Anthony stood nervously outside the school gates. He had already been waiting ten minutes and had endured numerous taunts. "Hey! Shorty shorts boy, waiting for your babysitter?" had been one of the lesser, non violence threatening ones. It was the last day of term and traditionally the dress code was relaxed. But whilst every other boy was dressed in casual clothes Anthony's mum had still insisted he wear his school blazer with white shirt and a tie, but worst of all, since it was the last day of term his mother had said. "As a special treat you can wear a pair of your play shorts to school instead of your grey regulation ones, aren't you pleased?" Anthony could only stare dumbfounded at the pair of ridiculous, yellow short trousers she was holding out in front of him to step into. "Mum I can't wear those to school, I will be lynched." he protested. His mother had that look she had just before she became really angry. "Now don't be silly, I am sure all the other boys will be quite jealous of your wonderful yellow shorts. No more nonsense, get them on."
Anthony had sighed and meekly allowed his mother to dress him in the hideous yellow shorts. They were the ones his mum had taken up twice and when he had his blazer on it appeared as if he wasn't wearing pants at all. He knew however that it was pointless to argue with her and was resigned to a day of torment. At fifteen years old Anthony was the only boy in the school who wore short trousers. Even though they were part of the original uniform policy it had long been ignored and even the first formers wore longs. Anthony’s mother, however, was insistent, and therefore he still dutifully wore his short trousers to school despite the mocking he received. Anthony was a respectful boy who had been bought up by his mum single handed to do as he was told. As she often reminded him, "When you can afford to buy your own clothes you can wear what you want, whilst I pay for your clothes you will wear what I want you to wear." The trouble was his mother seemed oblivious to the fact that the clothes she chose for him made him look ridiculous. Fifteen year olds should not be wearing the outfit he had been made to wear at the party last week, leather lederhosen shorts with white knee socks and a shirt that was really an embroidered blouse. He knew a couple of the other mothers had tried to change her ideas about his mode of dress but she was having none of it. "If they want their children to look like teddy boys and gangsters then so be it, but my little boy will be dressed correctly and smartly."
She had said in a matter of fact tone. Anthony hadn't had a clue what a teddy boy was but he had found out about teddy boy clothing and would have loved to wear drainpipe trousers and brothel creeper shoes!
Although it was sunny, the stiff breeze meant Anthony's smooth bare legs were starting to feel the chill and even worse the skimpy yellow shorts were cutting into his thigh and causing him discomfort. He peered anxiously down the road toward the girls school gates. Angela was only a year older than Anthony but his mother had decided she was the "mature person " she was looking for to help, as his mother phrased it," keep my little boy safe." Angela had been at the party where his mother had made him wear his mortifying lederhosen outfit and had been instrumental in providing Anthony with one of his most excruciatingly embarrassing moments ever. He tried to blot the memory out, but it came flooding back. Angela, stripping him of his outfit to help his mother prepare him for his pyjama-time wash. Angela, taking him by the hand and leading him back downstairs into the party wearing his blue-striped winceyette pyjamas and his tartan slippers. Angela, announcing to everyone that's Anthony's mummy was taking him home now as it was way past his bedtime and to say night-night to him. Angela, who had pointedly said in a loud enough voice that everyone could hear, "you don't often come across fifteen year olds with a bedtime do you Mrs Green? There are younger boys than Anthony here at the party who don't have a bedtime at all. Still, I think it's very sensible of you, a small, vulnerable little boy like Anthony needs extra care taken of him."
Anthony shuddered at the memory, only thankful that his mother had chosen to bring along his blue striped pyjamas. Being forced to attend some of the party in his pyjamas and slippers in front of girls and boys wearing their day clothes was bad enough, but when he thought of all the other, extremely infantile pyjamas he had in his "pyjama drawer" at home, he counted himself lucky that he hadn't been paraded in front of everyone, including Angela in one of those pairs.
"Come along, pumpkin let's get you home safe and sound, we don’t want you upset again and have tears before bedtime like the other day do we? I like your yellow shorts by the way Anthony, perhaps it's a good job I am here to protect you."
Anthony blushed. She was referring to last week when he had been taunted on the way home by some boys because of his grey flannel school shorts. Eventually it had turned nasty and they had ended up de-bagging him and he had arrived home sobbing, minus his shorts, and with his little boy style white underpants on display. His mother had sat him on her lap for a long cuddle before she had put him straight to bed. That was the reason Angela had been recruited to escort him home from school.
