Author's note: This is a work of fiction and fantasy. It is inspired by my interest in the experience of real-life physical discipline, and by my singular dislike of the slovenly appearance of many of today's teens. This story involves the spanking of a teen boy by his stepfather. If this kind of thing doesn't appeal to you, read no further. This story has NO _s_e_x_ual content of any kind. If a story like this does not appeal to you, read no further. Otherwise, enjoy!
Brad stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of his bedroom door and looked at himself. He liked what he saw. He was 5' 10" with a slim build. His dark brown hair was cut short. His skin was relatively clear, an unsightly pimple on his nose having faded to just a small red spot. His cheeks were rosy. Brad was wearing a long, over-sized white T-shirt and the new jeans he'd bought. They were large and baggy, worn low around his hips, with the legs bunched up about his ankles. He was wearing baggy boxers under them. Brad smiled at himself. He was excited about his first day of high school and his "kewl" new look.
Brad knew he'd have to be on his best behavior at school, since his stepfather, Wayne Maxwell, was a math teacher and football coach there. Brad knew that the kids referred to him as "Maximum Maxwell." Brad's stepfather was tough. He worked his athletes hard, and maintained strict discipline in his classroom. He was also strict with Brad. Brad had gotten more or less used to this, although he sometimes complained to his mother that his step-Dad's rules were too severe and that he placed too many demands on him. Wayne always answered that Brad's problem was that he'd grown up without a father and wasn't used to following the rules a Dad set for his son. Despite discomfort at his stepfather's strictness, Brad liked him. He knew he cared about him. He had made a genuine effort to involve himself in Brad's life. Brad had taken to calling him "Dad."
Brad stepped into the kitchen wearing his new clothes.
His stepfather looked up at him. "Is that what you're wearing to school?" he asked, frowning.
Brad looked down at the T-shirt and baggy jeans. "Yes."
"I don't think so."
"Huh?"
"Does your mother know this is what you're wearing?"
"Sort of. She gave me the money and told me to go get new stuff for school."
"So, she hasn't seen those things?" Brad's stepfather indicated the over-sized jeans that hung low around Brad's hips, the crotch nearly at his knees.
"No," Brad answered. His strategy had been to buy the jeans and wear them without making a major announcement. This way, he'd hoped, he'd be allowed to get away with it.
"I think if she saw them, she'd agree that they aren't something you should be wearing."
"But all the guys are wearing them!"
"Yes, a lot of guys are. But you're not going to be one of them. They make you look like a street thug! Go back to your room and put on a proper pair of pants."
"No! I want to wear these!"
"Do as I say!"
"No! You can't tell me what to do!"
"I certainly can, young man!" Brad's stepfather rose from his chair, towering up over Brad. He was 6' 2" and solidly built, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest. "Now, I'm only going to repeat myself once. Get your butt back to your room and change your pants!"
"No!" Brad shouted. He was afraid, but was determined to stand his ground.
Wayne lunged forward and caught hold of Brad's arm. He had no difficulty dragging him out of the kitchen and down the hall towards his room.
He shoved Brad into the room and released his arm. Brad massaged the spot and stood by his bed shaking with fear and anger. Wayne opened his closet door and pulled out a pair of jeans that Brad's grandmother had given him. "Here, put these on. We need to get to school."
Brad stood where he was, his head down, his hands at his side, his fists clenched. He could hear a little inner voice saying, "Do what he says. It isn't worth it!" Then another voice spoke: "This jerk's ruining your first day of high school. You were going to look so 'kewl' in the new jeans. Now he wants you to wear those faggy things! Who does he think he is?" The other voice answered, "Yeah, he's being a jerk, but look how angry he is. He's gonna cream you if you don't do what he says!" Then Brad heard a third, very soft, very weak voice: "You know. You do look like a street thug. Maybe he just wants you to look respectable. He's not so bad. He's just being strict because he cares about you. Isn't he nice to you most of the time?" Brad was confused. Still, the defiant, angry voice was the loudest. "Go without me! I'm staying home!" Brad snapped, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Like hell you are! Put on the _d_a_m_n_ pants and let's go!"
"No!"
