The Day Scotty Saw Too Much

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - For the longest time, shy and square Scotty has had an unrequited crush on his pretty friend Heather. Unfortunately for Scotty, Heather sees Scotty as just that - a friend. Her boyfriend is Johnny, Scotty's older brother, a jerk who thinks he is way funnier than he actually is and whose ego has run out of control since becoming a cop.

One Saturday in 1955, a freak series of events has Scotty concealed in the bathroom when Heather enters to use the toilet, and suddenly he is seeing and liking private things he never would have thought of in a million years. Scotty had better hope that Johnny, who has a jealous streak when guys so much as glance at Heather and is right outside the bathroom door, doesn't find out his younger brother is in there with her!

Please note this story contains strong fetish themes of urination, scat and menstruation, which may not be to every reader's liking. If you dislike stories that involve periods and bodily functions, it would be best to avoid reading this, otherwise please enjoy your trip back in time reading 'The Day Scotty Saw Too Much' and rate and comment. All characters are aged 18 or older, and are fictional, with similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional.

***

There is more often than not a pro and a con in every situation. For example, one can take a wonderful vacation which is a pro, but the con is that the vacation will inevitably come to an end and one will find oneself back in one's ordinary mundane life. At the high school I attended in St Petersburg Florida, I definitely was in a pro-con situation. Pro, the prettiest girl in school, the stunning blonde Heather Harris on whom I had had a crush for the longest time was spending a lot of time at our house. Con, Heather was not at our house to spend time with me, she was spending time at our house because she was going steady with my older brother Johnny.

Heather and I had always been really good friends, since the first time we set foot in elementary school and met as nervous first graders back in September 1944. Now it was November 1955, and Heather and I were high school seniors, had both recently turned 18, and would graduate the following summer in the class of 1956. While it was great to be friends with Heather, it was clear that she saw me only as a friend, just like she saw her female friends and me the way I saw my male friends.

I sometimes indulged in some day-dreaming, escaping into fantasy land where Heather and I were grown up, married and living in a nice house with a picket fence in the suburbs, a young son and daughter and Heather showing evidence that baby number three was on the way, and a pet cat and dog. But this was as realistic as me answering a knock in the door one day to find President Eisenhower standing there, announcing that he would not be continuing with Mr. Nixon as his Vice President, and inviting me -- 18-year-old Scott Miller from St Petersburg - to replace him in the office of Vice President.

And why would Heather Harris want to go out with the very square Scotty Miller when his handsome non-square older brother Johnny Miller was there to go out with her? Between Johnny and me, it was a no-contest, Johnny would win every time. In physical appearances, 20-year-old Johnny stood at six feet two inches tall, and while not short I stood at a not so impressive five feet ten. In fact Heather, easily the tallest girl in our class, was taller than me, standing at five feet eleven when she had bare feet. Johnny's body was one lean muscle upon another, while I was skinny, no muscle at all.

In looks Johnny again put me to shame. I had red hair and the associated very fair skin, with pale blue eyes. Johnny sported luxurious dark brown hair slicked back with plenty of gel, a tanned complexion and brooding brown masculine eyes. He looked like a rock and roll singer like that up and coming star Elvis Presley who the girls at school swooned over but terrified the ladies at church even more than Bill Haley did; or a movie matinee idol like leading man Rock Hudson or the sadly recently deceased James Dean.

Heather herself was as pretty as swimmer turned actress and singer Esther Williams, or the English beauty Diana Dors. She was as stunning as any of the three beautiful Gabor sisters from Hungary and homegrown all-American actresses Jayne Mansfield, Doris Day or the emerging young star Marilyn Monroe. With her beautiful long blonde hair, her sapphire blue eyes, her perfect complexion and wonderful womanly figure complete with C-cup breasts, Heather had the looks of an angel, like a doll that had been designed as a perfect woman. Of course she was going out with Johnny rather than me, why would a perfect girl like Heather choose a skinny square like me?

Growing up I tried not to be envious of Johnny, but it was a losing battle, and it wasn't helped by the fact that Johnny was a jerk. I hated to call my brother that -- and never did it to his face I was way too scared of him -- but the truth was that he was a bully and a jerk, with a pretty big ego.

