WARNING: This ADULT fiction contains sexual accounts between boys
and men with boys AND IS UNSUITABLE FOR MINORS.
SNOWY WHYTE AND
THE SEVEN ANORAKS!
A FAIRY TALE FOR BOYS.
by Graham Day
"Doc" 1 to 4
"Doc" 5 to 8
"Doc" 9 to 12
"Sneezy" 1 to 5
"Sneezy" 6 to 10
"Sneezy" 11 to 15
"Happy" 1 to 4
"Happy" 6 to 8
"Happy" 9 to 11
"Happy" 12 to 14
"Happy" 15 to 16
"Happy" 17 to 19
"Happy" 20 to 21
DICTIONARY ENTRY FOR NON-BRITISH READERS: ANORAK (PERSON)
Function: noun - BRITISH DISAPPROVING
A term that has been used since the 80's meaning a Geek or a Nerd. A person who is very interested in the trivia and unimportant details of their hobby and does not like to be sociable. An 'anorak' is always male, usually unfashionable and possibly a train-spotter.
-PART SEVEN -
If you are blessed with small children, I am sure that, last thing at night, you often secretly
watch them as they sleep. There they lie, breathing almost imperceptibly, at peace, enjoying "the sleep of the innocent." Then we do this we are looking upon the outward appearance -- but what of the heart of that child upon which God gazes?
Our natural instinct is to think of new-born children as a tabulae rasae, clean sheets on which to write a successful life. Admittedly, the page may soon be a little blotted by the occasional temper tantrum, but the background is still basically white - surely? Conservative Christians tell us this is romantic nonsense and the total depravity of our children is a matter of biblical insight. According to the Scriptures: we go astray from the womb and tell lies from birth. See Psalm 58 verse 3. What David, the Psalmist, is saying is we commit sin because it is our basic, twisted nature and he should know: having been guilty of adultery with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah.
Wearing biblical lenses, conservative Christians see this more sinister reality. They say our children may be inexperienced and naive, but innocent they are not! They would have us believe that, like us they are guilty and depraved. The seed of every known mortal sin is sowed in their hearts, if things work out badly your children will drift spiritually and morally.
Of course, the situation is further complicated by the fact that you parents are also sinners. Parents need to understand that God has not given us angels, but sinners to train to be saints.
And so in bringing up your children, we are warned not to commit the extra offence of child-idolatry -- worshipping them as little angels. But even if you do, your illusions about your little darlings are sure to be shattered as soon as they start to grow up and enter puberty.
In one fell swoop your little darlings change from potential sinners to walking, talking time bombs, waiting to blow up in your face at the slightest provocation! Hormones, mood-swings, rebelliousness, secrets and an uncontrollable interest in sex! Your little saint turns into a committed sinner -- or so conservative Christians would have us think.
I think these traditionalists have no idea of what constitutes sin and have a restricted insight into the bible. This brings me back to the reading for this morning, which was from Genesis Chapter 38 versus 7 to 11. It tells the story of Onan, one of the lesser know Biblical figures, and the man whose name gave rise to the term "Onanism". This term has been used to denote masturbation, but you young people probably know it better as wanking or tossing off.
Whatever you call it, you may find it an offensive theme for a lovely Sunday morning. Conservative Christians say the intuitive disgust of people for masturbation is a 'message from God'. Well, let us examine this more closely, shall we?
Some time back masturbation made headline-news when U.S. President Bill Clinton dismissed his Surgeon-General, because she dared to suggest that solitary sex acts should be discussed in school classrooms, as part of AIDS. The fact that Bill Clinton later admitted to having participated is such acts himself, and left evidence of his sin on a young ladies dress, are well know and highlights the hypocrisy of many on this subject.
Until the early years of the last century, the Catholic Church, the Protestant Reformers, and nearly all theologians believed that Onan's act of masturbation as such, was sinful and God killed him for that. This is based on misreading biblical texts. If we read the full story it gives a very different message.
You see, in the religious and social practices of Onan's time, if the husband of a childless woman died, it was the duty of his brother to make the woman pregnant and provide an heir for the deceased father. In any event, Onan didn't want to do it with his sister-in-law and so he shot his load on the ground.
In fact, most of our traditional sexual values are based on a simple principle: whatever promotes having lots of children is good; anything which avoids procreation is forbidden. This is understandable, as in ancient times lots of children determined your prosperity and even your chances of survival. Heterosexual activities, other than actual intercourse, were disapproved of, as they didn't lead to pregnancy and homosexuality was declared a sin for the same reason. Only in last fifty years has world overpopulation become a serious concern not to mention AIDS.
I wonder why we never hear that part of the story from the religious right?
I believe Onan's `sin' was not obeying one of God's commands and not that he tossed-off once too often!
There are still many today who, sadly, in the name of religion, would deny and disallow most aspects of human sexuality. There is more to love than a simplistic view of human sexuality, which is not very different than the sexual habits of animals! Are we limiting ourselves?
Happily, more and more people are today rejecting the fabricated idea that masturbation is bad and self-degrading, and are embracing the idea that it is good and natural. Masturbation is not physically harmful, unless practised in the extreme, nor is it as totally self-centred or secretive as you might suppose. If practised properly, in the company of your chums, for example, you can express the wonderful joining of one soul with another.
Now if they got it wrong about the intrinsic sinfulness of children, and they got it wrong about what is a sin, how much else have conservative Christians got wrong? This brings me back to David, tat great psalmist and King. He was a normal, healthy lad who had numerous sexual escapades with women, but he also had a passionate relationship with his mate, Jonathan. This relationship was one of the most profound friendships described in the Bible.
In I Samuel 18:1 the Bible describes clearly what happened between David and Jonathan. It says, "Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself. And Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him as himself. Jonathan took off the robe he was wearing and gave it to David."
Since people in those days did not wear underwear, by removing his robe Jonathan would have stripped himself naked in front of David. They became one in spirit - I think this means David and Jonathan were two straight lads with a healthy interest in wanking off together, don't you?
It seems as though it was love at first sight between the lads and the couple professed their love several places in the scriptures. 1st Samuel chapter 20 and verse 3 "David replied: Your father knows full well that I have found favour in your eyes." David was right, Saul, Jonathan's dad, he confronted Jonathan about his love for David.
Then the story goes that King Saul began to hate David and wanted him killed, because he saw him as a threat to his throne. When Jonathan discovered his father's evil plan he went to warn David and convinced him to escape. In verse 41 they met to farewell: "David rose from behind the stone heap and fell on his face to the ground and bowed three times; and they kissed one another and wept with one another until David recovered himself."
Other translations have a different ending to the verse, for example the original Hebrew text says that they kissed each other and wept together until David became large; i.e. he had an erection. Again, the thoughts of David becoming sexually aroused after kissing Jonathan is too threatening for Bible translators they created their own ending.
I am sure many people screech: "Two men in the Bible loving each other - that's absurd!" Only myopic evangelicals and Orthodox Jews insist that there could not have been a sexual liaison between David and Jonathan's, because they would not have violated God's commands. Yet David's life is full of defiance, so what was one more or less?
Now, I want to address you young people, who are in your teens, or maybe you're not yet in your teens, possibly you're 9 or 11, but you're old enough to have started enjoying sexual feelings. The boys in the congregation may know something about your reproductive functions. Your testes are producing millions of reproductive cells called spermatozoa. These move up a tube and are mixed with fluids and the result is called semen. When the seminal vesicles are full, a signal is sent to the central nervous system, indicating they are ready to be emptied.
This might happen at night during sleep. Often an erotic dream is experienced at the same time and this is called a "wet dream". But a clever lad will have learned that if he masturbates, instead of letting nature take its course, then he can beat the system!
When he stops the wanking habit, his body will continue to produce sperm creating unhealthy sexual tensions. To you parents, think of masturbation as nature's way of helping your pubescent child let off steam.
The Bible teaches us that our bodies are temples of God, and are to be clean so that the Holy Ghost may dwell within us. Let me tell you the Holy Spirit does not wish to live in an unhappy home!
Before closing let me turn briefly to another pair of characters in the Bible: Jesus and John the apostle.
