Gasping Basil

 

1986

 

“But it isn’t fair.” Basil begged his twin sister, Berly, while Enid, the severe younger sister with the punk-rock hairdo smirked. “I can bathe myself now, no matter what we do in private, Beryl!”

 

Beryl winked at Enid, and Basil wondered if Enid knew that Beryl had tied Basil down and run Vaseline over his cock with her red nails for two hours earlier that afternoon. It had been quite enthralling, though he had been so ashamed to have her remove his shorts.

 

Because of course Beryl had poked fun at him “What a little nancy boy I have here.” Beryl would stroke and pull Basil’s cock ‘til he was on the edge, and then take her high heeled shoe off and pound his balls until he’d cry for mercy…they called it The Game.

 

The Game had started a number of years earlier, when Basil’s stash of Swank magazines had been found under his underwear by Beryl, and she’d threatened to tell Mum. “It won’t be so bad, just a beating and an enema, Basil!”

 

Basil had begged for another solution, and Beryl had proposed the Game…a little sisterly discipline…and she’d done it when she found Basil forging his mother’s signature on his term report, and when she’d smelled beer on his breath one afternoon, when he’d sneaked off from his cello lesson to see the boys in the Park.

 

And then, at some point, he’d asked for The Game. And so it had begun.

 

But aside from The Game, Basil’s Mum insisted on his twin sister and his younger sister bathing him, and Basil found this outrageous. “For God’s sake, Beryl. I can bathe myself and I’m twenty-one years old and in my final year at university. And I don’t need to be put to bed at seven, like a child. I want to stay up, and I want to go out!”

 

Beryl smiled in a superior way, and Basil’s penis twitched in his drawers, and he thought of her long nails toying with his penis in their hidden attic…and how her breasts had bounced in the pink angora sweater as she’d pulled and pushed the penis…and then WHACKED it with her spike heel!”

 

“Really, tell Mum I want to go out, and I want to dress to go out.” Basil clenched his fists helplessly. He was wearing the hated Etons that Mummie put out for him when he came home for school holidays.

 

 Every “hol” as they called it, Basil would get in, and after his first hour, Mummie would take his regular clothes—jeans, boots, and fringed vests, and give him Etons and patent leather shoes and high knee socks.

 

How vile the Etons were—burgundy blazer, little cap and short-short trousers, and those dazzlingly white knee socks. And of course the white shirt with the broad starched stiff collar, that Basil had to change three times a day. And how hard Mum was on Basil if the collar wilted and he didn’t change it.

 

In a sense, it wasn’t as bad as it once had been. Until Basil was nineteen Mum had insisted he wear diapers—“nappies” when he was at home, and the doors to the water closets had been locked, and the keys only given to his sisters.

 

But this Eton thing was horrid. For years this had prevented Basil from having any sort of social life when at home. He looked ridiculous in Edwardian clothes, and so stayed in his mother’s big walled garden.

 

Whenever he’d ventured from the garden, even to go on an errand to the store, Cockney boys would throw bottles and rocks at him and call him “fag” or “pouf”. Even elderly ladies could not keep from smiling as he pranced by in his little Etonian suit.

 

Many times a pretty girl had noticed him eying her, and burst into laughter.”Sorry bloke, I don’t date Billy Bunter” or  “Look, Cherise, I’m being ogled by Donald Duck!”

 

And then of course there was the seven p.m. bedtime. By thirteen, all of Basil’s friends no longer had bedtimes, but if he said a word, Mummie was quite violent.

 

She knew what was best for him, and many was the night that he’d sobbed himself to sleep, listening to his sisters and their friends laugh while watching late night telly.

 

Basil was relatively popular at school, but was shy of accepting vacation home invites, because he knew he couldn’t let his friends know how he was treated by Mummy and the girls at home—especially during the diaper phase.

 

But, after having put up with this for fifteen years, Basil felt he was old enough to dress as he liked, and go out for a pint with his mates, by Jove!

