In this chapter David arranges for something highly unpleasant to happen to Osterley and starts to think up ways to get Dhif expelled. And he also ends up with an apprentice, who is going to play a substantial part in future events.
As soon as he got to school the following morning the first thing he did was to go to 1A's form room to look for Downing and Lithgow. Downing had not yet arrived, but Lithgow was already there, so David caught his attention and beckoned him out of the room. Lithgow looked nervous: everyone in the lower school knew that when you caught the eye of the White Rat you were usually in serious trouble. But it was sensible to do what he said if you didn't want things to get even worse, so he swallowed and followed David outside.
David led him round the corner out of sight and asked, "Everything OK, Lithgow?"
Lithgow nodded nervously, wondering how long everything would be OK for.
"Not had any trouble with bullies?"
Lithgow shook his head, equally cautiously.
"Suppose I told you that you were still having trouble, with one bully in particular?"
Lithgow just looked confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Let's just say I think Osterley needs another lesson, and if you and Downing were to complain to Garrett that Osterley's still bothering you, I could make sure he gets one."
"Yes, but he isn't."
"But you could say he is, couldn't you?"
"Well... I suppose so - but it wouldn't be true, would it?"
"That doesn't matter, does it? OK, let's put it another way: Garrett and I need to make an example of someone. Personally I'd prefer it to be Osterley, but it could just as easily be you, or Downing, or both of you. I'm sure I could catch you doing something you shouldn't if I tried hard enough, and even if I couldn't actually catch you, I expect Garrett would believe me if I said I'd caught you...oh, I don't know - say, smoking, for instance? Now do you see what I'm getting at?"
"Yes, I think so. You want me and Stuart to say Osterley's been bullying us again, and if we don't, we'll be in serious trouble?"
"Now you've got it. Right, I'll leave you to tell Downing about it, and then you'd better go and report it to Garrett at break, hadn't you?"
David walked back to his form room, feeling pleased with himself. That's the skids under smart-arse Osterley, he thought. Now, the only other thing I've got to do is find out a bit about the coffee-coloured kid in the second year, and see if I can find a way to get him expelled. After all, we can't have any old riff-raff in the school, can we?
He had to put that on hold at the start of break, because he wanted to make sure he was with Garrett when his tame first-formers came in to report that that horrible Osterley was still being nasty to them: he was pretty certain Garrett would do the right thing, but he didn't want to take any chances.
In the event he needn't have worried: Garrett was as keen to see Osterley brought to heel as he was, and never for a moment questioned the truth of Lithgow and Downing's complaint. All he said at the end of their rather wooden recital was, "Thank you, boys: I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again." Then he turned to David and said, "Go and tell Osterley I want to see him at lunch-time - and then you'd better come and help me look for those old clothes my sister gave me."
Brilliant, thought David, and ran to give Osterley the good news.
"Why?" asked Osterley, when David told him he had to report to the office at lunchtime.
David shrugged. "I'm just the messenger," he replied.
"You're never just the messenger, you know that," said Osterley. But David just winked at him and left him to it.
Finding the girls clothes and getting them ready took most of the rest of break, so David postponed his immigrant hunt - in any case, if Garrett kept his word to send Osterley round all the junior form rooms he'd get to see which form the boy was in at lunchtime.
"No!! It's not true, I swear!" cried Osterley. "I haven't been near those kids again, I promise!"
"That's not what they say," Garrett told him. "They both came in here at break to complain about you again."
"They're lying! Christ, Garrett, you've got to believe me - I swear I haven't done anything like that since... well, since."
"Sorry, Osterley, but I don't believe you. Why should they lie about something like that? Anyway, you know what I told you would happen if you did it again - or would you prefer us to go and talk to Noddy? You know as well as I do that two instances of bullying is automatic expulsion..."
For a few seconds Osterley was seriously tempted to take his chances with the headmaster - after all, he really was innocent... but he knew that Garrett was right: everyone would believe the two first-formers rather than him, and he also knew that the head hated bullying - probably he wouldn't even get a chance to defend himself.
"Please, Garrett, not that," he begged. "Can't you just cane me, or something?"
"Oh, I'm going to cane you, don't worry," Garrett assured him. "But once you've been caned you're still going to wash the blackboards. Now get your clothes off."
