A Collection of Short Stories
|by Y Lee Coyote|
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 Oct 2005
I have been struggling with the problem of posting a batch of short (500 word) stories. If I only had a couple, then there would not be a problem but to flood the archive with a sixteen of them seemed improper. I decided to post them as a set.
Each summer there is a Short Story Contest <http://socsexualityspanking.org/> in the newsgroup soc.sexuality.spanking. It is only a contest in the general sense since the only strict rules are a limit of 500 words and that the stories are related to spanking. I have selected some of mine as appropriate for this archive. Need I state that they are all on my own site.
These are of course all fiction.
I've set this on the Tramway that was featured in the Spiderman movie. Being a small space, holding only 125 passengers, which takes less than five minutes for the entire trip from Manhattan to Roosevelt Island, I felt this was a strange place for a spanking especially with the other coincidences. More info at http://www.rioc.com/tramtransportation.htm
It was thrilling beyond his wildest dreams. The tramway over the East River; the very same one in the Spiderman movie, was stuck. The operator said that there was nothing to worry about and they would be moving shortly. But ten year old Peter in his Spiderman outfit could not have been more pleased. As he ran back and from one window to the next hoping that his hero, no THE ONE AND ONLY SUPER HERO, would swing down from the big bridge and with a human web to rescue him and the others. Definitely one of his most extreme fantasies.
It was not the Green Goblin that got Peter into trouble. The other passengers were unhappy with the junior Spiderman causing the car to swing. They had irrational fears of falling in the river below. The operator told his mother to restrain the lad. She tried but an ten year old super hero is hard to restrain.
Then there was a sudden change. A soldier just grabbed the lad by the wrist and held him up. Abruptly the boy froze and hung limply. Even at ten he realized that the soldier was stronger than most men as well as huge. He had the bars and special forces badges that his father had. He had been captured. He had to be brave. What would his hero do? What could his hero do?
He missed much of the conversation the soldier had with his mother. What he did hear was his mother saying: "... but his father was killed at the front and I can not spank him like he needs."
"Yes, ma'am, my own late wife had the same problem with our sons. May I offer my services?"
"Yes, thank you." Peter could not believe what he was hearing. "I would appreciate that."
The other passengers cleared the seat and the soldier sat down. Peter wanted ever so much to jump but that was not possible for he was not really a super hero. Some of the ribbons on the stranger's uniform were like those on his father's uniform. Was this soldier a hero like his father?
"Peter," the soldier said, "you been naughty disturbing everyone. You have earned a spanking."
That was just what his father always said and he knew what to answer. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."
The soldier lowered his Spiderman tights «I must be brave.» and his Spiderman briefs. «I must be brave.» He was pulled overlap; just like his father had done «I must be brave.» but he knew he would cry. The first spank came and it hurt; it seared his young bottom. Then the torrent of spanks came and soon Peter was crying as expected of a well-spanked boy. His clothes were restored. His mother comforted him; tears were wiped away.
He looked at the soldier's ribbons again. He pointed. "My daddy had that one; and that; and that."
The tram started up again. The three went to explore Roosevelt Island hand-in-hand.
© Copyright A.I.L., July 1, 2005
I've set this on the USS Constitution the oldest commissioned warship in the world in these modern times. I felt this was an unusual location (in time-space) for a spanking. More info at www.ussconstitution.navy.mil about the ship and at http://www.nelsonsnavy.co.uk/broadside8.html about the punishment. In the US, sea scouts are 14-20 years old.
Roger Kentfield dressed in his spanking-new sea scout uniform to visit the USS Constitution. He had wanted to be a sailor since he could remember anything. He had been anxious and excited about the visit since the vacation was planned. The day was perfect for the visit and he was first on line that morning. Everything was thrilling and he could not stay still for even a second, running and climbing all over the oldest commissioned warship in the world. «If only it was under sail and I was in command.»
Even the patient crew had enough. An ensign quickly put a stop to it with a brisk "Come down at once, Mister." when he was climbing the rigging. That was an order and he had to obey. But he had been called 'mister' and not 'sailor' or, horrors, 'boy'. The last was unthinkable, the second was for EM and the first was for MIDSHIPMEN – officers to be. "REPORT." barked the officer. He responded with his name and rank. "Your conduct is unbecoming to a Midshipman." He realized that two sailors were next to him. "Follow me."
