Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 7

So now the travellers have a really deserving slave in Truscott. Does that mean they're just going to let Timmy and Wood walk away? Yeah, right...


Nobody had told Truscott to come to the garage that evening, but Wood was there, and Danny was keen to try the new slave out on the hunting game.

"Let's make the slaves go together," he said. "We'll get them in twenty minutes - if not we'll let them go."

"And what if you do find us?" asked Timmy.

"Then you get whipped, and we make you suck!" Danny told him, happily.

"Come on, then," said Timmy, heading for the door, but Danny grabbed him.

"Oh, no, not like that!" he said. "You can strip here. I want Small Cock to find out what's it's like walking up the lane in the nude."

"I already know," Timmy pointed out.

"Not you, him," said Danny. "You're Tiny Cock, remember? He's just very small."

"Oh. Okay," said Timmy, and he started to undress.

"You mean we have to leave our clothes here and go outside?" asked Wood.

"Yes. Don't worry, I've done it a few times. There's never anyone about in the lane."

"Okay, then." Wood took his uniform off.

"We need another hanger," said Timmy. "Put yours on the back of one of the chairs for now - I'll try to remember a hanger next time."

They both stripped naked. Timmy told Wood to put his shoes back on and did up his own, and then the travellers escorted them down the drive and onto the lane - and as they got there they heard a car coming. Timmy and Wood cowered back against the front hedge while the travellers laughed at them, but the car went past without stopping, so presumably the driver hadn't seen them.

"There's never anyone about, then?" asked Wood, sarcastically.

They carried on up the lane and into the wood, and Timmy and Wood ran off while the hunters counted to a hundred. Timmy knew that there would not be room in his bush for two, so he simply directed Wood to run straight until they were out of sight of the hunters and then started looking for a suitable tree.

"Do you think you can get into this tree?" he asked, as soon as a likely one appeared.


"And can you get me into it as well?"

"Probably. You don't weigh much, do you?"

"Come on, then."

Wood had no difficulty getting into the tree and pulling Timmy up after him, and they were able to climb quite a long way up before they ran out of branches. They stood together on a couple of adjoining boughs, hoping the hunters wouldn't find the right tree quickly enough.

"Tell me something, Collier - why is that kid so interested in how big our... you know, things are?"

"They all seem to think it's important to have a big one, apparently."

"Why? What difference does it make?"

Wood, like Timmy, knew nothing about sex, and being still pre-pubertal it didn't interest him, either. As far as he was concerned his penis was only there to pee through. He had found that it sometimes went hard, and at first this worried him, but there was nobody he felt he could ask about it. Pretty soon, though, he realised that it happened to other boys as well: sometimes when they all had a shower after games he would see some of his classmates with hard ones, and sometimes he would notice that a boy's trousers were tented out. As soon as he realised that he wasn't alone it stopped bothering him. It was a nuisance, but nothing more.

"I don't know. I can understand it with me - after all, mine is smaller than normal, and it looks different, too. But yours looks pretty much like anyone else's."

"I did notice that yours looks odd. What happened to it?"

"I don't really know. I know there was some problem when I was really little, and I had an operation of some sort on it, but that's all I know. I think they probably cut part of it off, and that's why it's small."

"Can you pee okay?"

"Yes, it's fine."

"Then that's all that matters, isn't it?"

"I suppose.... shh!"

There were noises below them in the wood. Unfortunately Timmy had chosen the tree that Danny had used on his own last "escape", so of course it was one of the first places he checked; and when someone stood close to the trunk and looked up, it didn't really matter how far up you were, you were still going to be visible.

"Guess what I've found?" cried Danny, happily.

"Now what happens?" Wood asked Timmy.

"We could make him come up here and get us, but they found us so quickly there must be ages left. It's not worth it. Let's just go down and get it over with."

They climbed carefully out of the tree and were marched back to the garage, this time with no alarms on the lane. Once inside Danny removed his belt.

"Sore bums for naughty slaves!" he announced, cheerfully. "Who wants to go first?"

