Chapter 8: The Schoolyard
The lunch bell sounded, which for Andy was a "good news, bad news" scenario. The good news was that he would at least temporarily escape from the relentless, humiliating teasing dished out by Miss Prescott. The bad news was that he would have to go outside wearing a skin-tight pink leotard, complete with bunny ears, a bobbing bunny tail, and pink ballet slippers. If you ask me, you could just flip that order around to "bad news, good news."
"Andrea and Mia," Miss Prescott called, "I'd like you to once again serve as Andrew's escorts. I do hope he doesn't give you any trouble this time."
Mia and I sprang from our chairs, nearly elbowing each other in our rush to the front. I’m sure the class could feel the giddy energy radiating off us.
"Mr. Cunningham," Miss Prescott went on, "I will be considering your upcoming punishment while you are gone. I fully expect you to be on your best behavior, lest you wish that punishment to be even more unpleasant than whatever I settle on.”
As we reached the door, she gave us one last, parting shot. “Andrew, you best be cooperative with your chaperones. If I hear of any misbehavior on your part, there will be consequences.”
This day just keeps getting better!
* * * * * *
It was a festive atmosphere as we paraded down the hallway. The three of us led the way hand-in-hand, while the rest of our classmates lined up in single file behind.
"Oh, Andy, you look absolutely adorable in your little bunny suit," teased Mia as we walked along.
She leaned forward, eyes locked on his crotch for several steps, shamelessly drawing attention to the tiny bulge beneath the pink spandex.
"And I just love how we can see cute Little Andy poking at us through your pretty leotard,” she went on, her voice loud enough for a few classmates behind to hear.
With that, she reached out with her thumb and forefinger and gave the little bulge a playful jiggle.
“Hey! Stop it!” Andy yelped, face burning, as he jerked his hand away from Mia’s and swatted her fingers off his violated boyhood.
Instead of reprimanding him, Mia only giggled and reached behind him, grabbing the material that already exposed half his butt and yanking it higher, revealing even more cheek.
"Knock it off!" Andy shouted, twisting to pull it back down as far as it would go—which wasn't very far.
Not wanting to be left out of the fun, I reached behind and tugged up the other side, drawing another outraged protest.
"Stop doing that, goddammit!" he shouted while again readjusting the leotard as best he could.
Grinning, I gave the bare part of his behind a playful pat, and together we took his hands again, guiding him down the stairs toward the exit, our laughter and the giggles of classmates echoing around us.
At the foot of the stairs, we encountered a group of sixth graders heading the other way. One girl spotted Andy and gasped, elbowing her friends. “Oh my gosh, look at the bunny boy!” she squealed. Instantly, a chorus of “awww!” and giggles followed, and one boy called out, “Nice slippers!” The whole group stared, wide-eyed, as we walked past—Andy blushing crimson with every step.
After exchanging a grin with Mia, I turned to Andy. “Did Miss Prescott see you naked when you changed into your leotard?”
"No!" Andy shot back defensively.
“Are you sure?” I prodded. “I’ll bet she saw your petite little pee-pee when she made you take off your underpanties.”
“No, she didn’t! I changed in the bathroom,” he insisted.
"Sure you did," I answered sarcastically.
"Maybe we can see him naked like Miss Prescott did," Mia chimed in, eyes twinkling.
"No!" Andy cried. “And she didn’t!” Mia and I just giggled as we continued on.
We reached the exit, and Andy stiffened, pulling back as we tried to lead him through the door. He surveyed the courtyard—the lunch area that was reserved for the seventh and eighth-grade girls. The seventh graders were already out there (our lunch time overlapped with theirs), which certainly contributed to Andy's apprehension.
The boys peeled away for their own exit, many glancing back at Andy and snickering. Andy, hoping for the lesser of two humiliations (barely!), tried to extricate himself from our grips and go join them. Of course, we would have none of it.
"You're staying with us, silly boy," I said. "You're wearing a leotard, bunny ears and ballerina slippers, and you are showing off your girly legs. You belong with us."
"Besides," Mia said, leaning in and adjusting his ears, "we're having too much fun with you. And you look so darling. I'm not letting you out of my sight, bunny boy."