When we were kids Johnny always played pranks on me. One of the more memorable was one when I was aged 11, and I came home from school and Johnny was acting all nice, promising me that when I went upstairs to my bedroom that there would be a really big surprise waiting for me. Somewhat stupidly I believed him and ran upstairs all excited to see what the surprise was. I quickly found out, when one of Johnny's friends burst out of my closet dressed as a monster, roaring like a lion before he and Johnny collapsed in hysterics at the success of their practical joke.

Another of Johnny's jokes was at a fair ground, where my brother convinced me that the line I was in was for a carnival ride definitely within my comfort zone, where in fact I was in the line for a ride way out of my comfort zone, something I found out far too late as I was strapped in and the ride began to operate.

It must have been a genetic thing both in looks and personality that ran in our family because our cousins were the same even though they were two girls. Our family was a bit unusual in that Mum's sister and Dad's brother were also married, so their daughters Marcie and Emily were double first cousins to Johnny and me. We were even born the same years, Johnny and Marcie in 1935 and Emily and I in 1937.

Older daughter Marcie was a tall, domineering, popular and confident brunette who always played pranks on shy, skinny, square redhead sister Emily. These included practical jokes such as turning off the bathroom light when Emily was in there, placing a bucket of water on the top of the door so it would tip over her younger sister went she through it (a joke Johnny thought so funny he replicated it with me) and setting up a fake ghost in Emily's bedroom late at night, so Emily would be absolutely freak out when she awoke and saw it, which of course she did.

Johnny had long liked uniforms, which was understandable given that our father and uncle served in the Second World War and our grandfathers the First World War, and I hoped that this would lead him to a military career. And if Johnny was serving in the Navy on a ship, in the army, the marines or an airman, then he would be far away from home for long periods of time and not there to bother me.

Unfortunately for me, Johnny decided that Americans had plenty of internal problems and needed him to serve their country closer to home to protect them, and thus applied to join the police force. The Florida Police Force decided that my dashing older brother was just what they needed in their ranks, and after training at the Academy Johnny was issued with a uniform and a badge.

Johnny's massive ego went out of control completely whenever he wore his police uniform, and he took seriously his role of protecting the community from the dangers of communists, homosexuals and the encroachment of Negroes into white territory. Johnny had always incessantly warned me of the dangers of homosexuals and communists. Sometimes they could overlap given one of the British spies who defected to the Soviet Union was a practicing homosexual. Now Johnny got to go to schools as part of his job as a policeman to give lectures to boys about the dangers of homosexuals lurking around parks with candy and show a film about this topic, while one of Johnny's female colleagues would talk to the girls about how messing around with boys could besmirch one's reputation and lead them to the shame of getting themselves in trouble and subsequently unwed mothers.

Heather saw few of Johnny's faults, and she swooned all over him, especially when her handsome boyfriend would turn up to collect her from school in his police uniform when the final school bell for the day coincided with Johnny's shift ending. I was intensely jealous, but masked it for one good reason -- Johnny was also jealous, to put it mildly.

Heaven help any guy who so much as looked sideways at Johnny's girlfriend. Some young Chinese guys made this mistake one day when Johnny and the very pretty Heather walked by, her bottom looking most fine in the pedal-pusher pants she was wearing, and the incensed Johnny was about to kick their asses for them, before changing his mind and letting them off with a warning. He also made one of his favorite and very crude jokes afterwards, laughing about how he would hate to be a Chinamen because then he could only have sex sideways, with Chinese girls' vaginas going the other way from non-Asian girls' vaginas.

I think it would have been a very different outcome had the boys who checked out Heather's bottom through her pants being Negroes. Johnny hated Negroes, he hated them with a passion. Once I asked him why he disliked Negroes so much. My brother had laughed, and taken out one of his old geography text books, showing me an old map of colonial era Africa. The mainly Islamic states in North Africa were visible, as were the European colonies but to the west there was a large uncharted area referred to as "Negro Land".

