A Puericil Journey

A Puericil Journey 8

[12,600 words]

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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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A PUERICIL JOURNEY - PART EIGHT

HELEN'S JOURNAL

The hotel was basic, as was to be expected (it was a budget chain), but it was comfortable enough for one night. Owen and Jamie wore me down into letting them stay in the one room, while Amy and I had the other. The two boys quickly went off to their own domain but after an hour or so, they came back into our room and we watched a film, the four of us together, armed with a bag of assorted snacks. After this weekend, I'm half expecting to go into a diabetic coma!

The hotel bed springs squeaked as Owen flopped onto the mattress beside me, still smelling faintly of sunscreen and seawater despite his shower. He burrowed into my side like a much younger child, his hair tickling my chin. Across the room, Amy curled into the only armchair with her phone, the blue glow casting shadows under her eyes. Meanwhile, Jamie hovered near the foot of the bed, parking about one fifth of his butt on the very edge.

"There's plenty of space here," I said, patting the vacant spot to my left. He looked unsure, but I waved him up and he made his way awkwardly around to me. When he settled, there was a carefully left three-inch gap between us. Close enough to participate, far enough to make sure I wouldn’t bite, I suppose!

We watched the latest How To Train Your Dragon. After such a busy day though, by the half way point Owen’s breathing had slowed into the heavy rhythm of near-sleep. Jamie, was less sleepy, but by this point he had relaxed enough to lean into me himself. Amy had given up on the film altogether and was back on her phone, but I left her be. I enjoyed having two boys to cuddle, one either side of me.

Later, the credits rolled, casting flickering blue light across the rumpled hotel bedspread. Jamie stretched his arms overhead with a yawn. "Alright," he said, "I think I'll head back to our room. Owen!" He said, leaning right over my lap to nudge my sleeping son, "Wake up! You can't sleep there!"

Owen blinked blearily, his head lolling against my shoulder where he'd drifted off. "Huh?"

"Time to go to our room, Owen!" Jamie hopped off the bed, grabbing Owen's wrist to haul him upright. "Unless you wanna sleep in here with the girls." His nose scrunched on the word girls like it was something sticky he'd stepped in. Although I was pleased to be included as one of “the girls” if I’m honest!

I gently smoothed Owen's sleep-mussed hair back from his forehead. "You boys sure you don't want to stay? There's plenty of space."

Jamie shook his head, already steering a drowsy Owen toward the door. "Nah, we're good. Night, Mrs. Hicks!"

"Night Jamie. Night Owen." I gave Owen a kiss and let him follow Jamie out.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room suddenly too quiet. I stared at the empty space on the bed where Owen had been curled against me minutes ago, the sheets still warm. Amy glanced up from her iPad long enough to roll her eyes at me. "Mum. You're being weird."

I smoothed the rumpled duvet absently. "Am I?"

"You're doing that face." She mimed exaggerated puppy-dog eyes.

I swatted at her with a pillow, but she dodged, giggling. From next door, the muffled sound of Owen and Jamie's laughter seeped through the thin hotel walls.

OWEN’S JOURNAL

We ate at Nando's last night after the beach, and then headed to our hotel. It's not a posh hotel, Mum can only afford a Travel Lodge but Jamie and I did get our own room! There was a fair bit of arguing over that, but they didn't have a room free that could fit us all, and since Mum wasn't really happy about any of us, including Amy, staying in a room by themselves, we were able to negotiate/nag our way to getting the 2nd room. I pointed out that Amy wouldn't want to be on her own, It would be weird for Jamie to share with just my mum, and Jamie didn't want to share with Amy either. And neither did I! So it was a no brainer. Yeah, I was being mean to Amy, but you can still tease your sister even when you're on Puericil.

So Mum roomed with Amy and next door became "the boys room" - our room!

In truth, there wasn't actually that much to do there and we soon got bored and went back into Mum’s room to watch a movie with the others. But we did go back to our own room to sleep. It was late by then and as soon as we arrived Jamie launched his clothes across the room as he changed into his pyjamas, only to change his mind, taking the top back off and lobbing it at me. I dodged. He jumped into his bed.

"Get in with me!" He said.

There were two single beds in the room, and when I pointed out that they were too small for us to sleep in the same bed, he just leapt straight out again and began to push my bed across towards his!

"Gimmie a hand, Owen!"

I did so. I felt a little nervous about sleeping in the same bed as him after what happened earlier that day. But I knew it was a waste of time trying to resist his enthusiasm though, so I went along with it. I changed into my own pyjamas and got in next to him, making a big show of how tired I was. After saying good night to him, I went to turn to lie facing away from him, but he grabbed me. Not hard, just enough to stop me turning. I was worried he'd try to kiss me again, but he just moved forward and hugged me like I was an oversized teddy bear.

Before long he was asleep, so I was trapped there, but I must have drifted off too before long. The next thing I knew, he was nudging me awake again.

***

"Owen?" Jamie's whisper cut through my dreamless sleep. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, willing him to think I was still asleep. And willing myself to BE back asleep before it was too late and I lost the vibe. The mattress creaked as he shifted closer.

"Owen?" His breath warmed the back of my neck this time. "Are you awake?"

"For fuck's sake, Jamie!" I flipped onto my back, glaring at the dim outline of his face hovering above me. " Of course I'm awake, you just woke me!" The digital clock on the bedside table glared 02:17 in angry red.

Jamie recoiled like I'd slapped him. "Sorry," he mumbled, fingers twisting in the duvet.

Now fully awake (against my wishes) I became aware of the not-unpleasant but embarrassing sensation of a night time erection and rolled onto my stomach instinctively. The resulting pressure on my dick between my body and the mattress only made it more insistent.

The silence stretched until Jamie's foot brushed mine under the covers. A short pause and now his toes curled against my ankle, then retreated. I remained stubbornly still and silent.

"Owen?" His whisper was so quiet I almost missed it.

"What?" I hissed back, still facing away from him.

"Since we're not at school..." He trailed off, his breathing uneven.

I waited. The digital clock ticked over to 02:19.

Jamie's toes tapped nervously against my shin. "I mean... we don't have to." The sheets rustled as he turned onto his back. "I just thought, since ... you know. No one can see us here."

I now knew exactly what he meant and where this was going.

Jamie's elbow bumped mine. "Well?"

My face burned. "I dunno."

"You do know." He huffed, kicking at the duvet. "Don't pretend you don't have a stiffy, Owen. I put my hand on it by mistake just before I woke you up."

I rolled onto my back, pressing my palms against the mattress like I could physically push away the situation. "Jamie..."

"It's just two boys playing a game," he cut in, already sitting up. "No big deal. Lot's of people do it together. Come on, it'll be fun!"

"OK," I heard myself say. I don't know where it came from. Except that I knew he was right, I’d heard it wasn’t unusual for this sort of thing to happen.

Jamie pounced on my unenthusiastic consent before the "K" part of "OK". He threw off the mattress and just as quickly got his pyjama pants off, throwing them across the room in typical Jamie style. I have to admit it didn't take me long to look at his stiff willy, bobbing about proudly as he moved around before getting comfortable next to me. It was kind of exciting to see. I decided I could worry and feel bad about this later. For now, live in the moment, as they say.

