The following story is fiction intended for adults, and while it could stand alone it forms the forth story in a series taking place in a mythical high school in the year 1972. I had a lot of feedback from the first stories, and so have added another one to appease and to thank the many people that enjoyed the others. Again, while I made this story up, what happens here happened to more than one teenager, maybe not EXACTLY like this, or quite to this degree, but close enough. If you like the story, or dislike it, I'd really appreciate knowing. It's through the feedback of the readers that I decide to write. All rights reserved. The story is copyrighted by the author. Nathan [nathan9001@yahoo. com]
Paddled at Springfield High (Story 04) -- The Gym Class
The gymnasium thundered with the sound as the class of forty-two teenage freshmen rounded out their fifteenth lap, pushing themselves, their mouths open as they sucked in huge lungfuls of air. They were fun to watch, and they were the future of America. Their sweating hair bounced with their stride, and their tight gym shorts left little to the imagination as their jock contained manhood swung back and forth following their stride. Their t-shirts almost to a man were uniformly damp with sweat; their gym uniforms exact copies, and the school logo stitched on their shorts. Every kid wore the exact same outfit, and the shorts and the t-shirts and even the white jock straps were all part of "the uniform." The smell of working teenage boys permeated the gym, and as the uniformed teenagers passed the coach he yelled to the boys: "Let's pick it up Wesley! Don't be a slacker Austin! LET'S MOVE IT GUYS—FIVE MORE TO GO!!!!"
Coach Greene liked to push his class, and even if it was pouring rain outside he pushed them inside just the same. The coach believed in giving them a good workout, and his students soon realized that gym was no freebie as far as a class went. No, coach Greene was a no-nonsense coach, a man with high ideals and high demands for every student he had. He knew a sound body led to a sound mind, and he also knew that to get there, teenage boys needed to be pushed hard to build their bodies to where they needed to be. He loved watching them, and he knew the key to developing their bodies was hard work, dedication, and commitment. But he also knew the rewards of doing so, and as he watched these boys push themselves, he knew they were working hard to become strong men that would be able to do whatever they wanted later in life.
Jason Pierce was leading the pack. He was a sixteen year old junior, and he was one of the most athletic students in the class. He resented being there however, but because he had transferred schools and had lacked a P. E. credit he had been forced to sign up for this all-freshman class. He sure wasn't happy about it. He had already made a name for himself, as he was always just pushing the line, and had slowly gained a reputation for being the class clown. Suddenly, unaware that the coach was watching him, he purposely stuck his foot out and tripped the younger boy that was trying to pass him. He laughed as the other youth went down, unaware of what he had put into motion or where things would end up. After that, things just happened so fast! Suddenly, the coach's whistle was blasting across the gym, just as the tripped boy smashed into the gym floor. Then there was a tremendous yell, and in an instant Kyle Branson was flat out on the floor squirming on the ground and literally screaming from the pain while the rest of the class was desperately trying to jump out of the way and not trip over him. As he had fallen, the youth had thrown out his hands in desperation to stop his fall, a natural move but one with severe consequences. There was no way the boy's wrists could take the full weight of his body at the speed he was moving, and they had both buckled with a snap that would put him in two casts for the next nine weeks.
Coach Greene was there in an instant, keeping the boy down and immobilizing his wrists, making sure he didn't move anything until the school nurse could arrive. There wasn't any doubt that they were broken—the unnatural angles and the immediate swelling sort of made that crystal clear. God he was concerned, and also more than a little pissed. He hated horseplay and now, _s_h_i_t_! He also knew he would have some explaining to do, and there would be paperwork to fill out and probably even a visit to Chandler's office later to explain how the injury had occurred. Within a few minutes the school nurse had arrived and she was instantly all business. With the coach's help she had managed to splint both of the boy's wrists, and had tried to calm him down. He was a mess, and in tears. Meanwhile, the class had stood around and tried to help, and there were lots of words of encouragement for him from his friends. They had all formed a huge circle around Kyle and no one really knew what to say. The coach had been tied up with the injured boy and had all but ignored them.
Suddenly, looking at the clock, he yelled "Showers, NOW. All of you, let's GET IT IN GEAR."
