New MMSA spank logo


by Ageless Al

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: 12 Feb 2018

This fictional account was inspired by the Cornertime Confidential articles Travelling Packs for Better Spanking Visits and Packing for Your Adult Boy Spanking.

I step out of the shower, water dripping to the mat below me. I dry myself with the towel, spray with deodorant and run a comb through my hair. I have a smart short-back and sides on top of my head but no other hair is visible in the mirror. A finger runs across my face, then down my chest and legs. I’m pleased to feel smooth skin everywhere, even as the finger runs along my scrotum. The sack is tight as the ring of my chastity device keeps the balls cupping the plastic cage. I can’t touch the flaccid penis inside. It has enough room to breathe but can’t develop any kind of erection. My finger finishes its journey poking up my bum hole. It slides all the way in and comes out smelling clean.

I’m going to be staying at another man’s house overnight. I’ll be playing the role of an adult boy sent to spend the night with his strict uncle. I know I’ll be spanked soundly and receive other discipline. It sounds like this guy will keep the roles going for the entirety of my visit. I always ask about chastity when talking to a new top. Not everyone is into the idea but, when I brought it up to Uncle, he told me he’d teach me a lesson about self-abuse. So be it. When I’m in a boyish headspace, erections are a distraction. Arriving in chastity even makes the point that my sexual release isn’t expected. But if the man does want to move the adult play to more adult activities, well, they’ll always find my hole prepared to be of service.

I check the time and find I’m running late. Fuck! Oops. I need to watch my language tonight. But more importantly, I don’t want to be late and I still need to pack.

Proper packing is important. Since I’m staying overnight, I need an overnight bag. Other times, circumstances prevent me from arriving in the right clothes and I need to change when I arrive. Even when that isn’t the case, it’s usually worthwhile bringing along some favourite toys. A good sub shouldn’t dictate what happens to them in a scene but I can certainly provide options.

To start with, the style of the bag I bring is an important consideration. This will be part of my first impression. Does a boy carry a suitcase? No. I happen to take a backpack to work but that one is plain and practical, designed for adults who act like adults. When I’m an adult boy, a backpack with a childish design is more appropriate. With that in mind, I grab my Thomas The Tank Engine bag from its hiding spot deep inside a cupboard and throw it on my bed.

Hmm... I’ve been instructed to park some distance away and walk to the front door. Should I wear the bag on my back when I’m walking? It’s not like I know anyone in the area. My ageplay persona is honestly a little old for Thomas so I guess any embarrassment would be part of the scene.

I need to get dressed. I walk over to my underwear drawer. Whatever I wear will inevitably be exposed. They’ll be pulled down shortly afterwards but that just makes my choice all the more important. There’s no hesitation. When I’m an adult boy, I wear white briefs. I pull a fresh pair up my legs, adjusting as it catches the padlock to make sure the chastity cage has a comfortable pouch. An identical pair of briefs is thrown next to the backpack.

Let’s see... I’m supposed to arrive smartly but have a change of play clothes. I find some plain, grey ankle socks and slide them on my feet. A pair with colourful stripes joins the briefs on the bed.

I get the impression that Uncle is the type who likes to see his adult boys showing a lot of bare leg. The weather is pretty chilly at this time of year but I pick out some grey flannel shorts and a navy blue polo-shirt to wear. After fastening the three buttons on the shirt, I grab a pair of braces. I connect the ends to the waistband of the shorts, pull them over my shoulders and tighten the grip. The shorts ride up, hugging my bottom and exposing a bit more skin. I have to adjust the cage again, now so it goes down one of the legs. I hope the bulge isn’t too noticeable.

I head back to check the mirror but all I see is a very smartly dressed young boy, albeit an overly tall one. I think a cap would complete the look but nothing I own really matches this outfit. I’ll have to see if I can get my hands on something in the style schoolboys used to wear. For now, I think I can handle arriving in this attire. Another thought occurs, though... If he smacks the back of my legs, nothing will be covering my red thighs on the walk back. I rifle through my shorts and find a pair with pictures of happy sunflowers to add to the pile of play clothes. These are a bit longer and baggier, so they should be more comfortable. Worst case scenario, I can put them on over the flannel shorts when I get back to the car.