"Me," said Timmy. "Let's get it over with."

So Danny gave him three hard ones, and then Tom gave him three more, but although Timmy's eyes were watering at the end, he had managed not to yell - or not too loudly, anyway.

"Now you, Smallboy," said Danny.

Wood took Timmy's place and Danny hit him, so far as Timmy could tell, as hard as he could. The third blow provoked a stifled shout, and when Tom took over the shouts got a little less, and then a lot less, stifled. But at the end Wood's eyes were clear. Danny looked disappointed.

"Next time you get it harder," he said. "Now we get to the good bit. Tonight you can start with Tom and I'll have Tiny, then you can do Christy and he can do my brother. Okay?"

"Not really," said Wood. "What are you talking about?"

"You're going to suck my friend's cock."


Danny sighed. "Come on, then, Tiny, let's show him," he said, removing his clothes to reveal the usual erection. He sat on the chair and Timmy knelt in front of him and started to work.

"What's he doing?" asked Wood.

"He's sucking my cock."

"Yes, I can see that, but what's the point?"

"Don't you know?"

Wood shook his head.

"Oh, well, you'll find out. Get ready, Tom - you'll probably have to show him what to do."

Tom stripped off. He was stiff, too, and he took pleasure in holding his fat erection alongside Wood's soft cock and comparing them.

"Mine's longer and thicker, and my balls are bigger," he crowed. "And you're three years older than me."

"So what?" asked Wood.

"Well... aren't you ashamed?"

"No. Why on earth should I be?"

"Well... never mind. Just kneel down in front of me."

Wood shrugged his shoulders and dropped to his knees in front of the chair Tom had positioned himself in.

"Now put it your mouth and suck on it."

Everyone expected Wood to argue, but instead he just shrugged and did as he was told. Over the next couple of minutes Tom explained what exactly he wanted done, and Wood simply did everything he was told until Tom was happily into his stride.

"This is going to be fun," he said to Danny. "We can have races - whoever comes first gets to whip the other one's slave."

"Yes, but not this time," said Christy. "If you're going to race you have to start at the same time, and Danny started before you."

"Bet I could still win. I'm more grown up than he is, and I reckon Wood's good at this."

"We can bet if you like," said Christy. "But if Danny comes first you get whipped, not Wood."

"Err... maybe not, then."

The two slaves sucked away for a few minutes. In the end Danny did come first, but only by about ten seconds.

"Okay, you can stop now," said Tom, pushing Wood away.

"So what was all that about?" Wood asked him.

"You made me come, stupid."

"Made you come where?"

"Fuck, you really don't know anything, do you?" commented Michael.

Wood shook his head.

"We'll have to teach you - both of you," said Michael. "We can't have thirteen-year-old boys going around not knowing anything about sex. We'll have to arrange some classes for you - Danny and Tom can teach you. That ought to be embarrassing for you, having to learn about sex from a couple of ten-year-olds. Anyway, before that you can have some more practical experience. He's all yours, Christy."

Michael undressed and Timmy started to suck him. Christy took his clothes off and sat down in front of Wood.

"Yours really is quite big, isn't it?" commented Wood. "Do I have to do the same thing as with Tom?"

"Start like that and I'll tell you."

Christy was starting to regret having a wank just before coming to the garage. He'd done it because he had hoped to be able to go home with Timmy: he wanted to fuck him again, but this time he wanted to last long enough to make Timmy come two or three times first. Instead he was now being sucked. Wood was doing a fairly good job, for a complete beginner, but all the same Christy knew it would take a long time to make him come.

Michael, on the other hand, was getting there quite quickly, and Timmy got a mouthful of spunk only a couple of minutes after starting. As soon as Michael pushed him back he spat it out onto the floor, wiped his mouth and settled back to watch Wood and Christy.

Time seemed to crawl for Christy. It felt really nice, but he still wasn't close, and Michael was starting to smirk at him. In desperation he decided to pretend, so he gasped a few times and then grabbed Wood's head and held it against him.

"Okay, you can stop now," he said, pushing Wood back off his still very hard penis.