"Are you telling me you won't do what you're told!"
Again, Brad heard the voices. "_f_u_c_k_! What a big bully! Tell him where to put those pants!" the defiant voice urged. "Don't be stupid," the second voice pleaded. "Just put on the other pants! He's going to kill you if you keep defying him!" Finally, the third voice spoke softly and sadly: "Hey! He's been trying hard to be nice to you. Why not show him a little respect and do what he wants? This isn't such a big problem, is it?" Brad raised his head and looked at his step-Dad. "I don't have to do what you tell me!" Brad said.
"I'll take that as 'Yes,'" Wayne said. He dropped the jeans over a chair and stepped forward.
The three voices all shouted at once: "Hit him before he hits you!" – " Oh, _s_h_i_t_! Now look what you've done!" -- "Well, now you really get to find out what it's like to have a Dad!"
Wayne grabbed Brad by the arm. He sat down on the bed and pulled Brad down across his lap. Brad struggled and squirmed, but resisted the impulse to lash out.
"Owww! Stop! You're hurting me!" he whined.
"Not as much as I'm gonna hurt you, boy!" Wayne said, his voice firm. "You need to learn to do what you're told! I've told you Mom I think you're spoiled rotten. If we don't get you in hand now, you're going to get yourself into serious trouble!" He seized hold of the waistband of the baggy jeans and had no trouble hauling them down. "Well, one thing I can say for these god_d_a_m_n_ things, they're easy to pull down!"
"Let me go, you _c_o_c_k_-sucker!" Brad shouted.
"What did you say?"
"I said, let me go!" Brad was not about to repeat the expletive. It had crossed his lips without much premeditation, and he was already regretting having uttered it.
"I heard that part! I also think I heard you call me something no boy should ever call his father!"
"You're not my father!" Brad couldn't believe what he was saying, but the defiant words just kept bursting out. He didn't know how to give in and stop arguing and fighting.
"Like it or not, boy, I am! Now, I'm going to do something that should have been done for you a long time ago." He seized the waistband of Brad's boxer shorts and yanked them down.
Brad was horrified. Wayne had bared his bottom! He knew what was about to happen. His stepfather was going to spank him! And on his bare behind at that! Brad bucked and struggled, trying to reach back and catch hold of his shorts. But Wayne had gotten them down around his knees. Then he pinned Brad firmly and deposited a firm spank on his bare bottom. SMACK!
Brad had not been spanked since he was seven, and that had only been a few swats from his Mom, given on the seat of his pants. Even this one spank from his step-Dad hurt worse than he remembered those early spankings hurting. But, it wasn't just physical pain. Brad felt humiliated to be across his stepfather's knee getting what he regarded as a little boy's punishment. Brad was fourteen and believed he was too old to be spanked.
"Owwww! You can't spank me!" Brad screamed. He struggled against his stepfather's strong grip on him.
"Let's just see about that!" Brad's stepfather said, tightening his hold on the boy.
"Let me go!" Brad shouted, half-demanding, half-begging.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Wayne rained down hard slaps on Brad's bare bottom. He was strong, with big hands, with which he easily covered Brad's rump. The boy's skin had started out creamy white. It quickly blushed red and grew redder as he continued to spank.
Brad struggled and squirmed, but was unable to break free. He continued to resist the impulse to strike out at his stepfather. He knew that he would just hurt him worse. Finally, the defiant voice fell silent, and the voice of reason spoke up: "For Christ's sake, Brad! Just give in!"
"I'm sorry!" Brad shouted. "I'll wear the pants you want me to! Please stop hitting me!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"I said I'd do what you said!" Brad said, all defiance gone from his voice. He was begging, trying to get through to his stepfather.
"I heard you, boy, but I'm not spanking you to force you do what you're told. You're being punished for being disobedient and disrespectful. This is so you'll learn not to defy me again!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Brad heard the voice of reason speak again: "Just take it! Maybe if he sees you're giving in he'll stop soon!" Then the third voice spoke, now more assertive since the voice of defiance had fallen silent: "You know, buddy, you had this coming. In fact, you've sometimes thought you needed a Dad around to keep you in line. You shouldn't be upset now that you've got your wish."