 

And also it was perverse that his twin sister should be able to bathe him, and put him to bed, and his 19 year old punk rock sister should be assisting. This was just too weird. But Basil had a plan.

 

“Beryl, I need my regular clothes back.” Basil said patiently. “I can’t wear my err-uniform when I’m going out with the lads. I’ve received an invitation, to go out tonight to a pub, like you and Enid do, all the time.”

 

This was daring. Mum wouldn’t even allow Basil to drink sodas, much less beer. She made him survive on fruit juices and warm milk, and quite often made him eat porridge, even for dinner…while the girls were enjoying steak!

 

“And it’s not fair that you and Enid go to clubs and things and I can’t go. And Mum lets you dress how you like, look at Enid!”

 

True, Enid was a holy terror in her purple Mohawk and skull T-shirt. Why couldn’t Basil just dress like a normal college man?

 

Mum was quite generous in providing him a good clothing allowance for Basil whehn he was at school, with money left over to party with, but at home he was treated as if he were nine in the 19^th century.

 

Beryl just smiled at her twin brother, watching as he twisted his hands together in the ludicrous burgundy outfit. She didn’t know which one she found more ridiculous—this one, or the pink jumper Mum made Basil wear when she took him to the park.

 

“It’s precious” Beryl’s boyfriend had told her “ ‘Im  ‘ulking along in that ridiculous outfit with ‘is white-gloved hand in yer Mum’s.”

 

Basil had burned one of his park “tunics” once but Mum had caned him viciously, and then made him wear a taffeta dress and nail polish and walk through the park six times! Basil had asked no more questions after that.

 

Still, Beryl thought, Basil had his uses. He’d performed with his mouth on her twat for nearly an hour after the Game had subsided, and she’d had several orgasms. Poor thing, it was a shame that Mummie was so overprotective.

 

Basil had  never questioned Mum’s word again, Beryl recalled. But now Beryl could see that another rebellion was coming on. Well, Mum would put paid to that. “Are you sure you won’t quietly have your bath like a good boy, Basil” Beryl asked gently.

 

Enid smiled, too. “I’ll tell your mates when they come by that you have the flu or something. They don’t need to know that you have to stay in, and be in bed early.” This was too much for the two girls, and they began laughing hysterically as Basil’s face inflamed.

 

Suddenly the door to the drawing room opened, and Mrs. Naples looked in. Basil’s Mum was an impressive woman, with dark hair and full lips, and years later when “Six Feet Under” premiered  Basil and Beryl both commented that she looked like the Australian movie actress Rachel Griffiths.

 

Sultry, but strict, with long raven hair and full breasts, Mrs. Naples had not remarried after her husband had passed on, but had focused all of her energies on the family business, where Basil and Beryl worked during their holidays, and on being a full time Mum.

 

“Basil, dear are you giving Beryl trouble?” Mum asked severely. “Your sister takes a great deal of trouble to see to your needs, dear. I specifically asked her to make sure you got your bath and were tucked in before she went out with her friends tonight.”

 

Basil flushed scarlet. What could he do with his mother? Good God, twenty-one was much too old to be kept in the nursery. But Basil had been forced to continue living there during holidays after his sisters each got their own room at the age of twelve.

 

Mother had forbidden Basil to put up football posters or pictures of movie starlets, and had actually given Basil an enema after finding a poster of Farrah-Fawcett Majors in his sock drawer.

 

No, the nursery had pictures of trains and teddy bears, and Basil was forced to eat all his meals there, while the rest of the family was downstairs, enjoying a normal dinner. And of course he had to go to bed in his childhood bed at seven o’clock, as if he was six years old.

 

And it had to stop now. Basil had to take a stand. His pals were coming by, and he wanted his regular clothes and to go out with them. Basil took a deep breath and faced his Mum. “Mummie, I am too old to be bathed by Beryl, and to be put to bed so early. And to wear these ridiculous clothes. I have made a date tonight with Ian and Wills to go out to a pub.”

