Nude Humiliation for Boys in 50s America

Sometimes the mothers and sisters of Brewer had to pinch themselves. Was this really happening? Here in Brewer, in 1956? It was like a dream come true, a fantasy brought to life. It made everyday existence suddenly more exciting.

Yes, you had to pinch yourself. Because it was now normal that when young men 18 or 20, or even older, got into trouble at home, school, YMCA, church- even at the police station- to subject them to full bodied nudity. In front of females. And the fellas just obeyed. Blushing and shamed to be sure but...(this was hard to believe) they were obedient. They were submissive.

This new standard had taken off, like wildfire.

Perhaps it was the influence of Dr Speight at school medical examinations. Since her arrival all examinations of boys were done in the nude. Mothers had sometimes been involved, and girls at the school had got glimpses. They had been thrilled by the sight of embarrassed, stark naked 18 year old males from their classes. Boys they knew. Oh, those boys were soooo humiliated...

By coincidence, at the same time, there comes along Brewer's most prominent citizen Miss Reilly who celebrated full nude punishment with weekly parties at her home, the grandest in town. There privileged mothers got to see how boys might be stripped and spanked. They had also seen naked males in the garden working off punishments- fit young men in their 20s, with Elvis hairdos or crew cuts in trouble with the police- and been served drinks by them, thrillingly.

They were all women subject to thoughts and yearnings, itching lusts and restless dreams and nagging fantasies. Curiosity about young male bodies. A desire to see their own sons stripped. In short, they were certain to start applying this new discipline at their homes. "The most fun you can have, as a mature age woman," became the standard patter. And seeing a son stripped was sometimes a reward for all you had suffered from a former husband.

Male modesty did not stand a chance.

Then there was Miss Cuff's musical in which boys were near naked: the front flaps on their loin cloths had got shorter and the rear flaps had vanished altogether. The miracle was that boys obeyed this teacher in whatever she asked. It seemed submissive obedience was one of the most delicious things about all these exercises in Brewer: the boys just blushed and trembled and obediently removed their clothes as required and offered up their rears for punishment. Mothers couldn't believe it, this compliance.

"Mine is so...dutiful, about it," said one mother, delighted. "Even with his sister and cousin watching. Dutiful."

"Oh, mine too," agreed her companion. "Even with his grandmom looking on. I thought he'd revolt but no...mysterious really...so acquiescent."

Ever present was another ingredient. Nobody spoke about it too openly but this was the question of inadvertent erections- always hilarious, educational, too, as biological case study and, delightfully, an intensification of the boy's humiliation. But Sarah Maitland's writings, quoted by Dr Speight and Mrs Reilly, legitimised this exposure and made it respectable as punishment. Dr Speight quoted the English writer:

"Total clothing deprivation with the ritual of undressing, or having disciplined young males remove their clothing themselves, mirrors the findings of my years of research in boys' schools in India and the Caribbean. Their nudity brings boys back as they entered the world- naked and under female control. For 18 year olds, emerging from puberty and challenged by adolescence, the role of penile exposure and involuntary erections cannot be underestimated.

"It is hard for females to grasp the depth of a boy's shame at being exposed nude, suffering- the verb entirely apt- an involuntary erection, especially if in front of his mother and other females such as an aunt, cousins or sisters. The combination of such acute shame with the pain of a spanked posterior delivers in every case a splendid measure of passive obedience. When male passiveness is met with maternal or female dominance in a setting of full body nudity- total clothing deprivation- the male aggression subsides into a submissive, gentle temperament, respectful and mindful of women."

They were enticing words.

Even with Miss Cuff's musical- the rehearsals continuing 18 months, a permanent feature of community life- it was impossible to remember a rehearsal where male sex organs had not stuck boldly out, shoving a flap to one side and presenting a teenage engorgment for the delighted inspection of the female audience.

The question in every household was: with our boys so duteous, why not push the limits a bit further? It would mean more to talk about with other mothers and more invitations to Mrs Reilly's and...well, more female excitement at male expense.

The boys were suborned and docile. Why not?

Mark was one of the victims.