He sat upright next to me, cross legged.

"Come on, Owen, sit up with me. We can watch each other."

I dithered and tried to say I was happy where I was.

"Stop being shy! You don't need to be embarrassed, there's no one here but me. And I like seeing you."

I hauled myself up next to him, but rather than sit cross-legged like him, I got into a sort of half-sit, half-squat. leaning against the bed head. Jamie didn't hesitate. His hand was between his legs as soon as I sat down and he was away, his thumb swiping over the head of his cock in a practiced motion that left a glistening streak, before sliding his hand up and down his shaft. The sight was kind of hypnotic.

"Are you going to join in, or just watch?" he asked.

I swallowed hard and finally reached down, fumbling with my waistband. I lifted my butt to shuck down my pyjama pants and kicked them off. My own erection sprang free, bobbing against my stomach. Jamie's eyes flicked downward, his grin widening.

"See? It’s not so hard." His breath hitched mid-sentence as his strokes sped up. "Or maybe that's a bad choice of words!" he giggled.

My fingers closed around myself hesitantly. Jamie's gaze burned a trail down my chest, his breathing loud in the quiet hotel room. I moved my hand awkwardly at first. I just felt too self-conscious to do it as I would alone, without inhibition.

"Dance like no one's watching, Owen." said Jamie, "Umm, Owen? Are you right handed?"

"Yeah, 'course."

"Great. Let's do each other."

"I don't know..."

"Shut up, it'll be fun. Can you move over and sit the other side of me?"

"What for?"

"I'll move and you can shift over. There you go."

I obediently moved to his side of the bed and as we swapped places. I felt nervous, but it didn't effect my stiffy at all.

"I'm left handed," Jamie announced proudly, "so this should work pretty well."

A few seconds thinking to myself Oh, I never noticed he was a leftie. What do they call them, southpaws? before I remembered what was going on.

"Do you want to start together, or do you want to touch me first?"

I had a moment of realising I could leave, go next door. But If I didn't leave I would have to do something. So I took hold of his hard on. That might sound like an odd way to put it, but that's what I did. I didn't grab it as I didn't want to hurt him, and I didn't simply touch it either. I took it in my hand. It felt warm and hard. I know…what did I expect it to feel like? But it felt harder than I expected. I only ever feel my own with a hand that it feels back. But Jamie's was this warm, hard stick that I could only feel from the outside. I moved my hand over it slowly a few times, testing how it felt, and Jamie's reaction. Then I noticed he was staring at me.

"Can you take your top off?" he asked.

"Uh, sure." I agreed, and quickly lost the top.

"That's better," he said, "now do me like you do yourself and I'll do you...."

He crossed his left arm under my right and touched my dick for the fist time. I can't say in too much detail what happened next , except I somehow finally relaxed and we, well, we jerked each other off together. For a while I watched my own hand working on Jamie's dick - partly to check what I was doing, partly because I liked it. Then, when the sensations started to get really nice, I closed my eyes to concentrate on that.

At one point I opened them to find Jamie staring at me. But not in an intense way, he just smiled as if to say, "see, I told you it would be fun?"

At some point I came. It felt better than I'd ever had before. It felt like I must have spurted two or three times more than usual. Then I thought I'd better concentrate hard on making him cum. Just as I was starting to worry I was fucking it up, he suddenly went all-body rigid and came over my hand. And the bed. Both of us did that.

Jamie flopped back onto the pillows, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. "Well?" he asked, turning his head to look at me. "Have fun?"

I wiped my hand on the duvet before I could stop myself, then froze at the realization of what I'd just done. "Yeah," I admitted, my voice raspy. "I did."

What point would there be in lying about it?

Jamie grinned, stretching his arms behind his head with a satisfied sigh. "Me too."

I glanced down at the mess we'd made. There were two big damp patches on the sheets, glistening streaks on my stomach. "What are we gonna do about..." I gestured vaguely at the evidence, still breathing hard, "what if Mum finds out?"

Jamie snorted. "It's a hotel, Owen. Your mum doesn't have to do the laundry." He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. "Odds are no one will notice. Might be a sticky sleep though!” He giggled, too loud for my liking.

"Shhh!! You'll wake Mum."

The damp sheets clung to my thighs when I shifted, tacky and cold. I slid off the bed. "I'm gonna grab a towel," I muttered, more to myself than Jamie. The bathroom tiles were cold underfoot as I fumbled for a clean one from the rack. They were white, scratchy, cheap hotel towels smelling faintly of bleach.

I spread it over the wet spot with exaggerated care, smoothing out wrinkles that didn't matter. That's when it hit me—the sudden realization I'd forgotten my pull-up before going to bed. I glanced toward the open suitcase where a couple where hidden.

Jamie rolled onto his side, watching me through half-lidded eyes as I hesitated. Putting a pull up on now would be humiliating, but accidentally peeing the bed with him in it would have been even worse. I had no choice. Without a word, I grabbed a pull-up and ducked into the bathroom. In privacy I put it on, then pulled my PJ bottoms up over it. When I came back out, Jamie had turned to face the wall.

He didn't say anything at all, good or bad. And that was exactly what I needed him to do.

The mattress dipped as I climbed back in. Jamie waited until I'd settled before flipping onto his back with a theatrical sigh. Moonlight caught the curve of his smile as he tugged the covers up to our chins. I felt happy.

Jamie's hand found mine under the covers and he laced them through mine without a word, squeezing once before letting go. Then he suddenly leaned forward and kissed me. No tongues this time, just a peck - but a peck on the lips though.

"G'night, Owen," he mumbled, already rolling away, his back rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep within seconds.

I lay there staring at the water stain on the ceiling that looked like curiously like Australia, my lips tingling. My heartbeat thudded in my ears louder than the hum of the hotel air conditioning. That wasn't... normal, was it? Boys don't kiss boys goodnight. But I guess we do.

I touched my mouth with the back of my hand. Not to wipe if off like you do when your aunt kisses you. It was to feel it more, if that makes sense?

Have you ever had extreme mixed feelings about something before? I fluttered between shame, anger…this was all Jamie’s fault, or was it all Mum’s fault, because surely this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been put on Puericil in the first place….and then a feeling of being quite happy that I had my first kiss today and I’ve found someone who seems to really like me. And he looks quite cute sleeping there like nothing has happened. Then back to being really freaked out.

Anyway, at some point after, I fell asleep. Working out how I feel about all this would be tomorrow's problem.

HELEN'S JOURNAL

My phone alarm beeped at 08:00 sharp. We had to be out of the hotel by 10:00 and two hours is not as long as it sounds to get three up and ready. I silenced the alarm before the second chirp, glancing at Amy curled tight around her pillow. She'd kicked off the covers in the night and one leg was dangling over the edge of her bed. I smoothed her hair back, my fingers catching on salt-stiffened frizzy strands from yesterday's beach day.

"Up you get, love."

Amy groaned into her pillow. Fifteen minutes later, we were both up and I left Amy getting ready while I quickly popped next door to wake the boys. I rapped twice with my knuckle. No response, but no surprise really. I let myself in with the keycard.

I expected to find them both fast asleep, and Owen was indeed out for the count, but Jamie sat next to him, cross-legged on the bed in his pyjama pants reading. They must have pushed the beds together. Cute. Sunlight breaking through the thin curtains striped his face. He looked up with a start as I entered.