John was the son of Zebedee and Salome, brother of Saint James. All the men of the family were such butch fishermen that the two brothers were known as the Sons of Thunder. And yet he and Jesus became so close to one another that John became known as the beloved disciple. John describes himself as "leaning on Jesus' bosom" during the Last Supper (John 13:23). John the beloved! Nudge, nudge! Wink, wink! That is a very odd thing to call another man, don't you think? I leave that thought with you.
Let me sum up: I have said we are foolish to think our children are little angels, they are subject to the same temptations as we adults. Things get worse during puberty and your child needs a release from the pressures. Nature has provided masturbation as a pressure valve but some Christians have some very odd ideas about nature's way of letting off steam. These ideas are wrong, as we have seen in the Bible. Masturbation is not, in itself, a sinful habit, but guilt about this form of self-gratification can rob one of the joys of sex and lead one to lose self-respect and feel depressed. I tell you boys and girls, if you are going to masturbate, enjoy it and don't feel guilty about it.
I would like to propose that you children enter into a healthy program of regularly having it off with a friend. I am not encouraging boys and girls to indulge in gratuitous lewd conduct, but their biological needs can't be ignored. Our youth-workers at the church and I, as your priest, will be happy to help you to work out a program for overcoming the pressures that masturbation can so easily resolve.
"Oh," you may say, "well, that's fine, Reverend, but I my mother tells me that it is naughty to have good old go at my thing." Sometimes Mum or Dad, can be wrong and your sex organs know best.
Life is an adventure, boys and girls, and all the more so when we explore all the possibilities for living it.
And now the Choir will sing: "Arise, Arise the great Cock has crowed."
In the annals of cruelty to children, the way that Mrs Tweedle dressed Dee and Dumm, her ten-year-old twin sons, had to be right up there with sweatshops in Calcutta, the Victorian nursery, school-beatings and castor oil! In short, it was cruel, inhuman and unpleasant.
Take a Sunday, for example. Now, all the other members of the St Giles choir turned up before the service in jeans, T-shirts and dirty trainers on their feet, yet by the time they followed the cross up the isle, they looked like well turned out angels in their red cassock and crisp white surplice.
But there was no way on earth that Mrs Tweedle would allow her sons to dress like that. And so that momentous Sunday Dee and Dumm were, as usual, dressed like something out of a nineteen-thirty society comedy!
It wasn't that their knee-length flannel shorts, double-breasted blazers and bow tie were that uncomfortable to wear, but it was the reaction of the other lads in Windsor that was the problem. The Tweedle twins were teased and harassed mercilessly. Sissy-boys; mummy's boys; Mary and Martha; stuffed toe-rags; Tweedle-twits; and Dumb and Dumber were among the less hurtful of the labels attached to the pair.
Worse yet, were their hairstyles - these seemed to arouse physical violence among the local youth. The hairstyles appeared to be a throwback to the era of black and white movies - the boys both sported short-back-and-sides with the forelock sweep into an elaborate wave above their foreheads. The whole coiffeur was oiled and greased and allowed to dry into a diamond-hard shiny-black helmet! This seemed to incense the local lads most of all.
The more they were bullied, the more their mother insisted that the only way to stop the yobs from beating her boys, was to ensure that her sons were "well dressed at all times" and in this way they would earn "respect from the lower classes."
When their mother took them out, she led them by the hand. This had a predictable outcome when there was no mother or aunt with them. Pushing, jostling, tripping and shoving often gave way to kicking, biting and punching. A broken arm each; a dislocated collarbone for Dee; a fracture leg for Dumm; and together the Tweedle twins had lost count of the number of bleeding lips, bloody noses, bruises and black-eyes. As a result the Tweedle twins feared going out. The one exception was going to St Giles Church for choir practice and services - where they at least felt relatively safe.
And so it was, on that unforgettable Sunday morning, that Dee and Dumm Tweedle, their fingers trembling with excitement, changed out of their Choir robes in the vestry, neatly packed them away, and made their way, in their double-breasted blazers, through the side door that led to the car park.
As they approached the family Bentley, to pick up their suitcases, they spotted the first of several very surprising sights that lay in store for them that Sunday.
An ancient truck, baring the logo of the Royal Windsor Great Park, stood parked in the normally empty Church car park, it was clear this people-carrier was there to transport the choir members to the campsite. In the drivers-seat sat a muscular man with a shock of black curly hair, whom the brothers recognised as Percy Pratt, the dad of young Peter, the choir's soloist soprano. Sitting on the man's lap was Pip, his youngest son, who rested his back against his daddy's chest, his splayed legs straddled his dad's beefy leg. Now this was not particularly odd, as Mr Pratt was employed as a labourer on the Royal Estate and he was a choir-member's dad, and young sons do tend to like sitting on dad's lap - what was odd was what the man was doing with his hands!
"Oh I say, Dee, isn't that rather rude?" asked Dumm Tweedle, the poor lad stood rooted to the spot, fascinated by what he saw.
"Goodness me! Well, Mummy slapped my hand when she caught me touching mine, in that way."
"I know!" said Dee recalling a few spankings of his own.
"But maybe it is different if you are a daddy!" Dumm said philosophically.
"Well our Daddy never plays with ours now, does he?" Dee said rather wistfully. "I say, it looks like Peter is rather enjoying it, don't you think?"
"It looks like Peter's daddy is enjoying doing almost as much!" Indeed, Pip's dad had slipped his hand down the front of the boy's short trousers and the twins could tell from the rhythmic movements under the little boy's trousers that Mr Pratt was gently masturbating his littlest son's pee-pee. The boy lay passively, his eyelids fluttering gently from the pleasure he was experiencing.
"Gee, I wish he were our daddy," said Dee expressively. The Tweedle boys continued on their way toward where Bloggit, the Tweedle family chauffeur, had left the car. They placed their choir vestments in the luggage compartment of the elegant car. Just as Dee and Dumm were retrieving their matching, smart, leather-suitcases, that mummy had packed for them for the camping trip, when the second of several astounding events of the day confronted them!
It was the astonishing spectacle of the Vicar shepherding their mother into the back of the family Bentley!
"But I must say goodbye to my little darlings!" Mrs Tweedle protested.
"And I say that you must leave them be!"
"But... I beg you..."
"Go home immediately." The old Vicar said resolutely.
"But they have never been away from me before and..." The mother of the identical ten-year-old's wailed.
"Be off with you Mrs. Tweedle and leave yours sons alone. It is their camping-trip and not yours!"
"At least promise me you will keep them from bad influences..." The mother shrieked.
Unmoved, the Vicar tapped the front window, and sent Bloggit, the driver, speeding off. The boys saw the sad retreating face of the mother dabbing at her mascara with a white lace handkerchief. It had hardly seemed possible that the old Vicar had managed to persuade their mother to allow them to join the annual Choir camping trip, but it defied belief that the old Vicar had somehow seen their mother off without the hugely embarrassing, tearful farewell the boys had been dreading.
Believe it or not, there they were with a small suitcase each, in their neat, albeit entirely unsuitable, outfits ready to depart on the adventure of a lifetime! Well, a church choir-camp was an adventure of a lifetime, if you are an over protected ten-year-old!
The boys walked with the Vicar, almost bewildered by their good fortune, down the pathway to join the assembly that waited in front of the old Parish church on the front lawn. The lads in the choir were still laughing and sniggering, just as they had been doings since the Reverend Prim had delivered that extraordinary sermon. As the Vicar was speaking, Dee and Dumm Tweedle noticed the lads nudging each other in a knowing sort of way, which the twins found very disconcerting. They were almost certain that sermon had something to do with sex, and the Tweedle twins wished that someone would explain it to them. But there was little chance of that, for as the sermon wore on, the barely suppressed sniggering from the choir reached a crescendo. Indeed, Fred Marley had fought so hard to suppress his giggling that he had farted loudly and even the twins found that funny!
That was when the brothers spotted them! Stand a little way apart from the rest of the group, a crew of six males huddled in a conspiratorial group. There was nothing remarkable in this, as the gathering had broken up into smaller chuckling groups - but glancing at their pasty complexions, their untidy and unkempt appearance, and above all their clothing - there was no mistaking them!