Gone were the days when he winced at girls being shown the photograph albums of him at nude swim meets. Now those photos were forgotten- except when his sisters might take them to parties of their friends, to show off their brother's charms. Now it was the real thing. Now he was liable to be stripped, just because his mother wanted to make a point. Stripped on her command- say, once or twice a week.

He hated, for example, having to model that loin cloth Indian costume when his mother had guests, with ladies going ohh and ahh as he stood in the living room. Yes, standing, eyes downcast, knowing the head of his broad, white penis fell well below the tip of the cloth. Yes, they could see his glans in the puckering foreskin. And the eyes of his mom's friends were laser-ing right at it. Her friends, and Amelia, the Negro maid, as she served the cake and coffee.

The end of his penis, and his scrotum too. Yes, his ball sack- that also hung lower than the flap, dragged down by the weight of the balls inside. Imagine, his mom and her friends were getting to see them! And to see him all shaven down there, like the other boys playing the role of Indians. He could hardly believe it!

And when the ladies had had their fill, chirping about how splendidly strong he looked ("Look at those biceps!") and how it must be fun to be in the school musical and how much their own boys liked it, all the while staring at his exposed cock head and scrotum, his mother would slyly ask him to turn around. He would protest ("Aw Mom!") but she would insist. And the ladies then gasped and giggled at his totally revealed ass cheeks...and oohed and aahed. Him standing presenting his bottom, staring at the painting of Yosemite on the wall.

And when he scowled or grimaced and asked to be able to go, he knew what his mother was going to say, and he hated hearing it. She was going to say that boys in Brewer were all going naked, all households were doing it. It was the new disciplinary code. She said yes, all these mothers- the ones looking at him this moment- applied it to their own naughty boys. At which some of the ladies might coo and murmur their agreement...

...and then, as on one terrible occasion, his mom might teach him a lesson by whisking the loin cloth down his muscular thighs, drawing it over his knees and allowing it to slither down this calves. He could hear the gasps. "Oh fuck!" he would think, horrified, facing female stares head on. And the ladies were silenced by all they then saw: one of Brewer's most athletic 18 year olds stripped completely naked by his mother. Confirming, of course, that he had been shaven down there. And what a lot down there there was to see.

"Smooth..."

"No hair yet?"

"No, they shave them at school, if they play Indians. The girls help with that."

"Smooth as a statue!"

Which left him squirming. He saw Amelia, in her maid's frilly apron and cap, standing behind the ladies and smiling her big white teeth as she too took in the sight.

"And you didn't circumcise him, Moira?"

"No, his father's insistence. Leave him in his natural state..."

There were clucks and murmurs.

"As long as it pulls back easily," said one.

"And as long as he keeps it clean," warned another.

All eyes were on his foreskin, he knew. He squirmed, tried to twist away.

"Don't wriggle like that. All these ladies have seen their sons in the same condition."

The same condition.

Oh, that made him feel so diminished.

Right now they sat there, silent, taking him in...perhaps comparing him with their own boys.

Shit, he hated that!

He disliked those evenings when he was ordered to appear in the kitchen- yes, naked- as punishment for some offence. So on such nights he had to carefully strip in his room and walk down the hallway in his birthday suit, hoping to avoid his sisters and Amelia, often with his penis parallel to the floor bobbing in front- and in the kitchen he would have to quickly wrap around his middle that teensie weenie cotton apron- red floral pattern on white background with red ruffles- to sit down and have dinner with his mom and the girls.

He had to suffer their teasing compliments about how the apron looked "ravishing" on him- the red ruffle knotted over his shoulder- or how wearing it and nothing else made him "cuter than a bug's ear" and questions about how he would feel if girls from school could see him now. "Gosh! I bet you would hate that!"

He knew that during the meal at the small table of the kitchen dinette one of them would dive down to the patterned linoleum and notice his tent pole pushing up the cotton skirt of the apron and exclaim "Mom! Mark's got himself excited again!"

He would grimace and blush and his mom would say something like, "Well, he'd better control himself before I get him to do the washing up." The girls would beam at this. Which he would have to do- tenting in his groin or not- and showing off his ass cheeks while standing at the sink, his sisters fluttering around giggling that the red flowered apron "left nothing to the imagination."