"Oh, sorry Mrs Hicks, I thought it was the cleaners or something and I didn't want them to come in"

"That's alright, darling," I said, stepping fully into the room and letting the door swing shut behind me. The air smelled fairly musky and adolescent and I went to crack a window.

"Did you sleep alright?" I asked. I'm sure he blushed.

"Yeah! Fine. After we, uh…" He gestured at the beds, “…after we pushed them together. So it was less, um, scary." He said the last part as though he was asking a question for some reason. His blush deepened when Owen stirred beside him, one arm flopping out from under the covers, palm upturned, fingers loosely curled.

I hummed non-committally, moving toward the suitcase to dig out Owen's clothes for the day.

"Who's that?" Owen asked in a hoarse, sleepy voice.

"Good morning sleepyhead" I replied, before asking Jamie if he had clothes for the day.

"Yes they should be in my bag."

"I'll get them out for you."

Owen sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. As I turned to glance at him, I noticed a towel in the bed.

"Oh, Owen, did you have an accident? Why didn't you get me?"

"No I did NOT have an accident!" Owen scrambled upright, his face flushing crimson. He lowered his voice and pulled the waist band of his pyjama bottoms down slightly, "anyway, I wore my pull-up! See?"

"Then what," I said slowly, shaking the towel, "is this towel in the bed for?"

Jamie looked decidedly caught out and it seemed unconvincing to me when he claimed he didn't even know it was there.

Owen's throat worked silently for a moment before he blurted, "It was a different kind of accident!" His eyes flicked to Jamie, then away. "You know. The... boy kind."

"A wet dream?"

"Uh huh."

"I see."

Jamie looked extremely guilty and suddenly blurted out his own confession. "I—I had one too," he blurted. "Last night. Same as Owen."

"I thought you didn't get them anymore?" I asked, watching Jamie's face drain of colour. His fingers twisted the edge of the sheet like he wanted to vanish into it.

Owen shot forward, suddenly fierce. "Jamie still gets them sometime. But do NOT tell his mum!" His voice dropped to a hiss, eyes locked on mine with a determined look, "It's a secret, and if you tell it, I'll never trust you with anything ever again!"

For a moment, I just stared. That was new—Owen playing protector. And playing it well, too. The threat landed heavier than any tantrum would've. I pressed my lips together to hide the flicker of admiration. Judith didn't need to know everything, after all.

"So," I said slowly, draping the damp towel over my arm, "you both had wet dreams, did you?" I arched a brow at their synchronized nods. "Well. I hope they were nice dreams."

“Just go away now.” Owen said.

They both looked mortified so I decided to let it go, but I had an instinct that I might need to keep a closer eye on the next sleepover.

***

We had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, the four of us sitting around a square table.

Owen picked at his toast, pushing the crusts into a neat pile. He kept glancing at Jamie, quick, darting looks, before staring fixedly at his orange juice. Jamie, meanwhile, was demolishing a plate of pancakes with enough maple syrup to drown in. He caught me watching and grinned, syrup glistening on his chin. "Mummy never lets me have these," he said, spearing another forkful.

Amy giggled, kicking her feet under the table. "You've got..." She pointed at her own chin exaggeratedly.

Jamie swiped at his face with a napkin, missing the spot entirely. Amy rolled her eyes, grabbed a clean napkin, and leaned across the table to dab at his chin herself.

"Thanks," Jamie said, blinking at her.

Amy beamed. "Can I put Jamie's sunblock on today?" she asked me abruptly.

"I don't know, we'll see" I replied. "Owen, are you OK?"

"I'm fine." he mumbled unconvincingly. I let it go, while making a mental note to keep an eye on him.

***

Breakfast done, we made our way out, along the promenade and boardwalk towards our appointment with dolphins. Owen had already pulled ahead. Not quite far enough for me to need to call him back, but enough that his hunched shoulders and quick strides marked him as deliberately separate. Jamie lagged behind with Amy, their shoes scuffing against the salt-crusted wood in unison. Every few steps, Jamie would glance up at Owen walking on ahead, then quickly look away when he caught me noticing.

By the time we reached the dock, Owen had parked himself on a weathered bench near the gangplank thingy, elbows on his knees, staring at the churning water below. People waiting at the ticket booth snaked halfway down the pier so I had plenty of time for a quiet word.

“Amy, love,” I said, handing her my purse, “could you mind Jamie while I talk to your brother? Get yourselves an ice cream if you like.”

Jamie opened his mouth, probably to protest being ‘minded’, but Amy snatched my purse with a grin and hooked her arm through his. “Come on, James,” she said, tugging him toward the concession stand. Jamie cast one last glance at Owen before letting himself be led away.

The weathered wood creaked under my shoes as I sat next to Owen. He didn’t look up, just kept scowling at the water like it had personally offended him.

“You’ve been avoiding Jamie all morning,” I said, keeping my voice light.

“No I haven’t.”

“Did you two have a falling out?”

His shoulders twitched. “No.”

“Be honest with me, love.”

“I’m just tired.” I can always tell when he's fibbing. “Dunno why you’re making such a big deal" he mumbled.

I exhaled through my nose. “Then if there’s nothing wrong, go talk to him. Properly. He's come here to spend your birthday weekend with you, honey."

I waved to Amy who was returning with Jamie and an ice cream cone. I raised an eyebrow at Jamie not having one, but she informed me quickly that he didn't want one after all his breakfast pancakes. I asked her to come with me to help me get our tickets validated. I didn't need her help of course, but wanted to give Owen some space. I was close enough to be able to see the boys the whole time.

As we stood in the line for the ticket booth, I watched Owen shuffle towards Jamie with the hesitant gait of a boy braving something he didn't quite understand. Jamie was standing with his hands in his short pockets looking slightly lost.

From twenty feet away, I couldn't catch their words over the boat engines and children's laughter, but I saw the way Jamie's head dropped at whatever Owen said first.

After a few minutes, I saw Owen reach out, hesitant at first, then decisive, pulling Jamie into a hug. Not the quick, back-slapping kind boys usually do either, but something a lot more tender. Jamie stiffened for a second before melting into it, his arms looping around Owen’s waist, face buried in his shoulder.

I exhaled, relieved. Whatever spat they’d had was over. I also noticed, if I hadn't fully before, how close they were getting. I suppose it was inevitable that they would, after all, Jamie is Owen's only close friend for now.

***

We made out way onto the boat, me a little nervously as I get sea sick, and the engine rumbled to life beneath our feet as we pulled away from the dock. I sat on a bench but Owen and Jamie went to stand at the railings on one side of the boat. I was happy for them to do so since I had them in my line of sight and was they were close enough.

Amy sat with me. I sensed she felt a little left out by the boys, but I wanted to leave them be for now and hoped that Amy would cheer up if we were lucky enough to see some dolphins.

From my perch on the bench, I watched Owen lean down to say something in Jamie’s ear. Whatever it was made Jamie duck his head, grinning, before shoving Owen lightly. Then Amy’s posture shifted abruptly. She stiffened, eyes narrowing at a boy several feet down the rail. He wore swim trunks, a life vest and the blue Puericil wristband and he was leaning perilously far over the edge, his toes lifting off the deck.