"What did it taste like?" Michael asked Wood.

Wood shrugged. "Same as Tom's, I suppose."

"No, not his cock, his spunk."

"His what?"

"His... didn't you taste anything at the end?"

Wood shook his head, and Michael turned to Christy and grinned broadly.

"Now whose balls don't work, eh, Baldy?" he asked.

Christy just shrugged and carried on getting dressed.

When he had finished, Michael said, "Okay, you two: tidy up in here, then you can go. I feel generous: as you did okay tonight, Wood, you can have Tuesdays off as well - on Tuesdays Timmy doesn't have to come here. Make sure you're both here on time on Wednesday, though: we'll start your sex education lessons then."

"Do you want Truscott to come, too?" asked Timmy.

"God, no. I want him to know nothing at all - that'll make torturing his knob much funnier. No, we'll leave him to the little kids for now."

The travellers left, and Timmy and Wood stacked the furniture away and then put their clothes on - neither had even thought about doing it until they were ready to leave.

"What do you suppose they're going to teach us?" asked Wood.

"I don't know. Maybe something about why they like us to suck their things, stuff like that."

"Oh. Look, Collier... I mean, if we're going to be sort of stuck with each other for a while... well, my name's Stephen, okay?"

"Okay. You know I'm Timmy. So I'm Timmy, and you're Stephen - but Truscott's still Truscott, okay?"

"Suits me. They really don't like him, though, do they?"

On Tuesday morning Truscott reported to the pavilion, where all six of the juniors were waiting for him. They took him up to the back room and immediately ordered him to strip naked, which, with considerable reluctance, he did. He tried to hunch over, so they dragged him to the wall and tied his wrists to a couple of clothes hooks, as far apart as they could stretch him, and then for good measure they forced his legs apart and tied his ankles to the bench beneath the hooks, so that he was spread-eagled and completely exposed.

"Right," said Carlington. "You're going to be our slave for the next six months or so, so you need to know the rules. First - obviously - you do what we tell you. You've already sworn to do that, of course, but the first thing we're going to order you to do is this: you must always tell the truth when we ask you a question. Even if the answer is embarrassing, or something you really don't want anyone to know, you have to tell the truth, understand?"

Truscott nodded.

"Second, to punish you for all those times you made us pee in front of you, from now on whenever you want to use the toilet you have to come and find one of us and ask permission. You have to put your hand up like a little boy in class and - when we give you permission to speak - you have to say 'Please, Sir, may I go to the toilet?'. You're not allowed to go without asking permission. Collier says they'll make sure you don't sneak off to do it between classes, so if you want to go you'll have to come and ask, understand?"

Again, Truscott nodded.

"If you go without asking permission we will strip you and beat you in front of every boy in our year, okay? And I bet you don't want that, so you'd better not forget.

"Third, normally we'll meet you at the start of break, but if for any reason we don't you have to come and wait for us outside the pavilion door.

"Fourth - and we had a long talk about this yesterday - we know you've got your exams next term. We could make sure you failed if we wanted to - we could stop you revising, and we could beat you so badly on exam days that you won't be able to concentrate. Then you'd end up at a really bad school next year."

"Oh, please..." began Truscott.

"Shut up! I haven't finished. I said we could do that. It's up to you whether we do or not. If you take your punishments without arguing, turn up when we tell you to, never tell lies and altogether be a good slave, we've agreed to leave you alone at exam time. We could easily change our minds, though - frankly, Truscott, we all hate your guts, and the idea of you failing your exams is sort of fun. But we'll give you a chance..."

"Even though you never gave us one," put in Williams.

"So, like I said, do what we tell you without complaint and we'll see how things are next term. Any questions?"

"No, not really," said Truscott.

"Oh, that's another thing: you have to be really polite to us. So you can call us all 'Sir', and don't forget to say 'please' and 'thank you', okay?"

"Yes, Sir," mumbled Truscott, looking unhappy.

"Believe me, Truscott, I'd much sooner deal with you the way you really deserve," said Carlington, opening his knife and walking towards the older boy. "For instance, a quick slice here..."

