Desensitization

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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Shared memories of an overly modest almost ten year old boy and how his parents went about desensitizing him. The methods would serve today's parents as well in achieving the same results.

Desensitization
by, Running Bare

I was three months shy of my tenth birthday. My Cub Scout den mother wanted all six of us boys in her care to progress through the “ranks” as quickly as possible and was dedicated to us earning many arrowheads along the way. She was especially dedicated to swimming skills.

On that note, other than the basic dog paddle my skills in swimming were waning. Mrs. Tomlinson, the den leader, lived four doors down from our house and both she and Mom were very good friends. Her ten year old son was one of my best friends in the neighborhood. Tragically, Mr. Tomlinson lost his life in an automobile accident a year and a half before I became a Cub.

One fateful day in June, we were told our scheduled den meeting would be conducted at her backyard at the built-in pool. This was exciting to me as I often visited with her son Jeff during the year, but the warm months were exceptionally inviting as we both got to use his pool. Dog paddle or not, it was fun to jump off the side and “swim” my way back to the wall. Besides, the inflatable pool toys provided many hours of entertainment as well.

That day there was definitely excitement in her voice as we stood at attention in her living room and, after we recited the scout oath, she gave announced what she thought would be a fun-filled session and calmly gave the order for us all to strip. It was as nonchalant as could be—sweet smile and gentle tone. “All of you take off your clothes, fold them and put them on the couch over there.”

The cheers of excitement made it evident that most of my fellow Scouts were not at a stage in their modesty I'd achieve in my nine and three quarters years on the planet.

As it turned out four of the boys, including Jeff, started to disrobe immediately, chattering excitedly about the pool as the did so. I stood embarrassed and modesty filled watching them as they slid off their underwear. Their penises and little ball sacks fully visible, they lined back up an stood at attention before our leader. Timmy Kelly and Joey Mitchell both were sporting little boners, but still apparently unashamedly nude.

Mrs. Tomlinson seeing both Tony Cahill and I were still fully clothed in our shorts, and uniform shirts tactfully said, “Boys, we're going to the pool. You need to take off your clothes.”

It was me who offered the first explanation. I simply told her I wasn't comfortable being naked and I would just watch. Tony just nodded in agreement. It was then she told us she'd called each of our mothers and told them we'd be spending this afternoon and the next three Thursday afternoons naked and swimming in her pool. “It's okay your moms know you'll be naked. Nobody will be upset. Just take off your clothes so we can get started.” As if our moms knowing made it okay in our minds.

Both of us continued to refuse—politely, but refused non-the-less. Rather than make a big production, she ushered both of us along with the naked four out to the pool deck. Both Tony and me were made to sit with our backs against the brick wall of the house and watch the others play. The nude boys were turned loose to enter the pool and they were more than excited to do so. Frankly, I was jealous at the comfort, excitement and laughter they were exhibiting under the circumstances. Naked or not they were really having fun.

I whispered to Tony about how there were no bushes or fences around the Tomlinson's yard and the neighbors from many houses away could watch the naked boys—even girls our age—if they chose to do so. People could see them from many vantage points. He agreed and felt that alone added further confirmation to our decision to keep our clothes on.

After a free swim period, Mrs. Tomlinson, dressed in a one-piece black suit entered the water. She began by telling the boys she wanted them to try to float on their backs, offering the one who could float the longest a prize.

It was a funny sight watching our eight to eleven year old fellow scouts floating on their backs. Their limp penises looked like dead caterpillars attached to their crotches as they appeared just above the surface of the crystal clear water. At that point not a single one was showing any sign of a stiffy. They were all flaccid, and, to a kid, their ball sacks were tightly retracted.

It admired Joey's penis. He seemed to be the most gifted as far as length, but mine was probably as long or maybe a bit longer. His grape-sized, bluish-pink glans was well defined by the tightness of his circumcision. I can't say I didn't want to feel it as I watched him floating. I wanted to coax it into a full erection just to see how long it would extend. Yes, I had one too but I wanted to feel his.

