. As Scottie proceeded towards the altar passing the pews, guests could see the results of Emily’s spanking on the backs of his legs and it was clear who had been the recipient of discipline in the church porch. Of course everyone wanted to know what the ring-bearer had done to deserve such a noisy spanking and Scottie could hear the whispering as the guests speculated on his naughtiness.

 Alan and Adrian, standing near the altar, strained their eyes trying to see if there was still evidence between Scottie’s legs of his ‘misdemeanour’. To their older brother, Marcus however, the sight of Scottie walking towards him simply heightened his feelings of insecurity. Marcus’ eyes were fixed on Scottie’s ridiculous ring-bearer outfit and the tight little hot-pants, not dissimilar to his own white dress shorts, altered at the behest of his fellow junior officers. The two of them were the only ones wearing such short shorts… indeed Marcus and Scottie were the only two at the wedding wearing short trousers of any description! It made Marcus feel like a little schoolboy and his short trousers were the badge of his inferior status. Marcus, much as he loved Penelope, couldn’t help wondering what he was letting himself in for as he glanced in the direction of her mother, Mrs Bloom. Was this what Penny would become in twenty years time? Or, heaven forbid, underneath her beautiful exterior, was Penny already just like her mother, or Aunty Violet, or even Captain Povey’s dear wife Ramona?!

 

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