The Twist in the Life of Mathias

[Mattheus]

The Twist in the Life of Mathias
Short Summary:
Sixteen-year-old football player Mathias suddenly and unexpectedly discovers he is wearing the underwear of his thirteen-year-old brother Thomas. How could that happen? The story is set in South Germany.
________________________________________
Chapter 1
It was about 7 p.m. on a Saturday when I trudged home, still wearing my football team outfit—a faded blue t-shirt and white shorts emblazoned with our team’s logo. I had never understood why we wore white and blue when the logo was black and red, but it wasn’t the first time I questioned pointless things. Covered in sweat and carrying the football like it was some kind of trophy, I walked home, hoping the last summer weekend would stretch just a little longer before school started on Monday.
It was almost autumn, since in Bavaria, South Germany, school typically began in mid-September. I loved living in the south—sunny days seemed endless here. Even now, the sun was still blazing down, the kind of heat that made you crave jumping straight into the lake to cool off. But I knew better than to risk it. Mum had asked me to come home early for school supply shopping, and I didn’t want to make things worse.
I didn’t even check the time. My iPhone had gone missing—again. After losing two phones this summer playing football with friends, all I had left was an old, barely functional iPhone 11. Mum wouldn’t let me take it to football matches anyway. Not that I cared, since it was so outdated it barely worked. Mum always said I could ask someone else for the time, but being punctual was never my thing. If I had a Rolex, I’d probably ignore it, too. When I was having fun, time didn’t exist.
But I knew it was getting late, so I decided to head straight home instead of veering off to the lake.
The door to our flat was open, as usual. I barely set my football down when Mum greeted me, her voice sharp.
"I thought I was clear about coming home early because of the shopping we had to do," she said, eyes narrowing.
"Well, Servus, Mum! Here I am!" I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Look at me—your cute, blonde boy, fresh from football!"
"Hello, smarty-pants. You're late."
"Late? It’s still bright out!" I protested, trying to brush it off.
"It’s summer, of course it’s bright! Are you trying to make me look like an idiot?" she snapped.
"No, Mum, never! Let’s just go buy the stuff before the shops close," I tried to hurry, hoping to smooth it over.
"Now you’re really bullshitting me!" she said. "Do you even know how late it is, Mathias? Don’t bother answering—I’ll tell you: it’s 7:20 p.m."
"Okay, great! That means we’ve got 40 minutes. Come on, what are you waiting for?" I said, already feeling annoyed at her nagging.
"Did the ball hit you on the head today?" Mum shot back, her voice like steel. "Do you even know your limits? First, you’re soaked in sweat. I can see your underwear through your shorts. Your underwear, Mathias. Do you realize how embarrassing that is for a grown man?" she hissed.
I froze for a second, feeling heat rush to my face. It was true—my sweaty white shorts had clung to my skin so tightly that my underwear was clearly visible.
"Mum, seriously, who cares? I don’t. Stop lecturing me, and let’s go! We’re running out of time!" I shot back, but she was having none of it.
"I care because you stink, and no one at the store will let you try anything on if you’re covered in sweat like that!" she barked. "It’s embarrassing. You’re sixteen, Mathias! Sixteen years old, and your underwear is showing through your shorts. How can you not care about something so basic? Do you think that looks good? Do you think that looks mature?"
"Okay, okay!" I yelled, a little frustrated. "I’ll shower quickly. Really fast. Move!" I tried to slip past her, but she grabbed my wrist and landed three sharp slaps on my sweat-drenched backside.
"You don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking, young man. And you don’t tell me what to do."
"Awwww! Okay, okay, I’m sorry!" I yelped, rubbing my bottom, feeling both the sting and the humiliation. The defiance I tried to put on crumbled into a sulky, defeated look.
"First," she said, voice colder than before, "you’re covered in sweat. Second, you’re sixteen, Mathias. Sixteen! You know everything here closes at 8 p.m. and stays closed all day Sunday. No one can shower, get to the mall, try on clothes, and buy everything in 40 minutes! Seriously, what’s your problem? You’re sixteen and can’t even manage your time."
Her words hit harder than I expected. I knew she was right, but hearing it like that made my chest tighten with shame. I stared at the floor, barely able to meet her eyes, feeling like a kid who couldn’t even take care of the simplest things.
"Why are you always late? And why does your younger brother, who’s only thirteen, seem more responsible than you? Thomas was up at 8 a.m. today, getting his stuff together. He was home by 3 p.m., clean, prepared, and even picked up your school list so you wouldn’t be the only one unprepared for class. You should be looking after him, not the other way around! Do you realize how embarrassing that is?"
I felt the sting of her words, the deep shame rising in my throat. Thomas, my little brother, was more mature than me. More responsible. The realization made me want to crawl into a hole and die.
"Okay, Mum. I’m sorry," I muttered quickly. I knew I wasn’t getting out of this without agreeing.