He held the knife against Truscott's balls, and Truscott struggled vainly, squealing in fear.

"Or here, maybe." He moved the knife to the side of Truscott's big penis, and again the older boy flinched and gasped.

"And that's what we will do if you mess us around. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," cried Truscott, nodding frantically.

"Good. Untie him, chaps."

They untied him, and he stood, rubbing his wrists.

"Now go and stand in the shower. and let's see you do a nice pee."

"Look, please don't make me do that," he begged. " I really, really hate it..."

"Good - that's the idea. Get on with it, then."

Slowly the older boy walked over to the showers, put his hands on his head, closed his eyes and began to pee. This time at least the flow was clean, but once again he was made to put his pants back on without shaking the last drips off.

"Okay. Now, usually we can't use this place on Tuesdays because there's normally a first team game," said Carlington. "It's a pity they don't make the senior team use the main changing room in the New Games Hall like everyone else... oh, well, I suppose it's traditional, or something. So, anyway, on Tuesdays at break and lunchtime we'll just have to meet in the yard - let's say you have to meet us at the tennis courts. Every other break you come here. Okay, now your pants are nice and damp you can take them off again, and then lie down on your stomach."

Truscott did that.

"And now you can come and say thank you to us for not cutting your thingy off, like you deserve. Crawl forwards and kiss our shoes."

They forced him to crawl across the floor on his stomach, to kiss each boy's shoes and to say thank you, humbly, to each one. By the time he had done that it was almost the end of break. Carlington flushed out the shower as he had done previously and ordered Truscott to get dressed.

At lunch time they simply made him sit on the ground by the tennis court and stay there while they chatted about this and that, completely ignoring their slave. About ten minutes before the end of the break he put his hand up. They ignored him for a minute or so and then Carlington gave him permission to speak.

"Please, Sir," said Truscott, trying to keep his voice down so that other kids nearby could not hear him, "may I be excused?"

"Speak up," demanded Carlington, making him repeat it a little louder.

"Oh, I suppose so," said Carlington. "Luke, as it's you and me on duty we'd better go and make sure he doesn't do it all over the floor."

The two of them escorted Truscott to the main toilet and stood on either side of him while he took his penis out. They made him keep his hands away from it, so that they could see clearly as he peed, and as usual they made him put it away without shaking it.

"Normally, of course, we'll take you into a cubicle and make you strip naked first," Carlington told him as they walked back to the tennis courts. "But I'm not sure there was enough time before the bell this time."

At the end of the lunch break Carlington told him to meet them at the main door after school, and when he arrived Carlington and Jenner told him they were going home with him.

"We need to see where you live," Carlington told him. "Just so if you sneak off any time, we know where to look for you."

Truscott was unenthusiastic, but he recognised that there wasn't much he could do about it. Nor did he manage to get rid of them when they reached his house: they insisted that he take them up to his room.

"But... I mean... my mum's home," he said.

"That's okay, you can tell her we're your friends. We know that isn't true, but she won't."

"Yes, but... please, Carlington..."

"You're not going to be disobedient, are you?"

"No, I suppose not. Come in, then."

He took them into the house, calling hello to his mother on the way in: she was in the kitchen.

"I've got a couple of friends with me," he added.

"They can't stay too long," she called back. "Tea's at five o'clock."

He took them up to the stairs to his room, and they quickly understood why he hadn't wanted them here: the room looked as if a bomb had hit it. There were clothes strewn here and there, a pile of books on a table, and a half-built Airfix model on his desk. The bed was unmade and there was a dirty plate on the floor beside it.

"Blimey! Doesn't your mum clean in here?" asked Jenner.

Truscott shook his head. "She says I have to look after my own room," he replied. "She doesn't come in here."

"Really?" said Carlington, grinning. "Well, this place is a disgrace. Get your clothes off and then start cleaning. If it isn't spotless by the time we go, you'll get fifty whips tomorrow."