With his words, the class raced for the locker room, the gym literally thundering with their feet as the class of teenagers suddenly went into motion. The boys were moving out fast, knowing the coach was in no mood to screw with. Jason Pierce ran faster than the rest, surprised he hadn't been singled out, and somehow someway hoping to escape the wrath of the coach. He figured the quicker he got moving the better his chances and if he was real lucky, he might even make it to the end of class. As they thundered out of the gym and to the lockers, the coach helped the nurse with Kyle and escorted him to the door. Soon, the boy was on his way, still sweating in his gym clothes, his face streaked with tears, and headed first for the office and then, parents in tow, straight for the hospital.
Coach Greene was angry, his lips a tight line and a look in his eye that meant all business. He never tolerated horseplay, and the boy who had stuck his foot out and laughed as he did it was dead meat. Yep, dead meat! He sure as hell knew better, and if he didn't he soon would. And so would the rest of the class. With that thought, the coach headed to the locker room, moving quickly, with a determination that meant business. He was going to fry one teenage ass like it had never been fried and he was going to do it right now.
As he entered the locker room the boys were all in the showers. Back then, when it was time to shower, everyone showered. There were no exceptions, because to skip a shower meant to get burned with the paddle. Yep, that's just the way it was. The routine was practiced, and the guys got good at it. Shower with soap as fast as you could, rinse quickly, and then grab a towel from the rack as you headed back to your locker for a speed change. Then, out the door when the bell rang, your hair damp but feeling refreshed, ready for your next class. If you did it right, you could get it all done in ten minutes. Today, because of the mishap, they had almost twenty. The showers at Springfield High, like most of the schools of the day, were gang showers with multiple shower heads arranged around a large open shower room. There were also three posts in the center of the shower room, sporting four shower heads each. The boys were all in there, soaping down in a hurry from habit, then rinsing off fast. The freshman classes were always the most interesting to watch, as this was a first year experience for most of them, and with most of the students at fourteen and fifteen their bodies were just ripening toward full manhood. Some of the boys, Jason included, were a little further along than the rest, and they stood out, their bodies sharper and more defined, the muscles harder and a little bit more developed. Because every teenage boy is unique, the room was full of boys in various stages of adolescence, their bodies each different and all growing at their own individual pace. There were lots of glances around the shower room, but not many comments, each boy pretending to be just showering and not paying any attention to those around him. Still, there were always a few dicks that were sticking out a little larger than they needed to be. No one sported a boner though, or would have dared to, and a guy with a boner would have died of embarrassment and would have faced ridicule that would have been hard to live down. But a slight enlargement was actually even a good thing, because to be viewed as a teenage boy with a tiny dick was almost as embarrassing as having an erection. It was a fine line. The boys always pretended showering with others was no big deal, but without clothes the boys were immediately aware of their own growth stages and every kid looked around making his own comparisons, trying not to be seen doing so but unable to stop himself, even if he had wanted to. Some guys' balls hung down loose and big, while others were tighter and their sacks were drawn up. Some boys had dicks that were mere knobs, while others were long and hung down as much as ten inches. Some were thin and small and still had the look of a twelve year old. Most had the thickness that is common of a teenage dick. A few, a very few, were thicker and looked more like the dicks of men. Most of the boys were circumcised, although a few of the boys were not, and it was always interesting to see the looks as different youths made their own comparisons. Some boys had a full mound of pubic hair, while others had almost none, their balls smaller than the rest of the class and their dicks just beginning to grow with their bodies. Eighty-five percent of the class had hair under their armpits, and while most of the boys had smooth chests and weren't shaving very often, there were a few of the youths that were hairier, and fewer still that had a thin line of _s_e_x_ hair growing right up to their navels. To make it even more interesting, the boys had brown hair, blond hair, black hair, and even red hair. Some kids' legs were hairy, and some were as smooth as a baby boy's. Yes, shower time was an interesting time, and while it didn't last long it nevertheless was one of the more intense memories that came with being in a high school gym class.
Suddenly, coach Greene's voice thundered, echoing off the shower walls with an intensity that shocked the entire class, making everyone jump. One boy jumped more than the rest, his face turning bright red as everyone looked at him.
"JASON PIERCE—IN MY OFFICE NOW!!!!!!"