For the last piece of my day clothing, I pick out a t-shirt covered in Pokémon. This is a recent purchase. Primark turns out to be a good source of adult boy clothes. For night time, I continue the Pokémon theme with some pyjamas that have a big Pikachu on the front. These are 15 years old, though they’re big enough to still fit me. The elastic is a little loose but, eh, we can pretend I’ll grow into them. No one has ever complained about trousers that come down easily.

I go back to the deep cupboard and take out a folded nappy and plastic pants. Even in my littlest boy persona, I’m decidedly too old to wear nappies. But if a masculine authority figure wanted to make me wear them, well, I can hardly stop them. They’re entitled to make sure their sheets are protected when I’m in a strange bed. Not that I ever wet the bed. I’m a big boy! This is another reason I cleaned my insides out. Wetting myself is one thing but I don’t want to risk needing to do anything else.

Oh, I mustn’t forget Snuggles! My teddy bear normally lives on a shelf but he’s my constant travelling companion. I’m sure he’ll be sleeping in bed with me tonight. Last time I spent a night as an adult boy, my Daddy of that visit decided I was fussing too much over wearing a nappy to bed. He flipped me over, pulled me over his knee and started wailing on my bottom with my own hairbrush. My bum was already red and sore by that point so I burst into tears almost immediately. He didn’t comfort me when he was done, just gave me Snuggles to hug and went back to the business of securing my nappy. I held on tightly to Snuggles as I was tucked in and cried myself to sleep.

What else do I need? A toothbrush and toothpaste. They’re just basic overnight essentials, though I do appreciate authority figures making sure I brush my teeth. I put them in a small, plastic bag along with a wrapped bar of soap. The wrapping has been opened before and anyone who pulls the bar out will see the bite marks. That should make it clear that the soap is also for washing my mouth.

I often have trouble minding my superiors. This used to cause problems until I sassed one Sir at the wrong moment. He knew how to treat me like the disrespectful boy I was, instantly grabbing me by the ear and dragging me to the bathroom. I watched him unwrap a fresh bar of soap, drop it into the sink and fill the basin with warm water. I knew what was coming at that point but Sir wasn’t in any rush. He had me pull off my t-shirt and then pulled my shorts and briefs down to my ankles, leaving me functionally naked while he was still fully clothed.

He started peppering my bottom with smacks, light hand swats that built up a gradual sting as the minutes went by. I could only stand there watching the water turn cloudy. Once the bar was no longer visible, he took hold of the back of my neck and pulled out the soap. I wouldn’t open my mouth at first, so he just rubbed my lips with the slimy suds. I obeyed the second command to open. He spread a good layer of suds onto a flannel, then roughly scrubbed it against my tongue and the inside of my mouth. Once I was gagging from the acidic film, he shoved the whole bar into my mouth and told me to bite down. I don’t know what brand he uses but it was the foulest thing I’ve ever tasted.

That’s when he got serious. He pulled out his belt and gave me a leathering I’ll never forget. It was a thick belt that covered my poor botty and thighs in welts. I wailed through the soap gag as my feet danced up and down. I was a mess of tears, snot and drool. He made me kneel in the corner with my hands on my head for a whole hour, which gave the uncontrollable drooling time to cover my bare chest. He took the bar away and let me rinse after that was done.

Even after rinsing my mouth with as much water as I could, I still had the taste of soap stuck in my mouth for the rest of the visit. Dinner was especially bad. Sir made me sit there until the plate’s entire contents made their way to my stomach, passing my taste buds after the soapy residue. Not getting pudding for being slow didn’t bother me that night. After the whole ordeal, I always make sure to bring along a bar of soap now. I want the lesson to be repeated if necessary.

Soap, Belt, Corner... Boys don’t wear belts and a corner is something I can’t bring with me. Somehow, both of those are always available. I can’t expect to monopolise my host’s attention for the entire visit but I won’t spend all the downtime facing a wall. It’s worth bringing something age appropriate to do. I’m tempted to bring the new Mario game with me but that’s something I’m already enjoying while I’m pretending to be an adult. It would pull me out of the scene. Plus, the console is called the Switch and using that name around a dom would just be asking for trouble.