Truscott gaped at him in shock. "But... you can't... I mean, this is my own room..."

"Are you arguing? You should be naked by now. And hang your school clothes up as you take them off."

They sat on the bed and watched as Truscott undressed and put his school clothes away and then stood around looking lost, as if he didn't know which part of the disaster area to attack first.

"Start with the table," suggested Jenner. "Put those books back on the shelves, then you'll have room on the table for other stuff."

They sat back and watched happily as the naked older boy, cock swinging, moved about the room trying to tidy up. Once he had done the table, desk and chairs and picked up all the dirty clothes - and they made him walk out to put them all in the laundry basket at the top of the stairs, even though he was naked - they went and stood by the door while he tried to make the bed.

"That's no good," said Carlington, after his first attempt. "It's all messed up inside - you've only straightened the top cover. Take all the sheets and blankets off and start again."

Truscott clearly didn't want to, but Carlington pointed to his watch and Truscott stopped hesitating and threw all the bedding on the floor. They watched him slowly reassembling it, standing over him to make sure each sheet and blanket was properly tucked in, and only when they were completely satisfied did they allow him to consider it ready.

Next they opened all the drawers in the room and ordered him to tidy them up, and when he had done that they moved on to the wardrobe and a cupboard that turned out to contain all his toys and games. They forced him to take everything out of both and put it all back tidily.

"Well, I suppose it will just about do," said Carlington, finally. "But we'll be coming round here quite often from now on, and we'll expect it to look spotless every time, otherwise we'll have to beat you. Now put your clothes on and take that dirty plate down to your mum. We'll come with you: we'd love to stay a bit longer, but we ought to be getting home."

As on the previous Tuesday evening Christy met Timmy at the bus stop at half past three and travelled home with him. Timmy went to start running the bath as soon as they were indoors, so by the time they had both undressed and Timmy had hung his school uniform up the bath was almost ready.

This time they tried lying side by side, but there really wasn't enough room for that, so they went back to one at each end. They washed and shampooed each other's hair straight away, and then Timmy stood up so that Christy could stretch out. Then he sat down again between Christy's shins with his legs on either side of Christy's body, a position that was not especially comfortable, particularly with the taps sticking into his back, but which allowed his friend to make the most of the bath.

Christy soaked for another ten minutes or so and then sighed and started to stand up. Timmy got out of the bath and produced a couple of towels, and they dried themselves (and each other's backs) and went through to the bedroom. They got into bed and snuggled up side by side.

"Before we get too comfy," said Christy, "would you like to suck me? If we do that now I'll be able to... you know, do it the other way later on, so you get to enjoy it too."

"I quite enjoy sucking it, to be honest," said Timmy. "It tastes nice."

"Good. Hang on, I'll sit up and then you can do it without having to get out of bed."

He moved up the bed and sat just in front of the pillow, and Timmy burrowed down and lay on his tummy, starting to lick at the tip of what was already a very stiff penis.

"You can do this as quickly as you want," said Christy. "The sooner you finish me off, the sooner we can get back to cuddling."

"Pity. I was thinking of teasing you for about an hour or so, stopping every time I thought you were getting too excited."

"Don't do that, please. I mean, maybe some time it would be fun to do that, but I'd prefer to have a nice long snuggling session and still have plenty of time afterwards to stretch your bum-hole for you."

"Okay, then." So Timmy got on with it, licking, squeezing, stroking and sucking to the best of his ability, and within about three minutes Christy was gasping and writhing in the onset of orgasm. Timmy kept going until he got a mouthful of spunk, which he swallowed down, keeping the excited boy's organ in his mouth until it finally stopped producing. Then he swallowed once more and wriggled to one side, allowing Christy to slide back down into the bed next to him.

"Thanks, Timmy, that was brilliant," said Christy, putting his arms round him and kissing him gently on the cheek.

"That's okay. I can't imagine how Wood didn't manage to taste your stuff last night, because there was loads of it just now."

"Ah... well, last night I didn't actually get excited. I just pretended to, because otherwise Michael would never have shut up about how long it took me to get there. So Wood didn't actually get anything in his mouth to taste."

