The Party Boy

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

It must be understood that there was no implied sexuality in the handling of Jack... early handling. Just as the maids vacuumed the carpeting, tended to the laundry, cleaned the floors, etc, I bathed and cleaned Jack. Stripping for me, kneeling in the bath, enduring my palpating hands became in Jack’s mind as routine as visiting the doctor, having his teeth cleaned by the dentist. It was all clinical. And just as those visits can bring a degree of stress and concern, so it was with Jack. There was always an edginess... and his erect reactions were common. Which I ignored... at the time.

I learned that Jack’s mother, a rather haughty socialite, never really bonded to him. Probably never breast fed him either. And so it came to her as a surprise when, during an early weekly progress report, I informed her of Jack’s phimosis. A lie, of course, Jack’s glans p***s retracted quite readily and ably... just about daily. But I like my boys cleanly cut. And as in my reply to the girl commenting on Jack’s circumcision, the procedure when performed on the adolescent male can offer a wonderful bonding experience, implanting notions and thoughts of who really owns and controls the organ.

Well Ms. Socialite, probably never even having changed Jack’s diapers, cared not to discuss a subject or investigate an aberration that was... considered aberrant to persons of culture and class.

I was therefore given the go ahead. And I cleverly used the pending simple operation as a pretense for shaving Jack’s budding foliage, all hair removed.

Yes, a Gomco clamp... adult size at that point... some Novocain, a razor sharp scalpel, and a very obeisant Jack was made to watch as a woman of governance trimmed his vaunted male appendage.

I triumphantly smiled for him during the entire procedure. For him, a great lesson learned.

And of course, during his healing, his Governess Kelly needed constant and immediate access to Jack’s genitals.

“I like you shaved like this, Jack. Don’t you?” I proclaim on day three of recovery.

“It’s... well... it takes time to do that,” his objection mild.... much too mild.

He enjoys!

“Bath time. I can have you shaved every day in a jiffy. I think you’ll feel better. Nice and smooth all over.”

And better to acclimate to the pink silk panties I’m going to have you wear, I should add.

Yes, having read so much Victorian literature, I learned it was both common and much fun to feminize belligerent boys in that era; I began to subscribe to the becalming affect of placing a boy in girl’s undergarments... beginning with my younger brothers. After all, since I was the person to dress them each morning, I was the person who would choose not only the colors and styles but the gender of their garb as well.

Yes, becalming is the term. Boys don’t fight much when donning frilly panties, aggression tamed for some reason. And they certainly don’t play hooky, miss school and disrobe to swim at the local water hole. Instead, in an odd way they sort of become one of us.