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"For What's Going to Happen to You, You Need No Clothes"
Part 2 – What Happened Next

by No Name

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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: 25 Feb 2018

Loomis never got dressed so fast in all his life. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of what was going on in the gym. As he rushed out, he saw his tormentors lined up in the middle of the basketball court. Fifteen bare asses, all facing toward the line of windows. Already a handful of kids were gathering outside to watch. Coach Gonzalez was striding in front of the naked athletes, brandishing his infamous wooden paddle with the six carved holes, and scolding them for bullying a smaller boy. He ordered them to grab their ankles; he would give each of them three swats. Hard ones, boys. As hard as you deserve. As soon as each boy got his swats, he was to start running laps around the perimeter of the gymnasium and not stop until the coach told him to stop.

Loomis hung back, not sure of his proper role in this proceedings. Don’t be shy, lad, Coach Gonzalez called to him. Come up here where you can get a good luck at these bully boys getting paddled on the butt. Loomis took up this suggestion with unfeigned enthusiasm. The paddling had not yet even begun, but the sight of Wes and his followers bent over with their asses sticking high in the air was a delight to his eyes. Sure, he had seen all the guys naked in the shower before, but the etiquette of the locker room does not permit a boy to look very carefully at another boy. Here, he could look all he wanted, and enjoy their humiliating posture, with assholes exposed and scrotums dangling obscenely between their legs.

By now, over a dozen kids had gathered at the window and were staring in – over half of them girls.

Coach Gonzalez started at one end of the line, swatting the first boy’s bare bottom with gusto, three solid whacks. Then he slapped the boy’s ass with the palm of his hand and said, Get running. As the boy ran, his cock swinging, he saw the crowd at the window looking at him, pointing and laughing. Coach! he called out. Those kids are spying on us.

Let ’em look, the gym teacher growled. Doesn’t bother me none. He proceeded to paddle each boy in the line.

Loomis was loving it. One bare ass after another suffered its close encounter with the gym teacher’s ferocious paddle. The recipients acknowledged receipt with howls of pain and spasmodic jerks of their bodies. Loomis reveled in each and every whack and smiled anew at each and every howl. It was also fun to watch the growing throng of naked teens running around the perimeter of the gymnasium, displaying their dicks and red butts to an increasingly rowdy gathering of onlookers just outside the window.

Just then, a portly middle-aged woman bustled into the gym, trailed by a sixteen-year-old girl, carrying a clipoard. The woman was Mrs. Prendergast, the school principal. The girl was her student aide, Annie. Mrs. Prendergast was not the slightest bit deterred in her progress by all the naked lads, whether running laps or grasping ankles. The girl was a different matter. Her initial instinct was to be embarrassed at what she was seeing; then her embarrassment morphed into titillation. She wanted to pause and assess the situation. But her duty was with the older woman. So, as Mrs. Prendergast marched quickly and forcefully into the center of the large room, toward Coach Gonzalez, the girl tried to keep up with her.

What is the meaning of this, Mr. Gonzalez? Mrs. Prendergast demanded, without even the pretense of a polite salutation. Why are all these boys putting on this obscene display? With a certain distaste, Mrs. Prendergast eyed the four teenagers still lined up, awaiting their turn with the paddle. She observed their upthrust buttocks. She could not avoid the sight of their buttholes, or their dangling manly bits. They are practically causing a riot. She indicated the crowd gathered outside the windows. By now, there must be a hundred students, boys and girls alike, straining to see the naked athletes getting their punishments – laughing and pointing and jeering and taking photos.

Coach Gonzalez remained unruffled. Mrs. Prendergast did not scare HIM. He explained, in lurid detail, that he had discovered these boys bullying a younger lad in the locker room. He gestured at Loomis, the one clothed boy in the gym. This behavior was intolerable. Obviously, the miscreants had to be punished. He had brought them to the gym for their whacks simply because there was not room to paddle so large a group in his office.

Mrs. Prendergast was as opposed to bullying as the next lady principal, and agreed that bullies had to be punished. But was this public spectacle really required? Why had Mr. Gonzalez made them take off their clothes? It is against school board policy to force a student to remove his undergarments for discipline. (Teachers could, of course, make them drop their trousers when the occasion demanded, as it often did. Just not their underpants. The school board is funny that way.)

I most certainly did NOT make them take off their clothes, Coach Gonzalez stated emphatically. The incident occurred in the shower room and they were already . . . naked. I certainly was not going to order them to get DRESSED, under the circumstances. Frankly, madam, for what we are doing here, clothing is simply not needed. It just gets in the way. He brandished the paddle to show her what he meant.

Mrs. Prendergast was mollified. She fully approved of punishing bullies. There were few worse crimes in her book. And she could see the logic in Mr. Gonzalez’s position. School board policy may forbid teachers from forcing students to bare their bottoms for their spankings, but there was no school board policy specifically requiring teachers to let students put clothes back on, if they happened to be nude at the time of their infraction. Indeed, after the first shock, and although she would not admit it even to herself, Mrs. Prendergast rather appreciated the sight of all these fit athletic youths in their birthday suits. It was not a sight that women of her generation often get to see in the ordinary course of events.