"Don’t just say you’re sorry, Mathias. Show me! Prove that you care about more than football and PlayStation. At least try to pick out your own clothes for once. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to keep exchanging clothes for my sixteen-year-old son?"
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered under my breath. How much longer could this go on?
"Go apologize to your brother," Mum ordered.
"Apologize? For what?"
"For doing nothing while he did everything. For not taking care of your school list and your stuff. That was your job, Mathias, not his."
"Okay, fine," I said, rolling my eyes, barely taking her seriously. Yes, Thomas had helped out, but apologize for it? It seemed like an overreaction, but Mum wanted to make me feel guilty.
"You’ll find your stuff on your desk," she said, walking away with a sigh of frustration, leaving me there to stew in my guilt and embarrassment.
________________________________________
I went straight to my room, hoping to avoid any further confrontations. To get there, I had to pass through Thomas’s room—a quirk of our flat that I hated. It was an old building in the city center, with spacious rooms and high ceilings. While it stayed cool in summer, it could be freezing in winter. At least no one had to pass through my room.
"Servus, bro. How are things? Thanks for carrying my stuff. I owe you!" I said, trying to sound cheerful.
"Yeah, yeah. No problem," Thomas replied, not even looking up from his PlayStation.
"Don’t ignore me, little brother," I teased, walking over and hugging him from behind. "Thank you so much, my sweet, cute, little brother!"
"Get away from me! You smell terrible!" Thomas exclaimed, wriggling free with a look of disgust.
I laughed and kept teasing him, pretending to press my sweaty armpit against his face. "That’s the smell of a real man, little bro! Smell that!"
"That’s not the smell of a real man—it’s the smell of a teenager who doesn’t know what a shower is for! You’re terrible!"
"Okay, okay," I said, retreating to my room with a laugh.
________________________________________
Once in my room, I set my ball aside and looked at my desk. As promised, my school supplies were there: notebooks, pens, and folders neatly stacked. But there was also a box of underwear, the sight of which made me frown. It wasn’t that I cared much about underwear, but the box was odd—it had a mix of white, blue, and red pairs. The red caught my attention. I didn’t like red; it wasn’t one of my football colors. Mum knew that.
Curious, I picked up the box and opened it. The first pair I pulled out was white—simple and plain, like the ones I usually wore. I shrugged and decided to try them on after my shower. Setting the box down, I grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom.
The bathroom in our flat was long and rectangular, with a large window at one end. The bathtub was positioned just beneath the window, allowing sunlight to stream in. I always enjoyed the view of the city rooftops while showering. Today, with the golden hues of the setting sun, it felt particularly serene.
I turned on the water, letting the cool stream wash away the day’s sweat and grime. Standing there, I thought about Mum’s words. She was right—I needed to be more responsible. Maybe it was time to start acting my age. But as the cool water cascaded over me, all those thoughts washed away. For now, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.
After drying off, I slipped into the white boxer briefs Mum had left for me. I stood there for a moment, still just in my underwear, not feeling particularly bothered. The flat was warm, and I didn’t see any reason to put on more clothes. Football kept me in good shape, and I knew I looked lean and fit—there was no excess fat to hide, and I felt confident enough.
As I passed Thomas’s room, I saw him glance up from his book. He smirked and called out, his voice loud enough for Mum to hear:
"Mum, they fit him!"
My blood ran cold. I froze mid-step, unsure whether he was joking. "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice unsteady as I turned to face him. Was he feeling okay, or had he taken it upon himself to start scrutinizing my underwear choices?
Mum appeared quickly at the doorway. "Oh, really? Let me see," she said, stepping forward with an expression I couldn’t read.
Before I could even process what was happening, Mum was inspecting the fit, her fingers brushing lightly over the waistband and tugging slightly at the leg openings. "Not too tight," she muttered, looking approvingly at the way they stretched over my hips and thighs. I stood there, dumbfounded, my arms raised instinctively and hands placed behind my head, as though posing like some kind of mannequin. I wasn’t sure why I did it—it just felt like the kind of awkward thing to do in the moment, even though everything inside me screamed to run.
Mum adjusted the waistband, pulling it slightly upward as though testing its elasticity. Her fingers lingered longer than they should have. "Thomas, you’re right. They fit him perfectly," she said finally, nodding. Then, without warning, she tugged the waistband forward, peeking inside.
"Mum!" I shouted, horrified, my face burning. What was she doing?
"Just making sure everything has enough room," she replied casually, as though she was inspecting something as harmless as a shirt. I glanced at Thomas, who was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the show. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
I tried to laugh it off, though it was more out of embarrassment than anything else. It was funny, in a sickening sort of way, how seriously they were taking this. The fact that I was standing there, in just my underwear, like a child being measured for a new pair of shoes, hit me all at once.
