Date: Sat, 13 Sep 2003 21:59:08 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening:  Part 61

Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws
of your country or district please desist.  If you are a bigot or
prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking
literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to
yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.  Those so
far have been very helpful in that they have given me the encouragement to
persevere!

This is a very long tale.  It unfolds over a good number of years.  What is
true, is true: what is not is otherwise.  If you have trouble with the
English educational system let me know.

[Thanks for the messages.  Main computer still kaput!]


			    ALADDIN'S AWAKENING

				    By

				   Joel


				CHAPTER 36

			Tuesday 11th September 1944

I think I had recovered after not running so much over my long holiday.  I
was out quite early and, again, helped Tom with the last part of his
paper-round.  He said he was using the weights and was up to fifty lifts
above his head.  Lazy sod.  I don't think his arms are any longer than mine
so as I was doing sixty-five so that was more in foot-pounds than he was
doing.

     School went on and the pressure was on.  More homework than we have
ever had before.  Matt came back with me but we didn't have time for any
form of fun as Mike turned up for his maths tutorial with Pa.  At least,
the pair of us went over several examples with Matt and, I think, he more
or less saw the reasoning.  He just takes a bit longer to get the gist, but
it sticks.  Anyway he went off very pleased and thank Mike profusely. As I
sat with Mike after he went off I wondered what it would have been like to
compare my two long-dicked friends at the same time.  I mustn't think such
things as they tend, no, they do, give me a hardon!

     Pa and Ma arrived back from work soon after Matt went off.  Pa looked
tired and harassed.  He said the pressure was on to exploit a new discovery
they had made..  The report meeting on Friday had been well received and
there had been telephone calls today from the powers that be with
congratulations but urges for quick results.

     Still, Ma looked a bit more relaxed as Pa was back from London safe
and sound.  The news today they said was of mystery explosions occurring in
London and surrounding areas.  Pa thought it was some sort of new rocket
bomb as they appeared out of the blue and exploded violently with no
warning.  Pa said he had ideas what they were and he was telephoning
someone at the Ministry in the morning.  He said he remembered hearing
about some research in Germany when he was there in the 1930's.

     That night I decided against keeping a detailed record of my daily
activities, perhaps only noting significant happenings.  I doubted if I
would get anywhere near Piers' totals.  Thinking about it I was settling to
a pattern of one or two outflowings a day.

     Nothing much happened during the rest of the week until Saturday.  I
had made arrangements, nay, I had been told, to take the offered rugger
shorts round to Roo's on Saturday at half past one for his younger
brother. I was still wondering why, with such an exact time specified, but
when I got there I was greeted by Roo and Tony, grinning all over their
faces.  They announced that as it was soon to be my birthday they were
taking me to the pictures as a present as there was a good film on.  So,
when I'd said about the shorts Roo had thought that would be a good excuse
to get me round there. They said Roo's mum had laid on a tea afterwards but
was at work until later.

     We went up to Roo's room and he called out for his brother to come
along as I had arrived with something for him.  Young Kanga came along from
his room and I gave him the shorts. He thanked me profusely.  Roo said he'd
better try them on and also he should put the rugger shirt on that Roo had
passed down to him.  And, to get a move on as we were all going to the
pictures and the main film started at three o'clock.

     Kanga went off to his room while we sat and chatted about the
iniquities of school work and how it was being piled onto us poor
defenceless souls.  However, Tony said he was very much enjoying Mrs
Riley's English Literature classes and he thought he would like to study
English at university.  Roo screwed up his nose and said he didn't want to
go to university but wanted a job to earn some money.

     After a couple of minutes or so of this chat young Kanga reappeared
looking all neat and clean in a dark green rugger shirt, my old shorts and
a pair of football socks.  For a kid of thirteen and a half he looked quite
the part as a blossoming young rugger player as Roo had said earlier he'd
been chosen for the Junior XV.  He was quite tall.  Much taller than my
latest friend and cousin-to-be, Andrew.  He was also chunkier than Roo who
was quite slim.