"Hey!" Amy barked, marching over. "Get down before you fall in!"

The boy twisted to glare at her. "Mind your own business!"

Amy planted her hands on her hips, chin jutting forward. "I will pull you down if I have to," she warned the boy, her voice sharp enough to cut through the hubbub and the noise of boat's engine noise. The kid blinked, clearly not used to being bossed around by girls younger than him. His grip on the rail tightened in defiance.

I bit my lip to hide a smile. Part of me swelled with pride at Amy's confidence. She'd stepped up just like she does with Owen. But another part prickled with unease. Did she really have the right to discipline a stranger's child?

The standoff lasted three seconds before the boy's bravado cracked. "Whatever," he muttered, hopping down with an exaggerated eye roll. He stomped toward a woman scrolling on her phone several feet away, presumably his mother, who hadn't even noticed his near-tumble overboard.

"Good job, love," I said as Amy returned, only she didn't sit back down, instead she strutted off again towards where the boy was now sitting.

"Excuse me," Amy announced, loud enough that nearby passengers turned. "Your son was climbing the railing and almost fell. Then he was rude when I told him to stop."

The woman's head snapped up from her phone, her eyes widening as she took in Amy's stern expression. For a moment, I braced myself. Some parents didn't take kindly to other children correcting theirs. But then her eyes flicked to her son, who was suddenly very interested in his shoelaces.

"Is this true, Noah?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Noah scuffed his toe against the deck. "Maybe."

"Stand up."

Noah hesitated just long enough for his mother to grab his wrist and yank him upright. In one smooth motion, she moved to make room for herself and flipped him over her knee. Six sharp smacks over his swim shorts echoed across the deck— smack, smack, smack— each one making Noah yelp.

"Now," the woman said, adjusting her grip, "since you were rude to this young lady, she gets to give you six as well." Before I could process what was happening, she'd peeled Noah's trunks down to his knees, exposing pale cheeks already slightly pink from her handiwork. "Go on, dear," she urged Amy.

Although all this had attracted a small crowd of curious onlookers, Amy didn’t hesitate. She plopped down onto the woman’s vacated seat with all the authority of a seasoned babysitter, hooked one arm around Noah’s waist, and yanked him face-down across her lap. His legs kicked uselessly like a beetle flipped onto its back as Amy raised her hand and brought it down with a sharp smack! that echoed off the boat’s metal railings. Noah yelped again.

"One," Amy counted, her voice calm. The second smack landed lower, right where thigh met bottom, making Noah gasp. The woman watched, eyebrows climbing her forehead. By the sixth, a crisp smack dead-center, Noah was sniffling.

"Goodness," the woman murmured, "you’ve done that before."

Amy shrugged, rolling Noah upright like a sack of flour. "I’ve got a brother on Puericil," she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. Noah wobbled on his feet, hands cupped over his backside, face blotchy with tears, seemingly having forgotten that his little thing was on display.

"Noah," the woman said in that tone all mothers perfect. You know, the one that brooks no argument. "Apologize properly to this young lady."

Noah sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with one fist while the other hand still cupped his stinging backside. His shorts pooled around his ankles, modesty temporarily forgotten. "Sorry," he mumbled, not looking at Amy.

"Like you mean it," his mother pressed.

Amy crossed her arms, tapping her foot. Really she was playing at being a grown up here, but doing such a good job of it I was very proud.

Noah's shoulders slumped. He took a shaky breath and straightened up, hands falling to his sides, re-exposing everything in a way that made me want to blush for him. "I'm sorry for climbing the rail," he said, voice wobbling only slightly. "And for being rude when you told me to stop."

Amy tilted her head, considering Noah's apology with all the solemn gravity of a judge handing down a verdict. Then, with a magnanimous nod she reached out and ruffled his hair. "Alright," she declared. "Just don't do it again, please." The corners of her mouth twitched when Noah flinched at her touch, his eyes darting to his still-dropped trunks. His mother sighed and yanked them up for him with a brisk efficiency that suggested this wasn't their first public discipline rodeo.

As Amy strutted back toward me, I caught the way her shoulders squared, just slightly, with each step. She'd always carried herself like a girl who knew her worth, but now there was something new in her posture: the unshakable confidence of someone who'd just proven their authority in front of an audience. She plopped down beside me with a satisfied sigh, now happy to be a girl again, swinging her legs contentedly.

"You were very grown-up just now," I told her, brushing a wind-tangled strand of hair behind her ear.

Amy preened, kicking her feet harder. "He needed it," she said loftily, as though she considered herself an expert. Then, in a flash of that still-childish transparency, she added, "Did you see his face when I smacked him? Like he'd never been spanked by a girl before." Her nose wrinkled in delight.

I hummed non-committally, watching Noah scurry to the opposite side of the boat with his mother's hand clamped firmly on his shoulder. Amy's eyes followed them too before she abruptly twisted toward me. “Something’s happening!”

The boat's engine had cut out and a hush fell over the deck, before someone near the bow gasped. "There!"

Six sleek bottlenose dolphins arched through the water just yards from the boat, cutting the surface like knives through silk. The pod circled lazily, their dorsal fins glistening under the midday sun. One dolphin, larger than the rest, rolled onto its side as it passed close to us, a dark eye glinting with what looked like mischief before it vanished again.

"Did you see that?" she asked in a reverent whisper. I nodded happily. I could see the boys reacting with excitement and waved to Owen to confirm that, yes, I could see them too.

Amy abandoned all pretense of maturity and scrambled onto the bench beside me, bouncing on her knees. "Mummy, look! That one's got a baby!" Sure enough, a smaller dolphin swam tucked against its mother's flank, mirroring her every turn. The lady doing the commentary informed us that it is called a calf.

The dolphins peeled away in a shimmering arc, not retreating, but circling just beyond the boat's wake like curious sentinels. Then, as if summoned by some underwater cue, the largest dolphin breached. A liquid silver missile launching straight up until its belly caught the sunlight before crashing back down with a slap that sent water showering over the starboard rail. A collective gasp rippled through the passengers.

Jamie shrieked, flinching away from the sudden spray, but Owen stood his ground, laughing.

Two more dolphins vaulted in tandem, their bodies forming perfect mirrored arcs before disappearing beneath the waves. Amy's fingers dug into my forearm. "They're showing off," she breathed, transfixed. The commentary lady confirmed it. The pod was playing.

The boat's engine idled as we drifted, passengers pressed shoulder-to-shoulder along the rails. Below, shadows darted, twisting, racing, gathering speed before erupting skyward again. This time the smallest dolphin shot clear of the water, spinning once mid-air like a tossed coin before splashing down. Cheers erupted and even the self-conscious Owen whooped with joy.

The tour guide then made an unwelcome announcement over the speaker; "That concludes our time with the pod today, folks. I’m afraid we must now make our way…" The boat's engine roared back to life before she could finish, churning the water where the dolphins had danced seconds earlier. Apparently they are only allowed to spend five minutes close to the dolphins each trip. All the same, we were lucky. There is no guarantee of seeing them at all.