Slowly Osterley stripped, and once he was naked he was made to lean over the back of the chair kept in the study for exactly this purpose. David noted that not only had Osterley grown taller since his last punishment, but there were signs of growth in other areas, too: how he had wisps of hair around his penis, which also seemed bigger than David had remembered it, and the same went for the balls, which now hung down rather than nestling tightly against the base of the penis. Once again he felt aggrieved that everyone else in the world seemed to be reaching puberty before him.
"Go on, Boss," he encouraged, "as hard as you can."
Osterley glared at him, but the glare was instantly replaced by a grimace of pain as the first blow landed, and by the third he was sobbing and begging for mercy. David's eyes shone with excitement: this is what you deserve for not showing me respect, he thought. Bet you won't make that mistake again...
The sixth blow landed and Osterley jerked upright, clutching at his bottom and howling, with tears rolling down his face, and David couldn't have felt happier if he'd just found a thousand pounds in his pocket. And this time it was even better, because he'd brought his Polaroid camera into school today especially for this occasion - and as Osterley hopped about in front of him David whipped the camera out and took a photo.
"One for the scrapbook," he told Osterley. "Now get your girlie clothes on and we'll take another one."
"You can't do that!" cried Osterley, outraged. "Come on, Garrett, you can't let him do that - it's not fair!"
"Nor is bullying," said Garrett. "Isn't life tough, Osterley? Now get those clothes on, or we'll start the whole punishment again."
Osterley looked at the pile in front of him. "Where are the knickers?" he asked.
"You don't get to wear any this time. I warned you last time, remember? Now get a move on - if all six boards aren't clean by ten minutes before the end of break you'll have to come back tomorrow and go through the whole thing again."
Osterley stopped arguing and threw the clothes on. Because he had grown in the meantime the clothes that had fitted quite well in September were now a bit tight, and the dress, which had been quite short to begin with, was now far too short, only ending about four inches below his buttocks.
Osterley didn't seem to have suffered from zits or greasy hair as he hit puberty: his skin was as clear and his hair as clean as they had been before. In fact, he was still the same nice-looking boy he had been six months ago: he'd made a passable girl in September, and now his hair was longer David thought he could easily be taken for a real girl, even at close range. Assuming he was given some better clothes, that is: this set was doing him no favours at all.
Once he was fully dressed David forced him to pose for two photos, one from the front (taken from low down, so that the tip of Osterley's foreskin could be seen below the hem of the dress) and one from the back with him bending over the chair, so that his buttocks, complete with the red marks from his caning, were visible.
Then David marched him to the cleaning cupboard and the toilet as before to collect and fill his bucket of water, and then took him to the first of the junior form rooms. He was lucky - or Osterley was unlucky - because it was drizzling with rain, and that meant that almost everyone would be in their form-rooms instead of running about the yard, so a large audience was guaranteed.
For some reason his appearance drew a slightly muted reaction, rather than the full-fledged howls of laughter that had greeted him in September: nobody attempted to interfere, and a good third of the class didn't seem to want to laugh at all. David wondered why this was until he saw Lithgow and Downing sitting with their heads in their hands looking thoroughly miserable, and presumably they had told some of their friends about being coerced into dropping an innocent boy in it, because quite a few others looked unimpressed as well.
But the next room was the one belonging to 1C, and here the reaction was everything David could have hoped for. One of the bolder spirits came forward while Osterley was washing the board and lifted the back of the dress to reveal the naked, red-lined buttocks. Osterley tried to pull the dress back down, but David told him pretty sharply to get on with his work and to ignore what then other boy was doing. The first-former took that as his cue to enjoy himself: he lifted the dress again, holding a hand against the buttocks and pulling it quickly away, miming extreme heat, and his classmates fell about. Next he lifted the front of the dress and looked at Osterley's genitals, turned to his friends and invited, "Come and have a look at this - he's got hairs!"
Several others rushed forward, while Osterley went bright red and tried to bite back tears of shame: he was particularly sensitive about the appearance of his genitals at the moment, as a lot of boys undergoing puberty often are, and the thought of hordes of noisy eleven-year-olds peering at him was almost too much for him. Somehow he managed to keep going, even when one of the first-years took hold of a couple of his pubes and tugged. In the end it was David who told the first-formers to move back and let him do his job, though he only did that because there were another four rooms to do, and he didn't want time to run out before Osterley had been humiliated in front of as many people as possible.