Brad sank down across Wayne's lap. He put his head down and clutched hold of the bedspread with his fists. The spanking hurt. Brad felt humiliated that his stepfather was able to make him squirm simply by slapping his bare rump with his open palm. Brad had believed he was tougher.
It was this thought that caused the tears to well up. They surged from deep in the pit of his stomach, and up into his chest and into his throat, where they seemed to choke him. With a gasp, Brad let them flow. He sobbed and sniffled softly while his step-Dad smacked his backside, increasing the hot stinging pain with each slap.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Finally, when Brad had given up hope that his stepfather would ever stop, when Brad expected to be spanked until he passed out or died, Wayne released his grip on the boy and announced, "Okay. That'll be enough for now." He pulled Brad's boxers up over his burning behind, slid his arm under his chest and helped him to his feet.
Brad stood there, sniffling, wiping his cheeks with his hands, his head down. Wayne handed him the jeans he wanted him to wear. Brad pulled them on.
"Tuck in your shirt," Wayne ordered.
Brad obeyed.
"Go wash your face. Then get your school bag. If we get out of here right away, we'll still get to school on time," Wayne said.
Brad went to the bathroom. He looked at his face in the mirror. His eyes and nose were red. He splashed cold water on his face. He blew his nose. He emerged from the bathroom, collected his school bag, and made his way out to the car where his stepfather was waiting. He climbed into the back seat.
"You can sit up front with me," his step-Dad said.
"I'd rather sit back here."
"Suit yourself."
During the drive to school, Brad's bottom remained warm and tingly.
Wayne pulled the car into the staff parking lot. Brad had unhitched his seat belt and was about to get out of the car.
"Wait a minute," his stepfather said, turning around and looking at Brad. "I want you home right after school and in your room. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir," Brad answered. He had every intention of getting home right after school. He was going to tell his mother what Wayne had done. He was going to demand that she tell him never to do it again. He was sure she would take his side. With the spanking over, and the pain fading to a not unpleasant warm glow, the angry defiant voice had come out of hiding and was urging Brad to take a stand against the "child abuse" he'd just suffered.
"Alright," his stepfather said, "Have a good day. If you need help with anything, come and see me."
Brad realized that he was hearing from the kind, attentive Wayne. He wondered how his stepfather could be at once so genuinely friendly and supportive and so strict and punitive. He wondered whether these two aspects of his personality were somehow connected. He knew that the fathers of some of his friends were like Wayne. His best friend, Matt, had a father who was very firm with him. Brad knew that Matt got whipped with his father's belt when he got out of line. Despite this, Matt had tremendous love and respect for his father. Indeed, he had defended him quite vigorously when Brad had criticized the way his father disciplined him. "Look," Matt had said, "you just don't understand! You don't have a Dad. My father has to be strict with me, so I won't go wild and get into serious trouble. I'd rather have a sore behind once in a while than end up in jail someday!" Matt's reminder of his fatherlessness had stung Brad deeply.
Brad left his stepfather and entered the new school, his anger and confusion over the spanking being replaced by the excitement and anxiety of beginning his first day of high school. He found his homeroom and was happy to see that Matt was there.
"Hey dude!" Matt called.
Brad smiled. He took a seat next to him.
"What happened to the gangster jeans you were gonna wear?" Matt asked.
"Dad wouldn't let me wear them," Brad said.
"Boy," Matt answered, "he sounds like he's even stricter than my old man!"
After homeroom, the two friends headed to their first class, P. E. Brad had liked the idea of gym class first thing in the morning. But he dreaded this first class. He was certain that his behind was still marked by the spanking, and he didn't want to have to undress in front of the other guys and have them see it. He was relieved when the gym teacher announced that he was just going to go over the curriculum with the boys. After talking about the sports activities and the health education component of the course, he showed them the locker room, went over the rules to be observed, and distributed their P. E. uniforms.
The rest of the day went by without incident. He made some new friends. When some of them talked about joining the football team and about "Maximum Maxwell", Brad refrained from telling them that he was his stepfather.
TO BE CONTINUED....