The Twist in the Life of Mathias // Part 2 - 17.03.

[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.
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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 Not that I cared, since it was so outdated it barely worked.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.
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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.
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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.
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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.

[Mattheus]

Chapter 2
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor, trying to process everything that had happened. The humiliation from the previous night still clung to me like a second skin. I could hear Thomas’s voice echoing in my head, his mocking tone cutting deeper than any physical pain. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, one where my younger brother had somehow become the dominant figure in my life, and I was left scrambling to regain some semblance of dignity.
The sound of voices outside my door snapped me out of my thoughts. It was Thomas’s friends, Tahir and Chris. They were laughing, their voices carrying through the thin walls of our flat. I could hear Thomas joining in, his laughter louder and more confident than ever. My stomach churned. I didn’t want to face them, didn’t want to be the butt of their jokes again. But I knew I couldn’t hide in my room forever.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I needed to act like nothing had happened, like I wasn’t still reeling from the events of the previous night. I grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on, then slipped into a pair of jeans. I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. I didn’t want to see the reflection of the boy who had been so thoroughly humiliated.
As I opened the door, the laughter from the living room grew louder. I hesitated for a moment, then forced myself to walk out. Thomas, Tahir, and Chris were sitting on the couch, their attention focused on Thomas’s phone. They didn’t notice me at first, and I considered slipping past them to the kitchen. But then Thomas looked up, his smirk instantly returning.
“Well, well, look who’s finally decided to join the land of the living,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Tahir and Chris turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement.
“Hey, Mathias,” Tahir said, his tone casual, but I could see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “Heard you had a rough night.”
I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. “Yeah, well, it’s over now,” I muttered, brushing past them to the kitchen. I could feel their eyes on me as I walked away, and I hated how exposed I felt.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a glass of water and tried to calm my nerves. I could still hear them laughing in the living room, and I knew they were talking about me. I wanted to scream, to storm back in there and demand that they stop, but I knew it would only make things worse. I was trapped in this cycle of humiliation, and I didn’t know how to break free.
As I stood there, trying to gather my thoughts, Mum walked in. She looked at me with a mixture of concern and frustration. “Mathias, are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer than it had been the night before.
I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Just… trying to get through the day.”
Mum sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I know last night was hard for you, but you need to move past it. Thomas is just being a kid. He doesn’t mean to hurt you.”
I wanted to believe her, but the words felt hollow. Thomas had meant to hurt me. He had enjoyed every second of my humiliation. And now, with his friends here, he had an audience to amplify his mockery.
“I’ll try,” I said, though I didn’t believe it myself. I just wanted the conversation to end.
Mum gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Now, why don’t you go out and join them? It might help to take your mind off things.”
I nodded, though the thought of facing Thomas and his friends again made my stomach twist. But I knew I couldn’t hide forever. I had to face them eventually.
As I walked back into the living room, the laughter died down slightly. Thomas looked up at me, his smirk still firmly in place. “So, Mathias, you ready to admit that you’re still a little kid?” he asked, his tone teasing but with an edge of cruelty.
I felt my face flush, but I forced myself to stay calm. “I’m not a kid, Thomas,” I said, my voice steady despite the anger bubbling inside me. “And I don’t need to prove anything to you.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve got a lot to prove.”
Tahir and Chris chuckled, and I felt my resolve waver. I wanted to lash out, to shut Thomas up once and for all, but I knew it would only make things worse. Instead, I took a deep breath and forced a smile.
“You know what, Thomas? You’re right. I do have a lot to prove. But not to you. I’m done playing your games.”
Thomas’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Oh, come on, Mathias. Don’t be such a buzzkill. We’re just having fun.”
“Yeah, well, your idea of fun is pretty messed up,” I shot back, my voice rising slightly. I could feel the anger building, but I tried to keep it in check. “You think it’s funny to humiliate me in front of everyone? To make me feel like I’m less than you? Well, guess what? I’m not going to let you do that anymore.”
Thomas stared at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Whatever, Mathias,” he said, shrugging. “If you can’t take a joke, that’s your problem.”
I wanted to say more, to push back against his dismissive attitude, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Instead, I turned and walked back to my room, closing the door behind me. I leaned against it, my heart racing, and let out a long, shaky breath.
I didn’t know how to fix things with Thomas, or how to regain the respect I had lost. But I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going to let him define me anymore. I was more than his jokes, more than his mockery. And if he couldn’t see that, then it was his loss.
As I sat down on my bed, I felt a small sense of relief. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had taken a step forward, even if it was a small one. The road ahead was still uncertain, but I was determined to find my way.