It did bother me that Joey didn't seem to be self-conscious like I was. As I grew older, memories of complimentary comments about the length of my penis from adult relatives and even cousins did make me feel a little “freakish”. Perhaps that was the reason I had such modesty issues at such a young age. It wasn't uncommon for my mother's sister, Aunt Gladys, to suggest I denude myself in her presence so she could get a look at “my handsome nephew's boy thing” and to “measure its growth since the last time I saw you.” Now, be honest, as a nine year old wouldn't that make you a little shy about exposing yourself?

My reverie was broken when Tony whispered something about Billy Franklin's penis. I looked. Yeah, there was something different about it's appearance. After seeing me look, Tony asked, “What's wrong with it?” What we didn't know then, was not every American boy was circumcised. It was clear none of us had ever seen a skin wrapped glans. To say we were the only one's to notice Billy's difference that day would be inaccurate. In fact, there were so many unrestrained comments from the boys that afternoon, that Mrs. Tomlinson had the skinny dippers sit on the pool wall in front of Tony and me and she explained the facts of foreskins to all of us. We were shocked to learn we all had penises that looked like his when we first came into the world. She went on to tell us how most parents of boys in the United States had that extra skin removed before we left the hospital. “It is easier to keep them clean that way. Billy's parents didn't want it cut off, so Billy's penis looks a bit different from yours, but it works the same. In fact he has a little more to play with, don't you Billy?”

We all cringed imagining the whole cutting part of Mrs. Tomlinson's description, even Billy winced but in the end proudly shouted “I'm glad they didn't let anybody do that to me.”

Mrs. Tomlinson tied to defuse the disgust she saw on our faces saying we boys with exposed tips didn't even have an inkling of what happened when the procedure was done. We'd grown up fully healed and thinking that's the way we were brought into the world. Still just thinking about having our foreskins “peeled” off played on my imagination as I'm sure it did to the others.

I wondered, and still do, why Billy wasn't more concerned over his difference in that area. I mean my better than average length embarrassed me, one would think his wrappings would do the same for him. It didn't. In fact he was more than happy from then on to pull that foreskin back to prove he had a knob much like the rest of us, it was just hiding. When he did pull it back I remember thinking about how wet it always looked and it definitely was redder than any of ours.

But enough about Billy. Mrs. Tomlinson apparently was concerned enough about my modesty that she called Mom and told her that I refused to strip. I'm sure she called Tony's mom as well, but, hell, all I can do is tell you of my situation.

At dinner that night my Dad asked, as he always did, about our day. My younger sister Mandy was quick to fill him in about the ordeals of second grade and how some kid named Ginger pissed off the teacher by talking back in the classroom. Her story evidently amused my parents as they both chuckled.

Dad picked up on it and said, “Sounds to me like your teacher needs a paddle. That little girl needs her bare ass worn out right then and there. If either of you act like that, you'll get spanked right in front of the other kids, and if your teacher won't do it with the paddle, your mother or I will come to school with a belt and do it for them.” And, both of us knew that wasn't an idle threat, they would without hesitation.

“How was your day, Jack?” My turn.

I shrugged my shoulders and just gave the minimalist, “Okay I guess.”

“What'd you do at the Cubs this afternoon?”

I was oblivious that both he and Mom were well aware of how that went. I just said that Mrs. Tomlinson talked about swimming. Which he followed with asking if we actually made use of the Tomlinson's pool.

I knew I had to be truthful, but just replied, “Some of us.” I knew if I told the whole story I'd get the lecture about how I shouldn't be so shy about being naked, especially with other little boys. I'd heard that from both he and Mom several times since I became self-conscious about it two years earlier.

I got it anyway. Mom piped in with her counselor voice, “Jeff's mom told me you were shy about swimming naked. Most boys aren't afraid to be naked. You know there's nothing about your body to be ashamed of don't you? I mean you and the other boys are pretty much the same. And any mom or dad knows what boys penises look like, so you shouldn't be so shy.”

There it was. They knew. I wondered what they knew and how upset they were about my absolute refusal to follow Mrs. Tomlinson's order to strip naked. It was an era when parents believed that, as a child, you were to do whatever an adult in-charge told you to without question. That would include stripping naked if told to do so no matter when or where. I hadn't done that.

