When Billy’s best friend, Johnny Wilkins, invited him to stay at their summer house for eight weeks on the North Carolina shore, Billy immediately thought back to the summer he had spent with Johnny three years earlier. He had just turned twelve and had never had so much summer fun. To get two months with his best friend at the sea shore was almost too good to be true. Since the Wilkins house was on a small island where everybody knew everybody else, the boys were allowed to go roam freely. And because they both had bikes, the summer was one adventure after another. Billy was also glad to spend so much time with his idea of the perfect woman. An attractive, sparkling widow in her mid-thirties, Mrs. Wilkins was Billy’s favorite mom. She was warm and nurturing and sexy all at once. He often daydreamed he was an orphan and that she had adopted him. Though it was all subconscious, the chance to live with her for two months gave him the perfect opportunity to pretend he was her son. Among the many things Billy remembered about that vacation was the time his stomach began hurting late one morning after Johnny had departed for a tennis lesson. Mrs. Wilkins brought Billy to her bedroom and took his temperature. When that proved normal, she asked, “Billy, when did you last go potty?” “Not since yesterday morning, Mrs. Wilkins.” “No wonder, child. Why didn’t say so earlier? You’re not sick… you’re just a little constipated. You probably haven’t been eating enough fruit lately. Have you?” “No m’aam,” Billy replied. “How about a nice, warm, soapy enema? That will solve your problem in a jiffy.” “OK, Mrs. Wilkins. If you think it will help.” “Sure it will. You’ll feel better in no time. Does your mommy give you enemas when you’re constipated?” “Yes … sometimes.” “I’m not surprised … most children need them from time to time. Johnny usually gets one every three or four weeks. Does your mommy use a bag or a syringe, Billy?” “A syringe, Mrs. Wilkins.” “Good because that’s what we use here. I’m glad you know the routine. Why don’t you have a seat on the bed while I get things ready.” “Whatever you say, Mrs. Wilkins.” She left him on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. For the next few minutes, Billy sat there listening to the sound of running water and cabinets opening and closing. Eventually, Mrs. Wilkins returned carrying a tray with a small basin of soapy water, a jar of vaseline, and a bulb syringe. Sitting down on her bed, she placed the tray on the bedside table. “Stand up, child and come over here so we can get those jeans off.” Billy came over, glad to be in Mrs. Wilkins’s capable hands. He was also happy Johnny wasn’t home. Since it was just him and Mrs. Wilkins, he wasn’t even embarrassed. It was almost as if he was at home with his own mother only now it was Mrs Wilkins who was taking care of him. He even held his arms away from his sides to show his cooperation when she reached for his belt. She looked up at him and smiled as she undid him. “What a good boy you are, Billy. Mommy Wilkins will have you straightened out in no time. Let’s get these pants down, shall we?” Billy nodded as Mrs. Wilkins worked his pants down over his hips and slid them down his legs to his ankles. He steadied himself on her shoulders as she bent down further and helped him step out. “Good boy. Now for your underpants.” Most twelve year old boys might have been nervous at being undressed by someone else’s mother. Not Billy. And not when it was Mrs. Wilkins. As she took off his clothes, it was as if she were laying bare the little boy who had long yearned to be in her care. At the moment when she took his underpants down, he felt even more secure and cozy, the way he had felt as a young child when his mother or a baby sitter got him ready for a bath before bedtime. A strong scent of Mrs. Wilkins’s lavender perfume filled the air and made Billy feel even more at home. Once his underpants were neatly laid out on the bed on top of his pants, Mrs. Wilkins lifted her skirts, patted her plump thighs, and said, “I think it will be easier if you lie over Mommy Wilkins’s lap, Billy … that’s it … that’s my good boy. Is this how your mommy gives you enemas?” “Yes, Mrs. Wilkins, only she usually sits on the toilet seat in the bathroom.” “That’s how I do it at home with Johnny but the bathroom here isn’t big enough. Can Mommy Wilkins count on you to hold everything on your way to the toilet?” “Yes, Mrs. Wilkins.” “That’s my boy, Billy.” Lying over Mrs. Wilkins soft thighs on her bed was a lot more comfortable than lying over his mom’s lap in the bathroom. Especially when she soothed him first by rubbing his bottom and telling him how gentle she was going to be. By the time she finished vaselining him, Billy had quite a reaction in front. Fortunately, Mrs. Wilkins seemed to understood how natural this was under the circumstances and didn’t scold him. All in all, it took twelve loads of the syringe before the small basin was empty. And later, after he had emptied out, she gave him a warm water enema to clean out the suds. The whole process took about thirty minutes. By the end, his tummy ache was completely gone. And Billy felt like the happiest little boy in the world. Curious about the future, he asked, “Mommy Wilkins?” “Yes, Billy” “Are you going to give me more enemas this summer?” “Only if you need another one, Billy. Do you think you can tell Mommy Wilkins the next time you get constipated like this?” “Yes Mommy Wilkins.” “That’s a good boy.” Already he knew he would probably have another sore tummy the next week during Johnny’s tennis lesson.
