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Playing At School

by U.N. Known

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 27 May 2018


A re-imagining of Playing School by Lucas Hennington here:


Emerging from the house where he’d been watching his trap unfold Andy Harris crept across the garden to the garage where it was taking place.

The twelve year old had the reputation of being something of a nerd, but he didn’t think that gave the other boys the right to bully him. Luke Edwards and Zack Peterson seemed to think it did just because they were older, and cooler than Andy was. After today though, Andy was sure they wouldn’t be doing it again. Not if they knew what was good for them.

Luke and Zack were both in the garage Andy was heading towards, happily playing along with everything without a care in the world, totally unaware of the trap Andy had laid for them with the help of his sister Beth.

Whilst not all that remarkable amongst her peers in the sixth form, at sixteen Beth was everything any boy a short way into their teenage years would think about in a girl and that meant breasts. Large breasts. Not that boys like Luke and Zack would normally get anywhere near a sixth form girl. Certainly not as near as they were now which was only a few feet away making it a good idea that they were both sat behind a table so just how excited at least one of them was, wasn’t visible in the shorts they had both been persuaded to wear.

As you probably know I’ve got an audition to be an actress. Beth had said to them, totally out of the blue, one day during an otherwise uneventful lunch break the previous week when they were just standing around minding their own business waiting for their mates to finish their lunch. And I wondered if you two guys could help me?

They’d said nothing at first. Both looking over their shoulders expecting to see some sixth formers behind them, only there was no one there. Beth Harris was actually talking to them. A real sixteen year old girl, with boobs and everything, was talking to them. Real boobs. Right there. Boobs. And she wasn’t telling them to go away or to stop staring at her boobs. Even though they were. Staring. Boobs.

The moment they’d realised this, both boys had snapped to full attention in just about every way possible although their eyes never really got as high as Beth’s face.





They’d replied, their words running over each other, and the entire range of their breaking voice, as they didn’t even wait for more details before agreeing to whatever it was that they’d been asked to do.

Beth had then smiled at them and nearly made them melt into puddle on the playground of Hennington Comprehensive. She’d then flicked her long blond hair over her shoulder, and Luke at least nearly wet himself, as he imagined a wink that hadn’t been there, directed just at him. Something the pair of them were still debating a moment before they’d turned up at the house the following Saturday prepared to do anything, literally anything, to make her happy. Just as Andy had hoped they would.

Approaching the garage an hour or so after the bullies had, Andy was able to resume listening to the tantalising conversation from within, hoping he hadn’t missed too much on his journey down from his bedroom. Not that it mattered as he’d be able to replay it later when he edified it down for Beth’s Promo real for when she actually did have an audition for something. Not to mention the version he would be putting together for himself, to show around school if the bullying didn’t stop.

Andy could picture the scene in his head just as he’d seen it one his monitor. His sister, standing at the front of the garage where an old chalk board, minus it’s easel had been suspended from the runners of the garage’s over head door. Large ornate writing that had taken him ages to do, standing out proud on the jet black surface giving little more than the letters of the alphabet and Beth’s name as Miss Harris.

Beth herself, sat on one of two high backed chairs taken from the dinning room, in front of the improvised blackboard, behind a table wearing the sort of dress she wouldn’t normally have been seen dead in but which made her look the part of the Victorian school marm, she was pretending to be with the high collar and tight bodice above the billowing shirts that came right down to her ankles, almost, but not quite hiding the small black leather boots that encased the feet she insisted were dainty, but looked ordinary to her brother.

That wasn’t the extent of her costume. Horn rimmed glasses were perched on the girl’s small nose, pushed down as far as they would go so she could see over them, not just because she couldn’t see anything through the thick lenses, but due to it adding to her character as did the tightly packed bun of hair that crowned her head, and made her face looked drawn if not actually gaunt, with little help from the make up she’d applied.

You boy! she would snap from time to time, pointing in such a way that she could have been talking to either boy, Stop your messing around this instant or it is a trip to the headmaster for you and you know what that means don’t you boy?

The pair of thirteen year old’s did, if not because it had been threatened several times already before alternative punishments had been carried out, as realistically as possible so as to help Beth with her acting. Something which, although they tried their best they just couldn’t take as seriously as they shifted about on the little hard chairs, trying to write lines with unfamiliar fountain pens, with stinging palms and thighs yet not once complaining as they anticipated the reward that would be theirs once Beth had finished rehearsing for a role that didn’t exist.