I also knew in those days it was every mom and dad's attitude that boys needed to be secure enough to parade around naked, especially but not limited to when in the presence of other naked males. I remember the embarrassment of having to be naked when Dad and I were in locker rooms at the community pool. And, yes, I was aware that I appeared to be the only boy or man in that locker room to be so shy about it. And yes, it was a bit bothering to me in that I felt my attitude about it made me different from other boys. When my Dad was with me he'd make me saunter slowly to the gang shower and he'd physically face me toward the center of the chamber to soap up so others could readily take in a frontal view of my body.

Surprisingly, at the table that night neither of my parents was perceptibly angry. Neither parent's voice was raised. The only sound I remember than night was my sweet little sister Mandy giggling and asking Dad, “The boys swim naked?”

He was quick to respond. “Yes, little boys can always swim naked”, and then followed with the clarification, “but girls aren't supposed to anywhere,” as he pointed at her with his fork.

“How come Jack doesn't?”

“I don't know, Honey. I guess he's a little shy. But, he'll get over it. Won't you, son?”

I nodded with head bowed indicating I would. I knew I couldn't but to suggest so could set off a problem I didn't need that night.

That resulted in a lot more giggling from my bratty sister. She even chanted Dad's words, “Boys swim naked! Boys swim naked!” and added a second verse, “So girls can see their things!” Mom and Dad chuckled and told her that was enough.

Later that evening, my father came to my bedroom and sat on the bed. I thought it was just for the usual head rub and kiss good night. As he rubbed my head, he said that my modesty and shyness was a big concern to both he and Mom and that “we need to work on that”. I teared up at the thought that I'd disappointed them, but I was not ready to give up my internal prohibition to publicly expose myself. Dad gave me his usual parting kiss and left my room.

That was Thursday. Friday went as usual. Other than being pizza day at school and Mom letting me buy lunch (I usually carried my lunch) school was uneventful. My evening report during dinner was rather mundane. Dad mentioned he'd planned a special outing for Saturday morning. It was his intention to take us down to River Ridge, the large wooded park covering over a thousand acres. It was three miles from our home. Mom would pack a picnic lunch and we'd spend the whole day in the closest thing to wilderness our community had to offer. I loved the outdoors and was anxious that my Dad would be spending time recreating with us. He usually didn't.

The park was a place I'd ride my bike to anytime I could. Usually Jeff and I would ride down there and chain our bikes to a tree at the edge of the forest. We'd spend hours hiking, rock climbing, skipping rocks in the river, tracking wildlife, etc. It was my dream to catch a raccoon down there, bring it home and make a pet of him. Naive? Yes. But I was an almost ten year old boy and those were the things of boys' dreams.

That morning I put on my cutoff shorts and a t-shirt and hurriedly bounced down to the kitchen. Mom had been busy preparing lunch. Ham sandwiches on Wonderbread (my personal favorite), carrot sticks, chips and cookies. Dad sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee. Mandy joined us and poured a bowl of Corn Flakes. There we were the picture of the typical American family.

It was about nine in the morning when we all piled into the family station wagon to go to the park. When we got down there Dad pulled into a grassy spot in a field about a hundred yards from a pool in the river's path. It was tough carrying some of the provisions to the river, but I helped my dad with the chore.

We found a spot to set up our picnic base and Mom and Dad spread the wool blanket over the tall grass. Mandy and I rolled around on it and tamped the grass down considerably. Here we were a family together in the fresh air and sunshine. Yes, it was going to be a great day.

Mandy accompanied me to the pool of water. After examining the muddy shoreline for any sign of wildlife, especially tracks of my prized prey, raccoons, I picked up a flat rock and skipped it over the calm surface of the pool. It bounced one, two, … six times before sinking to the bottom. Mandy tried to mimic me but her rock just blooped and sank. Not one skip. Girls? What can I say?

Mom called Mandy to the blanket. When I looked again they were walking hand in hand back to the car. Guess they forgot something or were sharing some “girl bonding time”.

“Jack,” Dad summoned me back to the blanket. I ran back there anticipating something we could do for “male bonding time”. I approached the blanket and he said, “I want you to take off your clothes and give them to me.” I was stunned. I couldn't be sure I'd heard him. “Let's go, just take off everything and hand them to me.” The blood had left my brain. I was flushed. I know I was. What could I do?