"See Scotty, that's where the Negroes belong, in Negro Land there in Africa, not here in America with us," Johnny had said, pointing to Negro Land on the map. "And if anyone tells you any different, they're nothing but a communist."

It was easier to just agree with Johnny if I didn't want to get my ass kicked, so did just that. However recently Johnny was cleaning his car one Saturday afternoon, listening to a new Platters song on the radio, singing along with it and clearly enjoying it. I could have pointed out that this made him a hypocrite, but of course I did not, I knew what the outcome for me would not have been pleasant.

At the back of the garage Johnny had a set of weights which he used to maintain his impressive muscles, and also a punching bag. I had seen him pounding the punching bag on many occasions, never holding back, his facial expression clearly indicating that he was thinking that the punch bag was a guy who had looked at Heather the wrong way. I didn't want to be that guy that was for sure.

So that was life for me in 1955, the girl I secretly loved dating my jealous, controlling jerk of an older brother and me unable to do anything about it. I thought Heather deserved a better boyfriend than my brother, yet at the same time I wanted them to keep dating because then I could see more of my crush, which I obviously wouldn't if they weren't going out together. And even if Johnny and Heather weren't going steady, there was no way the guy she would be dating instead would be me. Heather liked me as a friend and simply did not like me in the way she liked my brother, and she never would.

All I could do was sit back, pretend everything was swell and love Heather from a far, and hope that that brother of mine would grow up and stop acting like such a jerk.

*

The Saturday morning had dawned fine, unseasonably warm even from Florida in November. Johnny was not rostered on for a shift today so had Saturday free, and had headed out early to see Heather. Sometimes Heather worked on a Saturday as a waitress at her aunt's café, a far more conservative establishment mainly frequented by older people and where rock and roll was never heard. Even music by Perry Como or Patti Page was considered too fun and hedonistic to be played within the four walls. Regardless though, Heather looked pretty in her conservative black uniform with a white apron, and my brother clearly thought so too. However, neither Johnny nor I would be enjoying Heather's waitress uniform today, simply as she was not rostered on.

I had a job at a far livelier establishment in town, a diner where there was juke box and was frequented by teenagers and young adults. I wore a white uniform with a paper hat, serving hamburgers, hot dogs, French fries, milkshakes, sodas, ice-cream sundaes and the like. Johnny said that my uniform made me look like a dork and he always laughed at me for wearing it, but I ignored the comments. I did enjoy working at a fun place, however my boss the diner owner Mr. Lewis was pretty gruff, grouchy and strict, timing me and the other guys and girls he employed to the last minute and having no tolerance for slackers.

In the last year or so I had a new co-worker in the form of Heather's younger brother David, who was blonde like his big sister. David was okay, but tended to be a bit of a space cadet at times, daydreaming about his favorite things, science fiction, aliens and flying saucers. Heather had always said that her brother's dream come true would be for a UFO to fly by and take David for a trip to the moon.

More recently, David had found a new thing to enjoy -- smoking, which he thought cool and made him look tough. I had never smoked, but was always covering for my tardy co-worker as he snuck out for secret cigarette breaks, me trying to save him from the wrath of Mr. Lewis who was obsessed with employees smoking on his time.

David and I were rostered on this afternoon, and so I had the morning to myself, not that I had spare time, I was pretty busy with chores and homework. My parents Tom and Alice were going out to a wedding with my aunt and uncle. The wedding was about 50 miles out of town, so they were leaving early. My mother was wearing a blue dress and matching hat, and my father a suit.

"So we should be back later this evening," Dad was saying. "You'll be fine to sharpen the blades on the mower before you mow the lawn?'

"Fine Dad," I assured my father. I turned to my mother. "So Mom, you were saying you left the new cleaner under the sink for me to scrub the tiles in the shower?"

"That's right Scotty," Mom said. "Make sure you scrub between the tiles with that old toothbrush, it works really well."

"I will Mom," I said. "You and Dad have fun at the wedding, give my regards to Uncle Richard and Aunt Doris."

"We will," said Mom. "Have a good day Scotty."

Dad put on his hat and collected his car keys. "Well Alice, we'd better be going, we've got a bit of a drive."