"But... why did you need to pretend? Wasn't he doing it right?"

"He was doing pretty well, but... you see, I'd sort of emptied my balls a bit earlier, because... well, I was hoping I could come home with you - I'd got enough money for the bus fare - and I wanted to be able to keep it in your bottom for ages to make sure you got excited a couple of times at least. That's why I asked you to suck it just now, otherwise putting it in your bum makes me so excited that it all shoots out too quickly, and you don't get a chance to enjoy it. If I've already got excited recently, I can keep going for much longer the second time."

"Oh, I see - so... thanks, Christy."

Timmy hugged him, and they lay together comfortably. Christy had to get up to pee shortly after that, but he made sure that when he came back he brought the Vaseline and some toilet paper with him, so that he would be ready for the next stage.

Once he was back in bed Timmy pushed him onto his back and lay on top of him, and Christy put his arms round him and hugged him.

"Do you still want to come here for the night sometime?" Timmy asked.

"Of course - but your parents would never allow it. I know you don't treat me any different now, but as far as they are concerned I'm just a gippo. They won't let me stay here - they wouldn't trust me, and you'd get into trouble for even suggesting it, I think."

"I don't think so. I've got a plan." And he explained his idea.

"Well, we could try it," agreed Christy. "They might let me come and see you now and again, but I still think an overnight stay is going to be too much to ask."

"Let's try it, anyway. Can you come home with me on Thursday? We'll try it then and see what happens."

"Okay. I'll ask Mikey to give you the evening off."

"You don't need to do that. I can come round and play hunting, or whatever else they want to do, and we can go home together afterwards. We'll have plenty of time."

For an hour or so they cuddled up together, and Christy was so relaxed that he actually fell asleep. Timmy let him doze for a while and then gently shook him awake.

"That proves you wouldn't have any trouble sharing a bed," he pointed out.

"Not as long as it was with you," said Christy, sleepily. "I reckon you really have to like someone to share a bed with them - and you have to trust them, too, otherwise you could never relax enough to actually go to sleep. So know you know I really like you, and I trust you, too."

"I already knew that."

"What's the time?"

"Half past five."

"We've still got ages, then."

"I know, but... well, I like just being here with you, but it's nicer when you're awake, so we can talk to each other and snuggle up and stuff."

"Sorry. You're right, of course. Snuggle up and show me what I was missing, then."

Timmy did that, and kept doing it for another twenty minutes or so. By then Christy felt ready to move on to the next stage, so he climbed out of bed and retrieved the Vaseline. Timmy smiled at him and knelt against the edge of the bed, and Christy gently rubbed some Vaseline onto the target area, anointed his own erection and lined himself up.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I've been ready all evening."

"Okay." Christy took it really slowly, and once he was finally all the way in he held position for a long time, while he hugged his partner, kissed his neck and caressed him gently. Finally he started to move, determined to make this last absolutely ages.

It felt truly wonderful, and that made it difficult for him to hold back, but somehow he managed to stop every time he felt he was in danger of losing control. Timmy had his first orgasm before Christy was too close to the edge, but he realised that he was never going to be able to hold out long enough to make his partner come more than twice. He decided to settle for making it through to Timmy's second climax, if he could possibly manage it.

He did, just, finally losing his restraint just as Timmy came for the second time. It felt to him as if he was shooting even more than he had done earlier that evening, even though he couldn't see how that was possible.

He withdrew, wiped himself down, wiped Timmy's bum and, taking his hand, led him through to the bathroom, where they finished cleaning themselves. Then he picked Timmy up and carried him back to the bedroom, putting him down gently on the bed, climbing in next to him and pulling the covers over them.

Neither of them said anything at first, but then Timmy rolled over, kissed Christy on the cheek and said, "Thanks, Christy, that was so nice... I love you."

"I love you too," replied Christy. "God, I love you! I didn't know it was possible to feel like this about someone, especially not about another boy... If you'd told me I'd feel like this a couple of weeks ago, I'd have said you were mad."