Amy, however, wasn't ready to let go. "Five more minutes!" she whined, gripping the rail like a prisoner clutching cell bars. "They were right there! " She twisted toward me, eyes wide with the injustice of it all.

I reached out to smooth her wind-tangled hair, which more of a soothing gesture than a practical one given the breeze still whipping around us. As I did so I caught sight of Noah peeking at Amy from behind his mother's legs.

The boat lurched as it changed course, sending a fresh wave of passengers staggering toward the port side. Well, one of the sides, I don’t know port from starboard to be honest. Owen stumbled into Jamie, who instinctively grabbed his hand to steady him but then didn't let go. They stood like that for over a minute before Owen gently twisted free.

***

Sadly, it was time to go home once we were back on dry land. It was only lunchtime, but tomorrow was a school day, we had a three hour drive to do and I had to get Jamie home. After agreeing to a brief visit to an amusement arcade, I insisted that it was now definitely time to get back to the car. Owen sat slumped in his seat, his eyelids drooping, despite his best efforts to stay awake, happily tired after a day filled with salt air and dolphin-spotting. In the rear-view mirror, I saw that Jamie had already succumbed, curled against the window with his mouth slightly open, one hand still clutching a stuffed dolphin Amy had won for him at the arcade. Amy herself was out cold in the middle seat.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers loosening their grip on the wheel. The weekend had been perfect. Not in the polished, Instagram-ready way, but in the messy, here and now way that makes the best memories. And to be honest those dolphins were Insta ready, but I’m not really one for sharing my life on social media. As I glanced back again, I worried a little that Jamie had caught the sun on his nose and cheeks during the boat ride and chided myself for dropping the ball there. Hopefully Judith wouldn't be too upset.

We pulled up outside Jamie’s house before tea time. His mother waved from the porch, her smile widening when she saw Jamie’s drowsy face pressed against the glass. Owen roused himself enough to help Jamie gather his things, including the new dolphin plushie. I caught the way Jamie hesitated before getting out, his fingers brushing Owen’s wrist like he wanted to say something more. But then Amy yawned loudly from the backseat, breaking the moment, and Jamie just smiled sheepishly before disappearing into his house with a sleepy wave.

The short remaining drive home from there was quiet. By the time we pulled into our driveway, even I was yawning, so it was not before time! Owen trudged inside with his backpack slung over one shoulder, pausing only to kick off his sandy shoes by the door. Amy, still half-asleep, stumbled after him. I think we'll all sleep well tonight.

OWEN'S JOURNAL

I wrote yesterday's entry just now, and now I'm carrying on and writing today's. I've been at this a while already, so you'll have to forgive me if this one is shorter than normal. I'm pretty tired, but I wanted to get all my thoughts down before I lost them because, as you've already read, it was quite an eventful weekend.

I was a bit down at breakfast today, because I couldn't work out whether to be happy about what had happened with Jamie or angry about it, or worried about it, and I think I was all three. But the more you think something over the more stressed you get and before long I was feeling like I’d been run over and wishing it had never happened.

I'd already had to think on my feet to explain away the spaffy towel after Mum came in before we had got a chance to hide it. I said I'd had a wet dream, a tactic which has worked before. Jamie said he did to, which made no sense as everyone is supposed to think he can't anymore. He later told me he didn't want me to have to take the whole rap again, which I thought was nice of him, but really, it made no sense.

Mum accepted the explanation. She was a little weird about it, not in an angry way, just a...weird way, and if I didn't know better I would have thought she suspected that we hadn't spunked the towel quite so innocently. This was another reason I was quiet at breakfast. I was half expecting her to ask more embarrassing questions but I guess she would have said something by now if she knew?

Anyway, I had worked myself up to the point of feeling pretty unhappy by the time we where back by the sea, and I'd deliberately stomped off away from them all. I needed space. After a while, Mum caught up to me and told me to talk to Jamie. She knew he was somehow the reason I was upset, but all she said was to talk to him, cos otherwise he'd feel bad following after us on his own.

So I did go to talk to him. Honestly, by this point I was angry with myself as much as anything else, for dealing with it as badly as I seem to deal with everything else. The thing is I blamed Jamie for what happened now that I wasn’t sure I wanted it to have happened, but it was too late. But it was hard to be angry with him when he was right there. He has something about him. I guess it’s why trouble never seems to stick to him. I knew I didn't have time to explain all this to him, what with Mum watching from a distance thinking I couldn't see her. So I tried to just pick up as if nothing had happened.

"Hi," I mumbled, kicking a small pebble into the water with my toe.

"Hi." He mumbled back, "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you...mad at me?"

"No." I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sorry for storming off like that."

"Do you wish I hadn't come here with you?"

He looked so miserable. I didn't like it, he is supposed to be the cheerful, energetic one.

"No," I said, and before I could overthink it, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Jamie. His shoulders tensed for a second like he wasn’t sure what to do, but then he relaxed as he hugged me back. I probably wouldn’t have done it had I not been away from home somewhere no one I knew was likely to see, but here I felt comfortable enough to give him a squeeze. "I’m glad you came," I mumbled into his shoulder.

Jamie squeezed back tighter at that. "Really?" His voice was muffled against my neck.

"Really." I pulled back just enough to see his face, "I had the best birthday ever. "

And I really did. Today was brilliant as well, seeing the dolphins on the boat. Well, we were on the boat, the dolphins where in the sea, but one almost ended up in the boat it got so close!

Jamie and I chatted about school and our lives before Puericil as the boat made it's way into the bay. It was the longest, most serious conversation I'd ever had with him. Then the dolphins appeared, and we forgot about everything except how exciting that was! I'm not the biggest animal guy, but you have to love watching dolphins jump and splash about.

Everyone was sad when the boat had to turn around, but especially us, because we knew that the weekend was ending, and who knows when we would be able to spend so much time together again? I couldn't quite find it in me to hug Jamie again, even though I wanted to, but then the boat suddenly leaned really far and I went stumbling backwards like an idiot. Jamie caught my hand just in time to make sure I didn't end up on my backside. Then either of us would let go, until it got to the point where we had to or Mum would be bound to notice.

When Mum confirmed that, that was that and time to go home, Jamie told me privately that he'd been hoping to go back to the salt water pool.

"Are you joking?" I asked, "after seeing those boys get paddled by the lifeguard in front of the whole world yesterday, I don't think I'd have been risking it!"

"It would have been worth it!" he giggled.

That made me feel nice! Although, to be clear, it would not have been worth it. At least one of us has some common sense.

So, that was pretty much it. A few other things happened between then and right now, but I can't stay awake anymore, so I’m going to wrap this up soon. When we got home, I found the misshapen cookies Jamie made for me on the kitchen table and I felt really sad that in all the excitement I forgot to bring them along to share with him. Still, I’ve munched my way through them writing this journal and actually, they tasted much better than they looked!

OK, that will have to do. It's been a great weekend, AND, I now have an electric scooter!

OWEN'S JOURNAL

I woke up dreading school. I was very tired for starters but also felt worried about seeing Jamie and what was going on there. I hadn’t had time to process it let along talk to Jamie about it, and I certainly didn't want to talk to him about it in front of other boys. I couldn't get out of school though, so I went. It was a bit awkward in the car, but I'm usually quiet in the morning anyway so maybe it wasn't obvious.