Only a few seconds later they were by a cannon. A bo's'n mate was standing there with a strap. "Four, bo's'n."
"Aye, Aye, Sir."
"Drop 'em and over the cannon, lad." said one of the sailors. He was surprised. He had thoughts of running but that was not the way of an officer – or even a wannabe officer. (Surely this had happened even to Farragut in his time.) He opened his belt and pants letting them fall to the deck. He hesitated trying to remember if the tradition was bare or not. He slid his skivvies down and quickly bent over the cannon. One of the sailors squatted down to take hold of his wrists. He pulled away for he was not a coward.
Only then was he aware of the tour talk to the other visitors about how midshipmen were punished. His position, known as to kiss the gunner's daughter was described in detail. His offence and sentence likewise as his butt felt the hot rays of the sun.
"Ready lad." whispered the sailor. The bo's'n mate swung. The strap made its mark; the lad howled but stayed put. Three more times the strap spoke but he bit his tongue to keep silent as his butt was tanned. The sailor told him to get up. He did quickly.
After that he was the most perfectly behaved sea scout you could imagine. One of the sailors took him around and he even got to explore restricted areas.
Leaving he talked with another lad who wondered about the next demo. "That was NO DEMO! That was for real!" he snapped. "And it fucken' hurt!"
A month later Roger's Ship got an e-mail message: "I met Scout Kentfield of your Ship on the USS Constitution. Has he told you about kissing the gunner's daughter? ;-) Enjoy the pictures on my site." An URL was enclosed.
© Copyright A.I.L., July 3, 2005
It is only fair to warn you that this is a groaner.
He was late for dinner not to mention that he should have been home two hours earlier to do his chores and his homework. But his father was not angry for, old as he was, he remembered how he would play with his friends after school. Ah, those were among the very best memories he had of when he was a carefree boy. It would be cruel to deprive his son, his only son, his most beloved son, of such wonderful experiences. All too soon, the boy would be a man without time to play or to relish the wonders of the world. The chores would wait, unlike cows needing milking, and there was oil for the lamp to study by after dinner.
There was a small whirlwind, the door slammed and the boy was there. The exuberant boy overflowing with life itself. The old man did his best to remember when he felt like that, lo so many long years ago. The room seem less chilly now; even before the boy gave him a great big hug and a kiss. "Look, papa," he cried holding up two good size fish, "Vicente and I went fishing after school and caught several. Tonight we can eat well." he added proudly. They could not afford even the old fish in the market to say nothing of the fresh ones.
"How wonderful, boy." he answered taking the fish to the sink to prepare them for the frying pan. The small piece of cheese he planed on eating would wait for another day. He wished that they had more than half a glass of wine to wash it down but a cobbler does not earn much and with school fees to pay...sacrifices must be made. With some education, the boy would have a better life.
"It is late, son. You had best do your homework. I'll clean up."
"I've done it, papa, while the line was waiting for the fish." responded the boy.
He sighed. "You're lying, son. Did you even go to school today?"
The boy knew the jig was up. "No, papa." He stared at the floor shamefaced. This was not the first time. The boy well knew how his father felt about this. He knew also what promises he had made.
"Drop your trousers and bend over, boy."
"Yes, papa." he said bravely. It was pointless to argue.
As the father pulled his belt from his trousers the boy got into position. "It is very bad to skip school. It will affect your entire life."
"WHACK!" growled the strap dozen times as it kissed the upturned bottom leaving it hot and red.
The boy pulled up his pants and hugged his father. "But the fish was good, papa, no?"
"The fish was very good, son, but school is most important."
"Yes, papa. But how did you know?" he asked.
"Why it is as plain as the nose on your face, Pinocchio." said Geppetto
© Copyright A.I.L., July 7, 2005
It is far from clear if the coding should be M/t, T/m or even M/M. But does it really matter?
The divorce had been messy and Jason moved away. He worked hard in many places and sent birthday gifts as well as support from strange and distant places. When Junior was almost out of high school Jason settled down. Junior decided that he would visit his father and told his mother that in no uncertain terms. She agreed for she knew she couldn't stop him.
Both were pleased with the reunion. Father, gruff and earthy from years in construction camps, was pleased that Junior was a large, strong, intelligent and athletic youth. Son, that he was going to get to know the real man that was his dad. Much life they had to share.