"You can keep them," Mum finally said, letting go of the waistband. It snapped back against my skin, making me flinch. Then, with a playful tap on my front, she added, "See? Perfect fit." The unexpected touch made me jump, and they both burst into laughter.
"Mum," I groaned, mortified. "Could you not discuss my underwear with him? What is this, some family focus group?"
"If Thomas wants to give feedback, that’s fine," she said lightly, brushing me off. "After all, he’s the one who suggested these would fit you well."
I turned to Thomas, my voice strained, trying to act like I was above the whole situation. "Wow, little bro, thanks for being my personal stylist. Next time, skip the red ones though. Not my color. White and blue are fine."
Thomas smirked back at me, clearly having the upper hand. "I’ll keep that in mind the next time Mum accidentally buys me underwear that’s too small."
My stomach dropped. What was he talking about? "Which will happen in your dreams," I retorted, though I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Thomas’s grin widened. "It already happened today, moron."
I blinked, feeling my heart race. What the hell was going on? I turned to Mum, pleading for an explanation. "Mum! What’s he talking about?"
She sighed, clearly irritated. "Nothing, honey. Just go to your room and let it go."
"No!" I protested, pulling back. "What’s going on here?"
Mum closed her eyes for a moment, as though she was exhausted from the whole thing. "Mathias, stop making a scene."
"I’m not moving until you explain," I insisted, stomping my foot like a stubborn child, refusing to let this go.
Thomas took great delight in answering for her, as though the whole thing was a game. "Mum bought me new underwear, but they were too small. I told her they’d probably fit you, and guess what? They do!"
My face went white. "Bullshit!" I shouted, the words slipping out in a panic. "You’re lying! Mum, tell him to stop!"
"First, watch your language," Mum snapped sharply. "Second, let’s discuss this in your room."
"No!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "Make him stop lying first!"
But Mum’s grip on my shoulder was firm, guiding me away with surprising strength. "Enough, Mathias," she said. "Let’s go talk about it in your room."
I couldn’t believe it. Not only had Thomas somehow outgrown me, but now he was mocking me for it. He, my younger brother, was the one who had his life together, and I was the one who ended up looking ridiculous. My underwear, my embarrassing lack of care for how I looked, and now this? I was being outdone by a thirteen-year-old. I was humiliated. How was that even possible?
Mum placed a firm hand on my shoulder and steered me toward my room despite my protests.
________________________________________
In my room, she closed the door and faced me.
"Look, Mathias, I expect you to handle this like an adult," she began.
"Handle what? I don’t even know what’s happening!"
"Thomas is exaggerating," she said, brushing off my concerns. "These are your new underwear. They fit, so just wear them and move on."
"But why did he say they were his? Tell me the truth!"
Mum hesitated. "Fine. I might’ve picked up the wrong size for Thomas. But since they fit you, what’s the big deal?"
"So you’re giving me his rejects?"
"They’re not rejects. They’re new, Mathias. And technically, they’re yours now because I decided they should be."
I crossed my arms, glaring. "You sure? Because it sounds like you’re covering for him."
Mum sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Mathias, listen. Everyone grows differently. Thomas’s build is... unique. That’s all."
"Unique? He’s thirteen! He shouldn’t need bigger underwear than me!"
"People are different," she said simply. "Now, please let it go, that’s pathetic"
I felt a tension in my body that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had just taken a cold shower, and now it felt like I was burning up. My face must have been as red as a tomato, and I felt like I was about to hit her. Sneaky woman. Causing me this humiliation... with my brother. I wanted to scream. I could feel sweat on my forehead, but no, I wasn’t going to hit her. And I wasn’t going to wear that underwear. Never. She could keep them. I didn’t care.
“Pathetic?! I’m PATHETIC?! “I screamed. It was always better to scream at your mother than to hit her. “I’m not going to wear them!!!“ I decided. In one swift motion, I pulled the new-old white underwear down to my knees. I’ve never been so disappointed in you, Mum! I knew she wasn’t expecting that, and I knew how to play with her emotions. Checkmate.
The next second, she was pulling them back up. "Stop screaming and put these back on, right now!"
“In your dreams!” And so, we were fighting over the (well, not really mine) new underwear. I pulled them down with all my strength, while she tried to pull them up. Once, she thought she was winning, pulling them above my waist, and at other times, I managed to pull them back down, showing her who had the last word.
"Stop it, Mum! I don’t want them! Period!" With that, I took a step back, and she followed suit, so I was able to pull my not-really-mine underwear completely off. Here, you can have them! I handed her the disputed underpants. Even though my face was burning, I tried to keep a calm expression. After all, I had just won the fight.
"I don’t want them. What am I supposed to do with them?"