The third first-form room was almost a repeat performance, though there was a small knot of four or five boys who didn't join in: Sherwood, McMillan and a couple of their friends, who sat and glared at David instead, no doubt feeling sympathy for one of his victims, a role they had so recently played themselves. But the rest of the class got stuck in, and by the time the board was finished Osterley was crying openly.
"P... Please, V... Villiers-Gore... please don't make me do the second-form rooms as well..." he begged, tearfully.
"Sorry. Garrett's orders, remember? Come on, time's getting short, and you really don't want to have to come back and go through all this again tomorrow, do you?"
Stifling a sob Osterley picked up his bucket and followed David to 2A's form room, and here too he was greeted with ecstatic laughter, though at least nobody tried to interfere with him. But their comments made him blush all over, and he was again biting his lip as they went next door to 2B's room, where he was again subjected to hysterical laughter and lewd remarks that made him colour up again. Finally the two of them crossed to 2C's room. At last the end was in sight, but this turned out to be his worst experience yet: he had barely started when Pope, who was 2C's class clown, came out and started to grope at his bum, and when David made no attempt to stop him he went further and groped at his balls instead. Osterley squealed in outrage and dropped his sponge, but David told him to get on with his work, adding that time was now getting very short indeed.
Gritting his teeth he picked it up again and tried to get on with washing the board, but Pope had now taken hold of his limp penis and was tugging on it, and of course the inevitable happened.
"Have a look at this, you lot!" cried the second-year, spinning Osterley round and lifting his dress to reveal the erection. "She likes being touched up! Who else wants a go?"
Three or four others charged forward, and between them they lifted Osterley onto the teacher's desk, pinned him down, pushed the dress almost up to his armpits, and then took it in turns to molest him. Osterley's control had broken by now and he was struggling helplessly, sobbing and swearing at the same time, though the attention he was getting meant that his penis was unable to go soft. One of the boys started rubbing it properly, and his mates cheered him on, laughing at their victim's incoherent pleas to leave him alone. David just sat on the nearest desk, swinging his heels and drinking the scene in happily.
Osterley's struggles got more desperate, but there was nothing he could do, and with a final despairing cry he reached orgasm, and a spurt of almost colourless liquid erupted from his penis, followed by a couple more. The second-formers cheered, stepping out of the way so that the whole class could see what was happening. The boy holding it let go, and they all watched as it twitched and jerked as the last little spurt dribbled out of him.
"Okay, that's enough," said David. "Let him go now."
Reluctantly they released him, and Osterley stumbled to his feet, sobbing like a baby. David could see that there was no point in doing anything else to him at the moment, so he picked up the bucket and told Osterley to go back to Garrett's office. The boy stumbled off like a man in a nightmare.
David went and emptied the bucket and returned it to the cleaning cupboard, and he still caught up with Osterley just before he reached Garrett's room.
"All done?" asked Garrett.
"Not quite, Boss. He didn't quite manage to finish 2C's board."
That roused Osterley from his lethargy. "But... Christ, Villiers-Gore, that wasn't my fault!" he protested. "You saw what they did to me!"
"To be fair, that's true," David confirmed. "He did try, but he got sort of interfered with. The board still wasn't done, mind."
"Okay. Look, there isn't time to do anything about it now," said Garrett. "Get changed, Osterley - but you need to come back at the end of school so we can decide what to do next. Well, get on with it, unless you want to go to your next lesson dressed like that?"
He didn't, and changed in a hurry. Once he had gone David explained what had happened, and Garrett fell about.
"Now this time I'm sure he'll never bully anyone again," he said. "Of course, we haven't quite finished with him yet..."
Normally David would have gone straight home from school, but he wasn't going to miss the end of Osterley's day, so he nipped quickly out of the gates and told the taxi driver to wait for him (he wouldn't have bothered, except he knew that if he was too late turning up the driver would have a valid reason for not waiting, and then he'd get into trouble at home) and then ran back to Garrett's office. Osterley was already there, and obviously he'd been told to change back into the dress, as he was naked when David entered the room. His bottom still looked very sore.
"Right, then" said Garrett once Osterley was transformed into a girl once more, "now we'd better sort out what we're going to do with you - after all, you didn't finish your punishment at lunch time. On the other hand, it wasn't entirely your fault - even V-G had to admit that! - so I'm going to give you a choice. So: you can have another twelve strokes of the cane, or you can go back and clean 2C's blackboard, and the rest of their form room, dressed like you are now, every day next week."
