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Peter's Plan
Part Twelve

by U.N. Known

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 10 Feb 2018


A Tribute to Peter is Put Back Into Shorts by Crispin


Author’s Note: This is a bonus chapter, inspired by several suggestions from the few readers this series has left (judging by the feedback and votes!) as a thank you to them for sticking with it hopefully through the remaining chapters.


Peter stood at the farmhouse window not quite believing what he was seeing.

It was Onfire.

It had to be.

The first year from school.

Mouse’s red headed mate.


In the farmhouse.

Getting spanked.

By Mrs. Raymond.


Sure enough, the eleven year old wasn’t wearing anything. Not even his socks as shown whenever his bare feet flew up into the air, to mark each time the head of a large wooden spoon landed on his white bottom, and not for the first time.


What did your daddy tell you, Oliver? The farmer’s wife ask the boy she was spanking after the spoon had left red blotches all over his bottom.

Daddy! Peter mumbled, slowly putting two and two together. He’s Barry Raymond’s brother.

It was the only explanation and was confirmed when Mrs. Raymond got her answer.

He said to close the gates, Mummy. replied Onfire sounding very much like a little boy and not at all as Peter was used to hearing him but then Peter had never seen him spanked before.

And did you do as your Daddy told you, Oliver?

The spoon was held aloft as a warning to what would happen if a lie was attempted.

It wasn’t me, Mummy. It was Mickey.


Each of Oliver Raymond’s surprisingly bony checks received a visit from the business end of his mother’s wooden spoon, before the lecture continued.

It doesn’t matter if it was you or Michael who didn’t close the gate. You should know better. Shouldn’t you?

Oliver agreed, but that didn’t stop his bottom from getting several more red spots.


Your daddy had to spend hours rounding the cattle back up again, and without the help of your brother who had gone off with his little friends.

This was news to Peter, meaning he’d been right to come up to apologise for his behaviour at the old fort even though he’d been in two minds about doing so.

Peter had really wanted to spend the last night at camp over in the cub’s field playing British Bulldog and eating sausages that were burnt on the outside but still raw in the middle yet still tasted better than anything he’d ever had before. Then he wanted to sing songs that didn’t make sense around a camp fire once it finally got dark before turning in for the night. It was what a proper little cub scout camp was all about after all.

However, as much as he wanted to do those things, he was also worried. Very worried about how things had ended the day before. He’d not even spoken to Barry Raymond since the older boy bought him and Jake back to the farm.

Unable to help himself Peter had got into a right strop at what had happened. Barry had actually slapped him. Right on the leg where everyone could see. Where they could still see. That just wasn’t fair.

Jake had agreed with him, but that hadn’t helped. Not even with tickling helped. And Peter loved being tickled almost as much as Jake loved tickling him.

It had all seemed so unfair at the time. All he’d wanted to do was have more fun, but Barry Raymond had said no. Sure he had good reason. They did have to get back to the farm before the real cubs did, but that wasn’t the point. Or so Peter hadn’t thought until he’d woken up that morning and he’d realised what an idiot he’d been. And rude too.

He had to make it up to Barry Raymond.

He just had too.

So it was, that instead of sitting around the large camp fire singing about ging, gangs and Jake’s favourite Goolies!, Peter found himself walking up the hill to the Raymond farmhouse only to stop before he got to the door.

The Raymonds were home. Peter knew that. For there was no where else for them to be. Plus the lights were on all over the farmhouse, where there was no need to draw curtains at night.

He hadn’t meant to peek into the window of the kitchen as he’d walked passed on his way to the front door, but there was no way he wasn’t going to be able to not look once he’d heard the tell tale sound of a spanking in progress.


At first he’d been jealous. Thinking that Barry Raymond was spanking another boy, but it hadn’t been him. His school friend was no where in sight. Instead it was Mrs. Raymond who had the squirming body of a naked little boy across her lap, while a wooden spoon Peter had last seen stirring the tastiest stew he’d ever had, was being put to a very different if effective use.


Sorry Mummy! Oliver gasped, which was just what his mother wanted to hear.

I know you are. But you have to remember your responsibilities just as your brother should.

For a moment Mrs. Raymond looked up. Instinctively Peter ducked back ashamed to be caught watching yet even as he did so he wondered if Mrs. Raymond would spank him with a spoon if she’d seen him spying. His shorts becoming tighter as a result.