Though Billy ended up getting an enema from Mrs. Wilkins once a week, it wasn’t the enemas he remembered most from that summer. It was something else which happened at the end of his first week. The two boys had come home at 8:45 after promising to be back in time for a 7:30 dinner. By the time they arrived, it was already getting dark, the dinner was cold and Mrs. Wilkins was worried and angry. After scolding the boys and listening to their lame excuses, Mrs. Wilkins said, “Johnny, as soon as we finish dinner, Mommy’s going to take you down to the basement for a little chat. You need a firm reminder about getting home on time. Since I also specifically asked you to be home on time, Billy, it’s clear you also need some sort of discipline. Why don’t we call your mother and see what she wants me to do.” Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Wilkins picked up the phone and called Billy’s mother. After explaining the situation, she added, “Ruth, I could drive him home tomorrow but that seems overly severe and I know how much Johnny is counting on having him here for the next seven weeks. I plan on taking Johnny down to the basement after dinner and teaching him a good lesson. What would you like me to do with Billy?” Billy listened nervously while his mother said something to Johnny’s mother. Though he couldn’t make out the words, he was not encouraged by Mrs. Wilkins’s response. “Yes … I couldn’t agree more with you Ruth, … [long pause] … it’s by far the most effective punishment with boys their age … I’m glad you share my feelings on that … Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they both learn a good lesson tonight … Yes he’s right here … just a minute.” Mrs. Wilkins handed Billy the phone. His mother then asked him if he wanted to stay on for the rest of the summer. When Billy pleaded that he did, she replied, “If you want to live in Mrs. Wilkin’s house, young man, you’re going to have to live by her rules. And that means paying the consequences when you misbehave just like you do at home. Do you understand me, mister?” “Yes, Mommy. I promise I’ll be good here – we just lost track of time at the beach.” “That’s no excuse, Billy. You have a watch and you are old enough to be more responsible than that. You do exactly as Mrs. Wilkins tells you. Do you understand?” “Yes, Mommy”. “When you misbehave, Mrs. Wilkins is going to treat you like her own little boy. God knows, a child your age needs discipline or all hell breaks loose. Are we clear on things, young man?” “Yes, Mommy”, Billy said. “Very well … Mommy’s going to hang up now so you can have your dinner. It’s already after nine and you haven’t even eaten yet.” Only when Billy hung up did he notice how Mrs. Wilkins was staring directly at him with a rather stern face. Before he could contemplate his predicament, she spoke up. “Billy, your mother and I have decided the best thing for you is to have a little chat with me down in the basement after dinner along with Johnny. From now on, I’m going to handle you like my own child when you misbehave. Do you understand me, young man?” “Yes, Mrs. Wilkins,” Billy managed to stammer. He had a pretty good idea what she meant and could already feel butterflies in his stomach. “From what your mommy told me, you are used to being punished when you’re naughty, aren’t you?” Billy blushed and nodded without looking at Johnny. “Are you going to give me any trouble after dinner, young man?” “No, Mrs. Wilkins”. “Good boy. Now before we sit down for dinner, let me explain how I handle bad boys in my house. With minor offenses such as rudeness, rough housing or messy rooms, I usually take Johnny right down to the basement and punish him on the spot. With more serious offenses such as coming home late without calling, I postpone his trip to the basement until after dinner. He also has another trip to the basement with me the next night. By waiting until after dinner and spreading his discipline out over two days, Johnny has plenty of time to think about what he did wrong and why he is being punished. I have all of these ‘little chats’ in the basement since it’s very quiet down there and we won’t be disturbed. On days when Johnny is due for a chat, he is grounded. I also remove his pants or shorts for the rest of the day since this gives him an extra reminder about what he did wrong and what is going to happen. And as I already said, I intend to handle you the same way as Johnny. Now that you know my rules, there’s one thing we need to do before dinner. Johnny, come here please so Mommy can take off your shorts.” Billy watched in disbelief as a reluctant, red-faced Johnny went over to his mother and allowed her to slip his shorts down. He then stepped out of them and stood there in front of his friend in his tee shirt and underpants. “Please, Mrs. Wilkins … I’m too old for this,” Billy said, knowing full well it wasn’t true. “That’s not what your mother told me, Billy. Besides, anyone who acts like a child is never too old to be punished like one. I’ve told Johnny I intend to punish him like a little boy all the way through high school if necessary as long as he continues to act like one. It all depends on how he behaves. I suspect the older he gets, the more effective a little boy punishment will be.” “Please, Mrs. Wilkins, please let me keep my shorts on,” Billy begged, making a final stand. “Young man, I expect you to follow my instructions the first time. Would you like Mommy Wilkins to punish you right here where the neighbors can hear? Come here this instant or you’ll be very sorry, young man.” Something in her firm tone convinced Billy that she meant business. Dragging his steps, he shuffled over while continuing to plead. As he drew near, Mrs. Wilkins grabbed him and tucked him under her left arm and asked, “Are you go-ing to o-bey Mo-mmy Wil-kins when she tells you to do some-thing, young man?” With each syllable, Mrs. Wilkins swatted Billy’s rear firmly to make it very clear what would happen if he didn’t do what he was told. Though the spanks didn’t hurt through two layers of clothing, the message got through. And because the swats were more symbolic than painful, Billy experienced a familiar sense of safety, protection, and submission he often felt lying over his mother’s lap before or after a spanking. Only this time it was better. This time, he was being held against the soft thighs of his favorite woman. Once again, her floral perfume made him a little dizzy. Held firmly yet lovingly in her arms, Billy gave in to the scolding he was getting and went limp. His arm reached out to steady himself and wrapped almost instinctively around her full hip. Mrs. Wilkins smiled to herself as she felt the naughty child signal a certain contrition. Clearly the moment was right to bring out a preliminary confession.