"Give them back to Thomas. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s younger than me, and you don’t really believe they were too small for him. Or return them to the store, if no one wants them, for all I care."
"I can’t return them because you’ve already worn them and opened the box. Mathias, please! Would you calm down?"
"No, I don’t wanna talk to you! Leave my room, I don’t want to see you again!" And with that, I threw the underwear at her, turned my back, and jumped on my bed, burying my face in the pillow. My emotions overwhelmed me. That anger inside me... I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, scream, or run away. I just wanted to be alone for a while to figure things out. It didn’t feel like I had won the fight anymore. I was struggling with feelings I’d never had before. A mixture of disappointment and embarrassment. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.
Mum sat down beside me and was silent for a while. Then, she began to stroke my hair, as if that could help me now. I couldn’t understand how my brother needed to wear bigger underwear than me. He was, in fact, quite different from me—dark hair, dark eyes, and though not fat, his body was broader than mine. But he was three years younger than me. He couldn’t be giving me his underwear. That didn’t make sense. Younger brothers inherit clothes from their older brothers, not the other way around. He must have tricked her, and she fell for it.
"Mathias…" Mum’s fingers gently played with my hair. "Please, try to rise above this. You’re sixteen now."
That’s the problem, Mum! I gritted my teeth, my face still hidden in the pillow, muffling my voice. "I’m sixteen! I can’t wear underwear meant for little kids! How could you do this to me?"
"These aren’t for little kids," she said softly, her voice trying to calm me. "It’s just simple, plain underwear. Okay, maybe I should have told you sooner. I admit that. But the reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want this reaction. You see, if you hadn’t known, you’d have just put them on and everything would’ve been fine. If Thomas hadn’t said anything, you would’ve worn them without a second thought. But now, here we are, discussing it. Why? Because they fit you perfectly. If I hadn’t forgotten that Thomas is developing differently than you, I would’ve bought you that size anyway. I’ve been buying you this size for years. I just assumed you and Thomas were the same. But you’re not the same, Mathias. You’re both my beautiful sons, my angels, but you’re different people. And I’m sorry for forgetting that. I really am." She kissed my head again, her fingers still running through my hair.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t even move. I just took a deep, shaky breath, letting the air out slowly. I didn’t know what to say. My emotions were all tangled, and I couldn’t untangle them. I wanted to yell, to scream, but it just… wouldn’t come out.
"Please, Mathias. Can you just turn to me and put your underwear back on?" Her voice was gentle, almost pleading.
I couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not until I had a moment to collect myself, or I might completely break down.
"Come on, Mathias, please. You’re sixteen. You have to act your age. I expect you to understand that everyone wears the size that fits them. You never even cared about what sizes I bought you before. What’s the big deal now? They look good on you, and they’re comfortable."
"Mum, look…" Finally, I turned toward her. I was lying on my right side, and she was sitting beside me, still stroking my head with one hand, holding the underwear in the other. My voice was shaky, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore. "You’re right. I don’t know about sizes. And yeah, they fit me fine. I didn’t have any complaints when I put them on after the shower. But you don’t get it. My little brother should never know about this. He’s supposed to look up to me, not laugh at me!" My throat tightened, and my voice cracked. That’s when the tears started to come, and I couldn’t hold them back anymore. That’s why I had wanted to be alone. To bury my face in the pillow and escape.
"Oh, so that’s your concern." She paused, and her voice softened, almost like she was trying to understand. "But he’s seen you in your underwear before, and even naked. I’ve never heard him make fun of you. Why would he?"
"Because you just gave him a reason!" I snapped, fury rising inside me. My eyes were burning with unshed tears, but I was too angry to stop them now. "Mum, are you stupid?!"
Her face hardened, and for a moment, I saw the woman who wasn’t afraid to put me in my place. "No, I’m not stupid. And that’s the last time you ever call me that. You understand? Because if you keep acting like this, I’ll get you real little kid underwear. Paw Patrol, if you’re lucky. Believe me, if you want to act like a child, I’ll treat you like one. And don’t think I don’t remember how much you loved Paw Patrol when you were little."
"No! No, stop, Mum, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it." My heart raced, and I felt my chest tightening. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to make this worse.
"I’m glad to hear that. Because I’m definitely not stupid. And here I am, looking at my sixteen-year-old son, crying like a baby because of a pair of new underwear. Is that what you want me to see? A crying kid?"
She had a point. A big one. It probably did seem like a stupid reaction, but how was I supposed to react? How is a sixteen-year-old boy supposed to deal with the fact that his mother had just handed him his younger brother’s underwear? Crying seemed like a perfectly normal response.