"Perhaps we're both mad," said Timmy, "but if we are, I don't care."

On Wednesday at break Timmy escorted Truscott out of the class and handed him over to Williams, who was on duty on Wednesdays, and Williams marched him to the pavilion, where Gwyn-Thomas was waiting. The others had decided to let the duty boys look after things at break, provided that Truscott was made to report to the tennis court at lunchtime, as he had the previous day.

Once they were in the back room Williams ordered Truscott to take his clothes off, which he did without argument, though it was clear from his face that he wasn't enjoying this any more than he had the previous day.

"Okay, you know what you have to do," said Williams, once Truscott was naked. "Get in the shower and give us a show."

Truscott trudged into the shower, turned to face them, put his hands on his head and urinated while they pointed and jeered at him. Once he was finished - and he knew better than to touch himself - he asked if he should put his pants back on.

"Certainly not!" said Williams. "You'll make them all wet. Jump up and down ten times first."

Truscott did this, and the two juniors fell about laughing as his big genitals bounced and jiggled, his wet tip splashing pee onto his body at the same time. They enjoyed it so much they made him perform ten star jumps after that, howling with laughter as his wet penis splashed against his thighs and tummy.

"Well, you can't get dressed now," said Williams, once Truscott had finished and Williams had got his breath back. "You've got pee all over you. Stay there."

He went to the shower controls, pushed the lever over to the coldest setting and turned the water on. Truscott squealed as the freezing water splashed him, and he tried to move away from the flow.

"You're supposed to be washing it off, stupid," said Williams. "Stand under one of the jets - no, not that one, it's not working properly. Use this one." He indicated the shower head with the strongest and widest spray.

Truscott forced himself under it, gasping as the cold water hit his chest.

"That's better," said Williams, "Now wash yourself down. We haven't got any soap, I'm afraid, but if you rub your hands over all the bits you peed on it should get rid of it."

They forced him to stay under the freezing shower for five minutes before turning the water off, and that didn't end his punishment, either.

"We don't seem to have a towel," said Williams. "You can't get out of the shower without drying yourself off or you'll trail water all over the room, so you'll just have to stay there and drip dry. You'd better remember to bring a towel in future. Tell you what - try jumping up and down some more. That'll help to dry you off."

Truscott's genitals didn't flop about quite so much this time: his balls had crawled up against his body in search of warmth, and the big penis had shrivelled somewhat in the freezing conditions. It still looked really funny when he jumped about, however.

"Keep him at it," said Williams to Gwyn-Thomas, and he went in search of something to use as a towel - he genuinely didn't want a water trail across the floor in case the caretaker should come in (however unlikely that was) before it had dried.

He came back five minutes or so later with a couple of tea towels he had found in the kitchen adjoining the tea room. By now Gwyn-Thomas had Truscott running on the spot and looking totally ridiculous.

"Use these," said Williams, throwing the tea-towels at him. "Make sure your feet are dry, then you can come out and get dressed."

Truscott did his best, but he was still distinctly damp when he got out of the shower and started to pull his clothes back on. The juniors watched with interest as he tried to get his shirt on: his back was still very wet and the shirt clung to it. By the time he was dressed it was almost time for the bell, so they told him he could go.

"One of us will fetch you at lunch time," Williams told him. "If for any reason we're not there, come to the tennis courts like yesterday."

"That was funny," said Gwyn-Thomas as Truscott went down the stairs. "We've got to do that one again."

"Yes, next time maybe we'll keep him in the shower until the bell goes," suggested Williams. "Then he'll have to dress in a hurry, so his clothes will get all wet, and he'll still get in trouble for being late to his next class. This is really good fun, Owen - it's almost worth getting bullied for."

At the start of the lunch break Gwyn-Thomas collected Truscott from Wood's custody and took him to the tennis courts, where the others were waiting. Again they just made him sit on the ground next to them and then ignored him completely. As he had done the previous day he put his hand up to ask permission to go to the toilet, but this time he left it until five minutes before the end of break.