Annie, her student aide, was having similar thoughts – with none of the older woman’s victorian reservations. This was beyond doubt the sexiest scene she had ever witnessed. Annie had seen pictures of naked males in her biology textbook, and even a few such pictures, furtively, on the internet, but this spectacle was of an entirely different order. Real, live young men, close to her own age! Fit young teenagers! Totally stark naked! Unable to hide a thing – showing off their firm young bottoms, their pubic hair, their impressively large pricks, their EVERYTHING! Her eyes sparkled with delight. She kept turning in every direction, so that she did not miss a THING.

May I continue? Coach Gonzalez asked, politely, but somehow conveying a hint of irritation at this unnecessary interruption, and perhaps at the unwarranted intrusion of females into this uber-male setting. He had little regard for the modesty of misbehaving boys, but there was something not quite right about having two females march in and observe when he was paddling bare-naked asses. Oh, well, she was the principal. She could do what she wished. He had butts to beat.

He turned to the four remaining boys. Imagining them now through the eyes of the lady principal and her very attractive teenage assistant, Coach Gonzalez noted that their posture was graceful, their legs were rippled with muscle, their waistlines were slim, their upper bodies were bursting with incipient musculature, and their butts – well, their butts, which due to their position were by far the most prominent features of their bodies, were round and smooth and firm and perfect for paddling. He could take a certain pride in the lads’ athletic physiques. After all, he was their gym instructor. He put them through their exercises. He could take at least partial credit for their leg muscles, their pec and abs and ’ceps. But their butts? He could not take credit for those. They were the awesome work of the Creator.

He paddled each and every one. The two women, old and young, marveled at the force he exerted with that fearsome implement, and were impressed by the skill with which he executed a last-second flick of the wrist, delivering a special sting to the vulnerable bottoms. They had never witnessed such a thing. The third nearby onlooker, Loomis, was equally captivated, though for a different reason. These three classmates were among his worst and most frequent tormentors. They loved picking on a smaller, weaker, nerdier kid like Loomis. Many a time they had grabbed him in the locker room and flicked him with wet towels, or tackled him on the playing fields and humiliated him by yanking off his shorts and spanking his bare butt, always to a cheering and appreciative audience. Now the shoe was on the other foot. He could exult in the sight of their bare asses getting a beating – harder and more public than any spanking he had ever suffered. It was sweet.

After the coach had finished – WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! – with each boy, the boy would join his already-paddled classmates, running naked laps around the gym. When all four were done, Coach Gonzalez let the running continue. Faster, boys, he shouted. If I spot a single one of you lazy louts slowing down, I will see what this paddle can do to speed you up. The boys would have liked to use their hands to hide their swinging cocks from the view of all the onlookers, but when you are running all-out, you cannot do that. The ladies, the kids outside, and Loomis all were therefore treated to the vision of over a dozen sets of bare buttocks rippling with exertion, and over a dozen cocks swaying side to side in the wind.

When the boys were sweaty and tired, Coach Gonzalez summoned them back to the middle of the gymnasium, where they stood at attention without even being told. They blushed at the sight of Mrs. Prendergast, and even more at the sight of Annie, both of whom were eyeing their bodies with considerably more than polite interest. The riotous crowd outside the window were bad enough, but they were far enough away to seem anonymous. The principal and her young aide were only a few feet away.

Coach Gonzalez told most of the boys they could return to the locker room, but that they had to stop and apologize to Loomis, one at a time, on their way out. If Loomis was not satisfied with their apology, they would be sent back for a second taste of the paddle. He told Wes and his two wing men to remain. Grab your ankles again, boys, he said. He wondered whether the principal would remain for the show. She did. These boys were the ringleaders, he explained. They are getting a second dose. This time, instead of paddling each culprit three times, he went down the line, paddling first one ass, then another, then the third, and then starting down the line for a second and third set. Don’t get out of position, he said. Don’t move – or the stroke won’t count.

Loomis was less interested in apologies than paddlings, so he allowed the naked line of boys to rush through their sorries with little elaboration. He got back to the paddle line in time for the third set. For some reason, his eye caught Annie’s, and they exchanged shy smiles. They both were thrilled to be seeing these fit athletic bullies getting their naked comeuppance. It was nice to be able to share the experience with someone else who was enjoying it as well.

After the third young man had gotten his third whack with the paddle, Coach Gonzalez allowed the threesome to stand. But he did not dismiss them. He always believed in mixing paddlings with exercise. Drop down and give me fifty, he said. That meant push-ups.