     "Well, thank Jacko for those shorts again because they fit you
perfectly," said Roo, "And don't forget the shirt was mine."

     He did so and was about to turn and go when Tony asked him how his
model making was going.

     Making model planes was a favourite activity of quite a lot of us
youngsters.  Something to do, cheap, and, of course, making collections was
a great occupation of most kids.  I knew that both Roo and his brother were
avid model plane builders and there was plenty of evidence in the bedroom.
I had noted many swapping sessions at school and there were always heated
discussions over correct proportions, designs and insignia at break-times
in the playground.  I'd had spells of making planes as I supposed it was a
good way of learning about all the different types of plane likely to be
seen, to distinguish between any enemy planes and our British ones.  In
fact, I think I'd only seen Spitfires and a Lancaster bomber which flew
over regularly on training flights.  So for me, it seemed to be a rather
pointless enterprise.  But, something to do, I suppose.

     Kanga said he was getting on very well but had come to a stop as Roo
had pinched his glue and some of his paints.  Roo said he was an ungrateful
little toad because he'd given him a whole load of balsa wood.  He reached
out and caught hold of the green shirt and dragged him over to him.

     "If you're going to be ungrateful I'll have my shirt back."

     Kanga tried to get away and smacked out at Roo's restraining hand.

     "You pinched my things, so there," he said, quite heatedly, "And it's
my shirt now!"

     "Only if you apologise," said Roo.

     "Shan't!" said Kanga.

     This altercation seemed so uncharacteristic, at least, of Roo.  He
was, unless on the rugger field, quite placid and easy-going, and I could
see he was getting a bit flustered by his brother's outburst.  He caught
hold of the shirt more determinedly.

     "I'll have it back then, Kanga," he said as the kid wriggled to get
away.  Roo pulled the shirt up and over Kanga's head, a bit like we'd done
to the Sixth Formers and I'd done to Mike.

     "Get off me, you bastard!" Kanga shouted out.

     I think we were all a bit taken aback by that expletive.  My only
dealings with the lad were when I'd helped him with some maths and he
seemed a pleasant kid.  Roo was getting quite angry now.  Slow to rise, but
he was getting quite steamed up.

     "What did you say?" he enquired very evenly, "That's not language we
use in this house!"

     Kanga was still struggling with his arms in his sleeves being held
above his head.

     "Get off me you bastard, let me go," he shouted out even more
vehemently, his young alto voice rising in pitch.

     "If you carry on like that you can give Jacko back his shorts as
well," Roo said, at the same time pulling the shorts down.  Of course,
Kanga wasn't wearing anything underneath and struggled more. What came into
view was a still developing drooping prick, two beginning-to-sag balls and
a little halo of dark, just curling, hair, puffed out at the base of his
tool.

     "Let me go, you fucking bastard and your fucking friend.  I don't want
his fucking shorts!"

     Roo looked over at Tony and me.  We were staring at them both as it
was getting very out of hand.  With a tug Roo got the shirt off Kanga who
stood, red-faced, defiant, in just his football socks as the shorts were
down round his ankles now.  What also seemed strange was that he didn't put
his hands over his cock to hide it like kids usually do.

     "Wait till mum comes home, I'll tell her what you said," said Roo,
also now red- faced and patently angry that his brother had been rude to me
as well.  I thought that any moment now he's going to whack the kid one.

     The kid stood his ground.  "Fuck off!" he said and burst into tears.

     This wasn't the usual lad I'd known and it wasn't how Roo had thought
the afternoon was going to progress.  Tony sized up the situation and went
over to Kanga and put his arm round his shoulder.  The lad didn't move,
other than his shoulders were heaving up and down as he sobbed and took in
gulps of air.

     "What's the matter, Kenny?" he asked, using the boy's proper name,
"You're not usually like this.  Tell me."

     The lad turned to him and wailed "I'm ill!"

     Tony asked quietly, "What do you mean?  Where?"

     The kid pointed downwards. "Down there!" he said and began to sob
more.

