Gym Clothes

by Spanked Preteens

There is no _s_e_x_ in this story. It is just about a forgetful twelve year old who gets a sound bare bottom disciplinary spanking he deserves.

Twelve year old Scott Jenkins couldn't believe it. He had forgotten his gym clothes again. This was the third time in one week. He knew Coach Powell would not be happy. He had lectured the new group of seventh graders on the importance of personal hygiene, as this was their first year of having to change clothes for gym.

Scott didn't mind changing or showering afterwards. It's just he was not used to packing an extra set of clothes to school each day. Coach had always chewed him out about forgetting before, but let him participate in his regular clothes anyway.

Scott shook his head and braced himself for yet another lecture. Taking roll, Coach Powell noticed the slim youngster still in his street clothes.

"Jenkins? What's the problem?"

Scott shifted his eyes to the floor and mumbled, "I forgot my gym clothes, Coach. I'm sorry."

"What?" barked the man. "That's the third time in one week!"

Coach Powell knew it was important to establish the rules for gym with seventh graders, or they would be problems throughout their high school years.

"Wait for me in my office, Jenkins!"

Scott's heart sank. He wanted to play flag football with the other boys so bad. He was quite good at it.


The dejected youngster shuffled off to the coach's office in the locker room.

Coach Powell led the other boys through their warm up exercises. Then he selected two fairly equal teams and sent the boys out to play football on the field next to the school.

Scott could hear his classmates departing and sat down with a sigh.

The boy jumped up with a start when he heard the door handle jiggle.

Coach Powers strode into the office with authority. He slammed his clipboard on the desk making the twelve year old flinch.

"Is that what you are supposed to be wearing for gym class?" he thundered.

"Ummm -- no, sir," stammered Scott.

"Then get out of those clothes!"

Scott jumped up immediately and began to unbutton his shirt. He took it off as fast as he could. He then peeled off his white undershirt. He paused.

"Are those the pants you wear for gym?" inquired Coach Powell.

"No, sir."

Scott unbucked his belt and unzipped his pants. He realized his white Nikes, which he did wear for gym, would have to come off first. He bent over to untie them as quick as he could. He kicked them off and quickly slid out of his school pants. He paused looking at Coach Powers.

"Well?" asked the teacher.

Scott looked puzzled.

"Do you wear normally wear briefs in gym class?"

"No, sir. I normally wear my jockstrap."

"Then take them off!"

Scott put his thumb and forefinger into the elastic waistband. His eyes began searching the room for the extra set of gym clothes he had figured Coach Powell was going to have him change into.

He reluctantly removed his white briefs and realized his navy blue socks were not something he'd wear in gym class either. With a hand steadying himself on the desk, he removed each one.

Scott then stood stark naked before his gym teacher. The boy could not help but notice the unfamilar cool air on his bare rump, as his hands covered his privates.

"In my gym class, you will not wear street clothes! Do you understand, young man?"

"Yes, sir!" answered Scott.

"Turn around and stick that nose of yours in the corner, mister."

The nude twelve year did precisely as he was instructed. He wondered if he was going to have to spend the whole gym period like this.

Coach Powers admired the slim, tanned youngster before him. Those little white buttocks contrasted greatly with an athletic body that had spent many hours in the summer sun. They were almost begging to be spanked.

For 15 minutes, Scott stood in the corner with his hands covering his prepubescent penis. He was ever mindful that his bare little bottom was very much on display.

"It doesn't seem lecturing you about the importance of bringing your gym clothes to school is doing any good, Jenkins. Perhaps, we need to try another approach.

Scott did not like the sound of that. He heard the Coach's chair scrap the floor behind him.

"Come here, Jenkins."

Scott turned around slowly and tentatively stepped towards his teacher. He was careful to keep his boyhood covered.

Coach Powers grabbed one of the lad's wrists and pulled him quickly over his lap.

At this point, Scott realized he was going to get a nude spanking. In desperation, he threw his free hand across his defenseless rump. Coach Powers deftly grabbed the small wrist and, with his large left hand, held both hands out of the way.

His massive right hand patted the smooth young backside before him. Scott was horrified. It was big enough to cover both his unprotected cheeks.

"Three times in one week? And you are twelve years old? I think twelve swats for each offense is a sufficient reminder for you, young man."

Scott's wiry frame went rigid. 36 swats? On his bare bottom? The youngster clenched his cheeks tightly in dreaded anticipation. He did not have to wait long.


Coach Powell's right palm came down smartly across the middle of both cheeks. A pink handprint appeared as he raised it again.


Three more crisp swats landed across both buttocks as the man began to spank down -- overlapping each swat.

The unmistakable sound of a boy's bare bottom being spanked mixed with the twelve year old's howls.


The teacher's huge hand had found its way down to the youngster's tenderest area where his little rump met the back of his legs. Scott's legs pumped like pistons, as Coach Powell smartly planted spank after spank on those sensitive areas. He screamed in agony.


Scott's reddening behind wiggled desperately, as it was heated up by each vigorous slap of the coach's firm hand. The tears were coming hard and fast.

Coach Powell returned to the center of the unfortunate boy's globes and began to spank upwards.


Scott was crying in earnest and his toasted buns squirmed after each spank.

Coach Powell picked up one of the wailing youngster's white Nikes and grasped it firmly by the heel.

He raised it high in the air and brought it down in a rapid fire fashion -- alternating between the tender "sit down" spots.


Scott bucked and shrieked like he had been branded with a hot iron. His little rear felt like a blow torch had been applied to it. As hard as he struggled, he could not break a hand free to cover his enflamed buttocks.

Not realizing the 36 swats had been administered, Scott cried lustily awaiting the continued onslaught.

Coach Powell gently rubbed the stop sign red cheeks signaling that the punishment was over. Scott could not believe how much they stung.

"Back in the corner -- hands on your head," ordered the coach.

Scott staggered over to the corner. He clenched and unclenched his aching buttocks wanting so badly to rub them. It seemed like the fire on them would not subside.

Coach Powell could not help but notice how the youngster's little rear fairly glowed. He toyed with the idea of making the boy shower with his classmates, but humiliation was not what he thought this lad needed.

Five minutes before the class came in, Coach Powell let the well spanked lad get dressed. Scott gingerly pulled his briefs up over his sore backside. He dried his eyes before the other seventh graders arrived.

That afternoon, it was extremely uncomfortable to sit on the school chairs. Puzzled glances were cast his way as he squirmed uneasily in class.

But it was a lesson Scott never forgot. He never failed to bring his gym clothes to gym class ever again!

More stories bySpanked Preteens