I loved my parents even though they were very strict when it came to discipline and I knew Dad would resort to the belt if I dared object to his order. But I chanced to ask, “Why?”

“Your mother and I want to help you with your shyness problem. Just take your clothes off. Go on now give me your shorts.” He held his hand out. I slowly undid the buckle on my belt. Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough, he reached over and roughly unfastened the copper button on the cutoffs, unzipped them and they slid down my tanned legs. Still in a trance, I stepped out of them and Dad gathered them up. “Now your underpants”.

I remember silently questioning why not my t-shirt. But my master commanded my underpants. I slid them down over my now stiff penis. It actually snapped as the elastic cleared the tip and my boner bounced up and down stopping at center and pointing directly at Dad. As my hands went to clutch the appendage for modesty's sake. Dad asked me to take off my shirt. I removed the shirt. Now standing completely naked before my well meaning father I again tried to cover up. He gently took my hands and held them to my hips. “Keep your hands away. I want you to keep your penis where it can be seen no matter who comes or what happens. You'll be okay. Just relax and enjoy the rest of the day.”

The day? I think he's going to make me stay naked all day!

He did.

Mom and Mandy came back from the car and Mandy was wearing a two piece. She was aghast when she saw my totally naked form. Mom smiled and told her, “Your brother is going to be naked today. I know it's been a while since you've seen him naked, but there he is. Mandy, if you want to touch his penis or testicles be gentle. We don't want you to hurt him.”

What? If she wants to touch them? What in the hell...? raced through my mind.

The silence was broken when Dad put his hand around me on my left butt cheek and pulled me toward him. “Come here Mandy.” She walked over staring at my erection and smiling impishly. “Go ahead feel Jack's penis. Just reach down and feel it. It won't bite you.” I was totally humiliated and my eyes were tear filled as my kid sister latched on to my four inch appendage. She looked up with pride to my father's approving face.

Mom chimed in. “Mandy, use your fingers and feel his little bag there.” She did as she was told. There was a sense of discovery in her smile as she looked toward Mom.

“Okay, you two go play. We'll keep an eye on you if you want to swim.” Mom gave us each a gentle slap on the butt—mine bare and Mandy's cloth covered.

For the next six hours we stayed at our spot in the park. As luck had it, nobody else came to enjoy the area so my embarrassment was limited to my family. I did gradually lose the boner and became a little more comfortable with my exposure. At least more comfortable off and on when Mandy wasn't asking to feel my equipment.

It must have been about three in the afternoon when we started gathering stuff up. I asked where my clothes were and Mom told me they were in the car. I started to walk that way, but was stopped by her explanation. “You won't be needing them. We want you to stay naked the rest of the day.”

My face must have told the whole story. Jaw dropped, face reddening in embarrassment, I just uttered, “Why?” and again felt tears coming to my eyes and my penis begin to straighten.

“Your Dad and I love you. We are worried about your concern about being naked. It isn't normal for boys your age. We want you to feel comfortable with your body. Jack, your penis is fine. So is your bottom. There's nothing there that you should be ashamed of. You look like any other little boy and we want you to know it. I'll tell you again, everybody else in the world knows what little boys' bodies look like. You shouldn't be so shy.”

I kept my head down during the walk of shame to the family station wagon. It wasn't until Dad handed Mom the car keys that I felt an inkling something was amiss. “Mandy and I will see you two in an hour or so.” I looked questioningly at Dad.

“You and I are going to walk home, Jack.”

“We can't. I'm naked.”

Dad had a look of firmness in his eyes. “Yes, I know. You and I will walk all the way home. You will keep your hands away from your penis or we'll walk back here and start over. Understand?”

“But, people will see me!”

“That's the general idea. Maybe you'll learn to accept yourself. If everyone sees you, then you won't have to hide any more.”

With that the car engine roared and Mom and Mandy backed out onto the pavement. Dad took my hand and we began the three mile trek back home. This wasn't the male bonding experience I was looking for.