"Oh, God, no, not that!" cried Osterley. "They'd tear me to pieces! And... please don't cane me again - I couldn't take any more of that..."
"Well, there is one more option," said Garrett. "If you don't want to do either of those, you could suck my cock instead."
Osterley stared at him, convinced he couldn't be serious, but he didn't see anything in his face to reassure him.
"Come on, then, which is it to be?" asked Garrett. "Decide, or you'll get all three."
"But... look, you simply can't make me do that - it's disgusting!"
"Okay, then choose something else - like I said, it's up to you. But be quick. I'll give you ten seconds to choose: ten, nine, eight..."
Osterley felt trapped: he knew he couldn't face another caning - the six at lunchtime had nearly killed him, and the idea of another twelve was totally unthinkable. Nor could he face another session being stripped and molested by the second-years, let alone another five such nightmares. But the thought of sucking another boy's cock was so disgusting it almost made him sick. Oh, shit, what can I do? he thought...
"...four, three, two..."
"I'll suck you!" cried Osterley: it was an awful thing to have to do, but it wouldn't hurt and it would be fairly quick - a lot quicker than a week of lunch-breaks with 2C, anyway.
"Right. Kneel down in front of me, then" said Garrett, undoing his belt.
Osterley reluctantly dropped to his knees, looking over his shoulder at a grinning David.
"Look, Garrett," said Osterley, "I'll do this - but does he have to be here?"
"Afraid so," said Garrett, lowering his trousers and pants and flourishing his large, hairy penis at Osterley, who flinched; it looked far too big, and it was getting bigger as he watched.
Somehow he forced himself to take the massive thing in his mouth and to start to lick at it, but almost at once Garrett thrust forward, and Osterley gagged as the penis hit the back of his throat. He pulled back, coughing.
"You're going to have to do a better job than that if you don't want to go visiting 2C next week," said Garrett. "Try again."
So Osterley tried again, desperately trying to prevent the huge thing from hitting the back of his throat again. Gradually he managed to fall into a rhythm, but he had barely settled into it when he was distracted by a flash of light. He pulled back and looked to his right, and there was David with his camera in his hand, grinning at him: he had managed to find an angle where he could get both Osterley's face and his girlie clothes into the picture.
"I didn't tell you to stop," Garrett pointed out. "Get on with it."
So Osterley forced himself to keep going, even though he felt appalling: he was disgusted with himself for agreeing to do something like this, and ashamed to think what he must look like, and the idea that Villiers-Gore was taking photos of him like this was just too much: silently he started to cry. Mechanically he kept working away, and before too long his efforts were rewarded with a powerful jet of spunk that hit the back of his throat and started him choking again. But Garrett had a hand clamped to the back of his head, forcing him to keep the penis in his mouth as it spurted out more and more thick, disgusting liquid, and Osterley was forced to swallow it to keep himself from choking.
Finally Garrett let go of his head, and Osterley was able to pull back, coughing and retching. David hoped he was going to lose control and throw up, since that would be guaranteed to annoy Garrett and so earn further punishment, but to his disappointment Osterley brought himself under control, though there were still tears running down his face and he still looked green.
"Okay, that's it," said Garrett, pulling his trousers back up. "Get changed, and then you can go. And if I ever hear about you bullying again you'll be straight round to Noddy's office and out the gate, understand?"
Osterley wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and threw the girlie clothing off, no longer caring that Villiers-Gore was looking at his genitals. He dressed as quickly as possible and ran out.
"Let's see the photo, then" said Garrett, and David handed it over.
"Not bad," Garrett commented. "Do you want to put it with the others?"
David had put the lunchtime photos in an envelope and stored it in the bottom drawer of Garrett's desk, since he was certain nobody would be able to pinch it from there.
"No, I think I'd like to hang on to this one for a bit," he said. "I'll bring it in later."
"Fine. Just don't lose it. Now, have you got anyone lined up to see me tomorrow?"
"Not yet. I'll see what I can find tomorrow morning."
"Okay. Goodnight, then."
David said goodnight and strolled out to where his taxi was waiting. This time the driver didn't mind - he was charging waiting time for the extra time he'd been kept hanging about: let the little bastard's mother ask why it cost more than usual, he thought. With any luck he'll get a clip round the ear for it.