     Tony must have guessed straightaway. "Have you woken up all sticky and
wet and it wasn't pee?"

     Kanga looked up at him through his tears and nodded.

     "How many times?"  Tony asked quietly.

     "Three," the lad said quietly.

     I looked at Roo and his face was a picture.  Both he and I had then
cottoned on immediately to what was 'wrong' with young Kanga.  Nothing was
'wrong' he was just growing up.

     Tony was very gentle.  "You're not ill, Kanga," he said soothingly,
"It's just something that happens when you're growing up."  The kid looked
up at him wonderingly.  "It's happened to all of us," Tony looked at Roo
and me and we both murmured "Yes".  Kanga looked from one of us to the
other his eyes open, trying to take this in.

     "Come and sit on the bed and we'll tell you," said Tony, guiding Kanga
to the side of the bed.  He motioned to me to sit the other side of the lad
and Roo came over and knelt by my feet and put his hand on Kanga's knee.
The lad was still a bit confused.

     "It's OK Kenny, we understand, I'm sorry I haven't told you all about
it before," Roo said.

     Tony took over again.  He still had his arm round Kanga's shoulder and
I did the same from my side.  "It's OK, Kenny, it's quite true, isn't
Jacko?"

     I said it was and things like that happened to me when I was growing
up.

     Kanga looked at me wonderingly as well.

     "Does your thing get hard sometimes, you know, does it stand up by
itself?" I asked quietly.

     He sniffed and nodded.

     "When it's like that have you rubbed it?" asked Tony from his other
side.

     Kanga turned to look at him, then shook his head.

     "Have you wondered what other boys mean when they say about wanking or
tossing off?" he continued.

     The lad nodded again.

     "But you didn't know?"

     Another slow head shake.

     Tony looked at Roo and then at me.

     "I think we'd better tell you everything about it.  But, you've got to
remember, you're not ill."

     Between us over the next quarter of an hour all the details we knew
about growing up were imparted to young Kanga.  He murmured he'd seen Roo
many times and wondered about all his hair and how big his thing was and
he'd seen boys in his class with hair as well so he was pleased his was
growing too.  By the time we'd finished his slim four inch rod was erect.
I don't think he'd really noticed it as he was listening to our
explanations so intently.

     Roo looked at him and grinned, the first time since the kid's
outburst.

     "I think our talk has had an effect, Kenny!" he said.

     I leaned back and adjusted my genitalia.  "Same here," I said.

     "And me," laughed Tony.

     "And your brother!" laughed Roo.

     "What's that?" queried Kenny.

     We three laughed and pointed at his stiffy and saying we had the same
now.

     Tony said we'd better show him.  There was no embarrassment between us
three, we'd seen each other erect plenty of times and had experienced all
sorts of pleasures together.  We just didn't think what effect it might
have on Kanga.  Laughing, the three of us were soon in the same state as he
was.  Naked except for our socks.  Three adolescent hardons were on
display.  The lad's jaw dropped.  There was his big brother and two of his
big friends with, to him, huge pricks sticking up like ramrods.

     We'd explained about sperm and the semen or spunk which came out as
wet dreams or through rubbing.  Roo was happier now, too.  The lad hadn't
apologised for his outburst yet, but we all knew the reason for the
tantrum, apologies would come.

     "Do you want to see what happens?" Roo asked.

     I wondered if any other lad had received such an offer.  I'd learned
about it from a single boy, cousin Alun.  But, Tony and Roo, I think, had
experienced their first masturbatory orgasms with others at Scout camp.

     Kanga just looked at his brother and nodded again.

     We three bigger lads stood up and grinned at each other.  Roo rushed
out to the bathroom and came back with a towel which he chucked on the
floor.  The three of us ringed our cocks and in unity began to wank
ourselves slowly and purposively.  Roo came first, a fine flurry of creamy
spunk arching up and dropping squarely on the towel.  I came next, my usual
goodly amount, spurting upwards as I held my prick pointing up.  Tony was
last, but not least, his squirts jetting to the far side of the towel.  Roo
smiled at Kenny, still sitting on the edge of the bed, transfixed by what
he'd seen.  He was holding his erection tightly as he had watched us.