Mathias took some fresh clothes and went to the bathroom to take the shower. The water from the shower had been warm and soothing, a brief escape from the chaos of the last 24 hours. But as Mathias stood there, letting the water run over him, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of vulnerability that had taken root in his chest. Yesterday had changed everything. He had always thought of himself as the older, more mature brother—stronger, more developed, more confident. But now, that illusion had been shattered. Thomas, his thirteen-year-old brother, had outgrown him in the most humiliating way possible. And now, Mathias couldn’t help but feel exposed, even in the privacy of his own shower.
He heard the bathroom door creak open, but he didn’t think much of it. He never locked the door—why would he? Until yesterday, he had never felt the need to hide himself. But now, as the sound of footsteps reached his ears, a pang of anxiety shot through him. He quickly turned off the water and grabbed his towel, wrapping it tightly around his waist. He peeked out from behind the shower curtain, but the bathroom was empty. Whoever had come in must have left just as quickly.
Mathias sighed, trying to shake off the unease. He stepped out of the shower and reached for the fresh clothes he had laid out on the counter. But they were gone. His stomach dropped. He looked around, hoping he had just misplaced them, but they were nowhere to be seen. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. This had Thomas written all over it.
“Funny, very funny,” Mathias muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist again, clutching it tightly. He knew he had to go through Thomas’s room to get to his own, and the thought made his skin crawl. But he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever.
As he stepped into the hallway, he could hear the sounds of laughter and the familiar beeps of a PlayStation game coming from Thomas’s room. Mathias hesitated, his grip on the towel tightening. He just wanted to get to his room, get dressed, and avoid any more humiliation. But as he passed Thomas’s door, his brother’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Hey, little brother!” Thomas called out, his tone mocking. “Come here for a second. We need to show you something new in the game. It’ll only take a minute, and then you can go put some clothes on.”
Mathias froze. He didn’t want to go in there. He didn’t want to face Thomas and his friends, especially not while he was only wearing a towel. But Thomas’s voice had that commanding edge to it, the one that made it hard to say no. Mathias took a deep breath and stepped into the room, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.
Tahir and Chris were sitting on the floor, controllers in hand, their eyes glued to the screen. Thomas was lounging on his bed, a smug grin plastered across his face. He looked Mathias up and down, his smirk widening.
“Why do you keep calling him ‘little brother’?” Tahir asked, glancing at Thomas with a puzzled expression. “He’s older than you, right?”
Thomas’s grin turned wicked. “See for yourself,” he said, and before Mathias could react, Thomas lunged forward and yanked the towel away.
Mathias’s heart stopped. He stood there, completely exposed, as the room fell silent for a split second. Then, the laughter started. It was loud, raucous, and utterly humiliating. Tahir and Chris’s eyes widened in shock, but it didn’t take long for them to join in, their laughter echoing off the walls.
“Oh my God!” Tahir exclaimed, pointing at Mathias. “Is that for real?!”
“Looks like someone’s still in diapers!” Chris added, doubling over with laughter.
Mathias felt his face burn with shame. He reached for the towel, but Thomas held it just out of reach, taunting him. “Come on, Mathias, don’t be shy! Let them see what a real little brother looks like!”
“Give it back, Thomas!” Mathias snapped, his voice trembling with anger and embarrassment. He lunged for the towel, but Thomas dodged, holding it high above his head.
“What’s the matter, little bro? Afraid they’ll see how tiny you are?” Thomas teased, his voice dripping with malice. “Don’t worry, they already know!”
The boys erupted into laughter again, their voices blending into a cacophony of mockery. Mathias felt like the walls were closing in on him. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but he was frozen in place, his body betraying him. He could feel their eyes on him, their laughter cutting through him like knives.
“Look at that thing!” Tahir said between laughs. “It’s like a baby carrot!”
“More like a peanut!” Chris chimed in, his voice high-pitched with amusement.
Mathias’s chest tightened, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air. But instead, he stood there, exposed and vulnerable, as his brother and his friends tore him apart with their words.
“Come on, Mathias,” Thomas said, his tone mockingly sympathetic. “Don’t be mad. It’s not your fault you’re still a little kid. Some people just develop slower than others.”
The words hit Mathias like a punch to the gut. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn’t give Thomas the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Not again.
With a sudden burst of anger, Mathias lunged at Thomas, grabbing for the towel. Thomas stumbled backward, laughing as he tried to keep it out of reach. The two of them tumbled to the floor, wrestling for control. Tahir and Chris watched, their laughter growing louder as the brothers struggled.
“Give it back, you jerk!” Mathias shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.
“Make me, little bro!” Thomas shot back, his grin never faltering.
Finally, Mathias managed to grab the towel and yank it away from Thomas. He quickly wrapped it around himself, his hands shaking as he tried to regain some semblance of dignity. But the damage had already been done. The laughter continued, and Mathias knew he would never live this down.