David sat back in the taxi and reflected on a day well spent: that was Osterley well and truly sorted out. He hadn't had time to do much about the other business, but he did now know that Coffee Boy was in 2B - he'd been sitting there laughing at Osterley with everyone else - and by borrowing the form register from the teacher's desk while everyone was concentrating on the spectacle in front of them he had been able to find out his name. Only one name stood out as obviously not British, and he hadn't been entirely surprised to see that the name in question was Dhif - after all, how many bloody wogs could there be in Outermost Gloucestershire, he thought. This one was called Brahim and he was twelve and a half.
He finished the ride contemplating what sort of misbehaviour Brahim Dhif would be likely to go in for - smoking, perhaps? Maybe not: smokers tended to be older, except perhaps for one or two of the lower-class council house rubbish... Sneaking out of school? No, Garrett tended to want to see those for himself... how about sneaking beer or cider into school? Now that might work... he'd only need to take a bottle in himself and claim to have found it in Dhif's coat pocket, or school bag, or something... Yes, that's one for tomorrow, he thought.
However, when he went to the kitchen cupboard next morning he found he was out of luck: the bottle of cider he had thought was there had disappeared. He would have to get hold of a new one, which wouldn't be that easy for someone who looked as if he was about ten - even the very lax shopkeeper at the corner off-licence would be unlikely to sell him a bottle. He'd just have to wait for his mother's next shopping order and then add it to the list before he handed it to Mrs Devlin, who was the one who actually went to the supermarket.
He was out on patrol at break when he was approached by one of the first-formers (he knew it was a first-former because everyone had to wear short trousers in their first year at school). Most people tended to keep clear of him; so having someone actually come up to speak to him was so unusual that he stopped his patrol to find out what the kid wanted.
"You're Villiers-Gore, aren't you?" said the boy, a cherubic looking child with curly light brown hair and the sort of round granny glasses worn by John Lennon. "I'm Fielding. It's about yesterday, when you made that bully come round to our classroom..."
David recognised the boy now - he had been one of the 1C boys who had crowded round Osterley and molested him while he was trying to clean the board.
"What about it?" he asked.
"Well... I thought it was brilliant," Fielding went on. "I mean, making a big boy come and stand there with his balls showing was a magic idea. I'd never had the chance to do anything like it before - pulling those little hairs and making him squeak was about the most fun I've ever had. So I wanted to say thanks. And..."
"And what?"
"Well... I was wondering if... if maybe you'd let me help you catch bullies, and let me join in when you punish them. I could sort of keep a look out for you, and every time I saw something I could come and find you and tell you what was happening. Then you could think of a good punishment and we could do it together. I'd really like to be able to make older boys undress and show me their things, and I'd absolutely love it if you'd let me beat them and make them cry. Please, Villiers-Gore, can I?"
David thought about it, and quickly decided that the idea of having an apprentice pleased him: he could train this kid up, teach him where to look for smokers and bullies, and then reap the reward himself in Garrett's eyes.
"Well..." he said, pretending reluctance, "I suppose I could give you a trial period... Okay, from now until the end of next week you can see what you can find. If you find me two or three rule-breakers by next Friday I'll agree to you helping me full-time, and you'll be able to join in with all the punishments, and maybe even think of some to do yourself. But if you can't, you'll be punished yourself for wasting my time, okay?"
"Sure, brilliant!" cried Fielding, his eyes lighting up. "I bet I can find loads - thanks, Villiers-Gore!" And he ran off.
Osterley, of course, was having a bad week: everywhere he went there was a first or second-former pointing at him, laughing at him or calling him names, and every now and again a junior boy would sneak up on him and squeeze his bum. He didn't dare lash out, because if he actually hit a junior he knew that nothing could save him from expulsion, so he just had to put up with it. As the week went by he started spending the breaks just hiding in his own form-room, where the juniors couldn't get at him, but of course he still had to go out to use the toilet, and it was as he was washing his hands after a toilet visit that he was cornered by a couple of first-years. When he saw which first-years it was he was so angry that he almost lost control and started punching them, but at the last moment he reigned himself in.
"Happy now?" he asked, bitterly.
“No," said Downing, "we're not. Look, Osterley, it wasn't our fault, and we're really, really sorry about what happened to you. See..." and he explained how they had been blackmailed by Villiers-Gore into making a false accusation against him.
"...so if we hadn't, it would have been us in the shit," he concluded. "But we wanted to tell you so you'd know what really happened."