     "You're turn now," his brother said, "Come over here and stand by me."

     He did as he was told and then, as if he had practised the actions
many times, began to wank.  It didn't take him long to reach his climax.
There was a quick squirt, repeated about three times and then a smaller one
which dropped almost straight down on the towel.  I think the intensity for
him must have been quite immense as he slightly staggered as that final
spurt occurred.  Roo steadied him by holding his shoulders, then bent and
kissed his forehead.

     "OK, Kenny, was that good?" he asked.

     The kid was dumbstruck. All he could do was smile and nod slowly.

     Both Tony and I went over to him and kissed him on the forehead as
well.

     "Welcome to the ranks of growing boys," said Tony with a laugh.  "Now,
I warn you, don't overdo it to begin with, probably twelve or so times a
day to start with! Your brother's up to twenty-five now, and, as for Jacko,
he must be doing it around thirty on a fine day!"

     "Shut up, you fool," I said, "He's pulling you leg.  Take no notice of
him.  You do it when you want.  Ask Roo."

     Roo smiled and nodded.  "It's OK, Kenny, ask me anything.  Don't ever
get worried about things again, just ask me.  But what we've said and done
today is between us, OK?"

     Kanga smiled and nodded.

     "Anything to say?" asked Roo.

     Kanga looked at me.  "I'm very sorry about what I said.  I was all
upset and you all sounded so happy in here. Please forgive me?  And may I
have the shorts?"

     I bent down a bit and hugged him to me.  "As Tony said, welcome,
nothing to worry about, all is forgiven, the shorts are yours."  I smiled
at him, "And enjoy it, we all do!"

     Oh gosh, time had fled.  It was quarter to three.  Four boys threw on
their clothes.  Rushed downstairs, grabbed their bikes and pedalled like
mad.  We got to the cinema at one minute past three and were seated by five
past, just as the main feature began, slightly late.  I can't remember one
thing about that film as my thoughts were filled the whole time with the
sight of us three teaching young Kenny and demonstrating our prowess and he
his new-found talent.

     When we came out of the smoke-filled cinema Tony and Roo walked off
together to get their bikes.  I walked behind with Kanga.

     "You OK now?"  I asked.  "Quite a shock wasn't it?"

     He smiled up shyly at me. "Yes," he said, "Didn't see much of the
film."

     "Nor did I" I said.

     We retrieved our bikes from the side of the cinema and with the other
two riding in front set off back to Roo and Kanga's.

     "If you ever want to know anything, you can always come and ask me," I
said.  "And don't take any notice of what Tony said, he was pulling your
leg.  Roo'll explain things now, too."

     Kanga smiled at me, nodded and we completed the journey in silence.

     There was no chance of any more chat with Kanga about growing up when
we arrived as his mum was there and we had a good tea.  Tony and I left
together and before our ways parted we had gone over the scenario.  He
shook his head in disbelief.

     "Of course, Kanga's not in the Scouts or anything, he wouldn't join
but I'm surprised Roo's never told him anything.  Poor kid.  He must have
been worried to fly off the handle like that.  You've forgiven him, haven't
you?"

     I said I had and I also told him he could ask me any time he had a
problem.  Tony nodded.

     "That's what friends are for - and big brothers, if they only kept
their eyes open!"

     Ma, of course, wanted to know where I had been.  I explained it was
really a surprise birthday present I didn't say what other surprises
occurred but after supper I went up to my room and later, in bed, had two
lovely, leisurely wanks, thinking of the three of us demonstrating our
proficiency and the way young Kanga, quite unconcernedly, had established
his own attainment of that pinnacle of boyhood development.  I bet it would
be a day he would never forget!


          Monday September 18th 1944 - Saturday September 30th 1944

     At break-time I asked Roo how Kanga was.  Roo apologised for what
Kanga had said and I told him I wasn't concerned as the lad was so
obviously upset.  Roo made a face and said it was his fault really, he
hadn't checked on his brother but, he said with a grin, Kanga had spent
Saturday night in bed with him and he should know a lot more now!