She let her hands drop down to where they were low on his hips. I think the last two or three fingers of each hand were touching the bare part of his booty. Andy, uncomfortable with the close contact, managed to wriggle free, but we quickly took his hands again and led him outside, where the real show was just about to start.
* * * * * *
It didn’t take long for the seventh-grade girls to notice the thirteen-year-old boy in full bunny regalia, his face the color of a tomato. Word traveled quickly, and by the time we reached the middle of the courtyard, every eye was on Andy, and the giggling was pronounced.
"Oh, Andy, you're going to be the star of the lunch hour," Mia teased. “Look, you already have a lot of admirers.”
The three of us settled on the nearest bench—with Andy in the middle, of course. I unwrapped my tuna sandwich while Mia dove into her lunch bag. Andy glanced at his own, but he didn't seem to have much of an appetite. Go figure.
“I wonder what Andy’s punishment is going to be,” I mused, taking a bite.
“Good question,” Mia replied. “Maybe she’ll make him get naked." She paused while Andy fidgeted in his seat, and I smiled hopefully at the prospect. "I'd really like to see Andy naked," continued Mia. "What do you think, Andy—would you like to get naked for us?" casually draping her hand on Andy’s bare thigh.
“No!” Andy snapped, brushing her hand away.
"I wouldn't do that again if I were you," Mia warned.
She put her hand right back. Andy, knowing that the threat of Miss Prescott loomed large, stayed perfectly still. She started caressing his thigh up and down. "I can't resist doing this, Andy,, letting her hand drift higher. "Your legs are so smooth and pretty, and there is even more to see now than when you were just in your underpanties.”
I watched as she moved her hand to his inner thigh and used her fingertips to delicately toy with him. She wiggled her fingers menacingly close to his crotch, causing Andy to contract his hips and stiffen in his seat.
"Oh, I'm sorry—is that a sensitive area?" Mia laughed, settling her hand on his upper thigh. Andy just sat frozen.
Mia's fun was about to be interrupted, at least temporarily. Most of the fresh witnesses of Andy's condition had been content to admire him from a distance, but a quartet of seventh-grade girls were approaching us. They stopped a few feet in front of us, then one of the girls—seemingly their ringleader—boldly approached Andy and stuck out her hand.
"Hi, my name's Veronica," said the pretty young girl.
Andy was not at all interested in engaging the assertive seventh-grader, and he tried to ignore her. I nudged him in the ribs fairly hard with my elbow, and he rather meekly held out his hand without looking up and gave her a flimsy handshake.
"His name is Andy," Mia said. “Andy, you should stand up and introduce yourself.”
Mia’s hand slid from his thigh to his butt, giving it a squeeze. Andy popped up from his seat and faced the girl. She looked him up and down and smiled. I'm sure it was obvious to her that his attire was not at all his own choice.
"Why are you dressed like that?" she asked.
Andy looked like he was searching for words, but nothing came out. "He's being punished," Mia said. “Our substitute teacher has all his clothes, and he’s not getting them back until after school.”
This juicy revelation made all the girls smile. “Really?” Veronica said, wide-eyed.
“Not only that, but—Andy, tell Veronica what you were wearing before Miss Prescott made you put on the bunny suit.”
Andy bit his lip, then muttered, “Underwear.”
"Seriously? He was stripped to his underwear?" Veronica said, grinning at her friends.
"Just his underpants, to be more specific," Mia said with a smug smile.
Veronica gasped. “Oh my gosh! You were wearing only your underpants? What color were they?”
Andy didn't respond, so Mia answered for him. "He wears tighty-whities."
Veronica shook her head, laughing. “Oh, I wish I’d seen that. You must have been so embarrassed!" She looked at his glowing face. "Kind of like you are now."
"Andy, tell Veronica what you're supposed to call your underpants."
Andy knew Mia would not relent until he said it, so he got it over with. "Underpanties," he said.
Veronica grinned. "Maybe you can come into our classroom and model your underpanties for us."
Andy tried to sit, but Mia blocked him. “I don’t think she’s finished talking to you,” she said, pushing him to face Veronica again.