Osterley was furious. That filthy little bastard, he thought. I'll fucking murder him... He thought about asking the two first-years to come with him to tell the headmaster what had happened, but decided against it: Garrett wouldn't get into trouble - he'd only acted on the first-formers' report - so he'd still be there to take revenge if his precious White Rat got expelled. No, he'd have to find some other way.
"Okay, thanks for telling me," he said. "Somehow I'll find a way to sort the Rat out for all of us. And... look, I'm sorry about pushing you two about back in September, okay?"
"Sure," said Lithgow. "But we don't think you should have been punished twice for it - so if there's anything we can do to help you sort out the Rat, just let us know, okay?"
"Thanks," said Osterley, and he walked away, thinking murderous thoughts.
The week rolled on by. David didn't manage to catch anyone up to anything - by now he was so well-known that at the first glimpse of his blond hair most miscreants simply stopped whatever they were doing and fled. But of course David was not the only lawman in the school and when he got to Garrett's office at the start of break on the Friday he found one of the prefects there delivering up a wrongdoer for judgement.
"He was round the back of the boiler room," the prefect was saying. "And I'm pretty sure he's been caught smoking before - haven't you, Pattison?"
The boy, a nice-looking brunette from David's own year, though not his actual form, nodded dully.
"More than once, I think," said Garrett, reaching for the punishment book and handing it to the prefect. "Thanks, Thompson - just fill it in and sign it for me, would you? Then I expect we'll have to go and talk to Noddy."
Pattison started trembling: in fact this was the third time he'd been caught smoking, and he'd only escaped expulsion last time after a desperate plea to Garrett, which had resulted in a severe caning and then being made to do something so totally disgusting that he still didn't like thinking about it. He knew he'd be in the deepest of trouble if he got expelled: the fact that he smoked as much as he did was entirely down to a very stressful home life. His father was a company director and ran the home like an extension of his business, constantly pressuring Pattison to do better at school and not being satisfied with anything other than top marks, something Pattison was not clever enough to achieve.
Thompson finished filling in the book and left, and Garrett stood up.
"Mind the shop for me, V-G," he said. "Pattison and I are going to see the head."
"Oh, please, Garrett," begged Pattison, starting to cry, ‘’please don't take me to the head! My father would murder me... can't you just beat me instead?"
"I beat you last time, and it doesn't seem to have taught you anything, because here you are again," Garrett pointed out. "No, I'm afraid this time it'll have to be the head."
"Please, Garrett," begged Pattison, "I'd do anything... even what you made me do last time."
"Really? Well, I suppose I could do with a chambermaid - it's such a pity we don't have fagging any more, isn't it? Okay, then, Pattison, I'll give you a choice: either we can go and see Noddy, or you can be my chambermaid for the rest of term. That means you have to come here at every break, and after school unless I tell you otherwise, and keep this place clean and shiny - and there'll be one or two other duties, too, which you already know about. We'll find you some suitable clothes - in fact you can try on the ones in that cupboard in a minute. You'll be beaten every day, though how many you get and how hard they are will depend on how well you carry out your maid's duties. So - are you sure you wouldn't rather go and see Noddy and get it over with?"
"No, thanks," said Pattison, with barely a second's hesitation - he'd have been prepared to do absolutely anything to avoid expulsion and the resulting volcano at home.
"Good. Get undressed, then, and try on the clothes... thanks, V-G, yes, those."
David got the girls clothes out of the cupboard, checked to make sure the knickers weren't there and handed them to Pattison, grinning.
Pattison undressed, revealing a set of genitals not unlike Osterley's, but with a little more hair, and squeezed his way into the girls clothes.
"They're really too tight, aren't they?" commented Garrett. "We'll have to find you some others from somewhere."
"How about the drama stores?" suggested David. "We did The Happiest Days of Your Life last year, remember, so there should be plenty of girls uniforms there. I'll have a look at lunchtime if you like."
"Brilliant! Pattison, go with him and find a set that fits you - I wouldn't want my chambermaid to get uncomfortable."
There was a knock at the door, and when Garrett called, "Come in!" it opened enough for Fielding to put his curly head around the edge.
"I think I've found someone smoking," he told David. "Do you want to come and see?"
"Who's this?" asked Garrett.
"My apprentice," said David. ‘’His name's Fielding. Shall we go and see what he's found?"