"You've got a dimple in both of your cheeks," whispered one sister. "Your muscular cheeks." She giggled.

"And a pimple, just inside your crack," said the other.

Admiring his exposed ass, all the while manoeuvring to take peeks at the front.

One morning his mom burst into the bathroom holding his stripped pyjama bottoms while he hovered, after his shower, pressing a towel to his groin. "What's this?" she asked accusingly, holding up the flannel trousers at a spot that shone as if lacquered, polluted with the effusions of a thrilling nocturnal moment. "Self abuse...or a putrid dream?" She fixed him with a glowering stare. He just nodded, eyes lowered. As if to say, both.

She ordered that after he got home from school he present himself in the pink g-string they had purchased from Logan's department store and do his homework wearing it and not a scrap else, sitting at the dining room table. He swooned at this because he knew what would happen. He would be caught when the girls sidled in- not just his two sisters but also two of their freckled faced neighbourhood friends- and his mom would order him to show his "lovely underbriefs" to the young ladies ("C'mon, don't be shy, Mark, they're lovely and I know you like them") and he would complain and gripe but have to rise slowly and model himself covered only by the knitted cup at the front, his bottom totally revealed. He would be blushing his head off, with the four girls hugely excited.

The freckle faced twins from up the street always looked particularly enthralled, eyes wide as saucers.

There would be a fuss about how sweet the pink looked. Yes, what a "gorgeous" colour and didn't it make him look handsome? And he would have to pose and walk this way and that, and arrange himself, and flex. They liked asking him to stand with hands locked behind his neck, for example, his hips thrust forward. Trouble was he found the pink exciting and that made his penis swell, and the bulge was always forceful, an undeniable thrust. The maid Amelia had once caught him, big eyes popping at the sight of the young swimmer in a (pink) gstring. He had felt so...yes, queer...as her big black eyes roamed all over him, trapped in the living room. Excited and shamed at the one time. What did she think, he wondered, looking at a white boy just about nude?

And the first time he had been made to model for his mother she had looked him over with a slight grin, him standing in his bedroom, wearing nothing except the pink g-string and his basketball socks, his clothes discarded on the bed. His cock had swollen quickly, filling out the pouch. He had been acutely embarrassed that all his pubic hair had been shaved off, only yesterday at school. He felt unmanned.

"Yes," she said in a faraway voice. "It's clear you like them," eyeing the forward thrust in his groin.

Inside the flannel his cock pulsed.

He was so humiliated ("Yes, it's clear you like them") he could only shut his eyes with the shame, felt he had been revealed physically- and emotionally. She knows her son is excited by pink.

Some seventh sense told him all the mothers had talked about how boys seemed to respond to pink, because many boys had related how moms and sisters had insisted on buying pink g-strings from Logan's and thrilled to see their sons in them. "Goodness, that's a girl's colour," sisters might tease. "But it looks so...cute...on you!"

Some boys even hinted they themselves had found them exciting to pull on, but they did this shyly, and only with a close buddy. "I kinda like 'em...the colour?" had whispered Danny with his Elvis hairdo. "Y'know?" And Mark had nodded, furtively. Even stiffening down there at the thought. A pink gstring. And Kerry had worn his under his school dungarees; the others whistled when he revealed them in the changeroom.

On such nights his mother eventually declared it was time for his punishment and off she would march her strong 18 year old athlete son to her bedroom smelling of perfumes and powder. Here the pink g-string would be whisked off and a glance in her mirror confirmed his shocking nudity. Then he would get a lecture about the dangers of self abuse ("Losing all that fluid depletes a young man's strength...it will spoil the pleasures of marriage- if you can ever find a girl who will overlook your reputation") while he shivered, hovering naked inches from her. Another glance in the mirror confirmed his humiliation, and that his cock was stretching. Finally, with her sitting on the edge of the bed, a full nude over the knee spanking would ensue, him with nose pressed into her quilted red bed covering and with the girls in the hall giggling at the sounds of hairbrush pounding rounded bottom and muscular thighs.