I bumped into Zac at the start of lunch so chatted to him. Jamie didn't join us which I felt relieved about. In fact I went out of my way to avoid him in the afternoon.

I thought Zac seemed normal and kind of nice when I first met him at the pool, and after chatting to him at lunch, I'd still say so. He spent most of the lunch break talking about some WWE he’d watched over the weekend, occasionally acting stuff out with an intensity that made me duck for cover a couple of times. He flailed about with a lunch tray with a recklessness that had me laughing despite how anxious I’d been all morning. Oh yeah, he likes football too. So yes, he felt normal, and he’s definitely funny.

I should have known better but I couldn't resist bringing the mood down by asking him about what he thought of Puericil and the whole thing. I checked no one was listening and asked him if he actually liked being on Puericil. I expected at least an angry moan about the way we were treated like little kids. I mean, no one likes being on Puericil, right? Jamie doesn’t hate it, but he definitely does hate being spanked. But Zac just shrugged, a casual expression on his face. "Yeah, it's alright," he said. "It's just how things are now, isn't it?"

I was baffled by this so I asked him how he could be so okay with everything but he he just shrugged. I asked if he got spanked at home. For us that wasn't too weird a question, by the way, spanking is just something that happens to Puericil boys. Maybe some others too, I don’t know.

He glanced around to make sure we weren't being overheard and leaned closer; "Yes. Mum and dad still spank me at home," he admitted. I braced myself for a story of resentment, but Zac just smiled. "I don't actually mind it. It’s like...it reminds me to be good, you know? Without it, I think I’d just forget how to behave, like I used to. And once it’s done, it’s done, you know? I don’t get grounded for a week or anything like that."

I stared at him, trying to wrap my head around that logic. The idea of liking a punishment because it somehow helped you be more like how adults wanted you to be felt nuts to me. As I walked away from him though, I found myself thinking about my own experiences. I do hate being spanked but if I was being honest with myself, a spanking did sometimes leave me feeling strangely calmer afterwards. Maybe Zac wasn't being as weird as I thought; maybe he'd just figured out how to deal with it better.

The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to stay invisible in and especially between classes. Every time I thought I saw Jamie coming around a corner, I quickly went the other way. I wanted to talk to him but I wasn't sure what if he would do or say something embarrassing in front of people so I avoided him.

When we were in the car going home I could tell he was a little pissed off, and I couldn't blame him, but away from school I actually felt quite happy to see him again so I kind of just brazened it out and acted all happy and as if there wasn't a problem. It worked as he dropped the "were you avoiding me today?" line of questioning and seemed to forget about it.

When we got to his place we ended up watching YouTube and chatting, mainly nonsense but I guess it was inevitable that the weekend came up.

"Seeing the dolphins was good wasn't it?" Jamie asked.

"Yeah, it was," I replied, "I'm not really into animals or zoos and things, but seeing them swimming along was ace."

"And swimming in that pool was fun."

I tensed up. "It was fun, but it was freezing."

"Oh yeah, it was like swimming in the arctic!"

There was a pause during which I got even more tense to the point of seizing up!

"It was kind of funny, though," Jamie added, his voice dropping into a softer, more tentative register, "that we actually kissed."

I felt a heat creep up my neck, a prickling sensation that made me want to look anywhere but at him. I shifted on the sofa, staring intently at a random scuff mark on the coffee table.

"I guess," I shrugged, my voice sounding small and uncertain.

"I liked it, though," he added.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. It felt like my throat had closed up. For some reason I found dealing with the kiss weirder than jerking off together. I mean, you can’t just dismiss kissing as just having a laugh, can you? I waited for him to change the subject, or maybe laugh and say he was joking, but he just watched me with those wide, honest eyes.

"And I liked cuddling you," he continued, leaning in slightly.

"It... it was alright," I stammered, the words feeling clumsy and heavy in my mouth. I know it was a lame thing to say.

Jamie beamed though, his entire face lighting up. The tension that had been simmering between us all day seemed to evaporate instantly. "Can we have a cuddle now then?" he asked, his voice hopeful and small.

I hesitated but then I did slide toward him and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a sort of awkward, side-on hug. It was a safe distance, a compromise between a friendship hug and something more, but Jamie wasn't satisfied with a compromise.

As we sat there, he shifted, sliding down the sofa until he could tuck his head firmly into my lap. I hadn't expected him to do that. Slowly, almost tentatively, I rested my hand on the back of his head, my fingers brushing through his hair.

The feeling of Jamie’s head resting against my thigh was surprisingly nice. I could feel him breathing and started to relax. And I thought he looked cute.

Then, as quickly as the warmth had arrived, I started to panic. I'm not supposed to think another boy is cute. I have enough problems already. I suddenly felt a desperate need to pull away, not because I didn't like the closeness, but because the realization that I did like it felt like stepping off a ledge.

"You're thinking really loud," Jamie said, his voice muffled by my leg. He didn't move, but I could feel the shift in his attention, the way he was sensing my sudden tension.

"What do you mean?" I lied, my voice cracking slightly. I waited for his accusation but he didn't say anything else. I tried to relax my shoulder, forcing myself not to recoil. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and the truth was, the feeling of him there was the only thing that had felt right all day. I just didn't know where to put this new piece of information in my head. It felt too fragile to talk about and too heavy to ignore. Yes, I'd managed to turn a bit of quiet relaxing into stress. Go me!

At home later I thought about everything going on. New school (very weird but no worse than my old one. Probably better in fact). I'm on the swim team (by accident, but it's helped me make friends), I apparently have a performance to do with my dance class soon (this is not good - I quite enjoy messing about at dance class, but I'm no good at it and I don't want to "perform" for anyone). Then there's Jamie. I'm glad I met him, but I have a hunch I'm going to have to tell him I don't want to do any more stuff with him like we did this weekend - or I’m going to have to decide that I do want to?

OWEN'S JOURNAL

School was meh. I spent most of the day playing a game of ‘Avoid Jamie,’ which is difficult when you share half your classes and a general orbit of the same three lunch tables. I saw him once in the corridor between History and English; he looked at me with this hopeful, expectant expression that made my stomach do a weird little flip, and I immediately pivoted 180 degrees to ask a random kid if he knew where the art studio was even though I already know. I even risked getting into trouble by coming into nap time late so I would get put near the supervisor. By the time the final bell rang, I felt like an asshole but at least I'd avoided Jamie saying or doing anything embarrassing in front of people.

Once we were out of school I wasn't so worried. I even arranged for Jamie to bring his bike down to mine so we could go for a ride. It was my first time taking the new scooter out. Jamie did ask if I was avoiding him again, but I brazened it out. He never asks twice, so I was able to change the subject.

Anyway, it was much more fun to go racing down hill and back up. He actually got down faster on his ordinary bike than I did on the scooter as I was getting used to it, but it was a lot easier for me going up.

"You're cheating with that motor!" Jamie yelled, his voice trailing off as he pushed for a final burst of speed.

"It's not cheating, it's using technology!" I shouted back, leaning into a sharp turn that nearly sent me sliding into a flowerbed.

"Technology I bought you!"

"Yeah, yeah! I said I was grateful, I didn't say I wouldn't kick your ass with it!"