There. He’d said it. “I’ve made a promise to meet them at Juddy’s, in forty-five minutes.”

 

Beryl and Enid looked at Mum,who gasped, her swelling breasts nearly bursting through the staid dress. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this, Basil. I wonder how you conduct yourself during the school year, but there will be no night life while you are at home. Is that clear?” Mrs. Naples shook her head. “Now you will take off your clothes and get into your robe, and your sisters will bathe you.”

 

Basil felt his lower lip trembling, and he stamped his foot. “But Beryl goes out at night, and so does Enid, both of them since they were thirteen! Last night, when Enid came in from the Satan’s Rectum Club, it was two a.m.!”

 

Mum looked shocked. “What was a bad boy like you doing up at two a.m.? You were put to bed at seven! Were you up watching cable television?”

 

Basil did not respond to that. “I want to see my friends at night! For God’s sake, Mother, I’m a junior manager at the firm! You trust me with all sorts of responsibilities, why am I treated like a child at home! I am seeing my friends tonight, and I want my clothes.”

 

Mum snorted. “You will do no such thing. When those bad boys come by I will tell them you are indisposed for your vacation, and you will see them in six weeks when you go back to university.” She looked at Beryl, who sighed.

 

“Now that that’s settled, I just have time to bathe you. It’s six-thirty, and I can get you in bed within twenty minutes if you don’t splash too much in the tub. You help me, Enid, and I’ll give you a ride to the club once we get Basil put down.”

 

Beryl tried to take Basil’s sleeve. “I have to meet Leslie and Harry and Ted in an hour, so let’s get this show on the road.” Mum smiled, and nodded.

 

“Don’t hold your sisters up, Basil.”

 

Basil shook Beryl’s hand off. “Goddamnit, I am too bloody old to be bathed by my sister, and I’m going out myself! Now give me my clothes before I get very angry!”

 

Mum shook her head.”That’s it! I knew a tantrum was coming tonight when you were in the nursery and you gave me a surly look because I insisted you finished your turnips.” Mum lifted her foot and took off her slipper and walked over to Basil, who was backing off, hastily.

 

Mum grabbed Basil by the ear and dragged him to the sofa. She unbuttoned his short pants and pulled them down, forcing Basil to take off his jacket. As Enid giggled, watching, Mum pulled Basil’s underpants down as well.

 

Mum sat down and dragged Basil over her short skirt, and began whacking him with the slipper. WHAP! SMACK! WHACK SLAP! THWACK! SLAP!

 

Basil began crying and kicking his legs, and Beryl and Enid watched rather amused, while Enid toyed with the stud in her nose. After Mum had given Basil about twenty with the slipper, he was still shouting

 

(Sob) “It’s not (sob) fair! I (sob) want to see my (sob) friends, you old hag!” Mum became annoyed. “Enid, pass me Daddy’s old shillelagh.”

 

Enid picked up an old crooked Scottish walking stick, and Mum pushed Basil off her lap. Rising, she pulled Basil up, his pants now falling to his ankles, and threw him across the arm of the sofa.

 

WHACK! WHACK! WHOP! THWACK! The heavy stick fell eleven times before Basil broke down and just wept, begging Mum to stop hitting.

 

Finally Mrs. Naples smiled triumphantly, winking at her daughters. “Have we had enough, young man? Are you ready to take your bath and go to bed like a good little lad?”

 

Mrs. Naples sat down and pulled Basil down on her lap in a sitting position, and he wept. Mrs. Naples pulled Basil’s face into her bosom. “There there, darling. I know you didn’t mean to throw a fit. You’re just tired.”

 

Basil wept. “I-I didn’t mean (Sob) to be a bad boy, Mummie. I (sob) won’t do it again. I (sob) want to go to bed now.”

 

Mum patted Basil on his shoulder. “Yes, you know it hurts Mum more than it hurts you to do this.”