"Why not? Pattison, you can get changed and then go for now, but don't forget to meet Villiers-Gore at the drama store at the start of the lunch break, okay?"
They gave him long enough to throw off the girls clothes and pull on his trousers, and then they escorted him out into the hall to finish dressing, while Garrett locked his office door and followed the first-former down the stairs.
He led them to the bike sheds and pointed to a small bush at the far end, where there was a trace of smoke hanging in the air. They advanced on it and found a smoker squatting on the ground behind it trying to look invisible.
"Name?" demanded Garrett.
"Abbott," replied the boy, sullenly. "5B"
"Lunchtime at my office," said Garrett. "Don't be late."
"Well done, Fielding," said David, as they headed back towards Garrett's office. "Can he come and see what happens to smokers, Boss?"
"Don't see why not. Come round at lunchtime, then."
So at lunchtime David and Pattison went exploring the drama store, where they found plenty of female school uniforms in varying sizes, as well as several pairs of boys shorts, also in several sizes - which gave David another good idea. Pattison tried on a couple of uniforms until he found one that fitted, while David found a bag and put several pairs of shorts and socks into it. Pattison changed back into his normal uniform - he wasn't going outside dressed as a girl unless he had to - and then they both went back to Garrett's office, where they found Abbott getting undressed and Fielding sitting on a chair gazing at him happily.
"You'd better get changed, Patty," said Garrett, grinning at his chambermaid. ‘’And you, Abbott, get a move on."
"Bloody hell, Garrett, half the school's in here! Can't you get rid of them?"
"Nope. If you'd prefer, we can go out and do it in the middle of the yard, though."
Abbott decided he didn't fancy that idea and finished getting undressed. Fielding stared enraptured at the fifth-former's large, hairy genitals.
"Bend over, then," demanded Garrett. "Oh, stand up, Fielding, you're sitting on his chair."
Fielding stood up in a hurry, and Abbott bent over the chair. Garrett flexed his cane a couple of times and then set to work, delivering four meaty blows that had the fifth-year writhing and barely suppressing his cries of pain.
"Over to you, V-G," said Garrett, handing the cane to David; who grabbed it with alacrity. "Two more, please."
David put plenty of effort into it, making the fifth-former cry out both times.
"Fancy a go, Fielding?" asked Garrett.
"God, yes - thanks!" cried Fielding, almost snatching the cane from David. He examined the marks on Abbott's bum, found the place where they were closest together and aimed for it, bringing the cane down as hard as he possibly could, and he was delighted when Abbott gave a shriek and jerked so hard that the chair fell over. He waited until the chair had been righted and Abbott was back in position and then brought the cane down with all his might in exactly the same place, and Abbott yelled again and snapped upright, clutching at his sore bottom and hopping about.
"Okay, that'll do for now," said Garrett. "Get dressed and get lost, Abbott - but if you ever get caught smoking again I'll take you to see Noddy, understand?"
Abbott gave a quick nod, not trusting his voice, and struggled to pull his clothes back on. Finally he managed it and stumbled away.
"Did you enjoy that, Fielding?" asked Garrett.
"Bloody hell, yes!"
"Good, then the two of you can do some more. Patty, come and assume the position. Take your skirt off, but you can keep the rest on."
Reluctantly Pattison removed his skirt - he wasn't wearing anything underneath it: in the play the boys playing the girls had simply retained their own underwear underneath the uniforms - and bent over the chair. David took the cane and dished out the first three and then handed the cane to Fielding, who gave him three more, once again trying to hit the same place every time - with a fair degree of success, judging from the yells and tears he elicited. The expression on Fielding's face at the end suggested that he'd just been transported into Paradise.
"Okay, Patty, you can start by dusting the office," said Garrett, as his maid struggled to do up his skirt again. "And you two can go and see if there's anyone else out there doing things he shouldn't be. And then there's something else Patty can do for me. I'm sure he hasn't forgotten how..."
As if sneaking and trying to get rule-breakers into trouble wasn’t bad enough, our hero has now started arranging for the innocent to be punished as well. You can bet that there’s going to come a time when he wishes he hadn’t done that. In the next chapter he tries to get Dhif expelled and young Fielding continues to aid and abet him.
Comments and questions may be addressed to me at gothmog@nyms.net – I will do my best to answer everyone except flamers.
Copyright 2009 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.
David Clarke