Unaware of the trap they were already ensnared within, Luke Edwards and Zack Peterson – two of the coolest third years at Hennington Comp if not THE coolest – continued to pretend to be two naughty little Victorian schoolboys despite fidgeting in clothes, from a completely different period that Beth had insisted they put on.

It will help with my acting if you both look the part. she’d told them, as soon as they were inside the garage, and still staring at what she was wearing. A simple smile ensuring their pubescent brains wouldn’t be able to come up with any objections even though they had so many. Go on. Put them on. For me.

How could they resist? They couldn’t and soon their hoodies, ripped jeans and trainers – all of which were much more expensive than they looked – had been replaced by clothes that were being paid for by the hour, having been hired from a costume shop especially for their acting debut.

Do we have to put it all on? Zack had whispered to Luke, once they were behind the boxes that had been piled up at the back of the garage to make room for the main set.

I guess. shrugged Luke, holding up the white briefs that had prompted his friend’s question. Both of them unaware of the built in microphone of the camera just above their heads were easily picking up their conversation as clear as anything, just as Beth was from the front of the garage.

Please do boys. she’d said, making them both jump a little, and then shiver for reasons they didn’t quite understand, but rather liked. It will make it easier for me to do the scene, and you want to help me, don’t you boys?

They did. They wanted that more than anything so both dropped the colourful boxer shorts they were wearing, thinking themselves unseen behind the boxes, and then wriggled themselves into the tight briefs but before they could put on the rest of their costumes, Beth had another suggestion for them.

Why don’t you boys put your clothes into that box on the floor so they don’t get dirty?

Boys being boys, neither of them was overly worried about laundry matters, as that was something that happened by magic at home, but they did as they were asked all the same. They even closed the box when they were done, not able to hear the click of it locking due to the overly loud beating of their own hearts, that was echoed in the tight front of the briefs they were desperate to cover before their excitement could be noticed by the pretty girl giving them instructions.

Remember to tuck your vests in. prompted Beth, Like little boys do.

It was an instruction, along with numerous others, that Andy was going to remove from the finished video before he shared it, so as to make it look like both boys were doing what they were doing because they wanted to. AS if the entire thing was their idea and not his.

The vests duly went over slightly shaggy heads – one with a slight tinge of ginger although Zack insisted it was a light brown – and tucked into the tight waistbands of their underwear even though that underwear had to be pulled up further than either boy normally would have done to do so. This leading to a few seconds of rather personal re-adjustment at the front that didn’t look at all family friendly and a near wedgie look at the back that exposed the edges of pert boy buttocks that wasn’t particularly comfortable. Yet there were no complaints. Just compliance.

Shirts were pulled over the vests, and buttoned all the way to the top, also on instruction from Beth. Red and black stripped ties were threaded around the collars, and then fastened into knots were slightly wonky they were good enough all the same.

Socks followed. Plain grey, with just a hint of red around the top were pulled on growing teenage feet, and up hairless shins, where they were turned down so the brighter side of the red band could be shown off.

Sandals, that didn’t entirely match were then buckled onto those same feet. A dark brown pair for Luke while Zack’s were more of a tan colour. The theatrical shop not having much call for such footwear in such large sizes as a rule, so the Harris’s had made do with what was available.

Surprisingly Beth and Andy had found a lot more choice when it had come to grey school shorts, allowing them to pick out a couple of pairs that most suited their purpose of embarrassing the two bullies, than to being historically accurate. Zack’s in particular were a rather closer fit than the boy was used to wearing, and that is without considering there was just a couple of inches of leg on them. Luke fared a little better, but not much. Perhaps an inch or so less of his thighs were on show, but then he was slightly taller, so all in all, just about as much of his legs weren’t covered. Both pairs, however, were of a tightness that meant the briefs had been a good call, as the boy’s own boxers would have left unsightly lines in their costume, as well as hanging out of the legs. As it was, the boys’ buttocks were perfectly cupped and outlined in the stretched grey material. The partly elasticated waistbands, giving them the cliched bubble bum of the sort of younger boy more traditionally associated with the clothes they were wearing.

Hurry up boys. Beth urged them on, all the time. Not giving them a moment to think for themselves, unless they realised their costumes weren’t that of a Victorian school but one from several decades later. One chosen not just for how humiliating it would be for a teenager to wear, but which would give access to parts of their bodies, normally hidden beneath tough fabric.