 

Enid laughed rudely. “That’s likely” but Mum gave her a severe look.

 

“I am so proud of my little man. Now why don’t you step out of your breeches and go with Beryl and Enid to have your bath. I don’t think you’ll need an enema tonight, if you’re a good boy. Go on now. And hurry. Beryl and Enid have to prepare for their evening out, so you have to be in bed by seven.”

 

Basil nodded finally and stood up, stepping out of his pants and shoes. Enid and Beryl smiled, because Basil’s wee-wee was quite prevalently sticking out of his shirt tails.

 

Beryl walked a bit closer and smirked up at her brother’s tear-stained face. Reaching around to his bare, welted buttocks, and pinched one of his weals, and Basil burst into wails and ran to the bathroom, his sisters following with big smiles on their faces.

2006

 

Basil lay on the floor, his wrists cuffed to his ankles, and both cuffs attached to a chain to a dog collar on his neck, so his hand and legs were up near his head…and his scrotum was under the rocker of the rocking chair, as his sister Beryl rocked back and forth.

 

Rock OOOOhhhhh. Rock Oooooh. Basil’s testes were being brutally punished as the rocker went back and forth over Basil’s tender testicles. “You see, Lucinda” Beryl said in her brisk British voice. “I used to have such fun with Basil on holidays…finding out what I could do to him.

 

 He doesn’t seem to be enjoying it, but as soon as we’d meet at home and Mum and Dad were out of the house, he’d beg me, ‘Can we play Rocking Chair?’ And I’d order Basil out of his school uniform, and tie his hands and feet—

 

“--none of these splendid cuffs, unfortunately, and then I’d push him under Mum’s rocker and make Basil squeal for a bit.” Beryl snickered. “And then after Dad passed, Basil was mad because Mum treated him like a child…and I had to bathe him, with my baby sister, Enid.”

“God it’s so interesting having you visit, Beryl!” Lindy marveled.

 

1986

Basil was still snuffling as his sisters led him into the bathroom. “Oh, did Mum do a job on you.” Reported Enid as Beryl helped him off with his shirt. Now totally naked, Basil sighed.

He looked at his sympathetic twin, resplendent in her hot pink angora sweater. Had he ever seen her naked? Or even with just a bra on? Actually not even with a bathing costume on, for Mum forbade Basil to accompany the girls to the shore, as Basil burned easily.

No, Basil was like an infant, and Beryl had had Basil naked in front of her dozens and dozens of times, and he’d never gotten any sort of reciprocity, except when Beryl now and then would allow Basil, his eyes blindfolded, to lick her down below for a few hours.

 

But even then he saw NOTHING. It was unfair and just too bad.

 

“I know it’s not easy for you, Basil” said Beryl kindly as Enid tested the temperature of the bath with a blue fingernail. Beryl reached down and stroked Basil’s penis gently. “Mum is just worried about you, and she doesn’t think it’s safe to be going about at night.

 

When you holiday with your college friends and don’t come home, Mum is always quite worried about you.” Beryl’s slim fingers rubbed Basil’s penis a little faster, and her twin brother gasped a bit. Beryl smiled and reached over, kissing Basil full on the mouth.

 

“Perhaps you just need to grow up a bit, dear.” What did she mean by that? Basil thought.

 

“Well,the water’s all ready now” said Enid as she flicked her hot blue nail against Basil’s erection. He squealed, and both girls laughed. “Jump in, big brother.” Basil lifted a foot and put his toe in the water.

 

“It’s too cold.” Basil said, shivering. “Basil please get in,” Beryl said reasonably. “The water will get warmer I promise you. The faucet is pouring warm water in as I speak.”

 

“You’re such a baby, Basil” Enid said, disgustedly. “Please hurry up—I’ve got things going on.”

 

Basil pouted. “If I can’t go out and I have to let my sister’s bathe me and put me to bed early, the least I can ask is that the water be warm. I’ll wait.”