I watched as my parents made their way to the garage. I heard Dad start his automobile, a 1948 Studebaker, and reverse out of the driveway, Mom in the passenger seat. I waved Mom and Dad goodbye and they returned the gesture, before my parents' car vanished up the street.

Going to the garage and retrieving the mower, I sharpened the blades and mowed the lawn, raking up the clippings and making everything nice and neat. Putting the mower away, I returned to the house and changed out of my gardening clothes, putting on a short-sleeved beige shirt and matching slacks and some clean shoes and got to work on scrubbing the bathroom tiles.

Our bathroom contained a toilet, a sink with a small closet underneath, a small bench and a bathtub, to the side of which was installed a shower, so one had to stand in the bathtub to take a shower. Shower curtains prevented the droplets from the shower getting onto the rest of the bathroom. I was behind the shower curtains scrubbing the tiles with a brush when my arm slipped, sending my elbow into the wall.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed as the pain spread through my joint. I must have hit a nerve, because I began to feel giddy and sick, then everything went black.

I awoke face-down in the tub with a very sore arm and still very dizzy a minute or so later, feeling most disoriented. As I came to, I recounted that this was the second time in the past year that I had fainted, so much for being a man. The first time was at school when we were all having our mandatory polio shots. I was in the line in the gymnasium, talking with Heather who was beside me and nervous about how much it would hurt.

I assured my crush that it wouldn't hurt all that much that it would just sting for a second or so. Unfortunately, when Heather and I took our places and the doctor and nurses got out the needles I began to feel weak at the sheer size of the injection to administer the Salk vaccine, and as it was jammed into my upper arm I felt sick, dizzy and passed out.

What happened next was a blur but I finally came to properly in the nurse's office, with a swollen arm Heather beside me having helped me get there, and the nurse telling me that my mother was on her way to collect me from school after my fainting episode. Heather for her part had a sore arm, but nothing more.

As Mom drove me home, I lamented that I had fainted in front of my crush after getting an injection, and Heather was the one who had to help me. So much for me being a knight in shining armor and helping a damsel in distress! My only consolation was that the agonizing injection and the subsequent humiliation at passing out in front of the most of the school and worst of all my secret crush was that this was all a million times better than catching poliomyelitis.

At least Heather wasn't here to observe my latest clumsy antics, I thought. Or was she? I was becoming more clear-headed and was aware that I was no longer alone in the house. Two sets of footsteps were mounting the stairs, and I could hear two voices, one the loud, masculine voice of my brother, the second was the softer feminine voice of Heather. They had obviously come back to the house, and presumably would go into Johnny's bedroom for some 'alone time'.

They would do this when Mom and Dad were out, our parents have a strict 'no girlfriends in boys' bedrooms' rule but did not seem bothered about doing it when I was there as I would never snitch on them. Just like I would never tell that I knew they often went up to Lovers' Lane and parked.

Heather and Johnny were laughing and joking around, before Heather said, "Johnny I just need to go to the bathroom."

"Well, have fun baby," my brother joked.

"I don't know about fun, Johnny," Heather laughed.

"Oh and Heather, watch out for the boogeyman," Johnny advised.

"Excuse me?" Heather sounded surprised.

More laughter from my brother. "Oh, when we were kids I used to tell Scotty that the boogeyman lived in the sewers and could come up through the toilet and get him. He was too scared to go into the bathroom at night."

"Johnny Miller, that is so mean," Heather jokingly admonished. "Poor Scotty, he's such a nice friend. It's a wonder he didn't end up in a mental institution the way you used to prank him. Like the way you used to tell him that Mexicans were hiding in the park, watching him and planning to abduct him and take him back to Mexico to be a slave."

Once again, Johnny laughed. "Come on Heather, you never played any jokes on David growing up? It's one of the benefits of being the older sibling. Our cousins were just the same, Marcie was worse with Emily than me with Scotty."

"No, I was a nice big sister to David, apart from telling him once that a flickering streetlight up the road was a UFO from outer space and him being so disappointed when he found out it wasn't. Anyway, I don't have time to stand here discussing the way you tormented your younger brother and turning Scotty's life into a horror movie, I really need to use the bathroom."