The confident girl became more emboldened. She looked pointedly at his crotch. "You know, we can see the shape of your thingy." She paused as she continued to stare, then said, "It's not very big," eliciting giggles from all of us.
"We call it Little Andy," said Mia with an impish grin.
The whole group burst out laughing while Andy, crimson, reactively covered Little Andy with both hands.
Once the laughter died down, Veronica asked, “Have you made him hop around like a bunny?”
Mia and I looked at each other and grinned. We hadn't thought of that, but the looks on our faces indicated that we both thought it was an exquisite idea.
“We haven’t,” Mia said, grinning, “but there’s no time like the present.”
Mia and I stood up, and the six of us waited expectantly for Andy to hop around. But he was apparently not interested in doing our bidding.
“Come on, Andy—hop like a bunny for us,” Mia urged.
"I'm not going to do that," declared Andy firmly, crossing his arms.
"Oh, but I think you will," Mia countered. "Think about it, bunny boy. If Miss Prescott doesn't get a good report from us, who knows what she’ll do?" Mia paused to let that sink in. "She might make you do the bunny hop naked." Again she paused. "Now that I think about it, I'd really like to see that," she said with a chuckle.
Again we waited. Andy stood there, contemplating his sorry situation. And then, out of the blue, he did it. He hopped up in the air. Twice. It wasn't much of a hop—he didn't even bend his knees, and he probably didn't get more than an inch or two off the ground—but he did submit to us, which brought a smile to my face. Of course, that was not going to be enough, and it was the determined seventh-grader who chastised Andy.
“No, that’s not a bunny hop!” Veronica said. "Hop like a bunny, like this!" she said while demonstrating an exaggerated bunny hop. "And hold your hands out, like this." She held her hands out and put her palms together with her fingers facing skyward, as one might do in prayer.
Andy was resigned to his latest debasement, so, much to our entertainment, he started hopping around the yard. It was quite the spectacle. He was bouncing around like a—well, like a bunny. And to add to the hilarity, Miss Prescott had applied the big, round bunny tail somewhat loosely, so it was bobbing up and down with his every hop. And his humiliation was intensified by the fact that it was a seventh-grader who was leading the charge. Veronica made him follow her all around the schoolyard while shrieks of laughter rang throughout.
I was, of course, enjoying the scene immensely. My bratty brother was being forced to cater to our every whim, and he was drowning in humiliation. At that moment I didn't think life could possibly get any better.
* * * * * *
The bell rang, which meant the seventh graders had to return to class. Veronica's fun was over, but she was still giddy with exhilaration as she parted ways with her favorite bunny. "Thank you, Andy!" she called out as she walked away. "You're the best bunny ever!" She took a few more steps before turning around with a parting shot. "And thanks for sharing Little Andy with us!" With that she scampered away, laughing all the while.
Mia and I were still giggling when we took our seats on the bench to finish our lunch.
"Let's see, where were we before that wonderful interruption?" Mia mused. "Oh yes, I was enjoying Andy's pretty legs," she said.
Taking up where she left off, she put her hand on his thigh, while using the other hand to eat an apple. Andy started to reach for her hand, but then thought better of it, heeding Mia's earlier warning about us giving Miss Prescott a bad report. I think he must have decided that, though Mia and I (especially Mia!) were causing him considerable torment, he was quite aware that it would not compare to the humiliation that Miss Prescott could inflict on him. After seeing her in action, and especially after subsequently reading her Felicity book, I'd say he was correct in that assessment.
I watched as Mia stroked the top of his thigh, then let her fingers wander to his inner thigh. Andy squirmed, but Mia was undeterred. She moved her hand up, brushing the spandex right where Andy’s penis pressed against the leotard. Andy again reached for her hand, and this time he caught her wrist.
"Uh uh uh!" warned Mia while looking at Andy sternly.
Andy thought about it, then ever so slowly loosened his grip. He grabbed the bench on either side of him, apparently bracing himself for the potentiality (probability?) of an invasion of his intimate parts.
Not to be denied, Mia began toying with his penis through the fabric.
"Please, stop," squeaked Andy as he squirmed his hips under her unremitting touch.
“Oh, but Andy,” Mia cooed, “you say stop, but Little Andy says otherwise.”