One evening dad had a bit too much to drink at dinner but since they could walk home, it was not really a problem. The situation was different in the morning. Junior found dad passed out the porch in the morning in his own puke. Apparently he had over indulged. Junior used the garden hose. While dad slept it off, Junior searched through the photo album for the images he wanted. He wanted to be ready.
"You better clean up, dad." said Junior when dad staggered in. Later Junior made him look at the old photos. They were pictures his granddad had taken of his father at his age. They showed him as he had been earlier – in his own mess and then his well-tanned hide. Junior had listened to the story very carefully; he believed the promises his dad made had inscribed beside pictures twenty-five years ago.
The man of experience could see the disappointment in the youth he so loved. After all these years of keeping his promise how could he had failed at this most critical time? Junior was distant, cold and unresponsive. Dad got the heirloom from his youth that he especially treasured because it had been his grandfather's and then his father's and they had bonded over it. He held it a long time before he returned to his son and placed it before him.
Junior examined it but remained silent. "That's what your granddad used, son." he paused to let that sink in. "I'm afraid that it needs to be used again but he no longer with us so you must." with that he dropped his trousers and lay over the end of the couch and waited.
Junior continued his examination and after a long time made an adult decision. It was not what he wanted to do. It was something that had to be done. Grandpa was not here and he must act in his stead. He got up and gripped the razor strop at the end and proceeded to tan his father's butt until it looked like the old picture.
He dropped the strop. His respect for his father had been restored.
As Junior reverted to a youth the held back tears ran down his cheeks and his father held him close. A special bond was forged in the furnace of love.
© Copyright A.I.L., July 9, 2005
I've set this in a StarTrek/The Next Generation sort of universe so that I could use a holodeck without any explanations. With the times so advanced people now use h-mail – hyperspace-mail. And in my usual Trickster fashion I left Ensign Crusher's smart-ass butt totally unspanked; in fact this is not even set on the Enterprise.
Having the families of the crew on board the Star Vessel required that there be an education system up to college level. Although the crew was well trained and disciplined, their spawn was not. There was a tendency for arrogance and disrespect to the school and its staff since they were on an advanced space ship. The school staff was at their wit's end. How they longed for the good old days of the one-room schoolhouse with its hickory stick, strap and paddle and the British Public school with its slipper and cane. How simple and easy it was in the good old days to deal with unruly youngsters.
Serendipity provided a solution from an ad for historic holodeck programs to allow people to experience earlier times. They h-mailed the vendor and ordered special versions.
Initially they were used just as history lessons. The students were taken to see how these archaic schools operated – including CP. They were less than impressed.
Qskytl was the first to find out what it was really about. He was a fifteen-year-old snob and trouble maker who thought that since his grandparents were from four different planets and his father third in command that he was more than very special.
When he was selected to have a holodeck session he was thrilled for deck time was hard to come by, even for him. He happily entered his id and selected SexXXX Vacation – a nudist resort on a free love planet vacation program for adults. What he got was Visit to the Headmaster (Level 4) as ordered by the teacher. He was quite surprised that he found himself waiting outside the headmaster's office as he had seen in the demonstration. He wanted to run, but found that he couldn't; the stop program command didn't work either. The door was ajar and he heard the lecture and the caning of another lad.
"They say he's the most wicked with the cane." whispered the lad next to him with trepidation. He watched the teary-eyed, just caned lad leave rubbing his bottom.
It was his turn. He was not prepared for the scolding lecture directed at him and then "Qskytl, remove your pants and take your position over my desk for the cane."
He did not expect the intense pain of the first cut he received and jumped up howling. That earned him an extra. He was in agony, with tears on his face, from the five cuts he received. By the time he returned to his quarters, the track marks showed clearly in his mirror. He dashed off to the sick bay, but they refused to treat him for they could not see any marks.
He was most confused for his butt was hurting yet no one else could see any marks.
The next time he just began to get out of line, the teacher asked if he wanted another trip to the holodeck and his behavior changed instantly.
The staff was quite pleased with the new protocols.
© Copyright A.I.L., July 16, 2005
The housekeeper's complaint gets a messy young man paddled.
It was almost a joke the way it happened almost daily. Usually mom but sometime dad would yell at seventeen year old Kevin about the mess that seemed to appear where ever he went in the house – shirts, school books, sports gear and even underwear. Then mom had to go to her mom to help out when she was sick for a month. It's not rocket science to figure out what sort of mess soon developed with just the two males in the house. Truth be told Kevin's dad, Roger, was not so very neat himself.