"Mathias," Mum's voice was soft, but insistent. She was still sitting beside me, her hand resting on my hair. "If you’re really worried about your brother making fun of you, then maybe you should just wear them. Show him you don’t care what he thinks. If you act like it doesn’t bother you, there won’t be any reason for him to tease you. And honestly, I don’t think he would anyway."
I looked up at her, unsure of how to respond. She seemed so certain, so calm, and yet I couldn’t shake the sense of humiliation still choking me. "You’re serious?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my efforts to sound indifferent.
"Yes, I’m serious," she said, giving me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Look, if you wear them like they’re nothing, he won’t even notice them. And for the record, I don’t believe he’d ever make fun of you, especially for something so small."
Her words were meant to comfort, but they felt like a hollow attempt to mask the truth—that I had been exposed. It wasn’t just the underwear. It was how it made me feel, how it had made me question everything about my body.
She took the white underwear from her lap and held it up in front of me, still looking at me with that same forced smile. I wanted to retreat, to bury myself in the covers and pretend I wasn’t here, that I hadn’t just had my dignity stripped away by my own mother. But the look in her eyes held me there.
"Come on, Mathias," she said with a teasing tone that barely masked the seriousness beneath. "Let’s just get this over with. It fits you, and we can move on."
I bit my lip, feeling the sting of humiliation prickling under my skin. "Yeah, okay," I muttered, wanting it to be over, wanting the embarrassment to stop, even though I knew it wouldn't.
She helped me pull the underwear back on, her hands surprisingly gentle as they slid them over my legs. But every touch felt like a betrayal, like the more she tried to comfort me, the more I was sinking into a pit of self-loathing. The waistband settled just below my navel, and the tightness around my groin reminded me of how much I wasn’t ready to face.
"See? Fits like a glove," Mum said, her voice trying to be upbeat, but it only made me feel smaller.
"Not funny," I mumbled, my face flushing. I was trying to hold it together, but it felt impossible. It was just underwear, yet it felt like a symbol of everything I was afraid of—everything I didn’t want to face.
She smiled, but I could see the pity in her eyes. "When you’ve calmed down, you can come downstairs with me and Dad. We’re going to watch a movie. It might help take your mind off things."
I nodded absently, not even sure I was hearing her anymore. I didn’t want to watch a movie. I wanted to be alone, to escape the growing sense of inadequacy gnawing at me. My mind kept circling back to the same question: How had I not noticed that Thomas had outgrown me?
He was three years younger, but somehow he was bigger, more confident, like he had already stepped into adulthood while I was still stuck somewhere in-between. Was I really done growing? My height barely surpassed his, and I hated myself for it. I felt small in every sense, and it terrified me.
As I went to the fridge to grab a bottle of Coke, I tried to push those thoughts aside. I was a football player. I had friends. I was popular. I wasn’t supposed to care about this. But I did. I felt the weight of it pressing down on me like a heavy blanket.
I walked back to my room, trying to distract myself with my PS4, but Thomas was already there, waiting for me.
"Hey, what’s up, little bro?" he sneered, leaning against my doorframe with that smug look on his face.
I gritted my teeth, fury bubbling up inside me. "Shut your mouth, you little prick."
But he didn’t back down. "You call me a little prick? Look at you! You’re wearing kid’s undies, little bro!" His voice was sharp, mocking, and it cut deeper than I wanted to admit.
I tried to hold my ground, even though I could feel my face getting hot. "These aren’t kid’s undies. They’re just regular boxers."
He laughed, a cruel, high-pitched laugh that made my stomach twist. "Those are for twelve-year-olds, Mathias. I thought I was gonna piss my pants when I saw you wear those. Do you even know how ridiculous you look?"
Every word he said felt like a punch. "Yeah, well, you should’ve, like all the little kids who piss their pants!" I snapped back, but my voice wavered. I was trying to hold it together, but he was chipping away at my confidence piece by piece.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "Oh, so now I’m the one pissing my pants, huh? Guess what? I don’t care. I’m not a little kid anymore. I even wear grown-up pants. Can you say the same?"
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I just stood there, staring at him, feeling the humiliation of it all crash over me. He was younger, but somehow he was so much more grown-up than I was.
"Yeah, okay," I muttered, my voice breaking. "I can live with the fact that your waist size is different. You’re still just thirteen, and a nerd. Now get ready for school tomorrow and get out of my room."
Thomas looked at me, a smug grin still plastered on his face. "My waist size? Who told you about waist size? Mum?"
I wanted to scream. I wanted to shove him and make him leave me alone, but the words stuck in my throat.
"Well, obviously the sizes are about the waist, you moron," I spat, my voice rising with frustration. But beneath the words, a gnawing shame was eating away at me. I could feel the sting in my chest, a deep ache that wouldn't go away. "No one had to talk to me about it."
Thomas smirked, his eyes glinting with a sadistic satisfaction. Then he dropped the bombshell that made everything inside me freeze. "I think I might piss my pants. These pants would fit me fine in the waist, but it’s something else."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt my chest tighten, my throat closing. "What the hell are you talking about? Your fat ass?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, like I was already defeated.
Thomas just grinned, his confidence a slap in the face. I could feel my blood boiling, but it was overwhelmed by an uncontrollable flood of self-doubt. The humiliation started crawling under my skin, suffocating me, eating away at whatever confidence I had left.
"No, it’s my penis!" he spat, his words coming out so fast and so casual, as if he had just shattered something inside me. "That’s why I wear men’s sizes, and you wear boy’s sizes."
His laugh rang out, loud and mocking, like he was enjoying every single moment of my pain. Each chuckle felt like a sharp stab to my already wounded pride.
"Hahaha! You really think that’s what this is about?" I managed to ask, my voice quivering, though I hated how weak it sounded.
"No, I’m serious!" Thomas insisted, his eyes sparkling with malicious amusement. "They’re too tight for my penis and testicles. I couldn’t even breathe in them!"
The words hit me harder than I thought possible. The truth of his mocking, how he was just so sure of himself while I stood there, exposed and vulnerable, made my stomach churn. His words dug into my skin, into the very core of my shame.
"Sure, you can prank Mum, but not me." I replied, but even I could hear how hollow it sounded.
I hated him. I hated how effortless it was for him to tear me apart with his words, how he stood there, looking down at me like I was nothing. I wanted to lash out, to say something—anything—to stop this, but I was frozen, humiliated beyond belief.
"Just look at you," Thomas muttered, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "In those tiny white pants. I can see your little bulge."
I didn’t want to look at myself. I didn’t want to see how pathetic I must have looked. But despite the shame, my eyes were drawn down to my body. The tightness, the way the underwear clung to me—it was impossible to ignore. It felt so wrong, so uncomfortable, and I hated that I was so painfully aware of every single inch of it.
Thomas grinned wider, his voice dripping with mockery. "Yeah, look at you. Your little bulge. Or should I say, almost lack of one?"
My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t breathe. Every word he said pierced through me, leaving me exposed, raw, and trembling. I wanted to disappear. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole so I wouldn’t have to face him, wouldn’t have to face the cruel reality of how small and insignificant I felt in that moment.
But before I could even think of escaping, the anger rose like a tidal wave, and I pushed him with everything I had. My arms shook with the force of it, but Thomas barely budged. He grabbed my arm, twisting it with a strength that caught me off guard. He pulled me into a headlock and threw me onto the floor, pinning me down with ease.
The world spun. I struggled, kicking out, but it was useless. I could feel his weight on top of me, heavy and suffocating, and I couldn’t escape. My underwear was being pulled down, and in that moment, every ounce of dignity I had left was ripped away. The shame—the suffocating, crushing shame—was overwhelming.
"Little boys can walk around naked, right?" Thomas taunted, and then, as if to punctuate his victory, he slapped my bare butt.
I wanted to fight, to get away, but I was too paralyzed by the overwhelming sense of helplessness. He gave me just enough space to turn, and I tried to strike back, to punch him, but he was quicker. He grabbed me where it hurt the most, his fingers closing around me, and I could do nothing but lie there, frozen in shock and humiliation.
His laughter filled the room, louder and more mocking than ever. "Bro, want to see mine?"
My heart sank, the blood drained from my face. Horror spread through me like ice, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to see what he was offering, but I couldn’t escape it. The grin on his face only widened, darker, more sinister, as if he was savoring every second of my misery.
I was trapped, vulnerable, and exposed. And there was nothing I could do.