     Of course, worry-guts Matt wanted help with his maths and, also, was
my mother going to start the French Circle again on Wednesdays?  I said I
would help him with his maths tomorrow, Tuesday, and would ask Ma tonight.
I asked Roo and Tony if they wanted to come too if she did and they said
they would, but would have to rush off to Scouts afterwards.  Then
worry-guts came up at break-time in the afternoon and wanted to know if I'd
seen the noticeboard.  I hadn't and found that there was a rugger match
between the Senior Second XV and the Catholic school on Wednesday afternoon
next week.  There was me in the second row with Matt, and Tony and Roo were
on the wing with a couple of others from our form.  There were a total of
six also from 5S with Tom noted as captain at number eight and, finally,
three of the First Year Sixth, Dick Collins, Chris Payne and Greg Hall.
Second XV - that was an honour in itself.  The ultimate would be the First
XV and the whisper was that this was a test to see who might be picked for
any vacancies.

     What was interesting was the way the younger kids steered clear of us
who had been picked, or stared at us when we were passing.  I didn't
remember doing it when I was younger but Roo told us on Wednesday while we
were waiting for Ma to arrive home that Kanga had said his mates were all
in awe of his brother being picked!  He also said he wouldn't be surprised
if Kanga's dick fell off as it seemed to be in his hand constantly.  He'd
stopped him sleeping with him and banished him to his own room and bed as
Kanga kept asking him questions and keeping him awake.  Tony said he
shouldn't forget it was only the kid's first week and he bet he would have
been the same if he'd had an older brother and not just his pals to keep
him company.  I said Kanga was lucky to have an older brother anyway and
Matt agreed.  I'd told Matt the tale about Kanga's distress and he said he
had felt the same as he had no one to ask and if it hadn't been for what
his dad had told him he would have been worried stiff.  I said he was stiff
usually and why should he worry!  We were laughing about this when Ma
arrived so had to compose ourselves for three-quarters of an hour of
concentrated French.  I thought the three of them did very well and Ma was
most complimentary and said we would meet each week.

     Roo's brother came up to me on Friday at break-time and asked, very
politely, if I thought he could join St John's.  I said if he liked to come
round Monday at quarter to seven he could cycle to the Ambulance Hall with
me.  Tony saw us talking and came up after he went off to join his pals.

     "You've got a real admirer there," he said, chuckling, "Did you see
his little doe-eyes ogling you when you were talking to him."

     "Don't be daft," I said, "He wants to join St John's."

     Tony chuckled again.  "Don't you believe it.  Roo says he keeps asking
him about you.  He thinks you're wonderful the way you can do maths and now
you're chosen for that game and...."

     He stopped as Roo came up laughing.

     "I've just seen my starry-eyed little brother," he chortled.  "Jacko,
old pal, you've got a devoted slave there.  I'll sell him to you for a
shilling."

     I laughed as well.  "He's cheap, I could have bought someone else's
brother for half a crown!"

     "'Standing up or bending down'" warbled Tony.  We both looked at him.
He motioned us to follow him well away from any of the other boys milling
around the playground.  He sang again, sotto voce, to some opera tune, I
recognised it, La Donna est something-or-other, "'Little boys are
half-a-crown, Standing up or bending down, Bigger boys are three and six,
they can take much bigger pricks.'"

     "Where on earth did you learn that?" asked Roo, giggling.

     "Oh, Big Jim Chater told me that one ages ago."

     "If it was Big Jim," laughed Roo, "He'd need one at five bob!"

     Big Jim?  I wondered how big?  If when he'd been in the Sixth Form and
hadn't got past the measuring point he must be less than eight and a half
inches.  More than eight inches, or even more than seven?  Anyway, the mind
boggled.

     Roo stopped giggling.  "Seriously, though, Kenny's always asking about
you.  You'd better watch it or he'll be tagging on. He wanted to know if
you made models and I said you didn't just to shut him up."