When they arrived at Anthony's house he was aghast to see, flapping mockingly in the breeze, his Thomas the tank Engine winceyette pyjamas and his matching Thomas bedclothes. His mother usually hung the washing out at the back where it was fenced in. Angela had quickly spotted his embarrassment. "Are those your pyjamas Anthony? I bet you look very smart wearing your choo-choo jimjams." Anthony blushed on hearing the infantile way she had spoken to him. He mumbled something under his breath and tugged at her hand to get her in the house quickly. Angela allowed herself to be dragged inside, but she was already working out how she might get to see him, a fifteen year old, dressed in his Thomas Tank Engine pyjamas.
His mother welcomed Angela and invited her to stop and have a cup of tea. Anthony sat down at the kitchen table too before his mother said, "No tea for you Anthony, upstairs and run a bath. We are going to visit Aunty Susan shortly and I want you nice and clean before you put on your visiting outfit, besides there won't be enough time when we get back as it will be your pyjama time then bedtime. Off you go, I will be up shortly to supervise your bath," she instructed.
Angela was quite excited to hear that his mother was going to supervise his bath and she sipped her tea thoughtfully. Anthony went upstairs, he wasn't too upset at being ordered into the bath tub as the yellow shorts were now really uncomfortable and he was pleased to be able to take them off. Angela put down her cup and stood up, "well I had better get going, let me know if I can help you with Anthony in any way Mrs Green." Anthony's mother beamed with pleasure. "How kind of you my dear. Anthony and I do appreciate you walking him home from school and you were a great help at the party. Anyway I had better go up and see what he is up to."
Upstairs, Anthony had shampoo on his hair when he heard his mother come along the landing, "come and rinse my hair for me please mum, I have suds in my eyes," he shouted . His eyes were clamped tightly shut as the bathroom door opened. "I'll just wash you first before I rinse you off Anthony or we will be here all day."
"But mum… my eyes are stinging." "Do be quiet Anthony," his mother said with exasperation. Anthony's left arm was raised and he felt the cloth flannel wash diligently under his arm, then the right arm was done in similar fashion. Next, the flannel was washing his feet and legs, moving upwards until eventually it reached the top of his legs. "Oww, that's sore," he cried out as the flannel was rubbed rigorously into the crevices between his legs. "Hold still!" Anthony squirmed in the bathtub as his inner thigh was given a slap and he cried out as he felt his pee-pee being lifted and thoroughly cleaned by the all invasive flannel. Eventually he felt the jug of water cascade over his scalp and the suds being washed away. Three times the water flowed across his head and face before the stinging in his eyes subsided. "Thanks mum, that's better." he said.
"You're welcome Anthony, no trouble at all." Anthony was startled at hearing Angela's voice, then laughter from her and his mother. "Mum how could you. How could you trick me like that? Angela has just bathed me and touched me," he complained, pointing downwards. "Oh Anthony it was just a bit of fun, we couldn’t resist, besides I have talked with her mum and we have agreed that Angela can help me out here during the holiday's. Won't that be fun having Angela to help look after you? Now remember you have to do just as she says, when she is babysitting you she has complete authority over you." Anthony was outraged at the suggestion he needed "baby-sat" at all, but to be supervised by a girl who was a mere ten months older than him was ridiculous. However, he said nothing, knowing that his mother was a woman who did not easily change her mind about things, but he had a bad feeling about the whole thing nevertheless.
Angela smiled sweetly at him, "looks like I'm going to be seeing a lot more of you," she said as the water gurgled away leaving him sitting naked in an empty bathtub. "This is stupid, I don't want to go to Aunty Susan's anyway," he complained. His mother gave him one of her looks and he knew he had overstepped the mark. "If you are not careful little boy, I can easily arrange to put you straight into your jim-jams and put you to beddy-byes right now. Is that what you want?" He shook his head. "Then apologise to Angela for being so rude in front of her."
Angela was slightly upset when she realised Anthony's mother wasn’t going to immediately dress him in his pyjamas and put him to bed but she was keen to gain an advantage out of the situation.
"Mrs Green," she began cautiously, "perhaps it would be more respectful if, from now, Anthony were to call me Aunty Angela. Since I am going to be looking after him it may help remind him of who is actually in charge." Angela smiled down at Anthony as she finished her speech who looked at her with astonishment.
"What an excellent suggestion my dear, Anthony, say sorry to Aunty Angela at once."
Anthony could not believe he had to call someone a few months older than him Aunty Angela. But prompted again by his mother he managed, "sorry Aunty Angela," he mumbled the words through gritted teeth, inwardly furious.
Satisfied he had been put back in his place, his mother began to dry him and noticed the chafing caused by his yellow shorts. "That looks nasty, Angela, please pass me that tub of Sudacrem." Poor Anthony was mortified, naked in front of Angela while his mother was about to apply cream to his private region.
It was about to get even worse.