"O-o-oh l-l-look, Dee," said Dumm, his voice trembling in awe, "An-an-anoraks!"
The twin Anorak-wannabees easily recognised five of the group of six anoraks. Peter Pratt had been a choir member for a few years now, even though he was only eight. Damien Smyke was sort of in charge the, since the choirmaster had taken ill, but they were very nervous of his violent reputation and their mother had warned them to stay well clear of him. The Vicar's nephew, Osbert, was also not a stranger to the Tweedle twins. The tall, miserable Richard Flaunting-Flasher, the Regimental Sargent-major's son, had recently joined the choir. He seemed very snobbish and superior. The same could not be said of Cedric Snotfinkel, a short fat boy of their age. The sixth anorak was new to the little lads -- a red-haired, happy looking man, who was talking animatedly to the remaining Anoraks.
Anoraks! How the Tweedle twins longed to be able to wear that wonderful form of summer-and-winter upper apparel -- a wonderful, sloppy, untidy, dirty and stained anorak! They dreamed at night of bring able to skip bath-time, put on yesterdays underwear, and wear an anorak and tatty jeans, which had never seen the inside of a washing machine!
"I say, do you think they well let us try one of them on during the weekend?" Dumm said barely able to contain his excitement.
"Now Gentlemen, gather round will you?" Reverend Prim called the crowd to attention. "This is Felix Jollybottom..." the old man said pointing out the redheaded Anorak, "and he has very kindly volunteered to take care of you lot of reprobates for the next week. Will you please listen to him as he is in charge. Mr Pratt will be driving you all up to the campsite and so I have suggested that his other two sons join you on the camp. Now are there any questions?"
"Yeah, Vicar," interjected Damien Smyke looking rather sad, " It don't seem proper like for us all ta be goin' off campin' and va like, when our mate Snowy is poorly." There was a murmur of agreement from the other Anoraks. The Vicar and Felix Jollybottom looked at each other. Finally, they nodded agreement and the vicar cleared his throat.
"Well Damien, my dear, I will let you all into a secret: yes Snowy had been unwell. He cracked his head when he fell in the bathroom and has been in the hospital of observation. But the Doctors seem very pleased with his progress and they tell me he will be discharged tomorrow." This news was greeted with whoops of joy from the Anoraks. "If all is well both he and Doc will join you at the camp sight and stay there for the rest of the week, but I must all ask all to help keep our dear Snowy safe." This time the rejoicing from the Anoraks and the Pratt brothers was nearly deafening.
"Who is Snowy?" Dee whispered in Dumm's ear, but there was no time for an answer as the Vicar raised his hand and continued.
" Now, I understand that Mr Jollybottom has a little surprise for you -- he has had some T-shirts printed."
"Alright, lads?" The redheaded man greeted them, then dug into a large shopping bag and started distributing bright blue t-shirts. The front bore the legend:
Choir Camp --2000
Now, never in their entire lives had the Tweedle twins owned, let alone worn a T-shirt! The pair stared at the wondrous garments that Mr Jollybottom pressed into their hands. They were deeply thankful that the Vicar had sent their mother off, for such treasures would surely have been confiscated.
When Peter Pratt tried to take a T-shirt out of the bag the man stopped him and said cheerfully: "No lad, vat T-shirt ain't for yer! I got some special ones made up for us Anoraks!" So saying he produced seven blue T-shirts. Instead of the Choir legend, the front bore a simple smiley face and a single word.
By way of example he showed the gang his own T-shirt and there were murmurs of approval:
"Now Cedric, my little apple-dumpling why don't you take Dee and Dumm Tweedle into the Rectory and get them into something more suitable." Said the Vicar. "Really, what kind of a mother sends her sons on a camping trip with a leather suitcase?" He snorted indignantly.
Two of the choir members, Fred Marley, a handsome Afro-Caribbean lad, and Billy Bunion, an acne-marked fourteen-year-old, staged a mock battle over a T-shirt. Billy was victorious and was the first to draw on his T-shirt. In a flash he pirouetted and as he turned around to show it off, the group of boys noticed the caption on the rear of the T-shirts:
The assembled boys were laughing that loudly that the twins concluded that someone must have just said something very rude that they had missed. The Tweedle boys starred at each other blankly. What could be so riotously funny about the legend on the back of the T-shirts?
"ATTCHOO!" A shattering sneeze emitted from Cedric's portly frame, as he ran, giggling and sniggering, down the corridor that led to the guest bedroom in the rectory, with the twins in close pursuit. He opened the door and closed it behind the twins when they were all inside. This room was much less imposing than the guestrooms at Dee and Dumm's home, and the furnishings were not remotely as expensive. There was no way that the twins could know that this was the very room in which Cedric and Felix had so recently shared a night of bliss. Cedric Snotfinkel walked across to the windows and pulled the flower-printed curtains open, then he turned back and indicated two neat piles of clothing on the bed.
"Well there yer are, lads, " he began, " yer own kit for va camping trip." He said, pointing at the orderly and identical sets of socks, underpants, jeans and trainers. Dumm hesitated and stared down at his feet and Dee's fingers clenched and unclenched nervously.
It beggared belief! As if it were not miracle enough to be allowed to go away without a mother or an aunt in attendance, now they were being offered normal kids clothing to wear! Dumm smiled blandly, wondering how long it was going to take before he woke-up from this dream. Surely they would awake shortly.
"Reverend Prim says we're going camping not to va bleedin' opera." Cedric said, casting a disparaging look at the twin's attire and holding out two small rucksacks. "Yer can leave yer stupid suitcases `ere and change back into yer clown-suites when we get back."
"Well we had better take our toiletries and underwear..." Dumm said hesitantly.
"Bloody `ell mate, we're going camping! Yer can keep va same unders on for va whole week if yer like..." Then with a wicked smile he added: "From wot some of va lads woz saying, va Vicar will probably pay yer for va underpants if yer do get `em good an' grungy." The twins looked at each other quizzically.
Cedric Snotfinkel was keen to try on his new official anorak T-shirt. He dragged his polo shirt up without undoing all the buttons at the neck and managed to extricate his head through a hole that was too small for his round head.
"Ain't vat grand now!" He ginned proudly once he had the T-shirt on. He pointed at his nickname, the smiley face and the comical exclamation marks!
The Tweedle twins could not tear their wide-eyed gaze from the clothing. Dee nervously touched the scratchy fabric of his new denim-jeans while Dumm spread out the T-shirt, he had just been given, on the bed, as if it was a precious item in an exclusive London shop.
Sneezy Snotfinkel took a closer look at the Tweedle twins. For ten-year-olds, they were unusually short with compact, lean little bodies, intelligent - if rather sharp - little faces, and deep blue eyes, set under jet-black hair. They were identical in very respect and they were really rather pretty. With all of the insecurity, which only a little fat boy can marshal, Cedric found himself wondering if his lover, Felix, might not be lured away by these two sharp-faced beauties.
"Well," Cedric began again, "'ow long are yer lads planning on taking to change into yer new kit, then?" The twins smiled shyly, unsure of what to say or do. Then, as if he suddenly realised something that should have been self-evident, Cedric's round face lit up. "Oh, I get it, yer both shy, ain't yer?" The twins examined their new Nike-copy trainers with a sort of nervous admiration, but they said nothing.
"Do yer want to see mine?" Cedric blurted out his offer then sneezed loudly: "ATTCHOO!"
"Your what?" Asked the twins in chorus, as their naïveté shone through.
Cedric produced a nervous sneeze: "ATTCHOO!" Then, with a puerile smirk, he continued, as his pointed finger towards his chubby-boy's groin: "Yer know, mates! Down there!"
Dee swallowed and regarded the fat boy in astonishment. The plump lad finally blurted out: "Do yer want to see me willy?"
Dee shrugged, somewhat confused. Dumm was aghast - why would another boy want him to show them his penis? Dee was about to say that the idea was weird, when Cedric interrupted their confused thoughts: "If I does, then you two `ave to show me yours', like..."