It took a few moments before Peter dared peer around the side of the stone window frame, by which time Oliver was now standing in front of mother, with his hands on his head having the tears washed from his face by a well used hankie.

There. There. Ollie. It’s all over now.

It was indeed all over. All over his bottom which was now ever bit as red as the lad’s hair, if not a touch more so in places. But it was only his bottom. The top of his legs down to his knees were still as white as they had been before he’d removed his clothes up in his bedroom, while his shins did have a bit of colour, as did the small of his back, but just enough to form thin tan lines to the parts which normally didn’t see the limited amount of sun his colouring allowed.

Go and stand in the corner, like a good boy until your Daddy has finished.

Thank you Mummy. sniffed Oliver Raymond, Thank you for waiting until Mickey had gone home before you spanked me.

Mrs. Raymond smiled, That’s okay son, but I’m not sure that Michael is good friend to you.

He is Mummy. Really. Mickey’s my best friend at school. Protested Onfire

It took a few seconds for Peter to realise who they were talking about as he’d never actually heard his real name before. Just a nick-name but Mouse’s real name was indeed Michael, which despite his best efforts was often shortened to Mickey.

He’s Mickey Mouse! laughed Peter, ducking back away from the window as giggles threatened to expose him. Mickey Mouse. Wait until Jakey hear’s that.

Peter could have continued laughing about the image that popped into his head of the first year bully wearing big black mouse ears, but the sound of a far more mature masculine voice coming through the window soon had his attention turning back into the farm house, as Mr. Raymond called for his older son to come down stairs.

Barry Raymond duly appeared in the small doorway leading into the hall, and just like his brother the fourteen year old wasn’t wearing anything not that Peter could see that until he’d moved further into the kitchen.

Come here Son. Mr. Raymond’s voice filled the room, despite him not actually shouting. The authority in it unmissable to anyone hearing it, especially the young short trousered boy standing by the window and his own teenage son.

Wow! gasped Peter, slapping a hand over his mouth as he saw Barry Raymond in all his glory for the first time.

Despite being only a few months older than both Peter and Jake Jefferson, and only a few inches taller, there was no comparison between him and the younger looking boys. While neither Peter of Jake were slim, they had always appeared so beside Barry Raymond and the reason for that was now obvious.

There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the fourteen year old’s body, but there was plenty of muscle. Real work hardened muscle that had broadened his chest, and left him with a washboard stomach, and legs that were about as sturdy as those on the hard wood kitchen table he was standing beside.

Yet despite the truly impressive physic there was one point on his friend that a teenage boy’s eyes were going to automatically drift towards and Peter was no exception.

Strangely he’d never actually seen Barry Raymond naked before. Barry just didn’t do P.E. at school. Peter didn’t know if that was official or if Barry just didn’t turn up. Whichever it was, seemingly no one had ever asked, including Peter.

Clearly though Barry Raymond didn’t need to be running up and down the school fields, climbing ropes in the gym, or anything else Peter and the rest of the class got up to. He was getting more than enough exercise on his dad’s farm, so of course Peter had never seen him in the showers, like he had every other boy in his year. This as far as Peter was concerned was a shame as Barry Raymond would have put everyone else to shame, especially those who liked to show off about the few straggly pubes they’d grown and which they thought made them look like men, especially when compared to those who were still bald down there, like Peter and a few others. Barry Raymond though, he didn’t have a few strands or even a small bush above his genitals, he had a forest. One that even extended upward towards his navel, and spread onto the tops of his legs.

All in all Barry Raymond looked about as much like an adult as any fourteen year old boy could. Which made what happened next all the more shocking to Peter.

Bend over. Mr. Raymond said removing his belt.

His eldest son said nothing. His face completely blank just as Peter had always seen it before they’d become friends, as he stepped up the end of the large kitchen table, so normally ladened down in food. His legs spreading to the same width, lowering him down until his waist was level with the table which he then bent over. His arms stretching out to reach the far end and hold on.


The sound of the leather slicing into the taunt teenage buttocks, made Peter jump, but Barry Raymond didn’t move. Not for that blow or any of the ones that followed.


The doubled over belt flew through the air. Mr. Raymond pulling his arm as far back as the low ceiling would allow before bringing it crashing down across his eldest son’s rear.


