Date: Tue, 13 Dec 2005 17:12:11 +0000 (GMT)
From: Rawley Myers <rawleymyers@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: A Nice Dilemma . . . . 2

A Nice Dilemma . . . .2

"Matron tells me you have seen fit to authorise a change in dress
regulations for boys in your house, Edwin; without consultation, I might
add, or indeed without making any reference whatsoever to me."

I glanced across at the headmaster as he poured me a minuscule
after-dinner brandy.

I'm sorry, Headmaster," I responded with an apologetic grimace. "The
fact is it is an exception for just one particular boy, that's all"

"Indeed," sighed the head man wearily shaking his head. "Are you
unfamiliar with the expression `the exception proves the rule'?"

I tried to explain in a politely generalised manner the awkwardness of
the situation in which poor Ian Podmore had found himself in Elizabeth
Shorrock's class and also on the rugger field, but the headmaster's
general air of unworldiness seemed to conspire to prevent him from
catching the drift of what I was saying.

"I really fail to see why an exception should be made. Before long we
will be forced to allow burkhas for Mesopotamians, turbans for Sikhs . .
. why, we might as well allow the Campbell twins to wear kilts all day!"

He presented me with the brandy with an understated flourish of outward
generosity and accepted my grovelling thanks.

"I think it is a matter of principle that we abide by the rules most
stringently," he ventured. "Any relaxation on our part would be surely
taken advantage of . . . the thin edge of the wedge, so to speak, don't
you agree?"

I knew the question was rhetorical but still felt disposed to answer.

"In most instances, I do agree, Headmaster," I started, " but at the
expense of exposing a boy to ridicule and humiliation, I feel there is a
case for us to show a little equanimity."

Perhaps emboldened by the thimbleful of brandy, I reiterated a little
more graphically the boy's account of his mortifying experience at the
front of Elizabeth Sharrock's class, and indeed the embarrassing result
of his having recounted the event to me in my own study the previous
evening.

"What I cannot understand is the speed in which the boy was able to
provide himself with unregulated undergarments," the headmaster mused,
as if suspecting a general insurrection on the matter of unauthorised
underwear.

I confessed that I had supplied the boy with a new pair of briefs from my
own stock to facilitate the boy's peace of mind at the earliest
opportunity. He then started muttering about the inadvisability of giving
boys gifts whereupon I explained that it had been fairly exchanged for a
pair of the boy's cotton boxer shorts -- not a problem for me, and
particularly since staff was permitted to wear long trousers. My attempt
at wit to lighten the mood went unnoticed.

Without a flicker of change across his countenance as he gave me his full
and unblinking attention, the headmaster harrumphed at last and said the
boy had to be sent for. Fortunately a prefect was passing the dining-in
room door as I looked out, and he was promptly dispatched to my House
with a message for Podmore and within five minutes the boy was standing
upon the threshold.

"Ah, come in, Podmore, come in, laddie," the headmaster invited
expansively. " Now what is this I've been hearing from Matron about
your wearing non-regulation underwear?"

I studied my polished toecaps with only the mildest of wincing frowns at
the man's lack of tact, and felt an accusatory stare from the boy.

"Sir?" he began nervously. "Er, Mr Waterhouse said it would be okay,
Sir."

"Did he, indeed?" the headmaster asked, also glancing across at me.

"And why, may I ask, should it be necessary for this exception to be
made in your case?"

Podmore began to huff and puff.

"Because, as I tried to explain, Headmaster, an exception needs to be
made in his case because he is an exceptional case. He is exceptionally
well-hung for his age."

There; it was out. Both the Head and the boy drew in a sharp intake of
breath.

"Oh? Really?" the headmaster began. "But I fail to see . . . ."

" Since shorts must be worn by all boys, there appears to be only one
alternative to preserve the boy's modesty. Briefs help to contain the
problem which otherwise can cause embarrassment all round," I went on to
explain in a rather strained tone of voice.

Poor Podmore was scarlet and staring at the floor in front of him.

"Well, that's as maybe, but I am far from happy about the situation.
Decisions like this should not be made without referral to a higher
authority -- in this case, me."

"I apologise, Headmaster. It was an oversight on my part not to have
informed you about the matter the moment it had occurred," I attempted
by way of mollification.

"Nevertheless, I should still have been consulted first." Partly
mollified, he turned his attention back to Ian Podmore. "Are you wearing
the offending garment at the moment, boy?" he asked.

Podmore murmured that he was.

"Then I should like to see and judge for myself.

The boy and I exchanged startled looks.

"Here, Sir? Now, Sir?" he stammered.

"Why, yes."

Podmore froze and looked to me. I felt dreadfully sorry for him.

"Drop your shorts Podmore and let the Headmaster see your underpants,"
I said in a matter-of-fact sort of encouraging tone, as though it were an
every-day occurrence to go round revealing your underwear to all and
sundry.

The hotly embarrassed eighteen-year-old youth shot me a startled look of
despair. I nodded in encouragement towards his belt and reluctantly he
fumbled with his trouser fastenings and slowly lowered them to his knees.
The pouch of his Y-fronts made it perfectly clear that I had spoken the
truth about the boy's equipment -- unless he was keeping a couple of
pairs of rugby socks in there as well!