He didn't say anything, although the youth's red face was a dead give-away that he knew he was in serious trouble. He turned off the water and bit his lip, then with a swallow he turned toward the voice and headed from the shower, every eye following him. His body was all muscle, with a well-developed chest and a slender waist, solid and hard and reflecting the many hours he spent at home working out. Unlike some of the younger boys, his stomach was ripped, and his chest was pronounced, the boy's nipples small and firm. He was well into puberty. His dick was about average for a boy his age, and it was hanging down limp and scared, its circumcised tip round and exposed. His balls hung underneath, the sack loose from the hot water and now swinging as he walked. Jason didn't have a lot of _s_e_x_ hair, but that wasn't that unusual for a sixteen year old, and in this class there were so many boys at so many different stages of development it didn't matter. He was certainly more developed than most of the freshmen. His smooth legs did have fine hairs that were just beginning to darken and his patch of pubic hair was sprouting thick around his root. Although it wasn't a large patch, still it was thick enough not to be embarrassing. Other than that, and the little bit of hair under his arms, most of his body was as smooth as a baby's ass. You could say he had the look of an average teenager, right in the middle of his growth spurt and well on the way to becoming a man.
As the boy heard the coach's voice his face was instantly beet red—the knowledge of the call and what it meant instantly obvious. All the freshman knew too, they KNEW where he was heading, and when you are a teenager and you are on your way to the coach's office you were going for one reason. You are going there to get paddled. Yeah, everyone knew it, and they all knew why. A paddling was a rare event, but not so rare that it didn't happen. And well, getting paddled by coach Greene was something nobody ever wanted to experience. No sir, that was one thing that everyone knew and one of the things that was crystal clear in every single boy's mind. In all the classes combined, it probably happened only five or six times during an entire school year, and when it did most of the time the kids getting the licks were getting them wearing their gym shorts. Unfortunately for Jason Pierce, his gym shorts were at his locker, and he knew that his chances of getting to his locker before he was paddled probably weren't very good. Oh GOD! As bad as that was, there was one little thing that made the prospect of a bare assed paddling a lot worse than it needed to be. And that one little thing was the place where the paddling was going to take place.
The coach's office was in the back center of the locker room, as far from the showers as you could get. The office was sparse, and the only furniture in it was a gray steel desk and an old metal government-issue style chair. The only other thing in the room was a double pull-up bar, and a tall steel mesh trashcan that was currently filled to the top with soccer balls. From the locker room you could see right into the office, as one entire wall was made up of large windows that ran from mid-thigh height all the way up to the ceiling. The glass was thick, and tempered, and was the kind with the steel wire mesh inside of it. The pull-up bars were pushed up against the glass windows, right next to the trashcan of soccer balls. From his office, the coach could survey the entire locker room, and from there he could keep tabs on what was happening and supervise things if necessary. It was the perfect vantage point for the coach to run things and maintain control in the locker room. Unfortunately for Jason Pierce, the glass also allowed the students in the locker room to look in, and while most of the time there wasn't anything worth looking in for, today that certainly wasn't going to be the case. That prospect scared the hell right out of the boy. For one thing, it meant that his paddling was going to be quite a bit more of a public affair than he would have hoped for. Yeah, that was for sure. Well, that too, like the showers, was just one of those things he couldn't do much about and the way it was at Springfield High.
As Jason Pierce exited the shower, he grabbed a white gym towel and started to dry off, then wrapped it around his twenty-nine inch waist as he headed to the back of the locker room to where the office was. He decided to try and get to his locker first, maybe grab his shorts, but he never got to make the turn and with a single look from the coach he gave up on that idea. The coach was staring right at him, watching him come out of the shower, and the man's voice boomed out "IN HERE-----NOW." Yeah, it was definitely not going to be possible to swing by and make a locker stop. So, he walked toward the coach, and the office, and the paddle that was waiting for him there. And, as he made the walk, somehow keeping himself moving in that direction, he let his eyes move to the upper corner of the glass window that formed the office wall, to the place where the paddle was kept. There it was too, still hanging clear as day on the other side of the big window and in plain view of the locker room. Yeah, it was always there, hanging there, waiting.