It hurt. It had to hurt. Peter knew that yet Barry Raymond gave no sign that it did. Not one.




Six blows in total fell upon the teenager’s buttocks yet it may as well have been done for the reaction they produced from Barry Raymond. Throughout it all he just lay there although had anyone looked closely they may have noticed his knuckles going white as he held onto the table but they soon faded back to their normal colour once he’d let go and stood back up again.

Thank you Father. Barry said, his voice as steady as always despite signs of wetness rimming his eyes. I won’t do it again.

Mr. Raymond said nothing until he’d finished putting his belt back on.

See that you don’t. You’re older than your brother so I expect you to behave more like a man and that doesn’t mean running going swimming in your overalls.

No father.

Good. Now kiss your mother good night and you and your brother can go straight to bed without any supper.

The farmer went to the door but didn’t leave, waiting until his two naked sons had carried out his instructions each of them going over to where Mrs. Raymond had remained sitting, giving her a kiss on the cheek and then heading towards the door. As they did so they inadvertently presented Peter with a full on view of their respective bottoms. Onfire’s, who went first, he’d all ready scene, but seemed somewhat less red than it had appeared when it had been freshly spanked. The older bottom he hadn’t as that had been facing away from him during Barry Raymond’s punishment, so just how marked it was, came as a total shock to him. Not only was it red from top to bottom but there were distinct impressions of Mr. Raymond’s belt across the taut twin globes, that were starting to bruise in a way that Peter knew were going to hurt for days to come.

Sorry Barry, Oliver’s high pitched voice carried through the farmhouse, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.

No bother little bro. replied the teenager’s deeper register, You okay?

The small ginger covered head gave a small nod, before the two boys passed through the door into the hallway, one heading on to the stairs while the other made a sharp turn to the right, heading towards the kitchen. Which gave Peter an idea.

Leaving his spot by the window, back up until he came to the corner of the cottage, at which point he left the safety of the building, to jog a little further out into the farmyard so he could use the side gate into the Raymond’s garden.

Carefully opening and closing the gate to make as little noise as possible, Peter followed the path that led around behind the cottage. Ducking under a washing line, the sole occupant of which was a familiar pair of overalls, he headed straight for the open back door. His well worn plimsolls making no sound at all as he stepped across the flag stones that led into the kitchen. Here he found just what he was looking for.

Barry! he whispered at the figure standing at the sink filling two plastic cups with water, Barry. It’s me. Petey!

He gave a somewhat self conscious wave as the figure turned towards him but stopped when he didn’t see the smile he’d been expecting on the otherwise naked boy which made him loose track of what he was going to say. to... say sorry. For... you know... yesterday.

Barry Raymond didn’t speak. He just stared. Not at Peter but at a spot on the wall above the other boy’s head.

But... but... you were... busy. Your dad.

His head snapped around. You saw that?

The question was blunt even though it was whispered, or at least hissed.

Yes. I...


Peter didn’t understand. It’s okay. No one saw me.

Go! repeated Barry.

But I...!

Barry had put the cups down slowly, and walked towards his visitor. Then he did something Peter would never have expected. He grabbed the smaller boy’s upper arm, totally ignoring his shocked cry, and then escorted to the back door, and shoved him through it.

But... repeated Peter, rubbing his upper arm where finger marks were starting to appear. I only wanted to say sorry.

Don’t care. Barry said, simply.


Barry held his hand up so he could say his final words on the subject which were about as clear as they could be. Fuck off little boy.

Peter’s mouth fell open but Barry was gone. No sooner had he spoken then he’d turned around giving Peter a brief close up glimpse of his welted bottom, before closing the backdoor, and heading in side, where he collected the night time water for himself and his little brother, and then up the stairs to his bedroom, before Peter had even pulled himself together.

He stood there for several minutes. Not moving. Not even thinking. Not doing anything, until someone coming into the kitchen got his hopes up only for them to be instantly dashed when Mrs. Raymond started singing to herself.

It was only at that point that Peter turned from staring at the last place he’d seen Barry Raymond, and ran back to camp as fast as his bare legs could carry him hoping that no one would see the tears that were streaming down his face.


to be continued
as back home Adam attempts to cheer up his little brother seems worried about his return to school.

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