     I said he wanted to join St John's and I was going to take him there
on Monday. Roo grinned and said he approved anyway.


     Matt had reminded me about the boxing match that Friday evening so I
said I'd meet him there.  Johnny Reed had said he wasn't boxing that
evening so he was joining us as well.

     The Catholic Parish Hall was packed as usual.  Clouds of smoke from
pipes and cigarettes were fogging the air even when we filed in.  The
portly man was already there, pipe in mouth, adding to the fug.  He greeted
us affably and handed us a programme each.  I saw Pat Halloran's bout was
the last but one in the first half.  The other lads were from a club in a
big village a few miles away and there was quite an air of expectancy.
However the first couple of bouts were a real hoot, both were contests
between small skinny young lads who weaved around each other with hardly a
blow being struck.  Just after the third round of the second fight started
and the kids were still just pussy-footing around the large Brother in the
front row stood up and bellowed out in a voice full of Irish exasperation,
"O'Meary, if you don't use your fists on that wee culchie you'll feel my
belt on your backside on Monday!"  The place exploded in laughter and the
kids took the hint and belted each other like two demented bantam cocks.
They were really whaling into each other, punches landing on heads,
shoulders and arms, accompanied by cheers from the assembled masses.  The
referee was getting a bit flustered as the kids circled around him belting
each other.  I don't think they were really hurting each other because most
of the blows seemed quite ineffectual.

     At the final bell the referee could do nothing more than raise an arm
on both kids and declare it a draw.  The place exploded even more, great
cheers for two plucky youngsters was the comment from a man sitting behind
me. Bollocks, I thought!

     After that the bouts continued accompanied by much more noise than
usual.  Again little damage was done except that the score was going
against the Catholic team.  The other lads looked like well-fed farmers'
sons and against them most of the Catholic boys appeared more puny, but
wiry and determined.

     Matt went off with Johnny in tow to deal with a nose bleed which
stopped the match before Pat's.  Pat's opponent was a brawny lad with a
good-natured country face topped by a mop of flaxen hair.  He looked good
natured but it ended there as he began to lay into Pat.  Pat was stunned,
literally, within the first twenty seconds or so of the second round.  The
lad had fetched him a real right, left, right, to chest, solar plexus and
chin.  He had managed this because Pat's guard was down because the lad had
just landed a flurry of punches as an opener.  Pat just went down like a
sack of coals.

     The portly man nudged me.  "Off you go. Plenty of cold compresses.
Check the pupils of his eyes.  If one or both are tiny he needs a doctor."
He passed me three large bandages.

     The big Brother and Pat's second, who looked like a fellow Sixth
Former, picked him up and carted him to the dressing-room.  They were
followed closely by the other boxer and his second and Mr Halloran who had
been sitting next to the Brother.  I was already there when they arrived
with him and laid him on the table.  I rushed and soaked the bandages and
when I got back Mr Halloran was talking animatedly with the Brother then
rushed off out.  The Brother took one look at Pat, nodded at me and
disappeared back into the hall.  I applied cold compresses to the chin of
the comatose Pat.  The other boxer whose gloves had been removed by his
second came over.

     "Oh God," he said, "I didn't mean to do that to him.  Can I help?  I'm
Pete."

     I said I was Jacko and he could get Pat's gloves off.  The cold
compresses were begin to revive him a bit, but, when I lifted his eyelids
both pupils were very small.  I asked the other lad to put one compress on
his forehead and the other on his chin and went in and fetched the portly
man in.  Just as he was raising Pat's eyelids as well Mr Halloran returned.

     "Just telephoned the hospital," he said, "Sister says if we get him
there Dr Maguire is there at the moment."

     The portly man said he had his car and went off.  I said I would go to
the hospital as well and tell them what to expect.  Mr Halloran said OK so
off I went and as I came round to the front of the hall with my bicycle Mr
Halloran and the other boxer, still in his singlet and shorts, were half
carrying a reviving Pat to the Austin waiting there.