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

His sisters' friends were enormously excited by the telltale sounds, having no brother. Or boyfriends. One twin might be seen with hands pressed to groin, the other with hand idling over her breasts, both with eyes glazed, in the hall and gazing towards the bedroom door. They were hoping for the bonus: a glimpse of the naked boy, his bottom a blazing red and his prick bouncing ahead of him as he shuffled to his room, tears in his eyes.

Often during his nude punishment nights he would shiver with dread at the eight o'clock knock on the front door. It marked the arrival of old Mrs Elsa Geiler, the German-born granny, a favourite of the females. Her make-up was too blatant for a woman of her advanced years and her blond hair-dye too juvenile. There had been talk that after the war she had run a bar in Berlin for Yankee servicemen. Arriving in St Paul she had worked as a nurse. Retired to Brewer, she was seen as "a character" and spoken of as three times a divorcée. Mrs Reilly said Senator McCarthy had told her she was a cousin of Eva Braun.

But here she was, always managing to arrive by magic on nights when he was enduring nude punishment- her, with eager grin, and cigarette holder, clearly looking forward to something- and rewarded with a view of an entirely naked Mark on the sofa watching Rawhide. No embarrassed male had ever flung one leg over the other faster. Or catching him standing in the corner after a spanking, naked as the day he was born, hands behind his back as instructed. Or completing a school assignment at the table- the table his only cover.

Naked head to toe as punishment. Naked as required in Brewer's new male disciplinary regime.

And she would exclaim "Your young man is...im Adamkostum!"

Feigning surprise, even shock. As if to say, "Goodness, how astonishing. The last thing I expected!"

When Mark knew damn well every female was aware of nude punishments in Brewer and he was certain his mother gave the old Nazi advance warning of her intentions with her son.

Her eyes were glistening with sex and mischief.

She would repeat the shaming word. "Adamkostum! Yes, in his Adamkostum!"

She brought to mind pictures of Adam in the Garden of Eden, naked and exposed.

The girls and his mom were quietly laughing, Mark just stood hands clamped over his groin or, if seated, desperately swung one leg over the other- the very picture of an embarrassed naked boy, females grinning at his discomfit. Yes, even his mother enjoying the joke at his expense.

The first time this happened Mrs Geiler explained "Adamkostum" was the German for "Adam's costume." That is, a totally naked man. The girls were thrilled to have it spelt out to Mark's shame. Each could recall being excited by Biblical illustrations showing the completely naked husband of Eve, and had studied them closely.

Adam, in the buff. Perhaps a vine woven about his torso. A delicate cock and ball sac. On Michelangelo's Sistine ceiling Adam displayed a foreshortened nozzle twirling above a compact scrotum. For some girls this might be the first, even the only, image of how males looked nude.

Adam costume indeed.

Mrs Geiler said in the Swabian countryside of her youth they had used the word when a boy was caught naked.

"What, like Mark now?"

"How did it happen to German boys?"

His sisters and their freckled faced friends were wickedly curious. Mark just shrivelled with shame.

Well, she thought, still staring at Mark's exposed genitals. Ah, yes...once...one boy, her cousin in fact...was being naughty in a high roofed barn. Up high, amid the hay. But one of the girls had been lying in wait behind the hay bales and watched him strip and then snatched his overalls and raised the alarm. Other boys, too, at any opportunity, might be spied slipping into the barn...getting out of their "kostume"...so they could...she groped for the word and could only come up with the German one...

"...so they could...onanieren..."

"Ah," said Mrs Campbell, understanding. "The German boys...went to the barn...to strip off...to commit the sin of Onan..."

The girls understood at once.

"Yes, onanieren. Or we might say, selbs befriedigung. Pleasure yourself."

Which sounded wicked.

"And they were caught...naked as Adam!" said one of his sisters beaming. She shuddered at the humiliation. Almost felt sorry for them- their nudity displayed, their shame. Females dressed in folksy Black Forest dirndls, embroided blouses, high waisted skirts.