Suddenly the idea appeared to make sense and became a lot more piquant. What was the harm in him seeing their penises, or them seeing his? The problem Dee and Dumm had - indeed the origin of their misgivings - was that they had never done this sort of thing before. Not even with each other. Neither Dumm nor Dee had ever deliberately exposed themselves to another boy, nor had anyone reciprocated. Certainly, Dee and Dumm had peeked in the toilets when they stood in a line at the urinals along the wall - after all, what boy does not hazard a downward glance to see what another boy's thing is like?
A distressing sort of thrill of anticipation began to run through the pair of ten-year-olds. Dumm and Dee wanted to see what Cedric Snotfinkel looked like down there, and for an equally inexplicable reason, they wanted the fat nine-year-old to see their things too. The Tweedle twins glanced at each other and then they swallowed as they both turned back to the stocky boy and silently nodded their shy agreement.
"ATTCHOO! You do?" Cedric asked incredulously. His voice was scratchy, almost husky.
Dee nodded again, this time a little more boldly, he added: "Yes, I suppose so. If you do, too."
"I didn't think... I mean I hoped yer would an' all, but I really didn't fink yer would. Yer both so good-looking an' all." Dumm watched Cedric's face redden as he confessed his admiration.
"Me? Good-looking?" Dee asked, dumbfounded. His eyes fixed on the fat boy's.
"Me?" Dumm echoed his brother's astonishment. The chubby lad was already fumbling at the button below his bulging belly and his hands shook when he finally got it undone. As the front of his shorts parted he, bashfully, turned around and faced the curtains.
"Well yer see," the chubby lad spoke over his shoulder, "no one is nice to fat lads usually. Except for you and Felix, of course. He is ever so nice to me, and I don't even know why `e is me mate."
"Who is Felix?" Dee asked nervously.
"Felix is Mr Jollybottom, vat man wot is taking us camping -- yer know? We Anoraks all calls `im Happy!"
"Oh! I see." Dumm said as he shrugged impassively. But, in truth, he did not see. There was something odd about the way that Cedric said that he and Happy were friends that made him feel both nervous and excited. All of this had something to do with sex, but the twin bothers were not sure what it was.
"So is Felix a good friend?" asked Dee placing a strange inflection on the last word.
"He is me best mate ever..." Cedric looked even happier, if that were possible.
Sneezy's disrobing diverted their attention from the disturbing inference of this friendship of Cedric and an older man. Sneezy's chubby love handles quivered and stirred as Dumm and Dee watched him struggled out of his pants. The big lad wore old y-fronts that the twins presumed had once been white. Dumm and Dee waited nervously for those to come off. After a minute, Cedric's thrust out his hips slightly, and slowly, sexily slipped his underpants down his heavy legs and kicked until they were able to fall down. A few tiny pink pimples punctuated his ample, pale posterior.
Dumm could not contain himself any longer. He blurted out the question before he could help himself: "Have you seen his willy?" The boy blushed scarlet from the shame of having said it.
"Yeah, `course I `ave seen `is cock," Cedric volunteered Dee and Dumm squirmed with boyish glee at the dirty word. "Do you want to know something really dirty?"
"I've seen it shoot out!" Cedric said proudly as the buxom cheeks jiggled.
"Shoot out?" Dumm suspected significant sexual information was on offer.
"Seen what shoot out from where?" Dee too, was mystified. What could the plump lad be referring to?
Cedric nodded sagely and spell it out: "Its `is cum -- `is sperm. It shoots out like a water pistol. All `e `as to do is rub it for a while and it spurts out."
"Oh... Err!" Confusion, titillation and shame stunned Dee and Dumm Tweedle.
The chubby boy turned around rather red-faced, with both of his hands cupped under to his belly. Cedric was stark naked except, for his sandals and T-shirt. His body was very white and pasty. Below his podgy lower belly, and between his fat thighs, lay his sex organ however it was frustratingly concealed from sight by his hand.
"Now you two must get yer kit off, mates, and show me yer todgers!" Cedric announced. "Yer `ave to, yer know, yer promised." He reminded the twins of their contractual obligations. Their response was to unbutton the fly of their neat, Sunday-best trousers, pull their y-front underpants to the side and let their penis and testicles protrude from their underwear.
"ATTCHOO!" Sneezy shattered the silence with a sneeze of astonishment as he caught his first sight of the two lads' sex organs. A tiny flaccid cock hung over a pair of meagre balls on each of the boys. The skin seemed to be tender as an eyelid and very white. "Cor! What cute todgers yer both `ave." Cedric said and dropping his hands, he afforded the twins first glimpses of his own cock and balls. It was certainly no larger than theirs was, but Dumm and Dee could barely discern his penis as it was still partially concealed by his plump groin!
"Take it all off," the fat boy ordered, "that's the deal, mates. Beside yer gotta get yer Sunday clothes off and into vat stuff wot va vicar bought yer." He said, nodding at the casual clothing.
"Oh... err..." Dumm hesitated. While he was happy to expose his penis to another boy, breaking their mother's strict dress code was quiet another matter!
Nevertheless, Dee and Dumm complied. They fumbled as they undid their bow ties and nervously proceeded to strip off. It seemed so recklessly dangerous, to the innocent boys. They were painfully aware that their actions would certainly have earned them a good spanking had their mum been around. Cedric stood watching as the twin boys reached up and began unbuckling their pants. The buxom boy blushed, trying to figure out if he should stand and watch or turn his back.
Dumm pulled his pants to his knobbly knees, and then reached for his neat white underwear, which followed suit. Dee reached for his penis, and holding it in his hand, he turned sideways towards his twin brother, who was still struggling out of his own clothing. Dee grinned at Dumm's cock as if he was eyeing a familiar friend on the school playground.
Now, it was a well-know fact in family circles that when the Tweedle twins were nervous, they giggled, try as they may they, had trouble in keeping a straight face. Dumm started to snigger, and then Dee started to titter nervously.
"ATTCHOO! What's so bleedin' funny?" Cedric challenged in a rather bossy way, considering that he was a year younger than the twins were.
"Nothing, I'm sorry," Dee shrugged as he drew his shirt up and then off. However, as the twins' eyes met, Dumm's nervous smile reappeared again, despite his best efforts to stop it and they both started laughing out loud. This was not a clever thing to do in front of a self-conscious fat boy!
"ATTCHOO! Okay, wot it is, then?" Cedric demanded. "Is it because I'm fat?"
"No..." Dumm said quickly. He had no problems with Cedric being fat. "You like all nice and cuddly like my teddy-bear."
"It's because..." Dee desperately wracked his brain for an excuse for their reflex compulsion to snigger. "It's... it's because yours is different to mine, that's all..." Dee tried to explain.
"ATTCHOO! Is that wot yer laughing about?" Cedric gave the pair a brief, hurt look. He seemed to cheered-up when Dee stepped out of his underpants and slowly ambled toward him. Finally the little guy was standing there before the chubby boy wearing only his socks. The Tweedle twins were exceptionally skinny with spindly legs and arms and the cutest potbellies.
"I suppose so," Dee agreed with relief, then he elucidated: "Dumm still has the skin at the end of his thing, but they cut mine off."
"Huh?" Sneezy was confused. What was all this skin talk about? That was when he spotted the intriguing difference between the penises of Dee and Dumm Tweedle.
"That skin on the end of your pee-pee," said Dee pointed at the very long sleeve of skin the protruded from the end of the corpulent lad's penis, "it is called a foreskin, you know. Well, our mum wanted to be able to tell us apart, so she had the first born fixed. And as I was first born, I have lost mine and Dumm still has his -- it is what tells us apart. Mummy told me it is called circumcision." Dee expounded.
"ATTCHOO! Well, let's take a closer look at `em, then?" Cedric proposed with false bravado. The chubby lad felt his own beginning to stir, as he scrutinised Dumm's prick.
"How?" Dumm asked innocently.
"Well, we can lie on va bed and we make `em bigger," Cedric replied artlessly. "Do yer wanna do vat?" He added, then he punctuated this imprudent proposal with yet another nervous sneeze: "ATTCHOO!"
"You're very odd!" Dee proclaimed.
"Make that weird!" Dumm declared.
"You `ave to promise yer won't tell no one!" Cedric insisted. "Yer mum might get right pissed off if she found out, like." Now the whole idea sounded really good a short of breaking the law, Dee and Dumm wanted to do whatever Cedric had in mind.