“Get out!” Mathias shouted, his voice breaking. “Just get out!”
Thomas stood up, still grinning, and gestured for Tahir and Chris to follow him. “Come on, guys. Let’s give the little bro some space. He’s clearly not ready to hang out with the big boys yet.”
The three of them left the room, their laughter echoing down the hallway. Mathias stood there, his chest heaving, his face burning with shame. He felt like he was drowning, the weight of their mockery pressing down on him.
He stumbled to his room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it as tears finally spilled down his cheeks. He slid to the floor, his body trembling with a mix of anger, humiliation, and despair. He felt so small, so insignificant. How had things gotten this bad? How had his little brother become the one in control, while he was left feeling like a child?
Mathias buried his face in his hands, the tears coming in waves. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to regain his sense of self. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep living like this. Something had to change.
But for now, all he could do was sit there, alone and broken, as the echoes of laughter continued to haunt him.
Mathias sat on the floor of his room, his back against the door, tears streaming down his face. The humiliation was unbearable. He felt like a child, helpless and exposed, while his younger brother and his friends had all the power. He just wanted to be left alone, to hide from the world and pretend none of this had ever happened. But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.
The door creaked open behind him, and before he could react, Thomas, Tahir, and Chris were stepping inside. Mathias quickly wiped his tears, trying to compose himself, but it was too late. They had already seen him at his lowest.
“Mathias, come on, don’t worry,” Thomas said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. He sat down next to his older brother and slung an arm over his shoulder. “It was just a joke. You know how it is—just having a little fun.”
Mathias stiffened, his body tense with anger and shame. He wanted to push Thomas away, to scream at him to leave, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he sat there, frozen, as the boys crowded around him.
“Yeah, man, we don’t care about your little peanut,” Chris added, his tone light but laced with sarcasm. “It’s no big deal.”
Tahir chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Seriously, Mathias, it’s just a body. We all look the same, right?”
Mathias clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. They were mocking him, pretending to comfort him while twisting the knife even deeper. He wanted to lash out, to tell them to leave him alone, but before he could say anything, his mother’s voice cut through the room.
“What’s going on here?” Mum asked, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene—Mathias on the floor, tears staining his face, and the boys sitting around him like they were trying to console him.
Thomas was quick to respond, his voice calm and reassuring. “Mathias is still just upset because he realized he still fits in my old underwear. He doesn’t want to wear them, and we were trying to calm him down.”
Mathias’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s not—” he started, but Mum cut him off before he could finish.
“Mathias, what’s wrong with you?” she asked, her tone a mix of frustration and concern. She stepped into the room and took his hands, pulling him to his feet. As he stood, the towel around his waist slipped off, leaving him completely exposed once again. He instinctively tried to cover himself, but Mum grabbed his wrists, holding them firmly.
“Stop it, Mathias,” she said, her voice firm. “Until yesterday, you weren’t ashamed of yourself. You weren’t hiding. What changed? Just because you realized your underwear is smaller than your brother’s doesn’t change anything. You’re still the same person. You don’t have to be ashamed around your family or other boys. You all look the same.”
Mathias’s face burned with humiliation. He wanted to argue, to tell her that no, they didn’t all look the same—not where it mattered. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. Instead, he looked down at himself, his body betraying him once again. The cold air and the shame had caused his already small penis to shrink even further, and now he was standing there, completely exposed, in front of everyone.
“Now, please go and put some underwear on,” Mum said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want to have a discussion about it like yesterday.”
Mathias nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around himself again, then hurried to his dresser to find a pair of underwear. As he pulled them on, he could feel the boys’ eyes on him, their smirks and quiet laughter making his skin crawl.
“Thank you, Thomas, for taking care of him,” Mum said, her voice softening as she addressed her younger son. “You’re such a good brother.”
Mathias’s stomach churned. Thomas, the one who had orchestrated his humiliation, was being praised for “taking care of him.” It was unbearable.
“Mathias, come and play PS with us,” Tahir said, his tone overly cheerful. “We don’t care about your undies, really. No need to cry.”
“Yeah, ma’am, we’ll take care of him,” Chris added, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “No worries.”
Mathias felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. They were making it look like he was the little kid who needed to be taken care of, and his mother was buying it. She already thought Thomas was more responsible and mature than him, and now this? It was too much.
He wanted to scream, to tell them all to leave him alone, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. If he lashed out now, it would only make things worse. So instead, he forced a weak smile and nodded, playing along with their charade.
“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s play.”