He pulled his underwear down, exposing himself, and presented me with his penis. Time froze, the world around me blurring into nothingness as my eyes locked onto his body. I couldn’t tear myself away, even though every inch of me wanted to. His penis looked like something out of a nightmare, so much more grown-up than mine, thick and long, even flaccid. His coarse, dark hair only made it worse, sprouting everywhere, like he was already a man, while I still felt like a boy trapped in a younger version of myself.
At first, I was stunned, almost in awe. He looked like a grown man, and I could feel the weight of that realization crushing me. My own body seemed so small, so inadequate in comparison. I had tried so hard to make myself look more like an adult, but here he was, flaunting his maturity, his confidence. My stomach churned, a knot of jealousy and fear coiling inside me.
Then, reality hit me like a punch in the gut. My penis was so much smaller, and I had even shaved it, thinking that would somehow make me look more mature. But there was no hiding the truth anymore. I was still just a boy, not even close to where Thomas was. The irony of it stung—he had everything, and I had nothing.
Thomas just grinned, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. He started shaking his hips, doing that stupid "helicopter dance," and I felt like I was being suffocated. He was so full of himself, so sure of his place in the world, while I was trapped in this painful moment, exposed and vulnerable.
He pulled his underwear down further, letting them sit under his testicles, and put his hands behind his head, as if he were the king of the world. "Look at me," he taunted, "A real man. And you? You’re still just a little boy, Mathias."
I could feel my face burning with shame, my entire body shaking with humiliation. He was right. He was already there, a step ahead of me, and I hated it. I hated how powerless I felt, how exposed I was. I wanted to scream, but my voice was caught in my throat.
"Look at you," he sneered, "Just look at you, Mathias. You’re so far behind me. You’re still stuck in your little boy’s body while I’m here, a grown man. What a joke."
Each word was a knife to my chest. He was right. He had outgrown me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was stuck in this body that felt so wrong, so immature, and he was thriving, developing into someone I could never be.
But then, something snapped inside me. Anger, raw and violent, flooded through me. This was my chance to fight back. I wasn’t going to let him win. I pushed him off me, with all the strength I could muster, my fists clenched, heart pounding. He stumbled backward, his face twisted in surprise. But before he could react, I was on him again.
I kicked him in the head, hard, and he crumpled to the floor, a shout of pain escaping his lips. My chest was tight, my breath shallow, but I didn’t care. The humiliation of this moment, the crushing weight of comparison, had pushed me over the edge. I needed to hurt him, make him feel what I felt.
"Stop, stop, stop!" he screamed, trying to cover his face, but I didn’t care. He was mocking me, taunting me, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. I kicked him again—this time in the belly, and again. His cries filled the room, but they only fueled my anger, the need to show him that I wasn’t the weak little brother anymore.
Then I heard the door open behind me. I knew exactly who it was, and I knew this would only make things worse. I didn’t care anymore. My anger had completely taken over.
I knelt beside Thomas, grabbed a fistful of his hair with one hand, and used my other hand to rain down punches on his back and head. My breathing was fast, erratic, my body burning with rage. I didn’t care who saw anymore, I just wanted him to feel my pain, my humiliation. I was shaking, but I couldn't stop.
Just then, my father grabbed me, pulling me off of him with a strength that left me breathless. I struggled, tried to break free, but my father was too strong. My heart was pounding, my body shaking with adrenaline, but I couldn’t escape.
Then I saw my mother, kneeling by Thomas, looking at me with a mix of anger and disappointment. She ran to the kitchen, returning with a cooling pack for my brother, who was still on the floor, clearly shaken but somehow triumphant. My mother helped him to his feet, her touch gentle, as if he were the one who needed care.
I felt like I was suffocating. The weight of everything crashing down on me. My father held me firmly, silent, his grip unyielding. I wanted to scream, to shout, to say something, but nothing came out. I was paralyzed, watching them care for Thomas, the one who had humiliated me, the one who had outgrown me in every way.
And then, my father let me go. I stood there, still shaking, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The room was silent except for the sound of my brother’s breathing, his laughter still echoing in my head. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, couldn’t believe the depths of my own humiliation. But as my parents began to speak, I couldn’t focus on their words. I was too lost in the storm of emotions inside me—the anger, the jealousy, the shame. I didn’t know how to fix any of this, or even if I could.