For a fat boy Cedric was very energetic. He took a couple of paces and bounced on the bed. The springs complained loudly. He moved over to make room for the twin boys. Dumm and Dee sat down on either side of the chubby chap. They thought they knew what was coming next but they were not sure. Up close there was not much more than the head of Cedric's pee-pee that Dumm could see. His scrotum was also hard to see because his ample thighs hid it.
"Now if I opens me legs up yer can see it better, like." Parting his legs, Cedric Snotfinkel exposed his small private treasure, which had been obscured by a tube of flabby skin that surrounded his penis and scrotum! His hard penis danced before their eyes.
The three St. Giles choirboys lay next too each other looking at each other's naked bodies. Something told Dee that looking at each other was in some odd way an important part of what they were doing, and if that was all that this sex stuff involved, then there had been no need to be quiet so apprehensive about it.
"Do yer know `ow to make yours bigger?" Cedric inquired, he was rather disappointed that the boys were not as hard as he was. He pulled his Sneezy T-shirt up his chest, spread his thighs wide open and his plump fingers began to massage his small penis. Dee and Dumm Tweedle were now able to scrutinise the fleshy boy's penis. It was short and very slim - thinner even, than their modest cocks. It didn't bend off in any direction; it was almost completely straight, just curving upward like a dwarf banana. A slender, blue artery ran halfway up the shaft, before plunging into his penis's inner-depths.
"Uh huh," Dumm shook his head, bravely confessing his ignorance.
"No!" Echoed Dumm sadly. By now, however, both boys had surmised that it was this brazen manipulation of his pee-pee that made it bigger.
Dee was really excited, but Dumm was not at all sure what to do next. Every time Sneezy breathed, his enlarged white belly trembled like a jelly pudding. He watched the fat boy lying there on his side, playing with his penis. The nine-year-old was also blessed by a very long and succulent looking foreskin that made the circumcised Dee very envious. Dee had a nagging desire to touch it. Several times over the years, he had the same desire to touch Dumm's penis and felt his foreskin, but the bothers had never taken advantage of the opportunity, really.
Dee started caressing his circumcised penis, barely touching it, yet it was more than enough. He could feel it growing under his fingers, stretching out and become harder as it shrugged off its Sunday-in-Church stupor. He kept pulling on the rounded pink knob on the end, and it kept getting harder, and harder. And looking over the bulk of their corpulent playmate, he saw that his brother was doing the same, copying the actions of the younger, but more experienced child. It only took a minute before the twins were both erect.
Had there been a bet, Cedric would have lost - by more than an inch-and-a-half! A whole inch and a half! Cedric's loveable face, was the quintessential mask of a boy experiencing profound self-doubt: he was worried that they would think his penis was pitifully small and the twins could sense Cedric's humiliation.
"Goodness me, you have a very lovely one." Dee said out of consideration for the fat boy's feelings.
"Oh I say! It's rather impressive!" Dumm said. This was not typical English understatement.
The twins' cocks were nearly three and a half inches long and thin. The conspicuous thing about their penises was the bulbous fleshy glans that topped off the long thin shafts!
"Cor..." was all that Cedric managed to drawl as he gazed in astonishment at the cocks that looked very much like matching miniature clubs.
"Can I touch yours?" Dumm asked hopefully. Dee glanced at his brother and shivered as the idea took hold. Dee had only thought about doing it - he had never acted on the idea and he could only guess what another boy's hard cock might feel like.
"Sure, mate... if yer wants... yer can play with me todger." Cedric he nodded vigorously but never took his eyes off of the boys' fat cock heads.
Without giving the chubby chap any opportunity to change his mind, Dumm reached out and stroked his penis very briefly. He giggled and raised his eyebrows, hoping that Cedric had enjoyed it enough to allow him to do it again. Then the bolder of the twin's hand approached, and Dee's fingers gently brushed over the short hard length. Cedric Snotfinkel tensed, trying not to tremble, his face registered desire and gratification all at the same time
"The skin is sooo soft!" Dumm murmured.
"Let's put `em together," Cedric suggested brightly, looking at first the bother on the left and then his twin on the right.
Dee shivered at this unbelievably exciting suggestion. The twin's cock stood up proudly, as Dee pointed all three and a half inches of his long and thin erection with its fat skinless glans at Cedric's groin. Then Dee and Cedric groaned and shuddered and their pre-pubescent penises made contact.
"Gawd," Sneezy sighed, "it is so great vat one of yer is cut, mates!" He gently let his penis head slip over Dee's bluish, circumcised cockhead, and he stroked his hard cock over the boy's slim shaft. Then the boys parted and gawked at each other's groins once more, as if they were afraid of the overwhelming pleasure that shuddered through their bodies.
"Do yer play with each other?" Cedric asked breathlessly. "Yer cocks I mean?"
"No." Dumm said ruefully on behalf of the two of them. Then he remembered what the Vicar had been preaching about that morning. "Is this called masturbating?" Dumm asked.
"Too bleedin' right it is mate!" Said the fat boy vigorously stroking his cock once more, as if to underline the point.
"Goodness, I can understand now why the Vicar was telling us that we need to do this more often!" Said Dee.
"Mummy would say that anything thing this nice couldn't be any good for you." Dumm said and this made all three boys laugh!
"Wicked ol' geezer is our Reverend Prim! `e must be va best Vicar in va world!" The twins nodded their agreement.
"Your dick is so cute," Dee giggled. "I wish I had one like it with the skin still on the end."
"Like I wish I `ad one as big as yours," Cedric said glumly. Other than six-year-old Pip Pratt, every boy whom Cedric had ever peeked at or played with, had a penis larger than his own.
"Let us get them to say hello..." Dumm suggested naively, as it he was suggesting that their pet puppies become acquainted.
"Wicked!" Sneezy grunted and prodded his cock towards Dumm's erection. "We can put `em side by side and rub em together, like."
Dumm felt his own make contact with the fat boy's thin cock. The tip of Cedric's cock was so incredibly hot. Dumm pressed it home and his cock crushed the nine-year-old hard-on against the flabby belly. Cedric growled softly and Dumm could tell that he liked that. He liked that a whole lot! What happened next was something that Dumm figured out for himself - it came naturally, as natural as masturbating.
Penises were designed to be stroked! They could be stroked by fingers; or stroked against another penis; or a belly; or a friendly leg. The boys were both very smooth, very hairless -- their pricks were throbbing, hard and incredibly excited. The two lads set up a frantic rhythm. From behind Dee watched the smooth, baby-soft body of his brother and he saw the chubby lad's wobbly-bottom spasm again and again in response to what Dumm did to him.
"Your balls are funny looking." Dee said gravely as he tried to peer between the two humping bodies.
"Oh you said the `b' word!" Dumm admonished his brother's rudeness but, to be honest, Dee was feeling a little left out, and he was beyond caring.
"Why is vat?" Cedric asked breathlessly as he and Dumm parted reluctantly.
"Well look at them! Mine looks like they're attached to the bottom of my willy. Your bag goes back further." He lifted his leg to show Cedric.
"What's wrong wiv vat?" Cedric could see that his testicles were smaller than Dee 's or Dumm's. He inspected Dumm's scrotum carefully, then his own. There wasn't that much difference at first glance.
"See!" Dee pointed to where his brother's scrotum joined to the rest of his body and hung like a smooth ball, attached to the thin three-and-a-half-inch shaft.
"Well yer balls are like bunched up and stuck onto yer todger. So what?" Cedric countered.
"Oh. Do you think it matters?" Dumm asked solemnly. Then he noticed that the chubby chap had a modest, but splendid pair of low-hanging balls in a gloriously soft sack.
"No, probably not. I think his balls look funny. That's all." Dee told his twin brother.
Dumm fingers prodded and pummelled the wonderful jelly-belly, compelling Cedric to snigger merrily and his eyes sparkle and forget about the difficult issues of the comparative study of boys' balls. Cedric grabbed playfully at their crotches and captured a Tweedle tool in each hand.
"Yer fings are definitely softer, van mine, then." Cedric said adamantly.