As the boys set up the PlayStation, Mathias sat on the edge of the bed, his mind racing. He felt so small, so powerless. Thomas had won, and there was nothing he could do about it. The worst part was that no one seemed to see it—no one seemed to realize how much Thomas was enjoying his humiliation.
Mathias clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms again. He couldn’t keep living like this. Something had to change. But for now, all he could do was sit there, pretending everything was fine, while the weight of his shame pressed down on him like a lead blanket.
The PlayStation controller felt heavy in Mathias’s hands, but he forced himself to focus on the screen, trying to ignore the lingering tension in the room. Thomas, Tahir, and Chris were sitting around him, their laughter and chatter filling the air. To anyone else, it might have looked like a normal gaming session among friends. But for Mathias, it was torture.
Thomas was in his element, his confidence radiating as he dominated the game. Every time he scored a goal or pulled off a slick move, he’d glance at Mathias with that smug grin of his, as if to say, See? I’m better than you at everything.
“Nice shot, Thomas!” Tahir exclaimed, leaning forward as Thomas’s character on the screen celebrated another goal.
“Thanks, man,” Thomas replied, his tone casual but dripping with self-satisfaction. “It’s easy when you’re playing against amateurs.”
Mathias’s jaw tightened. He knew the jab was directed at him. He had been struggling to keep up in the game, his mind too clouded with humiliation and anger to focus properly. Every time he made a mistake, Thomas was quick to point it out.
“Come on, Mathias, you’re supposed to defend,” Thomas said, his voice laced with mockery. “Or are you too busy thinking about your little peanut to concentrate?”
The boys burst into laughter, and Mathias felt his face flush. He gripped the controller tighter, trying to ignore them, but the teasing only escalated.
“Hey, Thomas,” Chris said, his tone teasing, “do you think Mathias’s character in the game has a tiny little football too? Like, maybe it’s proportional?”
Tahir snorted, barely containing his laughter. “Yeah, like a mini football for a mini player!”
Thomas grinned, clearly enjoying the direction the conversation was taking. “Nah, I think even the game would give him a normal-sized ball. They’d have to make it fair, right? Otherwise, it’d be too easy to beat him.”
Mathias’s chest tightened, and he could feel the heat rising in his face. He wanted to throw the controller down and walk out, but he knew that would only make things worse. Thomas would just see it as another victory, another way to prove how much more “mature” he was.
“Guys, can we just play the game?” Mathias muttered, his voice low and strained.
“Aw, come on, Mathias,” Thomas said, his tone dripping with false sympathy. “We’re just having fun. Don’t be such a buzzkill.”
“Yeah, lighten up, man,” Tahir added, nudging Mathias with his elbow. “It’s just a joke. We don’t care about your little… you know.”
Mathias’s stomach churned. He hated how they kept bringing it up, how they acted like it was no big deal while simultaneously using it to tear him down. He wanted to scream, to tell them to stop, but he knew it would only make them laugh harder.
The game continued, and Mathias’s frustration grew with every passing minute. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched and judged. Every move he made felt clumsy, and Thomas was quick to point out every mistake.
“Wow, Mathias, that was pathetic,” Thomas said after Mathias missed an easy shot. “You’re playing like a little kid. Maybe you should stick to games for toddlers.”
The boys laughed, and Mathias felt his anger boiling over. He slammed the controller down on the floor and stood up, his hands trembling.
“I’m done,” he said, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. “I’m not playing this stupid game anymore.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. “What’s the matter, little bro? Can’t handle a little competition?”
“I’m not your little bro!” Mathias snapped, his voice rising. “I’m older than you, Thomas! Or have you forgotten that?”
Thomas leaned back, his expression one of mock surprise. “Oh, right, you’re older. My bad. I keep forgetting because, you know, you act like such a baby.”
Tahir and Chris burst into laughter again, and Mathias felt like the walls were closing in on him. He wanted to lash out, to punch Thomas right in his smug face, but he knew that would only make things worse. Instead, he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
He didn’t stop until he reached the bathroom, where he locked the door and leaned against the sink, his chest heaving. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his face red with anger and humiliation. He hated how weak he felt, how powerless he was to stop Thomas’s relentless teasing.
As he stood there, trying to calm himself down, he heard footsteps outside the door. A moment later, Thomas’s voice came through, loud and mocking.
“Hey, Mathias, you okay in there? You’re not crying again, are you?”
Mathias clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “Go away, Thomas,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” Thomas said, his tone dripping with fake concern. “We’re just messing with you. It’s all in good fun.”
“It’s not fun for me!” Mathias shouted, his voice cracking. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
There was a pause, and for a moment, Mathias thought Thomas might actually back off. But then he heard the door handle jiggle, and his heart sank.
“Mathias, open the door,” Thomas said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “We need to talk.”