Today, Jason stared at it with an interest he had never had before. The paddle was hanging there all right, for the moment at least, but he knew this time that it was waiting, waiting for HIM! He suddenly noticed every detail. Oh GOD he could see the leather string that went through a hole drilled in the handle, keeping it there. He noticed the small marks and dents on its surface from God knows what. It looked old. It also looked like a very serious piece of wood! _s_h_i_t_, it was huge! He remembered it was made from maple wood, yeah, somebody had said that once. As he stared at it his mind went analytical, and he guessed it was a half inch thick, about four inches or so wide and had to be at least two feet long. Yeah, as Jason looked at it he swallowed, knowing it was going to be a bad afternoon and as he stared at the thing he knew there wasn't much doubt of that. Yep that was for sure, a very bad afternoon and even though he knew he deserved it, that didn't help matters right now. As he glanced back over his shoulder, he could see the guys pouring out of the shower, heading to their lockers as fast as they could and all looking his way. _s_h_i_t_—they were just freshmen for God's sake! And they sure seemed to be in a hurry. None of them wanted to miss the show! He looked back at the paddle, and he could feel the eyes of his classmates burning into him. _s_h_i_t_! He stared at it. Hell, he couldn't help but stare at it. The handle was shaped for gripping, and the paddle was smooth and well sanded and varnished and oh God just looking at it he knew it was all business and he knew it was going to hurt like hell. His ass was toast! He tried to take some solace in the fact that the coach's paddle didn't have any holes drilled in it, but even so there wasn't any doubt it could burn a kid's ass, and he was well aware that it had been used on more than one guy before. He couldn't remember anyone ever getting it bare-assed though, and as his mind raced with that thought he was trying to hope that somehow he wouldn't be the first. It was a paddle with a reputation, and yeah, he knew that Coach Greene knew how to swing it and he knew OH GOD HE KNEW it was going to burn like a son-of-a-bitch. There wasn't any doubt about that. The fact that the coach hardly ever used it was only a little comfort to the class as a whole and no comfort at all to Jason Pierce. Nope, that was no comfort at all when you're the guy getting it. Yeah, as he headed for his pending appointment with the paddle he looked and stared at the thing, and he couldn't help but read the old and slightly yellowed little handmade sign under it that he had read a thousand times before but for some reason hadn't thought to remember. It simply said "NO HORSEPLAY." The sign and the message and the paddle sort of said everything that needed to be said and as he entered the office his ass literally twitched with anticipation.
"GET YOUR PADDLE AND HAND IT TO ME!"
Oh GOD! Jason looked at the coach, and gulped, the man obviously still pissed and not in the mood for a discussion. He tried anyway, as he knew that his only hope, and not really much of a hope at all, would have to come now.
"Please coach, I'm really sorry. I....."
"SHUT UP PIERCE. DON'T SAY ANYTHING. SAVE YOUR VOICE FOR THE CRYING. I SAW THE WHOLE THING, AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE HORSEPLAY. NOW, GET YOUR PADDLE AND GIVE IT TO ME."
_s_h_i_t_! Screwed, and yeah, not much choice in the matter. Jason turned and reached for it, his teenage body still wet from the shower, water still dripping down his back from his jet black and very wet hair. His hand was literally shaking. As he picked up the paddle, he was surprised at its weight. God! It was heavy, oh _s_h_i_t_ oh _s_h_i_t_ oh _s_h_i_t_ it was! The florescent lights from the ceiling glistened off the varnished surface, and as he picked it up he couldn't help but notice that the varnish had yellowed over time, and as he turned to face the coach, waiting with an outstretched arm, he wondered how many butts had been burned by the wooden thing he was now holding. OH GOD!
The coach took the paddle from the teenager, and then said "Go grab that pull-up bar, and get yourself ready for your paddling, mister. I swear you will NEVER forget this day, and neither will your bottom."
Jason looked where the coach was pointing, to the pull-up bar, and as he did so his face flushed even redder with embarrassment. The bar was just inside the door, up against the glass wall. It was actually a double bar, one bar was well off the ground, for a really tall person, and the other was somewhat lower, and could just be reached even with your feet flat on the floor. The entire apparatus was made of steel, and until this moment, Jason had never seen it used for anything other than doing pull-ups. Oh GOD! Beyond the glass wall, he noticed that the entire locker room, it seemed, was filled with his classmates, each getting dressed, but slowly, and each looking back at the office and the glass and the coach with the paddle in his hand. OH _s_h_i_t_ OH _s_h_i_t_ OH _s_h_i_t_!
Just as he started to reach for it the coach's voice boomed out "DROP THE TOWEL! I'M NOT ABOUT TO PADDLE A TOWEL!!!"
Jason looked back to the coach, his lip quivering. OH GOD! NO! "Please, coach....please, not bare ass....." "DROP THE _f_u_c_k_ING TOWEL, PIERCE, NOW! I'VE HAD IT WITH YOU!"