"Yours feels different to mine. The skin slides up and down easier." Said Dee, as he toyed with Cedric's cock.
"So?" Cedric said with renewed anxiety.
"I think it's because Cedric and I have extra skin on the end," Dumm suggested helpfully "your skin is very tight because the cut the skin off and sewed it up again." Cedric was not going to argue this point, because just by stroking Dee's penis he could see and feel that the skin was tight. On the underside it was so tight that the skin was actually shiny. The head of his penis was swollen and almost blue in colour.
"I wish I knew what it felt like to still have a foreskin..." Dee signed heavily.
"'Ang about mate, I got me an idea!" Cedric said cheerfully. "Felix told me `bout this thing yer can do. He called it docking."
"Docking? You mean like ships do?"
"Yeah! Only we share a foreskin for a bit." Cedric said with a happy grin. "Wanna try it, mate?"
Rather timidly, Cedric retracted his longish foreskin, revealing a marble-sized glans. Dee leaned in a bit closer; his eyes were stinging a bit from the ripe smell emanating from the fat boy's sex organ. Then, instinctively, Dee pressed the small helmet of his circumcised cock to the exposed glans of the chubby boy's. He curled his willy tip up, then back down, the length of the two-inch cock; over the flared ridge; lifting it up he rubbed it against Cedric's piss-slit lips.
The lips of one hot pre-teen cock touched the lips of another equally angry tool. Dee's cock head was kissing a fat boy's penis and Dee loved it! Then slowly, Cedric slid, slid the foreskin carefully over his glans his foreskin and let it envelop the bulbous head of the other boy's cock!
"Aghhh!" Groaned Dee as a wall of warmth and sexual pleasure enveloped the couple.
"Oh Cool!" Dumm announced bravely. Dumm fell to his knees and crouched next to them. Then he giggled: "It looks like you are sharing one long thin pee-pee!" He was very stiff and so he stroked his own silky, three-and-a-half-inch shaft. He was also very jealous of his older twin! He wanted to do something but was uncertain what. Ideas -- very rude and nasty ideas - flashed through his aroused mind.
Now what? Dumm, Dee and Sneezy didn't need to contemplate the next move for very long, as at that point a familiar voice was heard calling them from the garden: "Cedric? Cedric, my dear, what is taking you so long? The bus is waiting for the three of you!"
Immediately after arriving home from Church, Pricilla rushed up to her room. Minutes latter, Mrs Whyte hear the loud sounds of Robbie Williams, her daughter's current favourite male pop singer. The occasional grunt of satisfaction and squeal of excitement punctuated the wailing on the stereo. Clearly, her daughter had taken the Vicar's sermon seriously to heart and was masturbating with the new, anatomically correct dildo, which Chrysanthemum Whyte had given Pricilla for her birthday.
With very shaky fingers, the second Mrs Whyte made herself a cup of nettle tea. She could barely stop trembling.
A full twenty-four hours had gone by and still there was no news. Had her plans had worked or not? Going to Church that Sunday had proved frustrating and had produced no information whatsoever!
She was certain that Reverend Prim was in daily contact with Snowy Whyte and the strange Dr Yang, yet he had said nothing! On the contrary, it was as if the Vicar was playing a game of cat and mouse with her from the pulpit. He had taken Genesis Chapter 38 versus 7 to 11 as the lesson from the scriptures, and then that sermon! It was pure provocation!
Poor Violet Dogs-Bottom, the chairwoman on the Women's Institute, had fainted after the description of Onan's sin; then Poppy Baker had stormed off after the innuendo about David and Jonathan. Even Hyacinth Snodgrass had deserted her -- she was disgusted about the Vicar's suggestion that the good Lord and St John had been perverts.
Thinking about the whole mess just gave her a headache. She added a triple shot of gin to the tea. Then, an idea struck her, and she dialled the number of Mirror on the Wall Psychic Counselling.
"Is that Mirror on the Wall Psychic Guidance?" Mrs Whyte asked imperiously, but the mystical music faded and the awful recorded set of instructions followed. Madam Zelda was once again not available, but after a long argument with the supervisor, and payment of a substantial bribe, she was finally connected. Bert Goldblatt, an out-off-work actor, had previously been employed by the call-centre to pretend to be a female "world famous psychic", but Bert had been fired after being perpetually drunk on the job and had been experiencing psychotic episodes recently.
Putting any one through to the old soak was a big risk for Mirror on the Wall Psychic Counselling, but Mrs. Whyte could be very insistent. Bert was by now, in an advanced state of dementia and truly believed he was the voice of the mirror on the wall!
"And I'll bet you want to know if you are the fairest one of all, don't you ducky?" Said the rather alcohol-soaked voice of the mirror on the wall. "All you callers do!"
"Oh dear, dear Madam Zelda, I am in such doubt..."
"This is the mirror you are addressing, ducky, I don't know who this Madam Zelda is that you are talking about, now want was your question?"
"Oh mirror... dear mirror on the wall, I am in such doubt..."
"No doubt about it, dear, you are as ugly as the boil on my hairy bum and Snow White is fairest in the land, and always has been."
"You can't be serious mirror..." If there was one thing Mrs Whyte could not abide it was an argumentative mirror on or off the wall.
"Well, there it is, ducky! It's like the black man's left leg -- it ain't right and it ain't fair!"
"And you say he is still alive? But how can it be? You told me to prod him into silence..."
"Don't have a clue what you are on about ducky, but Snow White is alive and in the depths of the woods, living with seven vertically challenged individuals. It is common knowledge. Why, even the Disney Corporation knows about it."
"But... but you said to prod him into silence and so I... I..." Mrs Whyte was in a very, very agitated state: "Snowy Whyte has to die!"
"Well my dear the plot is that Snow White stays alive until the apple passes over her ruby-red lips. So, what was it you wanted to know? I don't have all day, you know!" The mirror on the wall was not nearly as patient with Madam Zelda's, once regular, customer.
"Well, there is no news. That odd Doctor was not at Church, of course... but... I mean... Is Snowy Whyte in hospital? Is he dead? Is he in danger? I do hope he is in danger..."
"O God, dear! It is Snow White! Snow White! Get it? Stop calling her Snowy it is so awfully common!"
"But..." Mrs Whyte felt a huge wave of disappointment overwhelm her. After all the expense in having the electric toothbrush fixed up as a cattle-prod, and then dressing up as a mad German - now it was clear to her that her stepson had, astonishingly, managed to survive.
"And don't interrupt me." Bert ranted and raved. "Get with the plot, you stupid bitch, it's a poisoned apple that does for Snow White."
"Oh!" Mrs Whyte's scheming little brain cells were overheating. "Oh yes! I had not thought of that! Yes indeed! So you think that... a poisoned apple? Oh dear mirror on the wall, how smart of you. Yes, of course... a poisoned apple! "
Percy Pratt stood chatting to Happy on the grassy knoll in front of St Giles. "So wot about vat sermon of va Vicar's then?"
"I thought he were taking va piss, at first." Felix commented with a broad grin, " `e didn't `alf get them old stuffed shirts in a flat spin."
"Yeah! He didn't `alf give them stick, the old bugger! That bleeding Social worker, Snodgrass, had her nickers in a right old twist!" Percy laughed heartily. "So, you gonna volunteer as a helping hand for the wanking campaign?"
"Bloody `ell mate. Image wanking this lot for starters." Said Felix waving his hand at the assembled Anoraks, choirboys and hangers-on.
"Cor! Some blokes `ave all the luck." Percy Pratt said rearranging the hardening cock in his jeans.
"Not bloody likely mate," said Felix, "I struck a bargain wiv Sneezy vat this week we will be proper discreet and all!"
"Yeah, Right!" Percy said sneering incredulously. "Yer with them for a bleeding week. I'll bet yer gets yer fair share of action."
Just then the Reverend Prim approached Felix with a anxious look on his face. He whispered something in Felix's ear and the, normally happy, fellow's face darkened over. While he went off to find Cedric and the Tweedle twins, the Reverend Prim left Felix Jollybottom in charge of steering the motley assembly of choirboys and hangers-on through the stone arch and onto "the bus". Percy Pratt set off ahead of the group to "get the old girl started."