“No!” Mathias snapped. “I don’t want to talk to you!”
“Come on, don’t be like that,” Thomas said, his voice softening slightly. “I just want to help you.”
Mathias hesitated, his anger warring with a small, desperate hope that maybe Thomas was being sincere. Against his better judgment, he unlocked the door and opened it a crack.
Thomas stood there, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Mathias thought he saw a flicker of genuine concern in his brother’s eyes. But then Thomas pushed the door open and stepped inside, his smirk returning.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Thomas said, his tone light and teasing. “Now, let’s talk about your little… problem.”
Mathias’s stomach dropped. He should have known better than to trust Thomas. “Get out,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
“Oh, come on, Mathias,” Thomas said, leaning against the sink. “You can’t keep hiding from this. It’s not healthy.”
“I’m not hiding!” Mathias snapped, his voice rising. “I just don’t want to talk about it with you!”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Why not? I’m your brother. I’m just trying to help.”
“You’re not helping!” Mathias shouted, his frustration boiling over. “You’re just making it worse!”
Thomas shrugged, his expression one of mock innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to be a good brother.”
Mathias felt like he was going to explode. He wanted to scream, to punch Thomas, to do something to make him stop. But he knew it wouldn’t work. Thomas would just twist it around, make it seem like Mathias was the one being unreasonable.
“Just leave me alone,” Mathias muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”
Thomas studied him for a moment, his smirk fading slightly. Then he shrugged and turned to leave. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t try to help.”
As Thomas walked out, Mathias slammed the door shut and locked it again. He leaned against the sink, his chest heaving, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He felt so small, so powerless. Thomas had won again, and there was nothing Mathias could do about it.
Mathias sat on the edge of the bathtub, his head in his hands, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. The bathroom felt like the only place he could hide, the only place where he could let his guard down, even if just for a moment. But the peace didn’t last long.
A sharp knock on the door made him jump. “Mathias, unlock this door right now,” his dad’s voice boomed from the other side. It wasn’t a request—it was an order.
Mathias hesitated, his heart pounding. He didn’t want to face his dad, not like this. But he knew there was no point in resisting. With trembling hands, he reached over and unlocked the door.
Dad pushed it open and stepped inside, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. He crossed his arms and looked down at Mathias, who was still sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his face streaked with tears.
“Thomas told me you were crying in here,” Dad said, his voice stern. “He said he tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t listen. So, what’s your problem this time?”
Mathias swallowed hard, his throat tight. He couldn’t bring himself to look his dad in the eye. “I… I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
“Mathias, I’m not asking you to guess. I’m asking you to tell me what’s wrong,” Dad said, his tone growing sharper. “Now, start speaking.”
Mathias felt the tears welling up again, but he knew he couldn’t avoid the question. “Dad… they were… they were laughing at me,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Laughing at you? About what?” Dad asked, his brow furrowing.
Mathias took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “Because… of how I look… and… that I was losing the game…” he managed to say, his words coming out in a rush.
Dad stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a heavy sigh. “And that’s the reason to cry?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Mathias, I know Thomas. He’s just joking. He doesn’t mean any harm. You’re overreacting, just like you’ve been doing since yesterday. You’re older than he is—you should be showing him how to react in situations like that, not crying like a little baby.”
Mathias felt his chest tighten. He wanted to explain, to tell his dad how humiliating it had been, how Thomas and his friends had mocked him relentlessly. But the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was sit there, his shoulders shaking as the tears streamed down his face.
“Stand up right now,” Dad said, his voice firm. “You’re not a child anymore, Mathias. It’s time to start acting like it.”
Mathias hesitated, but he knew better than to disobey. He slowly stood up, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. He kept his eyes down, unable to meet his dad’s gaze.
“Look at me,” Dad said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Mathias forced himself to look up, his vision blurred by tears. Dad’s expression was stern, but there was a hint of something else—disappointment, maybe. It made Mathias feel even smaller.
“You’re sixteen years old,” Dad said, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not a little kid anymore. You can’t keep running away every time things get tough. Thomas is just teasing you—it’s what brothers do. But you’re the older one. You need to set an example.”
Mathias nodded, though he didn’t really agree. It wasn’t just teasing—it was humiliation, plain and simple. But he knew there was no point in arguing. Dad had already made up his mind.
“Now, go back out there and show Thomas how a mature young man handles himself,” Dad said, stepping aside to let Mathias pass. “And stop crying. It’s embarrassing.”
Mathias wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded again. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He walked out of the bathroom, his head down, and made his way back to Thomas’s room. The boys were still there, lounging on the floor and chatting like nothing had happened.
Thomas looked up as Mathias walked in, his smirk instantly returning. “Hey, little bro,” he said, his tone light but mocking. “You okay?”