Oh GOD! SCREWED! He was shaking, and as he looked at the coach he knew that pleading wasn't going to get him anywhere. He had never seen the coach so mad. He hadn't ever heard him cuss either. Hell, the man's face was red, the veins in his neck bulging and his face drawn tight with his anger. He was already swinging the paddle back and forth and it was clear he wasn't in the mercy mood. Without any real choices here, he took the towel and pulled it off, and as he did so he felt more humiliated than he had ever felt in his entire life. God, he knew everyone was looking, watching him, and his dick and his ass and his balls were just so _f_u_c_k_ing exposed and oh God oh GOD OH GOD! Without any clothing on he felt more vulnerable and more embarrassed than he had ever felt before. As he felt the coolness of the air between his legs, he suddenly felt like crying. OH _s_h_i_t_ this was bad! It was a nightmare, only he wasn't dreaming and as bad as this was he knew it was about to get a whole lot worse.
"GRAB THE BAR, MISTER, AND HANG ON TO IT. YOU LET GO AND WE START ALL OVER, YOU GOT THAT??????"
The boy gulped, and nodded, and then sensing that something more was called for, he answered "Yes Sir."
Then, he turned to face the bar, and in doing so, his younger classmates. He was a junior for God's sake! Oh GOD he just wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Then, looking at it, he let his eyes move beyond it, out through the glass and into the room in front of him. _s_h_i_t_! His entire class was staring back with most of their mouths open in amazement. They were trying to look like they were keeping busy, slowly getting dressed and pretending to move stuff near their lockers. But they weren't doing a very good job of faking things, and it was quite apparent that they were looking at him, his total nakedness open and exposed, and the coach moving toward him paddle in hand. He blushed even redder, and then reached up toward the bar, slowly. He grabbed it, stretching his arms up to reach it, to hold it, to hang on to it as if his very life depended on it, exposing now even his armpits to everyone looking.
"THAT'S IT, MISTER. SPREAD THOSE LEGS APART, AND BRACE YOURSELF! YOUR ASS DESERVES THIS LESSON AND IT'S ONE LESSON I'M GONNA ENJOY TEACHING!"
Jason did as he was told, spreading his legs and gripping the bar, gritting his teeth and trying to tighten his ass muscles against what he knew was coming.
Unsatisfied, the coach yelled "WIDER MISTER, I WANT THOSE LEGS WIDE AND THAT ASS OF YOURS STUCK OUT TOWARD YOUR PADDLE. YOU DESERVE THIS, PIERCE, AND YOUR ASS SHOULD BE BEGGING ME FOR IT!"
Jason moved his legs further apart, which made his arms stretch out even more, as he could barely reach the bar. Then, with the coach still yelling at him, he pushed his ass back out, towards the coach and "his" paddle, almost as if his ass was eager to feel the wood. It was the most embarrassing position he had ever been in his entire life, and as he gazed out into the room he could see everyone looking back at him, and at his naked spread-eagled body. God—he was on display! Here he was, an upper classman and now he was about to put on a demonstration for the little freshmen on what happens if you screw off. Oh GOD. Why? Why had he been so stupid? And as he looked at them, they all seemed so eager, some with huge grins on their faces and clearly already enjoying the spectacle. _s_h_i_t_. Oh _s_h_i_t_! He also noticed that more than a few of them were staring at him, almost unblinking, and with that thought he felt his dick stir slightly and he blushed with the realization. He was just so _f_u_c_k_ing exposed! Most of the boys watching had looks of amazement at what they were seeing, and more than a few were grinning, almost as if they were eager to watch the sixteen year old take his punishment and even anxious for it to begin. OH GOD! He glanced at the clock on the locker room wall, and noticed he had ten minutes left before the bell would ring. Ten _f_u_c_k_ing minutes, and with that he gritted his teeth and tried to hang on, trying now desperately to ignore the feeling in his dick as he felt it beginning to stir. No!
Just then the coach laid the paddle up against his bare ass, letting it rest on it as he judged the distance and prepared to swing. As Jason felt the wood he gasped, and then sucked in a huge lungful of air as he tried to brace himself for what was coming. With a kick, the coach pushed the office door closed. As it slammed shut, he suddenly was a man in motion; the great paddle suddenly moving so fast the eye couldn't track it. The coach's arm was a blur and then suddenly it wasn't moving back anymore but going forward instead, the change so fast it seemed he was almost a machine. Then, almost instantly after that the paddle slammed into the teenager's rear end so hard his entire body was thrown forward.