Coach Gonzalez decided to use the occasion to instruct the three boys in proper form. Because they were wearing no clothes, he could see how their muscles were being employed. Arms absolutely straight, he commanded. Grant, your legs are too close together. He tapped the insides of Grant’s legs to get him to widen his stance. Bodies straight. No, boys, your butts should not be sticking up in the air. He patted Wes’s bottom with the flat of the paddle. It was nice and red from the paddling. Faces forward. Chin down. The only parts of your body that should touch the ground are your chest and your chin. Well, those and your dick. He revised his instruction when he saw that the boys’ penises, unrestrained by jock straps or shorts, were the first body parts to touch down. He noticed that the principal and her aide were listening intently, and following his words with their eyes. They had never seen boys do naked push-ups before.

One of the boys collapsed on the floor after only thirty-three push-ups. Get your lazy bod off the floor, Coach Gonzalez snarled. The boy got up on his hands and knees, but could move no farther. The coach tapped his bottom with the paddle. You need some encouragement? he asked. When the boy did not respond, he let fly with the paddle. The boy screeched, and scrambled back into push-up position. The coach watched until he had done forty, then said it was enough. He sent Wes’s two wing men back to the locker room, after they gave Loomis the required apology. He kept Wes himself in the gymnasium. The oversized teenager stood at attention.

You know why I’m holding you back? the coach asked.

Yes, sir, Wes answered.

What do you expect I am going to do?

You are going to paddle my ass some more.


Cause I was the biggest bully of all.

You deserve this?

I deserve it.

Then assume the position. This time, hands flat on the floor. As Wes assumed this difficult position, which only the most agile and flexible athletes can do, the coach heard the sound of high-pitched chatter and laughter. The girls’ volleyball team was streaming into the gym from the girls’ locker room. Wes straightened up in surprise and embarrassment. Get back in position, Coach Gonzalez hissed, menace in his voice.

Do you mind, Miss Hathaway? We will only delay you a few moments. I caught this boy bullying another student in the shower room, spanking his bare butt. He has earned himself a serious session with the paddle. Miss Hathaway did not mind. She told her girls to do their warm-up exercises. She herself lingered. She figured that if the principal and this unknown teenage girl (Annie) were permitted to observe the proceedings, another female observer would not be amiss. In truth, there was more than one additional female observer. The volleyball team merely pretended to do their warm-ups. In fact, they were feasting their eyes on the naked boy with his butt sticking up in the air.

Coach Gonzalez delivered three more blows with the paddle, as hard and painful as he could deliver them. He waited about ten second between strokes, so that the pain from one would just be surging into Wes’s consciousness as the next stroke landed. Wes was hollering in pain with each one. You might think the girls, with their tender female sensibilities, would be sympathetic, but you would be wrong. The paddling itself was greeted with grins and high-fives; the sounds emitted by the boy brought giggles and even out-right laughter.

When he was done, the coach asked Loomis to escort Wes to the other end of the gymnasium, so that the volleyball team could practice. You decide what calisthenic Wes should do, he told Loomis. I need to speak with Miss Hathaway.

The two boys walked toward the end of the gym, which meant that they walked toward the windows, where dozens if not hundreds of their schoolmate were still watching. Loomis walked tall, smiling. Wes walked like a defeated and humiliated prisoner, his eyes to the ground. You can understand why. By the time they got to the end of the court, Loomis had decided what calisthenic to choose. Jumping jacks, he said.

You gotta be kidding, Wes complained.

Jumping jacks, Loomis repeated. And turn in a circle as you do them. That meant that the audience would be treated to the sight of his madly flopping cock, without losing the chance to observe the workings of his butt muscles. They would see it all.

Wes had done about fifty exercises when Coach Gonzales walked over to them. Mrs. Prendergast and Annie trailed behind him, anxious to observe the latest stage in the bully boy’s humiliation. If you’ve ever seen a boy do naked jumping jacks, you know what I mean. (If you have never seen a boy do naked jumping jacks, do a few yourself, and see what an obscene spectacle you make of yourself.) The foursome – Loomis, the coach, the principal, and Annie – stood and watched, with varying degrees of excitement. After Wes had done a hundred, Coach Gonzalez made Wes give Loomis an apology. Let me tell you, it was heartfelt and fulsome. Then he was allowed to return to the locker room, and privacy.

By the time Wes got back to the locker room, all the other guys were dressed. When Wes arrived, he discovered that his classmates were in an angry mood. That was all your fault, you motherfucker, one of them said. Yeah, asshole, if you hadn’t grabbed that nerd and spanked his ass, this never would have happened. Another chimed in: That was the fucking worst. The whole school saw us naked. And our asses beat like hell. One of the larger lads proposed: Let’s get him. And the boys descended on Wes, and proceeded to spank his sore red butt with their hands. Now we’re getting even, they said, dragging him out of the locker room and into the school courtyard, where the remaining onlookers got to see yet another naked spanking. It is not known whether Coach Gonzalez was aware that this was going on. All we know is that he did nothing about it.

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