"And why do you maintain cotton boxers are not suitable, Mr
Waterhouse?" he asked again obtusely.

"Because they allow the boy's penis to dangle out of his leg hole for
all to see, Headmaster."

I heard Podmore swallow with embarrassment, and felt for him. I had not
thought sufficiently of his feelings when seeking to explain the blooming
obvious to the apparently insensitive and dull-witted headmaster.

"I need to satisfy myself that there is in fact a problem, Mr
Waterhouse," the headmaster said at length and then turning to the boy,
he ordered, "Remove those briefs."

Both Podmore's and my jaws dropped open. He looked at me for moral
support.

"I think that is rather embarrassing for the boy, Headmaster," I
demurred.

"Why?"

I was stunned at the question.

"I am the boy's headmaster. It is quite natural he should unthinkingly
obey my wishes."

I could not believe what I was hearing. I shrugged slightly and glanced
away across the room. Ian resignedly shrugged also and I heard the
elastic of his waistband slither over his hairy, well-developed thighs.
His penis sprang forth like a beast unchained and even the headmaster's
eyebrows rose for a moment. There was a deathless hush and it was as if
time stood still, only the mantel clock began to strike eight.

"Hmmmph! Well, it is true you appear to be remarkably endowed for a boy
of your age but I still find it unbelievable you find it necessary to
wear briefs to contain yourself," the headmaster remarked with heavy
scepticism. I was incensed because it implied my complicity in some
rule-breaking scam. He turned to me.

"Did you say the boy exchanged underpants with you, Mr Waterhouse?"

I felt a trifle uncomfortable at this line of questioning.

"In a manner of speaking, Headmaster, "I reluctantly admitted.

"Then pray allow him to slip on your boxers for a moment so that I may
judge for myself."

I was thunderstruck.

Was the man suggesting I remove my trousers and underwear in front of him
and the boy and stand there half naked whilst the boy tried on the
underpants which had up until that moment clothed my own loins? It was
wholly unbelievable.

"Look lively, Mr Waterhouse. We haven't got all evening, and I'm sure
you will want to get away and deal with your prep supervision very
shortly.

I looked at Tripod who was fast beginning to live up to his nickname. Was
my face as scarlet as his? It certainly felt so. And, horror of horrors,
did I detect stirrings of embarrassment and excitement from within my
clothing from which it was the headmaster's intention so shortly to part
me?

Without making a terrible fuss in front of the youth and thereby causing
an unseemly and unprofessional fracas, at the same time adding fuel to
the boy's intense degradation, I felt it inherent upon me to comply with
the headmaster's orders -- no matter how ill-advised and downright wrong
-- in the interests of getting the matter over as quickly as possible.

"With respect, Headmaster, I must register my unease but I defer to your
wishes in the matter acknowledging your superiority," I said stiffly, as
I rose from my chair and began to open my trouser fastenings.

Hot-faced, I stepped out of them with great difficulty having hopped
around crane-like before discovering I could not get them off over my
shoes. I gathered my academic gown around me as much as possible as I
slid down my white cotton boxer shorts and stepped out of them.

"Thank you," the Head acknowledged curtly and turned to Ian. "Hurry
up, boy and put them on."

Podmore, resignedly pushed both shorts and briefs down to his ankles. His
rampant penis jutted out between his shirt flaps, glistening and as
crimson as his cheeks. The short tails of his shirt afforded him little
privacy and his full rounded and muscular bottom was on full display as
he bent to pick up the boxer shorts, which had formerly been his
property. As he pulled them up his penis and testicles snagged their
smooth progress up to his waist and he had to stop and force his fast
stiffening member inside the elastic waistband.

"There now, let me take a look."

The headmaster stepped back to appraise the situation. How ludicrous we
must have looked! A fully grown lad reduced to shirt tails and boxers, a
schoolmaster with bare shins showing beneath a black academic gown
clutched to his form, and a small headmaster weighing up the scene as a
whole.

But all was not as still as my description may have led the reader to
believe. There was a very definite movement -- from within the boxer
shorts that had until lately been mine. Three pairs of eyes watched the
stirrings within -- the owner no less hypnotically horrified by what he
saw and palpably felt as the two academic onlookers.

Snaking out of the left leg hole of the white cotton boxers came the
glistening head I remembered so clearly from last evening in my own
rooms. The headmaster was transfixed by it. We all were.

Slowly, and as if with a mind of its own, it began to rear up, and as it
did so the material ruckled back to reveal the entire shaft in all its
hirsute splendour. Two fine egg-sized testes plopped out. The boy stood
as if naked. There was nowhere to hide.

I cleared my throat meaningfully.

"Hmmm, I see what you mean, Waterhouse," the Head grudgingly allowed.

As we watched the great engorged head began to drool.

"Oh sir, I'm awf'lly sorry, sir!" Podmore moaned as in extremis.

As he fought to conceal his gigantic tumescence, it bucked and reared
still more in his hands. With an orgasmic gasp and groan he clutched
himself feverishly and we saw it pump up and down like something
possessed.

That he had come in what was now my underwear was not immediately clear.
The dilemma was what was I going to put back on now?