Mathias clenched his fists, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the words felt hollow.
“Good,” Thomas said, his grin widening. “Because we were just about to start another game. You in?”
Mathias hesitated, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. If he said no, Thomas would just tease him more, and Dad would probably get involved again. So he nodded and sat down, picking up the controller.
As the game started, Mathias tried to focus, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel Thomas’s eyes on him, watching for any sign of weakness. The boys’ laughter and chatter filled the room, but Mathias felt completely alone.
Every time he made a mistake in the game, Thomas was quick to point it out. “Wow, Mathias, you’re really bad at this,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe you should really stick to games for little kids.”
Tahir and Chris laughed, and Mathias felt his face flush. He wanted to throw the controller down and walk out, but he knew he couldn’t. Dad’s words echoed in his mind: You’re not a child anymore. It’s time to start acting like it.
So he kept playing, even as the teasing continued. He tried to ignore it, to focus on the game, but it was impossible. Every joke, every jab, cut deeper than the last.
By the time the game ended, Mathias felt completely drained. He set the controller down and stood up, his legs shaky beneath him. “I’m done,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Thomas looked up at him, his smirk never faltering. “Aw, come on, Mathias. Don’t be such a sore loser.”
Mathias didn’t respond. He just turned and walked out of the room, his head down. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Mathias sat on his bed, staring at the wall, trying to block out the sounds of Thomas and his friends laughing in the living room. He had stayed in his room ever since the PlayStation incident, refusing to come out until Tahir and Chris had finally gone home. The humiliation was still fresh, and he didn’t trust himself to face Thomas again without losing his temper. But he couldn’t hide forever.
Later that evening, the family decided to go out to a restaurant for dinner. Mathias wasn’t thrilled about the idea—he wasn’t hungry, and the thought of sitting across from Thomas, who would undoubtedly find some way to embarrass him, made his stomach churn. But he didn’t have a choice. Dad had made it clear that they were going as a family, and Mathias wasn’t about to argue.
At the restaurant, the tension was palpable. Mathias sat quietly, staring at the menu, while Thomas chatted animatedly with their parents about school, football, and everything else under the sun. Thomas was in his element, his confidence radiating as he effortlessly charmed everyone around him. Mathias, on the other hand, felt like an outsider in his own family.
When the waiter came to take their orders, Mathias’s anxiety spiked. He scanned the menu, but nothing appealed to him. Every dish seemed to have too many vegetables or ingredients he didn’t like. He felt like a child, struggling to find something he could eat.
“Mathias, what are you having?” Mum asked, her tone tinged with impatience.
“I… I don’t know,” Mathias muttered, his face flushing. “I’m not really hungry.”
“You have to eat something,” Dad said, his voice firm. “Just pick something.”
Mathias hesitated, then pointed to the kids’ menu. “I’ll have the chicken nuggets and fries,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Thomas snorted, barely containing his laughter. “Chicken nuggets? Really, Mathias? That’s what little kids eat.”
Mum shot Thomas a warning look, but she couldn’t hide the slight smile tugging at her lips. “Thomas, be nice,” she said, though her tone lacked any real reproach.
“I’m just saying,” Thomas said, shrugging. “It’s funny that he’s ordering off the kids’ menu when he’s supposed to be the older brother.”
Mathias felt his face burn with shame. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, but he knew it would only make things worse. Instead, he kept his head down, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
When the food arrived, the contrast between Mathias’s meal and Thomas’s couldn’t have been more stark. Thomas had ordered a grown-up meal—grilled chicken with a side of roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes. It looked sophisticated, mature, and everything Mathias’s chicken nuggets and fries weren’t.
“Wow, Thomas, that looks delicious,” Mum said, her voice full of admiration. “You always make such good choices.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Thomas said, grinning. “I just figured I’d go for something healthy. You know, like a grown-up.”
Mathias stabbed a chicken nugget with his fork, his appetite completely gone. He felt like a child, sitting there with his kid’s meal while Thomas basked in their parents’ praise. It was yet another reminder of how far behind he felt, how much Thomas had outgrown him.
As the meal dragged on, Mathias couldn’t shake the feeling of being the odd one out. Thomas was the golden child, the responsible, mature one, while Mathias was the one who couldn’t even order a proper meal. The humiliation was almost too much to bear.
When they finally finished eating, Mathias excused himself to go to the bathroom. He needed a moment alone, away from Thomas and his parents. But as he stood at the urinal, he heard the door open behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Hey, little bro,” Thomas said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Need some help?”
Mathias ignored him, trying to focus on the task at hand. But before he could react, Thomas reached over and yanked his trousers and underwear down to his shoes, exposing him completely.