Mia was right. The little bulge in the leotard was quickly becoming a bigger little bulge. I couldn’t resist, and I reached down and lightly tickled his balls. Much to my delight, Andy let out a startled, high-pitched squeal.
"Oh!" he yelped.
I felt a little funny touching my brother like that, but it wasn't a sexual thing at all. I figured having his sister touching him so intimately would add to his humiliation—and judging by his reaction, I could tell I was right. And the power I felt over him, knowing I could do whatever I wanted to him—including touching his balls on a whim—well, that power was exhilarating.
Mia, on the other hand, wasn't feeling funny at all about touching his penis. On the contrary, she was basking in the whole scene. It was like she was intoxicated by the control she had over Andy. And... it was nothing I could put my finger on, but I had the feeling that she might have had a little thing for my brother, and that part of her was getting aroused by playing with his penis and getting him stimulated. Don't get me wrong—she was absolutely reveling in the humiliation aspect, and that far outweighed any sensual pleasure she may have been deriving from her intimate contact with Andy. But there was just a little more going on there than the humiliation.
But that's maybe a story for another day. We were getting Andy pretty worked up, and he was fidgeting around almost like a fish out of water.
"What a cute little stiffy you have, Andy!" Mia giggled as she continued to play with his little stiffy.
I giggled, too, as I looked at his little boner poking up in the leotard. It probably wasn't very big to begin with, and the tight spandex material compressed it, but one could tell that he had a hard-on. And one could also tell that he was quite embarrassed about it. So of course I had to turn the screws a little bit more. I cupped my hand around his burning cheek and chin. "What a darling little boner Little Andy made for us," I said. "And what a naughty little boy you are, showing off your excited little wee-wee in front of your sister and her friend."
As Mia and I laughed, the bell sounded. I was sorry that our fun in the schoolyard was coming to an end, but there was an upside: Andy had to stand up. When he did, his unwelcome erection stood out even more, much to Andy's chagrin. He reached down and desperately tried to make an adjustment, but it went for naught, as the tight material didn't allow for any repositioning of his aroused penis. He moved to cover up, but Mia stopped him.
“No, no—that’s not allowed,” she chided, grabbing his wrists. “Miss Prescott said your hands stay away from Little Andy.”
We led him through the yard. Though the spandex material constricted it, his arousal was unmistakable. And it wasn't as though he could fly under the radar. He was wearing a pink leotard and bunny ears, and pretty much everyone within twenty yards of him was eyeballing him for the sheer entertainment value. And all they had to do was look down, which they inevitably did.
"Look, Andy's got a stiffy!" shouted one of our fellow eighth-grade girls.
"Ooh, he does!" another echoed. "And it's rather small!" she added with a giggle.
"Oh, this is too funny!" from yet another.
And it certainly was. The laughter followed us all the way to the building, and Andy, red as a beet, had to endure it the whole way.
In the hallway, I noticed Andy’s erection was subsiding. Mia noticed it too, and took matters into her own hands. She used her left hand to hold Andy's hand behind her back, then reached down with her right hand and started fiddling with his penis again. Andy flinched and made a half-hearted effort to break free, but we held him firmly.
"Please, just let it—please don't," Andy pleaded.
But in a matter of seconds Andy's little member responded to Mia's deft touch, and his arousal was again visible from the confines of the leotard.
"That's my Little Andy," Mia cooed.
Then, just as we were nearing the classroom door, Mia took it to another level, as she is wont to do. She slipped her hand inside the leotard, taking Andy's little boner in her hand. Duly shocked by the intrusion, Andy let out a high-pitched shriek, tore loose from our grip, and scurried into the classroom, breathless.
"I guess Andy was in a bit of a hurry to get back," Mia laughed, laughing at her own audacity.
I just grinned at her and shook my head, marveling at her performance.
* * * * *
Once we were all situated, Miss Prescott wasted no time in involving the star of the day. "Andrew, let's get you out of that bunny suit and back into your underpanties."
That would prove to be a very entertaining undertaking for all, save for one extremely embarrassed thirteen-year-old boy.
I'll tell you all about it when I get a chance. I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I will enjoy writing it up.