Felix, still wearing a troubled frown, recollected that, with the exception of Cedric, he did not really know any of the other members of Snowy's seven Anoraks nor, until this morning, had he met any of the other boys, except for Pip Pratt. He needed to get to know the lads, even if he was a troubled man. Then he spotted a young teenager with untidy hair and crooked glasses who was very helpfully jostling the stragglers along. He read the legend on his T-shirt:
Bashful, or Osbert Prim, was the Vicar's own nephew. Felix approached with a friendly smile.
"Alright, mate? Good work yer doing there..."
"Oh... err," said Bashful, blushing furiously, he scurried off like a shy woodland creature.
An ancient people-carrier, baring the logo of the Royal Windsor Great Park, stood waiting to carry the campers to their destination. The truck had once served as an armoured troop carrier before being sold on to the Royal Estates where it was now used to move labourers, from one work assignment to another.
Some of the boys needed no chasing up. Fred Marley an Afro-Caribbean lad rushed to the truck, blustering with enthusiasm. As Jollybottom shepherded the last of his charges through the opening in the ancient stonewall, Percy Pratt, the driver, turned on the ignition and the group waited breathlessly. The engine coughed, spluttered and died several times, before finally turning over. A boisterous cheer went up from the lads, but it was ended abruptly as a deafening backfire and cloud of sooty-black smoke emerged from the exhaust. It all went to help the image in the boys' minds, of going on a great adventure. Percy Pratt grinned from behind the driver's seat and gave his mate Felix the thumbs up.
"All right you lot in yer get!" The labourer behind the steering wheel yelled, as he bobbed his shock of black curly hair, indicating the boys needed to take their place on the metal benches that face each other across a narrow passage between them. It was clear this was not going to be a comfortable ride!
It was a long way from Windsor to the Peak District. Most of the journey would be on the M1, but with zero comfort and convenience, a 170 miles and many bum-numbing hours lay ahead of them.
When he met him, it took Felix several minutes to recognise precisely who Damien Smyke was. These days, he insisted on referring to himself as Grumpy but he was, unmistakably, the notorious football-thug that had once been so feared and loathed on the streets of Windsor. He was certainly the most eye-catching of the group with his, recently acquired, Mohican Indian hairstyle. Much to the annoyance of his lover, Osbert Prim, Smyke had shaved the sides clean, leaving a thatch of ratted once pink hair, which ran from nape of a grubby neck to his frowning forehead. His black skin-tight jeans, which were tucked into heavy Doc Martin's boots, looked as if they were in immanent danger of parting at the seams to expose his muscular sixteen-year-old legs. Felix's appreciative eye spotted that the filthy jeans also split the teenager's balls one from the other. His new T-shirt bore the name he had been given by Snowy Whyte, but he had already ripped it open in places to expose a delicate pink nipple.
In spite of his formidable Punk appearance the lad was surprisingly helpful and he immediately volunteered to help Felix take care of the lads' luggage and stowing the tents and provisions.
Felix reflected on the knot of anxiety that constricted his stomach muscles. It had already been a hell of a day. Felix Snotfinkel had started early, when a call out alerted him to flood at the Men's Lavatory on the Parade and being a Sunday, he was the only one available to sort it out. When Felix left the Parade, he only barely made it to St Giles in time to hear the Vicar's very inspirational sermon.
Now fears and doubts about his chubby little lover beset the redheaded young man. It was as if he were lover and parent simultaneously. Felix recalled the Vicar's words distinctly: "Ah, yes! Cedric Snotfinkel" the old man had said, "a young boy from a problem background. He's really a social-work case, but I'm trying it myself first. Of course he is always speaking of you, so I would welcome your help, but you had better be aware that he has a Criminal record already for theft, so you'll need to keep your eye on him."
The acting youth leader had been incredulous - surely the Vicar could not mean his Cedric? And yet, what was keeping the boy? Why was he taking so long to hand the twins some clothing? Felix had visions of Cedric steeling things from the Vicar and he saw himself loosing the boy he loved to the police or, worse yet, the Child Protection Agency. Felix was silent for a long while. He ignored the perpetual stream of excited chatter from Damien Smyke, who was going away from Windsor on a holiday for the first time in his life. There might be many things amiss with Cedric, but this did not make Felix Jollybottom love the chubby boy one-ounce less!
It was with an immeasurable sense of relief that Felix saw the happy smiling faces of the Vicar, Dumm and Dee Tweedle, and his little Sneezy crunching their way over the gravel towards the antiquated truck, which the Vicar, for some odd reason, insisted on call a bus.
All was well! Felix could relax once more. Never the less he had to check: "Wot kept yer, lad?" he asked his young lover, as he boarded the bus.
"ATTCHOO!" Was Cedric's initial reply - then he gave his lover a very meaning full wink and added, "we woz doing stuff..." Felix's ears pricked up.
"Oh yeah?" Felix's spirits perked up "Wot did yer do?"
"Not much... the Vicar called us too soon, but I saw and touched their todgers -- you would love `em!" Felix smacked Cedric Snotfinkel's ample bum, playfully as he made his way to find a place on the benches.
"Yer as 'appy as a pig in poo wiv vat chubby lad o' yours, ain't yer mate?" asked Percy.
"Yeah!" Felix winked at his handsome friend and added, "almost as `appy as you are wiv three sons to snog and bonk day and bleeding night!"
"And ain't vat the truth!"
The lads were all in high spirits, as they sat on the metal benches facing each other across the walkway down the centre. Percy Pratt revved the engines and the truck rattled and shuddered ominously -- it was clear that this was going to be rather hard on tender young bums.
The ten-year-old Tweedle twins - Dee and Dumm - were the last ones to join the group inside the transporter. As the twins passed the driver, the twin brothers blushed and giggled, as they recognised young Peter's dad, whom they had earlier spotted playing with Pip, his youngest son in a most rude manner.
"Blimey! Will yer take a look at them Tweedle twins?" exclaimed Smyke on seeing the twins dressed in T-shirt and jeans. " Wot va `eck `appened to you lads?"
"Did you get mugged and `ave yer fancy clothed nicked or something?" Asked Jack Jerker rather unkindly. The twins smiled and blushed and felt rather proud of their newly acquired outfits even if the scratchy new Levi's felt strange and unfamiliar.
Cedric shoved his neighbours, scuttled up and made room for Dee between himself and Dopey Pratt, while Dumm could squeeze his perky bottom between Bashful and Fred Marley, a handsome Afro-Caribbean lad.
"God bless you and have fun now all of you!" The Vicar called out his final farewells.
"God Bless us one and all." Rejoined tiny Pip Pratt. Then the ancient vehicle lured forward and the happy camper's were sent sliding into their neighbours and they were off!
Felix Jollybottom stood unsteadily next to the diver. "Well, I suppose I better go find me a place to park me old bum."
"Nah! Don't yer try to kid me, mate," Percy yelled back, "I know wot yer up to! Yer going to check out va bleeding talent, check out which kiddie yer gonna be bonking tonight, I'll bet!"
"Yer a dirty pervert Percy Pratt!" Felix laughed, "and jealous as all `ell!" The friends laughed as Pratt navigated the turn onto the main Windsor to Slough road.
"Well mate, a word of advice" Pratt said conspiratorially, "if yer fancy a young `un up yer bum tonight, yer could not do much better van me own Patrick. Healthy dick, but not too thick, and fat spunky balls."
"Well, well, Percy me old China, don't tell me yer got yer son shafting yer up va bum now?" Felix Jollybottom said in genuine surprise.
"Didn't know woz I was missing out on mate!" Said Percy squeezing his by now very hard cock in his crotch as his steered the vehicle onto the slip road leading towards the M4. "Never wanted any grown men doing me back passage a damage but I thought I'd try sticking a twelve year old up me old shitter! It were bloody marvellous."
Dee Tweedle looked enviously the front of the lad's T-shirt and admired the illustration:
The older twin sat a little uncomfortably between young Dopey Pratt and the bubbly tyke, Cedric Snotfinkel. It was not that he disliked the slow-witted boy, but he was rather worried that his vivacious Chubby friend might say something compromising about the rude things they had done in the guest bedroom earlier. Dee Tweedle would happily have died on the spot rather than face any of the boys knowing he hand been masturbating and worse!