“That’s the way little kids pee,” Thomas said, his tone light and teasing.
Mathias froze, his face burning with humiliation. He couldn’t pull his pants back up because he was mid-stream, completely exposed and unable to stop. Thomas, of course, took full advantage of the situation, turning to the other boy who had just walked into the bathroom. The boy looked to be around 13, and Thomas wasted no time in dragging him into the humiliation.
“Hey, did you ever see such a small one?” Thomas asked, pointing at Mathias with a grin.
The boy’s eyes widened, and he burst out laughing. “Wow, that’s tiny!” he said, his voice full of amusement. “Is that even real? It looks like a baby’s!”
Mathias felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air. But instead, he stood there, completely exposed, as Thomas and the other boy laughed at his expense.
“Come on, Mathias,” Thomas said, his grin widening. “Don’t be shy. Show him how little kids pee.”
The other boy leaned in, pretending to squint. “Wait, is he even peeing? I can’t even see anything coming out! It’s so small, it’s like a drip!”
Thomas laughed even harder, doubling over. “Yeah, Mathias, are you sure you’re not just pretending? Maybe you need a step stool to reach the urinal!”
The boy joined in, his laughter echoing off the bathroom walls. “Does it even count as peeing if it’s that small? Maybe he should just sit down like a toddler!”
Mathias’s hands trembled, his face burning with shame. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He just stood there, trapped in the moment, as the two of them continued to mock him.
“Hey, maybe he needs a sippy cup instead of a urinal!” Thomas added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, for little kids who can’t aim!”
The other boy howled with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Yeah, or maybe a training potty! That’s more his size!”
Mathias felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He clenched his fists, his body trembling with a mix of anger and humiliation. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but he was frozen in place, unable to do anything but endure the torment.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he finished. He quickly pulled his pants back up, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the button. Without a word, he turned and shoved Thomas with all his strength, his anger boiling over.
Thomas wasn’t expecting it. He stumbled backward, his arms flailing, and hit his head against the edge of the urinal with a loud thud. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his head, a look of shock on his face.
Mathias didn’t wait to see if Thomas was okay. He stormed out of the bathroom, his heart pounding, and made his way back to the table. He sat down, his face still flushed, and stared at his plate, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
A few minutes later, Thomas returned, holding a napkin to his head. Blood was seeping through the paper, and his face was pale. Mum and Dad immediately noticed and gasped.
“Thomas! What happened?” Mum exclaimed, her voice full of concern.
Thomas glanced at Mathias, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “Mathias pushed me,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I hit my head on the urinal.”
Mum and Dad turned to Mathias, their faces a mixture of shock and anger. “Mathias, is this true?” Dad demanded, his voice sharp.
Mathias didn’t know what to say. He wanted to explain, to tell them what Thomas had done, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just sat there, his head down, his chest tight with a mix of guilt and frustration.
“Mathias, answer me!” Dad snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“He… he was making fun of me,” Mathias finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dad’s face turned red, his anger boiling over. “I talked with you about that just today!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby diners. “I’m not having it again! You can’t just prove that you’re more mature by beating your younger brother!”
Mathias felt his stomach drop. He couldn’t believe how Thomas was getting away with everything. “Dad, but…” he started, trying to explain, but Dad cut him off immediately.
“If I hear one more word coming from you,” Dad said, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m going to spank you right here in this restaurant in front of everyone. No more words. We will talk at home.”
Mathias’s face burned with humiliation. He wanted to scream, to tell them the truth, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. Dad had already made up his mind. He sat there, his head down, his hands clenched into fists under the table, as the weight of the situation pressed down on him.
Dad paid for the food, his movements sharp and angry, and the family left the restaurant in silence. No one spoke as they walked to the car, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Mathias slid into the backseat, his body tense, while Thomas sat next to him, still holding the napkin to his head. Mum and Dad got into the front, and the car ride home was eerily quiet.
Mathias stared out the window, his mind racing. He couldn’t believe how unfair this was. Thomas had humiliated him, pushed him to his breaking point, and now he was the one in trouble. It felt like no matter what he did, Thomas always came out on top.
When they got home, Dad turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel. The silence was suffocating. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and firm.
“Mathias, go to your room. We’ll talk about this later.”
Mathias didn’t argue. He got out of the car and went straight to his room, slamming the door behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed, his chest heaving, his mind a whirlwind of anger, frustration, and shame.
A few minutes later, he heard footsteps outside his door. He braced himself, knowing what was coming. The door opened, and Dad stepped inside, his expression stern.