They all looked at Mark. They knew, from their mother's hushed reports, he and his friends masturbated "like monkeys." He, Rodney, Kerry and Stevie had in fact been caught doing it together, staring at nudist magazines, Sundial and Naked Life. They were apparently excited by males being naked while girls and ladies looked on- this shameful excitement having been confirmed by tearful confessions to their mothers as they faced their punishments.

The whole school had heard about the episode, and the neighbourhood moms and girls in church youth groups had spread the word and the four boys had been pointed out wherever they went.

But then most girls at school told how their brothers were being caught, rubbing away hypnotised, with their eyes glued to lingerie advertisements or pin-up magazines. In fact, it was a game- to burst in on their reveries and catch them. "I sprung him at it, in the bath," a sister might tell her excited friends, "Boy! Was he embarrassed!" And then answer their urgent questions about the anatomical details.

Now the girls hissed and fizzed to get more information about farm boys in Germany in the olden days. It seemed to thrill them, indecently. If so their mother seemed just as curious, eyes on fire and casting glances at her blushing nude son.

The old lady said she remembered her own grandmother, who owned the farm, ordering three young farm hands into their "Adamkostum" as punishment for smoking near the hay stacks.

"Totale Adamkostum!" old Elsa Geiler declared. "With farm girls and ladies to watch. My own Oma, strong old woman, gave them the belt on their Hintern! That's bottoms. In der Nacke- the nude! All the jumping and dancing! Their parts flying, this way and that,"

Mark was guttered by the shame of having been caught in his "Adamkostum," and by the fact that even his mother felt emboldened to laugh at her son in his Biblical suit. He would twist and turn, trying to hide.

"Be seeing you in der Nacke soon, I hope," a sister might say to him as they passed in the corrridor. "In der Nacke! Ha ha!"

"Told our friends about you in your Adam's costume," the other would say, ruffling his hair as he sat at his Corn Flakes. "They all want to visit. See you like Adam."

On another night Mrs Geiler arrived, smelling of perfume and cigarettes, bringing a plate of Apfeltorte and her own high hopes- and not disappointed by what she saw, right on cue.

"Ah so!" she exclaimed. "Your junger is Naturzustand!" And indeed he was "in his natural condition," trapped in the kitchen shorn of any apron or gstring...

...totally naked...

...and sporting a textbook 45 degree erection.

He had been ordered to do the washing up. But only after stripping in his bedroom. There had been his furtive walk down the hallway. Naked, in the kitchen, with his capacious penis stiffening quickly, he had searched in vain for the apron...where was it? Not in its normal place...damn! Nor the maid's apron either. They'd hidden it, and meanwhile the inadvertent erection quickly asserted itself.

Sprung by his mom and Mrs Geiler, his blushes might have warmed the hearth in a Minnesota winter.

"And mit einer Stander!"

Mrs Sullivan was momentarily puzzled. Then understood.

Beaming broadly, "Ah yes! A stander! His organ is...standing up!"

His mother's eyes focused on his rod, hard as a hammer, its underside displayed with the wrinkled frenulum...and busy, bulging veins...and heart-shaped glans...

She looked at her son's erection, riveted. And she laughed while her son- scarlet with humiliation- stood, hands hovering over his groin.

His sister Gloria, just home, looked round the corner to investigate the merriment.

Her eyes popped with delight.

"Mrs Geiler says your brother is suffering...a stander!" his mom spluttered.

"Ja! A Stander! For sure a stander," said the old woman, thrilled by the sight, eyes flashing. "But you can also say...something else in German. The boy has Der Schaft!"

Der Shaft!

The boy's got "a shaft!"

You could see the elderly lust in her eyes, fastened on Mark's flesh, stretching to the ceiling.

The boy withered, hands fluttering, eyes shuttered. The shame washed over him. Mark's mother placed a hand over her lips quivering with laughter.

And his sister?