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
The teenager let out a loud grunt, and his eyes went wide with the shock of the hit. _s_h_i_t_ that had hurt! The impact was so great that his dick bounced out and up, slapping the teenager on his belly, his big ball sack put suddenly in motion and now literally visibly swinging below. The pain was so _f_u_c_k_ing intense! Jason closed his eyes, gritting his teeth to contain the burn, which seemed to be consuming him and increasing with each second that passed. OH GOD IT HURT! As the burn increased even more, he opened his eyes in desperation, although as he looked out, begging for a reprieve, the return look from his classmates shook him to the core. He felt his bladder muscle spasm, but he fought that and kept it together. God this was just so _d_a_m_n_ humiliating! Some of his classmates' faces had changed and were now painted with fear, their faces contorted with a grimace that demonstrated how surprised they were at how hard the paddle had been swung. Some though were still grinning, almost in glee to be watching him as he tasted the wood. OH GOD! There wasn't a sound in the locker room, and most of the boys watching were mesmerized by the intensity of the impact that the paddle was making. With the crack of the paddle it seemed that Jason's entire body had been jerked forward and the look on his face was all anyone had to see to know it hurt like hell. Wow. And the crack too was one hell of a sound, even muffled as it was through the closed office door. As they watched, they could see Jason trying so hard to hold it together, as his arms were stretched high holding the bar and his knuckles were white from the intensity of his grip. As everyone watched, the coach was suddenly moving the paddle again!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
"URGHHHHHHHHHHHHH" the boy grunted, so loud everyone could hear it even through the glass.
The view from the locker room was one of those views that nobody there would ever forget. With the second paddle hit, Jason had been rocked forward again, almost losing his grip from the bar. His teenage dick had bounced out and up again, slapping into his belly once more and elongating further in the process. Jason was on the verge of crying with only two hits, and the coach was really laying it on apparently without mercy. Wow. Yeah, he was REALLY hurting, and everyone instantly realized that horseplay had some severe consequences! The look on Jason's face was one of pure misery, the boy almost in shock from the intensity of the burn and trying to somehow someway not humiliate himself anymore. Yet, the pain seemed to be consuming him, almost as if it was getting worse by the second, and his eyes were wet and glistening, and only with two swats delivered! The boy's dick was sticking out now, too, not straight up mind you, but definitely out where it had been only hanging before. No one would ever understand why it did that, but one thing was for certain, Jason was aware of it and as he grew harder he was powerless to stop it and it served to cement his humiliation. Jason felt it betraying him, even as his ass was on fire, and as he felt it growing stiffer he was well aware that his classmates, almost fully dressed themselves, were watching it happen. And the more he thought about what his dick was doing, the stiffer it seemed to be getting. And as they watched, it gave the impression that it was literally jutting out of his patch of pubic hair, almost pointing at them and bouncing with the hits and looking like it was almost eager for more. One other thing was really apparent from the view into the office. Jason's face was bright red, almost scarlet now, and it was obvious that he was totally humiliated as he felt his bottom being lit on fire and his boner growing ever stiffer as it happened.
The coach was moving yet again, even faster than before, and as the two foot long piece of wood slammed once again into the teenage ass, the sound was even louder than before. The couch pulled back and fired another one without hesitation, and then another, the three blows coming so fast that the boy receiving them could only open his mouth in shock, his hard dick bouncing crazily from the impacts and then, OH GOD---he screamed just as his bladder muscles spasmed once again and he began to urinate without control!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
CRACCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
CRAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" "Oh _s_h_i_t_TTTTTT! -- OH GOD!!!!"
Yeah, right in front of everyone the boy's almost rigid dick just started squirting out a stream of urine, the stream flying out his dick and splashing violently against the window, the boy's bladder just emptying itself as his muscles continued to spasm under the onslaught from the paddle. He tried to stop it, but he really just had no control, and as he lost his bladder the tears just broke like a dam, and his face was totally red as he wet himself and everything around him.