As we caught our breath we spotted an old lady struggling up hill with shopping bags. I decided to offer to carry them because she really did look like she was going to keel over. Jamie was happy to help but I told him to mind the scooter for a moment and as it turned out, I only had to carry them about 50 meters before we got to her house.

She was very grateful but mentioned how nice and polite us Puericil boys were which annoyed me a bit. I didn’t let on to her but when I got back to Jamie I did tell him.

“What is it about me that she can tell?” I asked.

“Um…your school uniform?” he replied, looking at me like he was trying to work out if I had Alzheimer's.

“Oh yeah.” I blushed.

“You know, you need to stop worrying so much about what people think of you. I’m not saying you should be proud of Puericil, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

“No, but other kids take the piss of Puericil boys.”

“Other kids take the piss of a lot of things. Don’t change who you are for them.”

“When did you get all philosogical?”

"Philosophical?” he corrected me, but then ignored the question; “Hey, you know what we should do? I'm hungry, we should go to the shops and get snacks."

"I don't know, you can only get there along the main road from here.” I well remembered Mum's warning to not take my scooter on main roads.

Jamie rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, please. It's barely five minutes away. We'll just stay in to the side and be careful. Besides, I'm starving, aren't you hungry? Think of all that chocolate waiting for us!"

That was the clincher. I did fancy a Twix. With a dramatic sigh of resignation (and a secret surge of adrenaline) I turned my scooter around and nodded. We headed off in silence giving it full concentration. There were no cars on the quiet roads we started off on and you could just hear the rhythmic whirring of a bike freewheeling downhill and the clatter of my scooter. When we got to the busy main street, I kept my eyes peeled, gripping the handlebars tight, while Jamie glided beside me, looking entirely too relaxed. We skirted the edge of the traffic and made it in one piece.

We carefully checked out the local store's snack selection under the watchful eye of the suspicious old sod who runs it and bought what we wanted. So far so good! We then walked out happily to retrieve our transport which we'd left propped outside...and walked straight into Mum!

"Is that a very familiar-looking scooter propped up against the curb?" Mum’s voice wasn't loud, but it had that terrifying tone which confirmed the obvious…I'd been caught red handed and was in deep shit. She was standing there with bottle of semi-skimmed milk gripped in her hand, her eyes tracking from the sleek frame of my new ride back to my guilty face.

"What are you even doing here?" I snapped, the adrenaline of the risk curdling into a sudden, sharp defensiveness. "Were you spying on me?"

Mum’s eyebrows shot up, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her face before her expression hardened. "I am buying milk, Owen. A task that usually involves going to the local shop. Now, as for the 'spying,' perhaps you should be more concerned with why you’re currently parked on a main road…a boundary we discussed very clearly this morning."

"It's not a big deal!" I argued, though my voice sounded smaller than I intended. "It only took five minutes to get here and we were careful!" I barely heard Jamie say "Uh...I gotta go!" before he skidded off on his bike."

"You be careful Jamie Coombes!" Mum shouted after him, before turning back to me. "I am very disappointed in you, Owen. We're going home now. Get in the car!"

***

I almost wasn't going to write part of the entry. I don't write everyday anymore anyway. And I don't like writing about being spanked or anything to do with Puericil. I prefer to use this just as a diary now which is more fun. Even though it's supposed to be a journal for being on Puericil.

Well, I am going to write about what happened but I will say firstly that I've had enough of this sort of thing. I knew I shouldn't have ridden my scooter on the road, I should have listened to myself, not Jamie. From now on I'm not doing anything I could get punished for. And if that doesn't work, I'm going to run away.

I cried in the car and said it was all Jamie's fault. That was a bit embarrassing. Worse still, it didn’t work. I was scared though and especially didn't like Mum saying she was disappointed in me. I think I might have even shouted at her to stop being angry with me at one point! It would be funny if it wasn't so cringey.

By the time we got home I had managed to get it together a bit and resolved to be less childish about it. Unfortunately Mum started going on about me being a baby for being naughty instead of a mature boy who would be good. I thought this was nonsense, but there was no point arguing. Mum was calmer than I expected but I knew this would not mean getting away with it. She is always calm when I get spanked. Amy had a friend from school there which was annoying, but since Mum and I went straight upstairs at least Amy couldn't stick her nose in.

The door clicked shut behind us, sealing off the rest of the house and whatever gossip Amy’s friend was currently absorbing. "Clothes off, Owen. Everything," Mum commanded softly. The ritual was familiar, but it never stopped feeling like a slow-motion plunge into a cold pool. I stood there shivering, peeling away my shirt and shorts then finally stepping out of my socks and underwear and feeling very vulnerable.

Mum didn't start the punishment immediately. Instead, she leaned against the dresser, her arms crossed, and began the lecture. She spoke about trust, the danger of the main road, and the disappointment she felt when I chose a quick thrill over her instructions. Every word felt like a tiny weight being added to my shoulders. I kept my eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet, trying to shrink into myself, but there was nowhere to hide. The silence between her sentences was the worst part, leaving me to stew in my own guilt while she looked at me with that mixture of love and sternness that always made me want to cry. I don’t know why she couldn’t have given me the lecture before I took my clothes off. Standing there naked made it worse. To be honest I stopped listening, all I could hear after a while was “blah, blah, blah” as I waited for it to be over and for the punishment to start.

"Now, come here," she said, making me jump. I walked over and felt the fabric of her skirt against my stomach as she pulled me across her lap. Then came the first sharp smack . It landed square on the left side of my butt, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Then the right. Then the left again.

“This is your own fault;” she scolded, “a reddened bottom is the only way you ever seem to learn.”

I bit my lip to keep from crying again. She didn't stop at my bottom either, the stinging blows also landing across the backs of my thighs. It was a searing, spreading heat that made my toes curl.

Once my butt was glowing warm, Mum shifted me. She sat me upright on her lap, my legs dangling over the edge. "Just a few for the front, to make sure you remember the lesson," she warned. The spanking on the fronts of my thighs was briefer but more shocking. I think the position just felt more humiliating. I lost my battle to stop tears coming and promised to be good. I squeezed my eyes shut, the sting of her palm creating a frantic pulse of sensation throughout my lower body. Of course, I had gotten hard again while she was spanking my butt. I don't know why that happens, but now in this position it was so obvious.

The shame hit me harder than the spanking did. I tried to push it down, to shrink away from the sensation, but it was useless. Mum noticed, of course. She never mentions it though, but at one point she put her hand on it and pushed it right against my tummy ("to keep it out of the way"). So humiliating. At least the spanking it's self was not the longest I've had although she's never spanked the front of my thighs before.

I got a little lecture again afterwards and since I'd already sworn to myself never to get into trouble again, it was easy to sound convincing when I said it to her. The stinging heat in my legs was still pulsing when Mum finally shifted me. She didn’t push me away, though; instead, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a tight, crushing hug. I buried my face in her shoulder. "There now," she whispered, her voice returning to that warm, velvet tone that always made my last resolve crumble. "You're forgiven, Owen. I love you so much, but we can't have you risking your life for a Twix, can we?"