Sensing mischief Gloria moved in his direction. Since her mother had first tantalised her and her sister with pictures of their brother nude at swim meets she had always loved her brother's testicles- been fascinated by them, wanted to stroke and fondle his big floppy scrotum. She saw them as a masculine adornment. She sensed that they were big by any standard, certainly by what she had seen in photos of Greek statuary. She had hunted out the albums when alone at home and gloried in her brother's testicular endowment. Yes, the balls in the sack seemed to be growing by the month. Staring at photo after photo, while her hand moved under her skirt, entered her panties.

Indeed there had been close-up photos which showed every detail of his balls- the so-called raphe running down the centre, various folds, deep wrinkles, a dusting of hair, heavy spheres inside the loose skin- and, for sure, they were floppier than on Michelangelo's nudes, more capacious than those of any rendition of Adam in the garden of Eden. And far heavier than her own boyfriend's whose sack just vanished when his five inch cock stretched. Her fingers had confirmed this in the back seat of his father's Cadillac.

"And what do Germans call that?"

Gloria had moved close and was directing her forefinger at her brother's balls.

Mark's testicles hung in the Gothic folds of his scrotum and looked foolish...guilty.

Old Elsa's eyes shone with unbridled prurience.

"In German...auf Deutsch...we say...that is his Sacke..."

His sack! Mark's mom and sister stifled lubricious laughs, eyes riveted on that part of the boy's anatomy. His sack...a purse, perhaps, to keep coins, keys.

Warming to the ritual humiliation of this handsome young man, Mrs Geiler continued.

"...or Hodensack. Hoden are balls. You say in America, I think...ball sack."

Mark wanted to sink through the floor. He always felt shame at his balls...girls seeing them in the photos...feared they looked comic, hanging there...

One glimpse showed that the three females were looking right at his testicles this very moment. His guts melted.

The old German bitch pressed on.

"Or German people say...Eier. That is, eggs. Eier. Your boy has two eggs!"

Mark's mother and sister laughed out loud.

He caught another glimpse of the three of them riveted on his privates.

He felt somehow...very small.

"Mark, please take that thing- your Stander- away," said his mother waving him off. "Spare us any more embarrassment- go to your room."

"Oh no, mom," lamented his sister. "The girls will be here any minute- and I want to show them Mark's thing standing up...

...His stander...

Oh, and his...eggs!"

Eggs! More prurient laughter. But his mother sent him off.

Once after a spanking, the girls thrilled to see him hanging obediently over his mother's knee with her seated in the floral lounge chair. Amelia was standing there, in her maid's uniform, watching intently. The spanking was concluded just as his sisters and the freckled twins entered. The hairbrush was still in the mother's hand. Their brother's punchy buttocks were bright red. He was quietly snuffling, staring at the details of the Bigelow broadloom carpet in doeskin beige an inch from his nose.

Knowing that the girls were looking at his exposed ass, his cheeks spread open as his mother had decreed.

"You have a stubborn pimple, right there," she said, touching the left side of the cleft.

He saw Amelia's white buckled shoes come into view, as she moved to take a look.

Old Mrs Geiler, too, arrived right on time, to see the 18 year old obediently over his mom's lap. She exclaimed, "Your boy Wie Gott in schuff! As god made him! In der Nacke!"

They all got to see him pick himself up, his ample half-erection bobbing ahead.

As he exited the room he overheard one of the freckled faced girls inquired of his mother, "Mrs Campbell, why does Mark let you...you know?"

"All the boys are like that. They accept our authority. Female authority..."

She seemed to think.

"...getting them nude helps."

The others shivered.

"Other mothers have noticed too, our young men have become submissive...docile...obedient. But once we get them stripped to the buff, what else..?"

And everyday for a month the girls might petition their mother to make Mark appear "how God made him." He would look down and appear close to tears. His older sister whispered, passing him the hallway, that with his bottom over his mom's knee they had been able to spy his "cute little asshold" and that had been his "last secret."

A few days after this happened he was in Miss Cuff's office next to the school auditorium after a rehearsal of Cowgirls and Indian Braves. On the walls, framed posters of Broadway shows and school productions back to the 1920s. On her desk a plaster bust of Moliere. And here were boys arraigned like prisoners of some gun-slinging, cowgirl matriarch- Mark and Jimmy Fraser and Rodney Ricketson. You might say, the biggest of the boys and the most athletic.