The coach never stopped, and ignoring the piss coming out of the boy's stiff dick, gave one more tremendous swing, and as the paddle cracked into the crying boy's ass for the sixth time, his hard dick bounced yet again and the urine sprayed seemingly everywhere. With the last blow the boy was knocked into the window at the same time, then, letting go of the bar he was suddenly grabbing his ass with both hands, the tears pouring from his face and his mouth babbling for mercy, even as his dick still emptied the last of his urine onto the glass and the floor. With only six swats of the paddle the coach had reduced the class clown to a slobbering and very humiliated little boy, a boy with a bright red ass and a very very sorry one at that.
The coach then said, "OK, Pierce, don't ever screw around in my class again, you got that, mister? NO HORSEPLAY!!!!"
Jason Pierce, still with his hands clutching his bright red ass, slowly just slid down the window and collapsed to the floor, a sobbing little boy who was beaten, spent, and totally humiliated, his ass on fire and the burn so intense that it felt like it had been blistered. He looked up at the coach, the snot dripping from his nose, and nodded he understood. He couldn't really talk, his lips moving but only a babbling sound coming out, mixed with the flood of tears that continued to just pour forth from his eyes. He was so ashamed! As he nodded that he understood, the coach threw him his towel, which caught on his erection of all things. Oh GOD—he snatched it fast with his hands, even more humiliated, and tried to cover himself just as the coach said "CLEAN UP YOUR MESS, PIERCE, AND THEN GET YOUR RED ASS DRESSED. AND DON'T YOU DARE BE LATE TO YOUR NEXT CLASS!" With that, the coach hung the still warm paddle back on its hook, and opening the office door, he walked out into the locker room. The entire paddling had taken less than four minutes!
Everyone looked down or at their locker, pretending not to have been watching. Turning to the class, his voice thundered out into the room: "GET YOUR ASSES DRESSED AND OUT OF HERE. AND REMEMBER THIS—NO HORSEPLAY--EVER!!!!!"
Then, without another word, he walked out of the locker room and out the double doors leading into the gymnasium, leaving the class spellbound, all still staring at the humiliated upper classman who was at this very moment getting down on his knees to wipe off the urine he had sprayed on the floor. Boy was his ass red! An interesting thing happened then. As soon as the coach had left, a few of the boys came forward, and as Jason looked up through his tears, he saw several of his classmates enter the office and begin to wipe up the mess with him. One worked on the window, another ran his towel over the pull-up bar apparatus. More kids came in, and then a couple more. There was urine sprayed everywhere, and yet with so many kids suddenly helping it didn't take very long to get it cleaned up. Another boy grabbed his arm, pulling him up and out into the locker room, while the other boys took care of the mess in the office. One boy ran a towel over Jason, even wiping off his boner, that was still jutting skyward. Another boy handed him a clean towel that he used to try and dry his eyes, finally wiping the snot hanging from his nose. As he was doing that, Jason felt someone else take another towel and wrap it around him, and then they were all escorting him toward his locker. Sometime during this process, his dick finally went down. As he sucked in his snot and tried to stop the tears, the small group of boys helped him all the way to his locker, and there, they handed him his clothes, piece by piece, and helped him to get dressed.
"God Jason, your ass is really red man."
"_s_h_i_t_, you OK?"
"_d_a_m_n_ man, it's OK. Don't let it get to you, OK?"
"Hey, here are your jeans."
"_f_u_c_k_, your ass is red!"
"Here, wipe your face. It's OK, man. You'll be OK."
As his classmates tried to offer him encouragement, Jason didn't try to answer. But he sure appreciated their help and right now he really needed it. He was very contrite, like a humiliated little boy. The jeans were rough, and it hurt to pull them up over his almost blistered ass. When Jason tried to sit down to tie his shoes, he winced from the pain, and stood back up instead deciding to wait until later to try that. One of his friends tied his sneaks for him, and another helped him button his shirt, as he just stood there still sniveling, spent, and exhausted. It might have been an embarrassing moment, but it wasn't really. No, everyone, it seemed, felt bad, for what had happened, and for what he had endured. Without doubt, he had the reddest ass any of them had ever seen, or in fact, would ever see again. As the bell rang and they all headed out into the bustle of the hall, heading to their next classes, none of them would ever forget what coach Greene could do with a paddle. Nope, that was a crystal memory and would be with all of them forever.
Again, if you liked the story, or disliked it, I'd really appreciate knowing. Nathan [nathan9001@yahoo. com]