“Mathias, stand up,” Dad said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Mathias stood, his hands trembling at his sides. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
“I’ve had enough of this behavior,” Dad said, his tone sharp. “You’re sixteen years old, Mathias. You’re supposed to be setting an example for your brother, not acting like a child. Pushing him, throwing tantrums, crying over every little thing—it’s embarrassing.”
Mathias opened his mouth to protest, but Dad held up a hand, silencing him.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Dad said. “You’ve had plenty of chances to act like a mature young man, and you’ve blown every single one of them. So now, you’re going to be treated like the child you’re acting like.”
Mathias’s heart sank. He knew what was coming next.
“Bend over the bed,” Dad said, his voice firm.
“Dad, no…” Mathias started, but Dad cut him off.
“Now, Mathias. Or it’ll be worse.”
Mathias felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t care about nudity anymore—he just wanted this to be over. He took his pants and underwear completely off, leaving himself completely exposed. He bent over the bed, his face burning with humiliation. He heard the sound of Dad’s belt being unbuckled, and he clenched his fists, bracing himself.
The first strike came down hard, the sharp sting making Mathias gasp. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears, but it was no use. The second strike landed, and then the third, each one harder than the last. By the fourth strike, Mathias was crying and screaming, his voice high-pitched and desperate, like a little kid.
“Aww, is the big baby crying?” Thomas’s voice came from the doorway, dripping with mockery. Mathias hadn’t even realized his brother was there, watching the whole thing. “I thought you were supposed to be the mature one, Mathias. Guess not!”
Dad didn’t stop. A few more swats landed on Mathias’s already burning bottom, each one accompanied by Thomas’s snide comments. “Look at him, Dad! He’s doing the spanking dance!” Thomas laughed, pointing as Mathias instinctively started jumping around, his hands clutching his reddened bottom.
Mathias’s face burned with shame as he hopped from foot to foot, trying to ease the sting. He hated that Thomas was seeing this, hated that he was being reduced to a crying, jumping mess in front of his younger brother.
By the time it was over, Mathias stood there, his hands still on his bottom, tears streaming down his face. Dad stood back, buckling his belt, his expression stern but calm.
“I hope this teaches you a lesson,” Dad said, his voice softer now. “You’re not a child anymore, Mathias. It’s time to start acting like it.”
“Now, go and stand in the corner until you calm down and think about what you’ve done,” Dad continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Hands over your head. Don’t you dare move.”
Mathias nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He shuffled to the corner, his hands raised above his head, his body still trembling from the spanking. He stood there, completely exposed, wearing nothing but his t-shirt and socks. The humiliation was unbearable.
He didn’t know how much time had passed—it felt like an eternity—but eventually, he heard footsteps behind him. Dad’s voice broke the silence. “Did you think about what you’ve done?”
Mathias nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Yes…”
“Turn around and tell us,” Dad said.
Mathias froze. Us? He turned slowly, his heart sinking as he saw Mum and Thomas standing there with Dad. Thomas was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the show. Mum looked concerned but didn’t say anything.
Mathias stood there, completely naked except for his t-shirt and socks, his hands still raised above his head. He felt like a little kid being scolded in front of the whole family, and the shame was overwhelming.
“Now, is there something you want to tell us?” Dad asked, his arms crossed.
Mathias swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “I’m… sorry…” he managed to say, his cheeks burning.
“For what?” Dad pressed, his tone firm.
“I’m sorry… I’ve been acting like a little kid,” Mathias said, the tears starting to flow again. “And I’m sorry I hit my little brother… It was wrong, and I won’t do it again.”
Thomas smirked, clearly enjoying every second of Mathias’s humiliation. “Yeah, you better not, little bro,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before throwing a tantrum.”
Mum shot Thomas a warning look, but she didn’t say anything. Dad nodded, seemingly satisfied with Mathias’s apology.
“Right. Now, go straight to bed. Your day is over,” Dad said, his tone final.
Mathias didn’t argue. He shuffled to his bed, still naked, and lay down, pulling the covers over himself. He didn’t even care about putting clothes on. The day had been a disaster, and he just wanted it to be over.
As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened. Thomas had completely taken over, even though he was younger. Mathias felt like he was losing control of his own life, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
Mathias was just starting to drift off when he heard the door creak open. He turned his head, his heart sinking as he saw Thomas standing there, a smug grin on his face.
“Hey, little bro,” Thomas said, his voice low and teasing. “You forgot something.”
Mathias frowned, confused, until Thomas held up the pair of underwear Mathias had been wearing earlier—the ones Thomas had claimed were too small for him. Thomas tossed them onto the bed, his grin widening.
“You might want to put these on,” Thomas said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Unless you want to sleep like a baby, all naked and helpless.”
Mathias felt his face burn, but he didn’t respond. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, as Thomas laughed and walked out of the room.