And for good measure, perhaps a delightful contrast shaming for him, little Stevie as well, densely haired all over and his frontal flap tented by his petite erection.

These boys were standing against the wall, in nothing but their loin cloths. And their arm bands, feathers and moccasins. Looking so absurd.

Miss Cuff was at her desk. In front of her were Samantha Fulbright, Betty Anderson and Milly Slink with large sketch books and three ancient library volumes.

"We've researched it carefully..."

"Anthropology texts, and all..."

"Works on the plains Indians in particular..."

Miss Cuff nodded impressed. These girls were among the most motivated. And girls at this school were very motivated.

"Well, that's very admirable, girls. You said you had suggestions to modify the boy's costumes. That's why I've asked these young men to join us, attired as they are after rehearsal."

The boys blushed. Three suffered the ends of their pricks showing below the flap- and hanging scrotums as well. This exposure on the stage in front of female teachers was one thing. As you moved and danced the flaps swung and exposed everything anyway. But here in a small office, with two girls close by, the shame was acute. Moreover Rodney's organ was beginning to stretch somewhat.

The four were scalded with embarrassment.

The girls had looked intently as the boys had trooped in. "A sight for sore eyes," Samantha had whispered to Millie. As for Stevie the frontal stabbing of his punchy erection was a frequent event and always brought indulgent smiles. Betty seemed to like looking him over, making him blush, enjoying the sight of his obvious little stiffie and his body hair. But at least his organ was covered.

What changes were these girls promoting?

Samantha unveiled it.

"This book is Secrets of Survivial, subtitled Indians of the Plains. Published by Scribners in 1933."

She opened it.

"And here's what it says on page 134. I will read:

Plains Indian modesty is specifically a woman's virtue. Men are expected to beautify, not conceal; and are expected to be braggarts. At least as late as the 1830s, some men would dispense with the loincloth if the weather allowed, though a man was expected to wear his belt. With young tenderloins going clothes free as a matter of choice, especially to play sports, while girls fully clothed watched them, male nudity embraced a carefree exhibitionist quality. A mature age male- in summer of course- would work and play without loin cloth or trousers, simply wearing a belt. Cave drawings and illustrations on animal hides almost celebrate this freedom...

That's it, Miss Cuff. Seems you were being...how shall I put it?"

"Too modest with them."

Betty looked over at the boys as she said this. They withered.

"Yes, and anachronistic."

Miss Cuff's eyes assumed a far off look.

Casually her eyes roamed over the boys against the wall now blushing scarlet. Wearing nothing but a belt? On stage? And in all the rehearsals that lay ahead? With female teachers- indeed, the principal Miss Braithwaite herself- coming and going? The occasional mother on a visit?

Rodney's cock pulsed forward and all of his big glans edged out of the cloak of his foreskin. The plum-head was now exposed. Jimmy's shaft moved too, stretching like a waking python. Mark was aghast but excited by the humiliation, and his ample white cock began to lengthen.

"I've done well," thought Miss Cuff, viewing this. "They must be among the best endowed young studs in the whole mid-West."

Stevie's eyes had bulged ("Nothing but a belt!") and a giant dollop wetted the jutting front of his flap.

All of them registered this shocking, shaming idea.

Just...a belt?

Gulp!

Miss Cuff savoured the responses.

Her eyes swam. Her consciousness suddenly entertained a host of possibilities.

"Let's see..."

Three girls held their breaths.

"You boys might go to your lockers...and return with your belts."

Rodney's dick pulsed some more. The rosy head lifted. Stevie assumed the look of an angel summoned by paradise. Something was going to happen. The humiliation it promised...sounded exciting beyond...beyond imagining. Jimmy and Mark looked on, slack jawed, cocks pulsing and lifting.

"Oh let's not waste time. Leave your loin cloths in your lockers. Return as soon as you can. Wearing...only your belts. And let's see what it looks like on stage."

Samantha, Betty and Millie hung on her next instruction.

It was the one they wanted.

It was not slow in coming.

"And the girls can stay and help. It was, after all, their idea."