“How could you even... What’s wrong with you? It’s your only brother! How could you treat him like that?!” my mum went on, her voice trembling with anger.
“But, Mum, he—” I tried to explain myself.
“No word from you! Unless you're asked!” she snapped, cutting me off sharply.
“Yes, but—!” I started to protest, but before I could finish, I felt a hard slap on my bottom from my dad.
“Don’t you understand what your mum said? Or do you only understand that?” he barked, slapping my bottom again.
“Ooooowww!!!” I yelped, jumping and clutching both of my butt cheeks in pain.
“I guess we had that conversation today, young man!” Mum’s voice was ice-cold with anger. “We talked about you acting more responsibly, showing maturity, being punctual—and what do you do? You throw a tantrum over your new underwear like a little kid, and then you want to beat your younger brother? Just because you think you’re stronger? You know who behaves like that? Children! Grown men don’t pick on someone weaker! What did you think you’d prove? And why the hell are you standing there naked again? Didn’t we talk about wearing that underwear? Do you enjoy ignoring everything I try to teach you? Do you want me to embarrass you in front of everyone?!”
“No, it’s just…” I tried to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. The humiliation was eating me alive. I could feel the shame burning my face as the tears welled up, uncontrollable. I hated this feeling, hated how weak I felt. I was supposed to be the older one, the stronger one, but now I was a mess. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. “It’s just… it’s just…” I managed to mumble, but the tears flowed freely down my face. I sniffed and tried to breathe, but I couldn’t stop the sobs. “Mum… he laughed at me! He made fun of me! “
“And that’s the reason to beat somebody?” Dad’s voice was filled with disbelief, his tone sharp and scolding. “Because you think you’re what? The Queen of England?!”
“He deserved it!” I shouted, still sniffling, my voice cracking with frustration. But even as I said it, I knew how pathetic it sounded. I couldn’t hold it together. Not anymore.
“If someone deserves something, it’s you,” he snapped, his hand grabbing mine with an iron grip. I felt the cold burn of his fingers as he turned me around forcefully, and then… the first slap came.
You have to understand: when Dad disciplines, there’s nothing soft or easy about it. Mum’s slaps are sharp but fleeting, just a sting, a moment of discomfort. But Dad? He’s a soldier, and each strike was like a heavy punch, like he was trying to knock some sense into me.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
I couldn’t help but scream, the pain radiating through my bottom, my whole body jolting with every strike. I tried to pull away, but he held me tight, no mercy in his grip. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the humiliation. My whole body was exposed, bare and vulnerable. I was the only one naked in the room. My brother, my little brother, sat on the couch, fully clothed, watching the whole thing unfold. I could feel his eyes on me, could feel the judgment in the silence. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.
It didn’t matter that I was sixteen. I felt like a child, a helpless, small child, caught in the middle of this degrading moment. My ass was burning from the punishment, my whole body trembling. Every slap felt like a betrayal of everything I’d ever wanted to be—mature, strong, in control. But there I was, naked and sobbing, in front of everyone.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
I was jumping, trying to break free, but it was useless. The sting of the spanks was unbearable, and every time I thought it was over, another one came. I couldn’t even find my breath, couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down my face. I felt so small, so insignificant. And my brother just sat there, silent, watching me break down, seeing me as nothing more than a pathetic mess.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dad stopped. His hand was still gripping mine, holding me in place, like I was too weak to stand on my own. I felt like I had nothing left—no pride, no strength. Nothing.
“Now, I agree with Mum—you’re acting unbelievably childish, and as long as you keep acting this way, you’ll be treated like a child. Just look at yourself! Look at how pathetic you’re behaving, look at us, look at your younger brother! Do you honestly think that’s how a sixteen-year-old young man should behave?” Dad’s voice was sharp, each word hitting like a slap. He asked the rhetorical question, but I didn’t dare hesitate to respond.
“No! No! No, it’s not! It’s not!” I blurted out, panic rising in my chest. Sixteen. I couldn’t believe it. I was already sixteen. Sixteen, and I was being treated like a little kid.
“Exactly. You’re so far from being a man, it’s painful to watch. That’s why you’re going to bed right now, like the little boy you’re acting like. You’ll lie there and think long and hard about what maturity really means, and how a grown man would handle being laughed at—without throwing a tantrum like a baby.”
“To bed?! Dad, it’s 8 p.m.! I’m sixteen! I’m not a little kid anymore!” I could feel the words burning in my throat, a mix of frustration and disbelief that after all this time, I was still being punished like I was five years old.