Unfortunately for Dee, Cedric was in exceptionally high sprits and at the top of his shrill voice he called out: "Now vat were fun weren't it? Pity va Vicar stopped us before we really got going wiv our cocks!"
Alarmed, Dee spun around and looked in all directions. "Jesus, Cedric! Not so loud!" Then Dee cupped his had over his mouth when he realised he had been profane. After regaining his composure, he pleaded into Cedric's ear: "Dopey might hear and tell the others."
"Oh, relax, me ol' china," Cedric said. "Nobody heard. Besides, even if they did, lads say stuff like that all va time."
"Well... I suppose so..." Dee sounded unconvinced, but calmed down a little.
"Sure," Cedric said confidently. "Besides, yer don't' `ave to worry `bout Dopey -- `e `as been going at it like bunny-rabbit wiv `is mate, Doc and `e is seventeen and all!" Dee's eyes widened in astonishment as he took in this information.
"Well, just don't say anything..." But it was too late! Dopey turned his dull, but pretty, little face towards the furiously blushing Tweedle boy and a slow smile broke out over his face.
Dopey HAD heard and he leaned over to join the conversation.
"Oh, Dumm, do you like cocks too?" he asked guilelessly. "I love cock sucking and they tell me I am very good at it." He said with a little pride in his lacklustre voice. Dee was dumbfounded. He had never heard of cock sucking.
"Err... I am Dee not Dumm." He said. They were constantly being confused. "My brother is Dumm." He waved his hand in the direction of his twin opposite.
"Well no worries mate -- Dopey ain't to bright neither...!" Cedric's laughter at his own joke was punctuated by a loud sneeze. "ATTCHOO!"
Meanwhile, Dee's sweet younger brother, Dumm Tweedle, was comfortably sandwiched between Fred, the West Indian, and the mousy-haired nerdy-looking nephew of the Vicar. Dumm appeared to be in a state of near ecstasy as he made conversation with Bashful Prim.
"Err... excuse me but... but... are you... Are you really an Anorak?" The child asked in an agitated state of excitement.
"Of course I am!" Osbert said confidently. "I do orienteering."
"Oh my! How exciting!" Said Dumm, but he had no idea what this meant.
"Some of the others are computer nerds, football nuts one is even an actual trainspotter. The six of us are true-blue Anoraks and proud of it." Bashful pushed his chest out and hugged the small boy closer to him. "I was a closet Anorak until Snowy Whyte helped me come out."
"And do you always wear your anorak?" He asked jealously.
"Well not to bed..." Osbert joked and he smiled benignly at the boy's sharp little face.
"Dee and I would do anything for an anorak of our own, but Mum won't let us have one..."
"Well you can try my one on but it is bit mankey!" Osbert thought of the thick crusty layer of cum, which he had shot over the inner lining over the months since he had met Smyke.
"Oh golly!" Said Dumm Tweedle innocently. "That makes it even better -- kind of lived in!"
Next to them Fred Marley was telling a joke: "Hey" he called out to the others in his singsong island voice. "Why are coppers like bananas?"
"Donna!" Some of the lads called out. Other shouted "give up" and the like.
"Coconuts, are yer gonna tell us?"
"Coz they yellow, they are all bent and they come in bunches, mon!" The handsome Afro-Caribbean lad laughed merrily treating his friends to a view of his perfect white teeth.
"Did yer mean va copper woz bent of va copper's dick, was a yellow banana?" Patrick Pratt shouted above the roar of the old engine.
Dumm sat pondering why they called Fred, "Coconuts". It was the old English obsession for giving people nicknames. They were all called Inky or Stinky or a name with some other schoolboys' reference. Coconuts? Why Coconuts? It provoked images of tall, wind swept palms in the West Indies. No, it wasn't the shape of his head. What could it be?
Meanwhile, as Felix Jollybottom made his way unsteadily down the passage between the two rows of seated boys, he was treated to snippets of the boys' conversation. Not surprisingly much of this chatter between the lads was the usual, often incomprehensible, sort of thing. Jack Jerker and Damien Smyke were locked in an argument about football results. Pip Pratt was telling anyone who would listen about what a great Dad he and his bothers had. Then Felix overheard Patrick Pratt and Billy Bunion in discussion:
"If you could change any feature of yer body, like," Patrick Pratt asked, "what would yer change?"
"Me face" Billy Bunion said without hesitation. "And you?"
"Me dong..." Patrick said solemnly, then once he had reflected on what Billy had said, he added: "your 'ole face?"
"Yeah". Billy said sullenly. Indeed there was much about Billy's face, with its chronic acne, shapeless chin and narrow-set dark eyed, that was in need of improvement.
"What about your oys?" He meant eyes.
"Dunno" Billy said with a heavy sigh then added: "Yeah, them too..." then the acne cover face perked up and he asked: "So what's wrong with yer dong?"
"Balls too big, dong too small". Patrick said, squeezing his package. The acting youth leader grinned inwardly. Patrick's dad had been lyrical about the boy's sexual-organs earlier.
"But oy thought all you Pratt's had such 'uge fuckers". Billy said with genuine envy in his voice. "yer dad musta bonked just `bout every bird in Windsor.
"Who says vat?" Patrick Pratt asked straightening up with pride.
"Well, me sister for one..." He stared at Patrick's lap long and hard as if he were trying to see though his clothing. "Me sister an' `er mates are always talking `bout `is dick, like."
"Well I guess I might catch `im up. I'm only twelve after all..." He stared at his feet.
"You better get a second opinion on yer dong. Don't go changing nuffink unless yer `ave to".
"Your teff need fixing!" Patrick concluded. Indeed, the boy's teeth needed attention.
Finally Felix found himself seated between the redheaded Jock Pringle, a thirteen-year-old lad from the Scottish highlands, and the tall morose looking lad that he recognised as the Flaunting-Flasher boy.
"How do you do, Sir?" Jack said in a thick Scottish accent that Felix thought very cute. The lad pumped Felix's hand good-naturedly, his freckled face beamed and a soft, golden-dew shone on the downy-hair on his upper lip.
"You are from the Highlands I hear?" Felix asked. The boy was medium of height and build and Felix reckoned his leather jacket concealed some residual baby fat.
"Aye," he says, with a hint of pride in his voice. "And if you have any trouble from these laddies, just you be letting me know and I'll be sorting them out for you."
Felix laughed and glanced over at the lad who sat scowling in the corner. Under his extra large army-surplus camouflage anorak, he wore a T-shirt, which marked him out as one of Snowy's Anoraks:
Sleepy, or Dick Flaunting-Flasher, was by far the oldest of the assembled group. He was known to all as the son of the Regimental Sargent Major. If he stood up straight he was over six foot four inches tall. However, Dick seldom stood up straight, his hunched-up shoulders seemed constantly borne down by worry or sin or both. His mournful, angular face looked much, much older than he actually was - he was 17 going on forty-seven.
Dick seemed to be made up of abnormally long arms; lanky legs; dirty size-14-trainers; and shovel sized hands. He looked awkward and clumsy as boys often are. He squeezed Felix's hand firmly. His unsmiling eyes met the red-haired man's in a frosty glare. His long bony fingers swept his untidy waves of dirty-brown curly hair from crashing down into his eyes.
"And you must be Dick..." said Happy is a carefree way.
"Yes sir." The gawky lad spoke with almost an unctuous subservience. "It is an honour and a privileged to meet you Mr Jollybottom, sir." Jock groaned audibly.
"Dinna say it like that!" Jock managed to force out between his clenched teeth. He clearly thought Dick Flaunting-Flasher was really ghastly.
"Well yes... err... likewise I am sure, mate" said Felix. While the lad was as grovelling and subservient as Uriah Heep himself, his eyes burned resentfully, as he glared at the happy throng of camper. When next the acting youth leader looked at him, the gawky youth had fallen asleep with his head resting on the side of the transport.
End of file: SNOWY-WHYTE-7.1 The story in continues: SNOWY-WHYTE-7.2
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