Mistaken Identity


by A. Smith <Aidrian_uk@yahoo.co.uk>

I stood there, resigned to my fate. A brief shiver startled me. Fear? Or just the cool woodland air on my thirteen year old body? Humilated by my near nakedness, disgraced by a blatant and unwelcome erection, I awaited my punishment.

The elder boy handed the slipper to the younger. You can give him six, three on each cheek, as hard as you like but space them out - count ten slowly between each'.

The younger boy took the slipper and stepped in front of me, a mocking smile on his face; the same mocking smile that had brought me to this. Our eyes met and we held each other's gaze. I felt tears well up and run down my face, it was so unfair, why did they keep saying I was a girl, I just didn't understand. He moved behind me and I buried my head in my bunched up shirt and waited.

oOo-

I hardly remembered my father, he was just a shadowy figure in my early childhood, dead before my first school day. Brought up by my mother and three giggling older sisters, I was the longed-for boy, fussed over by my mother and spoilt by my sisters, sharing their girl-talk and girl-games and bearing an uncanny resemblance to them with my, skinny body, angular face and rather thick pouting lips.

The teasing had started when I was about eight or nine, organised playground games, boys versus girls. The girls' team short of a player. Adrian you can be on the girl's side'.

Why me miss ? You always pick me to play on the girl's side'.

They like you Adrian' -the sniggering of the boys a muted background to my blushes.

Before long I was being called by the feminine version of my name - Adrienne - and indeed, weary of protesting a correction, was answering to it.

I had hoped that when I transferred to my boys-only secondary-school I would leave the taunting behind me. This was not to be and soon, thanks to some boys from my previous school, was Adrienne' to a new group of boys. But now there were other words, furtive words, whispered behind my back words; queer', homo', poof''.

Their mocking words often reinforced by teachers, a gamesmaster's sneers at my lack of prowess on the sportsfield, an English teacher - always choosing me to play one of the female parts in school plays - 'Why me Sir, you always choose me for a girl's part.

'Well, you're a natural Smith' - and a leering grin from my deskmate - 'We all fancy you Adrienne'.

And sometimes I was physically tormented. The lunchtime meeting in the park of a crowd of boys with girls from a nearby school. The girls, teasing my girlish looks and girl's nickname, laughing that I was at the wrong school and should go back with them, the grinning boys offering to prove my gender to them and the ghastly humiliation of having my trousers and underwear pulled down, my penis and testicles, the proof of my boyhood, exposed to their girlish shrieks.

oOo-

I hadn't wanted to go to camp with the Scouts but my mother insisted that it would be good for me'. The teasing at school had followed me to Scouts as well and even one of the Scout leaders sometimes laughingly called me Adrienne. Although I had hated the teasing I had by this time learn not to show my annoyance, knowing that to react was to give my tormentors the satisfaction they sought.

But then came THE morning. Alone with another boy, a boy of my own age but taller and heavier, the younger brother of my 16 year-old patrol leader. I cannot remember now what he said but I think it was not so much his words as his silly, mocking grin. Something inside me snapped and without warning and completely out of character I smashed my fist into the middle of his face with all my strength. His nose exploded with blood, he screamed with pain and I ran away terrified of the consequences of what I had done.

Returning one an hour later, I could tell at once that word of what I had done had been spread. No one talked to me other than one boy who whispered in my ear, You're to be punished'

Later that day I was led by my patrol leader and his younger brother, his nose still swollen from my assault, deep into a wood, about half a mile from the camp.

Scout leaders had been consulted, discussions taken place, a course of action agreed upon, parental permission obtained by telephone - or so I was told. I was to be slippered, just as I would have been at school for such an act, but not by a Scout leader, not by my patrol leader but by my victim. I listened in silence to my sentence. No protest, no arguing, even the announcement that to complete my humiliation it was to be applied to my bare bottom did not provoke me to react. I meekly obeyed the order to remove my shorts and pants and hitch my shirt up under my arms.

I stood there, resigned to my fate. A brief shiver startled me. Fear? Or just the cool woodland air on my thirteen year old body? Humilated by my near nakedness, disgraced by a blatant and unwelcome erection, I awaited my punishment.

The elder boy handed the slipper to the younger. You can give him six, three on each cheek, as hard as you like but space them out - count ten slowly between each'.

The younger boy took the slipper and stepped in front of me, a mocking smile on his face; the same mocking smile that had brought me to this. Our eyes met and we held each other's gaze. I felt tears well up and run down my face, it was so unfair, why did they keep saying I was a girl, I just didn't understand. He moved behind me and I buried my head in my bunched up shirt and waited.

The quiet, ominous whisper in my ear, 'Bend over' .

Hands on my knees.

The older boy, 'No, tighter, legs apart, grip your ankles, no, keep your knees straight'.

I stretched, my heart pounding now in my ears, my bottom cheeks taut and immodestly separated. At last he was satisfied and my victim executioner proceeded slowly and savagely to exact his revenge, bringing my submissively proffered bottom to a crescendo of agonising, scarlet fire.

oOo-

Questions or comments on this narrative are welcome. Please e-mail me, aidrian_uk@yahoo. co. uk - all will be answered.


More stories by A. Smith