"You should have asked earlier," said Carlington. "I suppose you think that now we'll have to let you do it the quick way, same as yesterday, instead of undressing properly like you're supposed to. Well, you're wrong. Permission refused."

"What? But... please, Carlington, I really need to go."

"Then you should have asked ten minutes ago. I'm afraid you've left it too late now - you'll have to wait."

"But... but I can't! I mean, if I don't go now I won't get another chance until after school! I can't wait that long... please, Carlington, I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier..."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be. Now shut up and stay there."

For a moment it looked as if Truscott was just going to get up and head for the toilet anyway, but then he realised that the juniors would almost certainly do something really bad if he did, probably involving telling the headmaster about his bullying. So he sank back to the ground again. I should be able to last until the end of first afternoon period, and then I can nip off between classes, he thought.

When the bell went Gwyn-Thomas escorted him back to the senior classroom and handed him over to Timmy.

"He really needs the toilet," he told him. "He left it too late to ask permission, so we wouldn't let him go, see? Make sure he doesn't sneak off during afternoon school, won't you?"

"I'm sure we can do that. Anyway, he knows if he tries going out during a class it'll mean the head getting to hear about him, so he won't try asking a teacher for permission - will you, Truscott?"

Truscott looked daggers at him but still shook his head.

There were three classes after lunch. Truscott sat through the first one, wriggling about but just about keeping it in, and as soon as the bell went he tried to run off, but Wood grabbed his arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"I need the toilet - come on, Stephen, please?"

"Have you got permission?"

"No, but... they're not here, are they? Come on, let me go - I'll pay you..."

"No, you won't. If you've got any spare money it goes to pay back what we owe them. Come on, we'll be late."

He frog-marched Truscott to the second class and sat down next to him. By now Truscott was desperate, wriggling and squirming throughout the class, and of course the teacher noticed and asked if he needed to go to the toilet. Wood dug his fingers into Truscott's elbow, and Truscott managed to say "No, Sir," at which he was told to sit still, then.

At the end of the second class Wood grabbed Truscott's arm before they even left the classroom and stayed holding on as they crossed the yard towards their final class of the day. By now Truscott was pleading and begging incessantly, writhing and squirming in Wood's grip, but Wood was adamant: no permission meant he couldn't go. And then, halfway across the yard, Truscott gave an agonised gasp and wet himself.

Wood gave a cry of disgust, let go of Truscott's arm and stepped back.

"Oh, yuck!" he announced. "Truscott's peeing himself!"

The whole class of twenty boys turned to watch as Truscott's trousers were stained dark and a stream of urine ran down his leg and emerged over his left shoe. He had been needing to go for a long time, and now he simply couldn't stop: the flow went on and on for ages, while his classmates laughed and pointed and called him names.

Once he had finally finished Wood marched him on to the door of the classroom.

"It's up to you," he said. "Do you want to admit to the teacher that you've wet yourself, so you can go and get changed, or would you prefer to sit there in your wet clothes for the next half hour?"

Truscott chose the first option. The teacher gave him permission to go and get changed, and he returned to the classroom five minutes later wearing his gym shorts and plimsolls - he had left his trousers, pants and socks in the Games Hall changing room. At the end of the class, which was also the end of school for the day, several of his classmates crowded round teasing him, and he had to fight his way through them to get back to the Games Hall to change back into his still very damp trousers. He stuffed his pants and socks into his bag and ran home, hoping he would be able to get everything in the laundry basket without his mother finding out what had happened to his trousers...


I'd guess that by now Truscott is wishing he'd never set eyes on Carlington and his friends. Timmy, on the other hand, is a lot happier than he was at the start of our story, and next time he and Wood are going to start to learn what sex is all about – though we'll have to wait and see whether Danny and Tom's version of things is entirely reliable...

I hope some of the readers who contacted me when the first chapter was posted are still following the story – I know that a couple are, at least. I am still reachable – gothmog@nyms.net – if any of them, or anyone else, would like to drop me a line.

Copyright March 2007 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission

David Clarke