I flinched as the very first car appeared around a bend in the park's access road. My father actually clasped my hand tightly and reminded me not to cover up. My stiff penis swayed with each step we took. As it roared past, the driver sounded the horn with two short blasts and his passengers—teenagers of both genders-- waved, whistled and cat called to me. “Hey nice dick, kid!” It must have appealed to them because within minutes they had turned around and were now coming back from the rear. The car pulled up ten feet to our left and all but stopped as they hung out the windows. “Hey little boy, you have a cute butt too,” shouted one of the teenage females. I was devastated by their attention to both sides of my body. After they made a few borderline lewd remarks, Dad ordered them to move on and they did.

“See that didn't hurt, did it? Most people have manners and won't act like that.”

Fact is it did hurt. I didn't say so, but it did make me aware of the unwanted attention being naked in front of others brought. It verified people did look at naked little boys and they did make judgments about what they saw. It also verified older females weren't immune from enjoying the sight of naked little boys. We walked on. Once we cleared the park entrance, we were on the sidewalk of a busy suburban street.

One of the things going through my mind as we walked down River Boulevard was, “What if a cop sees this. Is he going to arrest my Dad?” It was both a scary thought, but, at the same time, maybe they'd just make Dad cover me up somehow.

It wasn't long before I had my answer. A black and white police car cruised right on by. Hell, he didn't even slow down, just kept going. So, I asked.

“How come the police didn't stop?”

Dad just said, I was a little boy and they had better things to do. He explained that I wasn't old enough to be considered “indecent” and it was therefore impossible to call it “indecent exposure”. That kind of popped my bubble too. I really wasn't as grown up as I thought I was. In comparison, imagine that whole scenario playing out today. Shit American society has gone wimpy and from one end of the modesty spectrum to the other in half my lifetime.

As we walked, we passed many what I'd consider stately middle class houses. There were two or three where the adult occupants were out tending to their lawns or walking to their cars. I can honestly say they did do a double take when they saw my penis swaying, but all they did was wave or call out with a “Hi there.” Dad would return the wave and we'd keep walking.

Many cars, especially on River Boulevard did beep a short burst as if to acknowledge “Yeah, we see you! All of you!” but they kept rolling. Occasionally the break lights would light up momentarily giving the occupants of the vehicle time to absorb as much of that “cute little boy's body” as they could.

After about an hour of this parade, we rounded the corner on the street where our house was. I was still very guarded about my nakedness. Dad just kept encouraging me. “See, nobody cares about you being naked. They all just think 'there's a little boy who feels free to be naked and doesn't care what anyone else thinks'. We're almost home.”

As we approached the Tomlinson's Dad nudged me up their sidewalk. “Let's go see if Jeff and his mother are home.”

I didn't want to. I may have been disarmed by the walk, but it'd take more than that to make me abandon my well established modesty. I mean it's like Dad said on the walk home, “All these people have no idea who you are. They will see you and then forget about it.” I found myself hoping that was true, but how did he know who was in those cars? It could have been other kids from my school, teachers, anybody. The problem was we were about to entertain people who did know me. I wasn't keen on Mrs. Tomlinson being privy to my penis especially after the Thursday ordeal.

I should note that Jeff and I had already shared a few comparison based sex play sessions in his garage so I wasn't too worried about him seeing (or even touching) my boy toys. He'd been there before. Misses? Well she had never seen my junk and now I was being forced to show it all to her.

Dad rang the bell. Mrs. Tomlinson answered the door. “Hi David, and look at you Jack. Lost your shyness? What a nice looking boy you are. You're body is just beautiful. Very handsome.”

Dad explained what Mom and he had done to try to help me over the modesty hump. He assured her that I would be more than happy to disrobe whenever she told me to “from now on”. She invited us in but Dad bowed out by telling her he had to help Mom get things back in order at the house. It was then Jeff joined his mother at the door and actually snorted a laugh seeing me standing naked, erect and embarrassed at the front door.

He followed with the obvious, “You walked over here naked?”

Dad answered, “No, he walked from the park naked. He isn't a bit ashamed of his body anymore. Are you, Jack?”

My answer? “Well a little. I didn't like it.”

“Why don't you leave him here. He and Jeff can play and swim. I might even find some time to work with his swimming skills later tonight.”

Jeff rubbed it in, “If he stays can we make him stay naked?” My Dad and his mother both took it as a way to tease me, but I knew he meant it. Then he encouraged my decision, “Yeah, Jack stay here.” Then to his mother he plead, “Can he spend the night?”