For a moment, I felt a strange, floating sensation. The anger and the rebellion of the afternoon had been burned away by the spanking, leaving behind a raw, aching vulnerability. I felt smaller than fourteen, smaller than eleven, even. I just wanted to stay there, tucked against her, where the world was simple and someone else was in charge of everything. But as I let out a shaky sob, Mum gently pulled back, her expression turning firm again. "But just because you're forgiven doesn't mean the punishment is over. You still need to reflect on why we don't disobey."

Before I could ask what she meant, she reached for the dresser and produced that baby's dummy again. I felt it against my lips for a split second before she pressed it home, sealing my mouth shut with a soft pop. I felt a bit of indignation but couldn't be bothered to fight it. That is until the she said "You're going to have some corner time in the living room until tea is ready” her hand resting firmly on my shoulder to guide me toward the door.

I took the dummy out straight away. "But Amy's got a brat friend here! I can't go in the kitchen nak..."

Mum didn't even let me finish the sentence. Her hand moved with a speed that caught me off guard, firmly shoving the dummy back into my mouth and holding it there for a second to ensure the seal. "I didn't tell you that you could speak, Owen," she said, her voice clipping the ends of her words with a warning sharpness. "If that dummy comes out one more time before I tell you it's okay, you'll find yourself in a new level of trouble. Do you understand?"

I just nodded sadly. I couldn't really do anything else.

"I will explain to Caitlin that you are doing corner time as you have been naughty but that she is to ignore you and not tease you. Other than that, it's your own fault if you are embarrassed.”

She marched me downstairs and put me in the living room. Fortunately the stiffy went away on the way downstairs, scared off by the horror the situation. Mum gave me Bumpy (my favourite plushie) which was embarrassing in front of Amy's friend but I still hugged him. At least I was facing the corner so I couldn't see the girls, although they could obviously see me. Mum went into the kitchen and I had to stand there, cold and miserable, listening to their moronic chatter and dumb TV show.

Caitlin giggled about me several times and even asked Amy if she could see my willy. She whispered it but I heard. Amy said no, I wasn't allowed to move, which was an unexpected relief. Then, in a louder voice which was clearly for my benefit Caitlin said “can I see his bum hole then?” and both of them laughed. Amy wouldn’t let her touch me though.

Unfortunately, this corner time went on much longer than normal. I think Mum was busy cooking and forgot. After a while I needed a wee and after a while longer I really needed a wee. I called Mum but Amy told me Mum would be cross if I took the dummy out. So I said to Amy I really needed a wee or I was going to piss myself. To fair, I hadn't moved, had I?

Amy wasted precious time complaining about my bad language but finally said she'd tell Mum for me, so I put the dummy in again before she got there.

"I've got the solution right here," Mum announced, in her hand she was holding a pink plastic child's potty, that I think used to be Amy's.

I stared it, then up at Mum, my face heating up so fast I thought I might actually combust. "You've got to be joking," I mumbled around the dummy. I tried to pull back, but Mum’s grip on my shoulder was like an iron vice.

"If you can't wait to use the toilet until your punishment is over like a mature boy, you will have to use this" she said calmly. She put a large towel on the carpet and set the pink potty down on it t with a definitive thud and stepped back, crossing her arms. "Now, you can either hold it or you can use this. The choice is yours, but the result is the same: you aren't leaving this corner until I say."

"I can hold it!" I managed to shout, the dummy popping out for a fraction of a second. I felt a surge of defiance, a desperate need to maintain some shred of dignity in front of Caitlin. I didn't care if my bladder was screaming; I would rather explode than sit on a babies potty.

"Actually," Mum countered, her voice dropping into that low, uncompromising tone that signaled the end of the debate, "you're going to sit on it 'just in case.' I won't have you ruining the carpet because you were too stubborn to be sensible."

Mum didn’t give me a choice; she simply guided me backward until I was perched precariously on the pink rim, my legs splayed wide, still holding bumpy in one arm and worse still, I was now facing into the room. I wasn't even facing the wall anymore; I was a living exhibit. I could see them sitting on the sofa, Amy and her brat friend, their eyes wide and glinting with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The dummy was firmly back in place, sealing my protests into a series of muffled, pathetic whimpers that only seemed to make Caitlin giggle more. The world narrowed down to the feeling of cold, hard plastic against my skin and the suffocating weight of my own shame

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to imagine I was anywhere else in the world but sitting on a potty in the middle of the living room. I vowed that I wouldn't do it. I would hold it until my bladder burst, until I passed out, or until the end of time. For ten agonizing minutes I fidgeted about to the sound of the girls stupid TV show and the occasional, cruel giggle from Caitlin. Each second felt like an hour; my stomach muscles were knotted and I could feel the girls watching.

In the end the wee just started to dribble out and I decided it would actually be more embarrassing to let it come out in a series of squirts of failure and so instead let it go in a more dignified, manly stream.

Don't laugh! At least I managed to not pee on the rug.
.
A loud, splash of water on plastic echoed through the living room. For a heartbeat, the world stood still, and then Amy’s voice pierced the air like a siren.

"Mum! Owen’s done a wee in the potty!" she shrieked, her voice brimming with a kind of triumphant glee that only a younger sister can master. I felt the heat rush from my neck up to my forehead, a deep, burning crimson that probably made me look like a human tomato. I stared intensely at the carpet, wishing the fibers would simply open up and swallow me whole, dummy and all.

Mum appeared in the doorway.

"Good boy. You can go and dress now, ready for dinner."

'Good boy' felt like a physical blow to my dignity but I could only offer a muffled, defeated grunt in response. I did drop the dummy straight on the carpet before getting up though, although I took Bumpy with me.

After eating dinner in an awkward sulk, I retreated to my room to relax. I put my pyjamas on and climbed into bed, pulling the duvet up to my chin, and hugged Bumpy so tightly my arms ached. I reached for my tablet and scrolled through the streaming apps until I found Finding Nemo . I’ve seen it at least five times, maybe more, but that didn’t matter. I just wanted something easy to watch so I could forget about adults or being a teenager. I just wanted the world to stop being so complicated.

It’s funny how that works. During the day, the idea of being treated like a child feels depressing and annoying, but at night when no-one else is around, except maybe Mum sometimes, it actually feels nice in a way. There is something genuinely exhausting about trying to maintain a facade of maturity when you feel like you're crumbling inside. With the movie playing, the noise of the house faded away, and the shame of the afternoon dulled into a soft, humming background noise. I found myself leaning into the feeling, curling up smaller and smaller until I felt completely cocooned.

I also had one hand down my pyjama bottoms, actually half my arm at times. I wasn’t doing what you’re thinking. It just keeps it nice and warm. Although I do seem to have rediscovered an old childhood habit of touching my willy for no reason. Not playing with it like that, just touching it. Only when I’m alone chilling out like I was last night.

I did have my phone with me. It pinged a couple of times. After a while of ignoring it I picked it up with one hand without bothering to take the other one out of my pants. Jamie was asking if I was in trouble and saying sorry if it was his fault. It wasn't his fault, it was mine. I asked him if he got in trouble too but he said his Mum doesn't mind him riding his bike. Nothing sticks to Jamie. I sent him a face palm emoji and told him he was forgiven with a wink and he sent me a pink heart. My thumb hovered over the screen for a while, then I sent him one back. I put my phone down and snuggled back under the covers.

(End of File)