 

Basil made a triumphant bratty look, ridiculous in a twenty-one year old. “Sorry if I hold up your evening, but what do I care? I can’t go anywhere.” He smiled serenely.

 

Beryl was annoyed. “So that’s what it’s about, is it?” Enid was enraged.

 

“Look, I’m going to a show in about twenty minutes. I am auditioning for lead singer of Dickie Scalpel and the Abortions, and they’re appearing tonight at the Satan’s Rectum Club. You’re not going to hold me up just because Mum won’t let you go out.”

 

“I will if I like.” Basil said, and crossed his arms. This will show them all, the bitches, he thought.

Enid unbuckled her punk-rock leather belt, studded with sharp metal pieces. Grabbing Basil’s shoulder, she threw him over the bathtub so his ass was sticking up. Enid swung the belt  and it began dancing across Basil’s buttocks with vigor.

 

WHACK! WHACK! SLAP! SMACK! Basil howled lustily and Beryl sighed. “Don’t spare him, darling” came a husky maternal comment through the closed bathroom door.

 

“I shan’t, Mum!” screamed Enid as the belt fell again and again on Basil’s unprotected rear. “Now will you get into the goddam tub you blooming idjit?” Enid asked, enraged.

 

Basil gave a final howl and jumped into the now scalding bathwater. It was not kind to his newly opened welts from the cruel metal studs of Enid’s punk-rock belt.

 

“Now don’t you complain, dear.” Beryl said, pushing Basil down into the water. “Hot is what you asked for.” Beryl felt a little overheated in the bathroom, so she took off her angora sweater and her T-shirt, and revealed herself in a beige bra that barely covered her generous breasts.

 

Beryl took a scrub brush and began rubbing it vigorously all over Basil’s hairy body, while Enid took a bit of Brillo she’d taken up in the kitchen. Suddenly Basil screamed with true terror.

 

 Enid’s steel wool ripped across his genitals, already made tender and soft by daily application of lotion and Vaseline, the tools of the compulsive masturbator.

 

 Enid got sick of Basil’s howls and grabbed some wet soap and shoved it into Basil’s mouth, pushing it back so he had no choice but to eat it to get his mouth empty again. As Basil coughed and choked, the girls bathed him vigorously.

 

“And don’t forget what I told you to do!” came Mum’s voice through the door. “Yes, Mum!” Enid shouted back.

 

“What’s that?” Beryl asked curiously.

 

“Well, Mum wants Basil’s body hair shaved off, and she’s afraid he’s going to raise a  tantrum over it” Enid reported.

 

 As Basil heard this he tried to get up, and fell in the tub again, and Enid and Beryl had quite a time over the next half hour, but finally, Basil’s hair was off his entire body, except, of course his head.

 

“And now it’s diaper time!” Enid said. “I know it’s been a while, but Mum says you’ve regressed!”

 

At this, Basil jumped up and was going to run out of the bathroom, but Beryl forced him down again. “Go on out, Enid, go to your audition. I’m going to have  a little talk with my disobedient brother, dear.”

 

Beryl forced Basil down, and tied his wrists with a hand towel. She sat on  Basil’s legs, just before his cock, and began stroking it with her long red nails.

 

“Darling Basil, when will you learn that you’re just a nancy boy?” Beryl cooed. Beryl’s soft hands stroked and plucked at Basil’s growing erection. “My you look so interesting, that hairless crotch…you’re a little baldie boy. Don’t you realize that you’d just be a laughingstock if you picked up some little miss in a pub. She wouldn’t want a penis that small, anyway…don’t cry, darling.”

 

But it was too late, Although Basil was fully erect, he’d started sobbing helplessly.

 

Beryl snorted, and took off her heel WHACK! The heel slammed into his tender but quite bald scrotum. “I said not to cry, or Sissie will give you something serious to cry about.”

 

But it was no use…Basil cried until he was put to bed at a very late 7:05!

THE END