I didn't want to spend the night. I was naked and had absolutely no clothing to put on. “Ah, I wanna go h...”

I was cut off by Dad, “Sure. He can stay the night. You don't mind that he'll be naked, do you, Tina?”

“No, not at all. I like looking at him this way.” Talk about honesty? Her remark is etched in my memory and is a hundred percent accurate. I think she meant it to release my modesty issues, but I understood it to mean she would rather have me naked all the time because she like looking at my penis and butt. Then she followed, “Jeff, why don't you and Jack go down to the rec room. Pick out a board game while I finish getting supper ready.”

Dad pushed me toward the opened door. “Behave yourself. If he needs it, you do know how to use a belt. Don't you?” She chuckled at that, but I knew he was dead earnest. He bid Mrs. Tomlinson a farewell, turned and walked away. Jeff was excited that I'd be there overnight. He wanted to go up to his room rather than the basement rec room. I must say, my state of undress was almost completely ignored by him as we entered his bedroom and he took a box containing his game of Battleship off the shelf. I wanted to just scream, “What the hell, Jeff, can't you see I'm naked here!” to try to bring his attention to the obvious. I mean he could have at least offered to strip as well to make my situation less uncomfortable. But, nooooo.... He acted completely oblivious.

Over the following hour or so, I found myself becoming less aware of my state of undress. As we sunk ships on both sides I unconsciously sat on my calves with my knees spread as was a common position for boys. I didn't even think that doing so fully exposed my again flaccid penis. Our discussion was truly centered on the game. At least in the presence of one of your best friends who'd seen your bare genitals and backside many times before. Certainly it was notable Jeff didn't make any moves to feel my package while I was so exposed. So this is how body acceptance was supposed to feel.

Mrs. Tomlinson hollered upstairs, “Boys, dinner's ready!” and down we went. I'd almost forgotten I was totally nude. Apparently so had my hosts as it wasn't even mentioned. In fact, my penis was flaccid and draped over my tangerine sized scrotum so I must have been getting used to it as well. As we ate the hotdogs, pork and beans, and french fries his mother had prepared, we chatted about school. Yeah, school. Not a word about my nakedness until Mrs. Tomlinson suggested that Jeff strip naked after dinner and we'd go out to the pool. She added that perhaps I'd feel more comfortable if he stayed naked the whole time I was there as well. He didn't even flinch. It didn't take him thirty seconds to shed every thread he had on. As he removed his briefs, I was amazed he hadn't popped a boner.

At the pool we two, nude, ten and almost ten year olds ran around under the lights. Occasionally we'd swat at the night bugs that were attracted by the brightness of the flood lights. It didn't occur to me until later that the lights might also be attracting an audience in the surrounding houses as well. Mrs. Tomlinson slipped into the water in the same bathing suit she'd worn the previous Thursday.

“Jack, come over here.” She gently took me by the arm as I waded through the three or four feet of water. I want you to try to float on your tummy. I oriented myself and as I rose she cupped my penis and balls with one hand and placed the other on my chest. “Now kick, move your arms like I showed you and at the same time move your head side to side.” Mother or not, when someone holds your equipment in their hand your appendage naturally stiffens. And, it did. She actually clutched my penis and said, “Relax.” How in the hell can you relax while someone is holding the most taboo part of your body.

As I replay the whole thing in my head today, I must admit I kind of enjoyed her holding me there. It was just startling to have it happen. Anyway, I clumsily tried to coordinate all those movements while she clutched everything that made me a boy. Just when I thought she might be deriving some pleasure from holding my junk, she gradually released her grasp on both ends of my body.

That night we did a whole lot of practicing strokes and floating. Most of it required her touching my penis and balls. Two or three times she'd scissors my erection between her index and middle finger and clamped down on it. I just kept telling myself, “Hey, she's a mother. According to my mom, nothing here a mother hasn't felt before.” Yeah, but she wasn't MY mother, and even if she was, I'd still have been uncomfortable.