Instead, I’ve got a few items piled up in the cupboard. On top, there are a couple of recent issues of The Beano that I’ve bought but not read yet. Below them is a partially completed colouring and activity book for kids. This lives in the cupboard because I don’t normally touch the book but it’s valuable in assisting my on-site headspace. A good spanking on my bare tushie will break me down into a tearful little boy. From there, it’s nice to lie on my tummy with a glowing bottom, colouring with crayons or working on an easy activity with a pencil. As I’m watched over by the strong man who put me in my place, I feel a warm glow that wipes away all my adult responsibilities for a while.

I make sure to grab my pencils and crayons. They’re inside a plastic pencil case that looks like a hot dog. I briefly unzip it to confirm that the smart, nubbed ink pen is there too. The pen is used with the last item in the pile; an A5 book with a plain blue cover and pages of lined paper inside. I use this book when I’m writing lines by hand. Some of the lines in there, I set myself. Others, I had to write with a sore bottom squirming against a hard seat. It’s easy to spot the latter as I made doubly sure they were the peak of neatness, not wanting to earn more lines with a reheated bottom. Even without looking now, I can still recall the last set of lines I completed:

Little boys who wet the bed don’t get to decide whether they should wear nappies.

That was a memorable one. After earning that bedtime spanking for fussing about my nappy on my last night away, Daddy wasn’t amused to find the plastic pants leaking into the sheets the following morning. He wouldn’t change me straight away. He had me sit on a tall wooden stool at the breakfast table and fed me a bowl of porridge. To be more specific, he held the spoon and moved it into my mouth while making the kinds of comments designed to entice a baby to open up. I couldn’t help wriggling on the stool, partly as my bottom was still tender but also as this was ridiculously childish even for my ageplay persona.

After that humiliation, I just had to sit quietly and feel my damp nappy turn cold as Daddy ate his own breakfast and washed up. I thought I’d be changed afterwards but that’s when he dropped my book on the table in front of me. He made me write that line 150 times, all while soaked and smelling of wee. Oh geez, I wonder what Uncle will think if he sees it. I might have to wear the nappy again, this time without any hint of fuss.

I start putting everything in the bag, trying to be as neat as possible. It’s already pretty full. Is there anything else I should bring? Oh yeah... there might be a use for some spanking implements! For example, I like to bring along a hairbrush with a thick, wooden base. Not enough men own a hairbrush. Gentlemen, I don’t care if you don’t have much hair left. If you want to humble an adult boy, there’s no better method than pulling them over your knee and breaking down their masculinity with a solid hair brush. I’m always blubbering and feeling like a very sorry little boy after a thorough brushing.

(A bath brush is good too. The longer handle gives the top a good swing. One guy likes to give me a bath when I’m over and, when I splash too much, he can just grab the brush and give me a few good swats. It never seems to matter that the sting that causes on a wet bottom makes me splash even harder. The bath brush is more of a present idea than something it would make sense for a boy to bring on a short trip, though.)

If every man needs to own a brush, then every boy needs to own our very own paddle. I’ve been spanked with plenty of implements, including a wide variety of paddles owned by the gentlemen that spank me. My personal paddle may just be another slab of wood compared to them. The difference is that it’s mine. It’s the one item I bring along knowing that it has one sole purpose: To be taken by a man and applied to my bottom until I’m bucking and squealing over his knee.

I think a boy’s paddle needs to have some design to give it personality. Mine is black with a Batman theme. One side has a yellow oval cut into the Bat-Signal. The other side has the words Red Robin, written in the red variant of his comic’s title font. This always brings some comment. Being sent to fetch the bat paddle gives me a nervous thrill that’s different from collecting any other random implement.

With the paddle and brush placed at the top of the bag, that should be everything. The only other consideration is my keys. Once I’ve parked, the house and car keys will go in a side pocket of the bag to be forgotten for a while. That just leaves the keys to the padlock keeping my willy locked in chastity.

I locked it three days ago. That’s short enough to be bearable but long enough to give me a horny buzz from packing the tools I’m bringing for my discipline. There are two keys for the padlock. One goes on my desk so I know it will be waiting for me. The other key will be given to Uncle to hold on to during my stay. I’m guessing he won’t be using it – some men don’t release me even when they’re fucking me – so I can look forward to a great wank when I get home.

But orgasms are a pleasure for adults. Before that, I have a whole night away as an adult boy to look forward to! And I really need to get moving. My stomach flutters as I wonder what Uncle will have waiting for me. I’m eager to find out.

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