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?