Jeff occupied himself demonstrating all the strokes and floating within four or five feet of us. He was completely oblivious to the fact his mother was cupping my boy parts through much of the instruction. After about an hour she exited the pool, released the two of us to play freely in the water, went in the house and returned with a camera. My naked friend Jeff and I were about to have our boyhoods immortalized. I'll bet she took fifty pictures that night. The flash was almost constant. She made us get out of the pool so she could pose us and take pictures of “those cute little peepees”. I wanted to object, but I knew doing that would cause a whole round of more trouble if I did. Besides, I was convinced I'd almost been cured from embarrassment and humiliation by the day's events.

Turned out I stayed with the Tomlinsons through the following day as well and her camera got a workout. Jeff was made to stay naked as well and it did make things a little easier for me. Misery does love company.

Sunday evening I walked home nude to prepare for my last week of school. And, what a week it was going to be.

Marlene Gravely, a fifth grader, called out to Jeff and me in the hallway. She was quick to tell us she and her parents had watched us swimming naked in the Tomlinson's pool for a long time. She also made it clear that she'd heard I was “walking around the neighborhood naked”, she continued with a sarcastic baby tone, “with your Daddy holding your hand”. Trouble was she wasn't shy about sharing what she'd saw and heard Saturday. I kept hearing it again and again from other kids most of whom Marlene had filled in. I'll bet I was asked a thousand times, “Did your Dad make you walk around naked?” or “Were you and Jeff Tomlinson naked at his house?” Yeah, I was embarrassed. Who wouldn't be?

The following Thursday, we met for our den meeting again. It would be swim lesson number two, and, yes, we were expected to strip naked again. Though still uncomfortable with the prospect, this time I complied and shed my clothing. Wish I could say Tony found it any easier. To my chagrin and I'm sure his, his mom had decided to assist Mrs. Tomlinson with us boys. I now know the real reason was she'd chosen a quicker way to help her son with his body shyness. She stripped him herself. That completed the set of six.

After we got out to the backyard, Mrs. Tomlinson showed up with her camera. She wanted a group shot of all those “handsome little boys and their swinging peepees” to give to our parents and post at the next pack meeting. We had to line up holding hands across the length of the pool and smile. She must have snapped a dozen photos before we were allowed to swim. The photo session continued with Tony's mom clicking away during the lessons.

The photos taken that day were quite humiliating. There we were, most of us smiling happily, some looking here and there and four of the six of us were hard as rocks. Those little bulbous heads were plump and pronounced at the end of our pencil shafts. Then there was Billy's. His tip was also showing kind of half way out of the turtleneck sweater that surrounded it. There were individual pictures of the other boys and me diving and swimming that I wasn't even aware were taken. Many were posted as 8 x 10's on a wall of the meeting room at our next pack meeting. Other Cubs, parents and siblings were engrossed in looking at the black and white images. It did at the time and in my memory even today seem so surreal.

Nobody was making any negative comments about the fact our nude pictures were posted. Quite the contrary if you consider the remarks I heard the den mother from Den 4 made to two ladies who I assume were mothers of Cubs in her group.

“I love it. Maybe we should all make the boys stay naked a den meetings. They look so cute, don't they? You know if we made them strip before the meetings, it'd be cheaper. No uniforms would be needed especially if they were made to be naked at pack meetings too.”

One of the ladies she was half joking about it with added, “Yeah, we could use staples or tape to put those badges on them.”

The other lady added, “I'd tie awards around their little peepees. Wouldn't it be fun?”

This was getting out of hand and to my ten year old mind sounded too close to happening. In the interest of my comfort, I walked away and joined some of the other boys.

About the only other remarks I remember were about how cute we were. One or two mothers comment on my penis size in particular as they looked at the individual photos. That was embarrassing. It also confirmed my suspicion that “everyone knows what little boys' penises look like” didn't equate with “they're all the same”. At least it seemed so for people attending that meeting. So much for boyhood privacy.

Mom and Dad kept many photos of me naked. There are portrayals of me from birth to six, then none from about six to ten. They picked up again from ten to thirteen. Most were in water play situations or engaged in activities at home. Nearly all are frontal shots of both flaccid and erect states. They included the black and white productions of Jeff's mom, and full colored slides my Dad or Mom had taken. Not a single photo exists of my sister naked after she was four or five.

Someday, just for the erotic thrill, I may just post them on the internet.

(End of File)