     I arrived at the hospital well ahead of them and was met by Nobbo's
mum who was Sister on duty.  I told her the tale.  Her response was
probably concussion.  She would get Dr Maguire who was there but seeing a
patient of his who wasn't very well.  She showed me a cubicle and gave me a
pair of pyjamas from a cupboard.

     "Get him into those," she said, "He'll be staying the night, anyway.
I'll be back once he's here."  She turned to go but then turned back.
"Billy's home on a forty-eight hour pass.  Come round to tea tomorrow. Come
a bit earlier so he can tell you how he's been getting on."

     With that she hurried off and very soon after Mr Halloran and the
portly man came in supporting a rather groggy-looking Pat.  I showed them
the cubicle and said Sister and the doctor were coming down.  I said I
would stay and see he was OK.  Both of them said they would leave Pat with
me then as they had to get back to the Hall.  Would I report later?  Golly,
if my son was comatose I think I would want to stay with him.  Perhaps they
had more experience of these things.  When they'd gone I went back to Pat
and pulled the curtains of the cubicle to.

     "Oh my fucking head!" he murmured as I went over to him.

     As he was laying with his eyes shut I just said, "It's Jacko, Sister
says the doctor will be here soon and you've got to put these pyjamas on."

     "What the hell for?" he murmured, "I want to go home."

     "Sister says you're staying here tonight."

     He was a bit too helpless to resist as I lifted the blanket covering
his feet and unlaced his boxing boots and slipped those and his socks off.
I pushed the blanket away from him and pulled down on his long boxing
shorts.  I managed to get those and his underpants of with a couple of
tugs. His droopy prick was lolling on his thigh.  I covered him to the
midriff and got him to move a bit to get his singlet off.  The whole
process was reversed as I got him to raise himself a bit to get the pyjama
jacket on.  Getting his trousers on was a bit of a laugh as I had to get
them up his legs and then round his hips.  Finally, I pulled the cord round
his waist and had just tied a bow when Sister Clarke returned with a man in
a white coat I assumed to be Dr Maguire.

     He took one look at Pat.  "Och, Patrick, and what the blazes have you
been doing to yourself?" he said very breezily.  "Let's take a look at
you."

     Mrs Clarke looked at me, smiled and went out.

     "Let's have a look at your eyes," he said, lifting Pat's eyelids one
by one even though he had both eyes open.  He then fetched out some
instrument from a pocket in his white coat and examined Pat's eyes closely
by looking through it.  He nodded.

     "Can ye sit up?" he said and indicated to me that I should come round
the bed and help support him.

     He then listened to his front and back with his stethoscope.

     "You can lie down now," he said.  "And what about your hernia?"

     Pat murmured something like it was OK.

     But without more ado Dr Maguire undid the cord and pulled Pat's pyjama
trousers open.  He pressed first of all on Pat's right hand side just by
his balls, Pat grunted.  He repeated this on the left hand side and Pat
winced.

     "See that, lad?" he said to me, "Small, but something's got to be
done."

     All I'd seen was Pat's cock pushed from one side to the other. I
wouldn't have said that was small.  A good size as I'd seen it before. Oh,
he meant the hernia, I suppose.

     He flipped the pyjama front together and pulled the blanket across
him.

     "That's OK, Pat," he said, "I'll get Mr Symes to put a stitch in that.
Friday before half-term.  No boxing or rugger from now until Christmas.
That's an order.
  I'll tell Brother Finnegan.  And no lifting heavy weights.  Stay here
tonight and tomorrow, no getting out.  Pee in a bottle, right!  See you
tomorrow afternoon."

     He turned and as he marched out said "Thanks, you did a good job,
lad!"  to me.  Pat's mouth was opening and closely soundlessly.

     "No lifting heavy weights," I said, "That means cutting down on other
things too.  Puts too much of a strain on things."

     He looked at me slyly, "Shut up!  And what did he mean about my
hernia?"

     "Well he said he would get Mr Symes to put a stitch in it."  I
laughed, "You'd better watch it 'cause Mr Symes did Georgie Clegg's
circumcision."


To be continued:................