“Exactly!” SLAP! – the sting of his hit burned across my bottom. “You act like a spoiled, immature brat, so you’re going to bed just like one. You want to be treated like a man? Start acting like one. But before that, hand over your PlayStation, your MacBook, and your cellphone. You won’t be touching them for a week. Maybe if you finally grow up, I’ll think about giving them back. But don’t hold your breath.”
I did as I was told, still crying. I saw my younger brother, Thomas, grinning to himself, trying to hide it but failing. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I just accepted the punishment, feeling the weight of it all crushing me. I went to my room, my heart heavy, and buried my face in the pillow. The tears came in waves, and I cried for what felt like an eternity. My thoughts spiraled, replaying the humiliation over and over, but instead of reflecting on why I was being punished, all I could focus on was how embarrassed I felt. It was too much. I wanted to escape, to sleep, to forget.
Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I lay still, hoping to drift into unconsciousness. But my peace was broken when Thomas barged in. I was lying on my belly, still naked, the vulnerability of it all sinking deep into my chest. I turned my head, my eyes puffy from crying, and saw him standing there—clothed in his shirt and shorts, completely unaffected by what had just happened to me.
He held my white underpants in his hand, dangling them in front of me like a trophy, his smirk widening as he looked me over. His eyes scanned me slowly, from my nakedness, down to my exposed body. He didn’t even try to hide his disdain, his gaze lingering on every inch of me. I felt his eyes on me like hot needles, as if he was inspecting me like I was some kind of child. The way he looked at me made my face flush with humiliation. He shook his head slowly, like I was something pitiful, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Look at you,” Thomas said, his voice tinged with amusement. “A sixteen-year-old boy... and you’re still a little kid. You’re so undeveloped, Mathias. Pathetic.” His words cut deep, and I couldn’t even look him in the eye. I wanted to disappear, to hide from the reality that my own younger brother was treating me like this.
He threw my underpants at me with a flick of his wrist, and I barely managed to catch them. He turned and walked out, calling over his shoulder, “Put these on, and try not to embarrass yourself again.”
I felt small, so small. I put on the underpants, my body still trembling from everything that had happened. I tried to lie down, but sleep felt impossible. All I could think about was the next day—how I was praying, wishing that no one would bring it up. That I’d wake up and everything would be back to normal. That I would no longer be the joke, the childish little brother. That Thomas wouldn’t look at me with that smug, superior smirk. If I believed in God, I would have prayed all night, begged for it to all go away. But I didn’t believe in God. I could hear Thomas’s laughter behind me, and I felt a pit grow in my stomach. How had my thirteen-year-old brother managed to completely outshine me? How was it possible that, at sixteen, I was still the one being treated like a child?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I drifted off into a restless sleep.
I woke up to the sunlight pouring through the window. It was bright and already later than I wanted it to be. My body ached, not just from the punishment, but from the weight of everything I’d been through. I had to go to the toilet, but I hesitated, my heart racing. I couldn’t face anyone—not yet, not like this. I hadn’t left my room since I was sent to bed, and the fear of what would happen if I stepped out was almost paralyzing.
But I had no choice. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Please, don’t say anything. Please, please, please. Please, let everything be normal again.
I took slow steps toward Thomas’s room, trying to avoid looking at him, trying to avoid his judgment. He was lying in his bed, reading some book, completely clothed and calm, like nothing had happened. I didn’t dare look at him, just focused on getting past him as quickly as possible. But then, of course, he spoke.
“Hey, servus, my little, little bro!” He smirked, his eyes running up and down my body, taking in the sight of me standing there, still not fully dressed, still so far beneath him. That made my stomach twist

[Jeepman89]

Nicely done. Hopefully he gets exposed to some girls soon.

[Mattheus]

Nicely done. Hopefully he gets exposed to some girls soon.

Thank you idk if i will continue this one, depends on demand

[tim409]

Too bad he did not have two or three sisters there to enjoy the show. Maybe they could even have been having some of their girlfriends over and they could enjoy seeing her brother naked too. BTW, they could take that brat type behavior by making him go naked in front of several girls since males do behave better when they are naked in the presence of fully and modestly clothed girls.

[Tbell]

Great story, I hope you continue. Perhaps Mathias's younger brother's girlfriend could measure him up and help choose his underwear in the kids department.

[TeenFan]

This is a unique twist on a SPH story.
I thought the age difference was maybe too great. Two years apart would have worked perfect for me.

I am happy to see a new writer. Looking forward to an update or new story.
Many readers here focus heavily on loads of girls seeing the naked boy. But we have lots of stories like that. Write what excites you the
most. Stories of a different type can sometimes be a big hit here.