Jackets and caps. Chop-chop. she clapped her hands, making them reach for the final items on the hangers.

The blazers were surprisingly heavy, being wool based, but a good fit, if a little shorter than usual to a point that they didn’t cover more than half the shorts. They were also a bright red that couldn’t be missed, especially not by the hi-definition cameras that were filming them as they were pulled onto young shoulders. The gold braiding on the badge of the fictitious school on the breast pocket, particularly catching the otherwise harsh garage lights much more so than the matching, if smaller, badge sewn onto the crown of the also red caps that fitted snugly onto each boy’s head.

And so the scene had begun. Beth explaining to the short clad teenagers that she was going to be playing the part of a stern school teacher, dealing with naughty boys. There’s no script, she said, even before either of them had thought to ask, It’s what we call an improvisation.

As the girl paused, Luke saw an opportunity to gain extra points in the girl’s good books by asking what that meant. He even put his hand up first. Something he’d have never had done at Hennington Comprehensive.

It means, Edwards, replied Beth getting into character by addressing him via his surname, That we make it up as we go. Or rather that I do. You two just follow along with what ever I say or do, understand.

They did. But not in the way she wanted.

You have to call me Miss Harris, she pointed to the board, Or just Miss. Go on say it.

They looked at each other, shrugged, their shoulders inside the red blazers and did so.

Better. Beth walked to the front of the classroom, and clapped her hands to signal the start of the lesson.

Following a script that was anything but improvised, Beth delivered a Welcome to the Class speech, purposely implying she was teaching a junior school class of much younger children than the two who were in front of her and laying down the rules before they could complain.

There will be no answering back in my class. she told them, slapping a twelve inch ruler on the desk. If there is it will be suitably punished. Do you understand boys?

It took a second for them to realise they should ask but when they did, they did it correctly, if with smiles plastered all over their faces as they sing-songed the words. Yes Miss Harris.

All it all it was everything Andy could have wished for. More probably. He’d never really expected his bullies to actually behave like little kids in junior school but they soon were. And mischavious little kids at that. Which was even better. For Andy and Beth, if not for them.

Given that Beth’s teaching method was little more than reading from the dryest textbook she’d been able to find, it didn’t take long for her pupils to start to get bored. And as any teacher, whether acting or not, knows. Bored pupils will always get into trouble. So it was for Luke Edwards and Zack Peterson.

Who dares to talk in my class? demanded Beth, standing up so suddenly that the chair made a terrible scraping noise as it was driven backwards.

Him! they both said, pointing at each other and then giggling at finding themselves behaving like little kids.

Beth was down the aisle between the two single tables acting as desks in seconds, which given it was only a couple of feet from where she’d been sitting shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, yet it was. As was the look on her face, which was anything but smiling.

You boy, her finger pointed at Zack. Hold your hand out. Palm open.

Having been asked to do something similar at Hennington Comp, Zack was only too eager to prove he had nothing hidden in his hand. Only that wasn’t why Beth had asked him to do it. As he soon found out.


The flat side of the ruler came down across the palm of the boy’s open hand, followed almost immediately by a red hot stinging pain, that caused Zack to say some words that would never have been tolerate in a Victorian school room, and weren’t to be in a modern garage either.

That is enough of that sort of language, young man! He was told in no uncertain terms and if that wasn’t enough to let him know he was in trouble, then the slender female fingers taking a pinching hold of his left ear where it protruded outside his cap, certainly did.

I will not have that sort of language in my class room! Beth didn’t shout but she may as well have been for the impact it had, such was the authority in her voice as she raised Zack to his feet by his ear and then led him to her desk where he was left to stand looking very much the naughty little boy as he attempted to rub both the red mark on his hand, and the ear he was sure was now twice as long as it had been a few minutes earlier.

That hurt! he complained, although to who wasn’t sure. However anyone watching thought the camera feed as Andy had been at that time, would have sworn the words were directed to the viewer not least due to Andy zooming in to the boy’s flushed red face with enough clarity to catch the hint of wetness in the corner of his eyes.

So it should, Peterson, So it should. That is what happens to naughty little boys in my classroom. Now open your mouth.

He did, perhaps because he was asked to or maybe to say something about what had happened. Not that it mattered as the result was the same. Something was pushed inside it.

A good mouth soaping should clean out your vocabulary