After the first week that mom was away Mrs. MacGillicutty, the cleaning lady, left a note: "Men – you have to learn to pick up after yourselves!" This got dad to thinking and to lay down the law to Kevin.
Both of them were anxious for mom's return for her three week absence seem like forever. On the morning of the day before her return when they were off to work and school dad told Kevin that he had asked Mrs. MacGillicutty to keep count of every item she had to pick up. You're going to get one cut of the paddle for each one, boy."
Of course, there was nothing Kevin could do about it anymore. By the time he got back from school, the count would have been made and recorded. He knew that he was going to have a very sore bottom when mom returned. When he returned from school he saw the envelope on the kitchen table. He wished that he could destroy it but that would not make his problem go away. It was after dinner that dad said to open it. Kevin read it and gulped.
"Are you sure that this is fair, dad?"
"Is this the right thing to do?"
"One cut per item?" he asked spacing out the questions.
"Yes, Kevin. But if it's more than ten, we can spread it out." He paused and then asked "How many, son?"
"Twelve, dad." the lad replied dropping his jeans and boxers and assuming the position. He had been through this before.
The paddle struck twelve times as Kevin dutifully counted. "I hope you will remember to put away your things in the future, son. You may put away the paddle now."
Kevin took the paddle in exchange for the tally sheet. His dad turned white as read he it. In an neat cursive script Mrs. MacGillicutty had written:
"Which shall it be, dad – ten now and ten tomorrow or twenty now?" asked Kevin very gently tapping his palm with the paddle. His dad was trapped and they both knew it.
To his credit, dad just dropped his slacks and boxers and assumed the position. Kevin gave the first one very hard and the rest more gently for the count of twenty.
© Copyright A.I.L. April 24; Revised July 30, 2005
Percy's never gets to the movie for a spanking intervenes.
Percy's bottom hurt like it never had before. His butt was a hot crimson red from a hard, bare-bottom, hand spanking he had just gotten from Mr. Medlin. He was trying to figure out exactly what had happened to have gotten him into this state as he sobbed, out of sight in the back section of the park.
An hour ago he did not know Mr. Medlin at all.
An hour ago he had never, never ever been spanked in his entire twelve years.
Yet, now he was crying from a well-deserved spanking on this Saturday afternoon rather than enjoying the movie that he been planing to see. The cinema was just another ten minute walk and he still had the money in his jeans.
When he stopped crying, he headed for the water fountain and washed his face. Then he lay on the lawn – prone – trying to figure things out. It was right after lunch and with his mother's approval that he had headed to the movie. Since he had an extra hour he had taken the long cut through the park. It was there that he had met Mr. Medlin. The man was watching birds and he struck up a conversation with him. He seemed like a very nice gentleman. They exchanged names and he even looked through his binoculars. The man told him how he had lost his own son because he had been very naughty when he had been Percy's age. Maybe, Mr. Medlin, mused if he had spanked his dear departed Johnny he would have been a good boy and would still be alive.
Percy insisted that he was a good and obedient boy. "If I wasn't, mother would not have allowed me to go to the movies. Anyway, when I'm naughty, I don't get spanked."
Then things changed.
Things changed very suddenly.
Mr. Medlin grabbed him and pulled him over to a bench. Before he knew quite what was happening, his jeans and briefs were down and he was over Mr. Medlin's lap getting spanked long and hard.
He hadn't understood the lecture he had gotten during the spanking. Almost as suddenly as it started it was over. Mr. Medlin was gone. He pulled up his jeans carefully as he cried. Then he went to the water fountain, washed his face and was now on the lawn thinking; thinking very hard.
He realized that he was very fortunate to have met Mr. Merdlin rather than the man his son, Johnny, had the misfortune to meet. He realized that he had truly and honestly deserved that hard spanking. He promised himself that he would be a good boy; an obedient boy in the future.
Percy gave his hot, red-bottom a rub as he formally promised himself that he would do as his parents, his teachers, many other adults and especially Mr. Medlin had told him:
«I PROMISE NOT TO SPEAK TO STRANGERS!»
© Copyright A.I.L. August 12, 2005
A youth helps out his friend's older brother – with a paddle.
Tex, Ken's bro, wasn't my friend but I was in their room playing a video game. Tex was a college freshman while I was a lowly HS junior. Ken, my friend, had called that he was going to be late because of some traffic jam. Tex was muttering to himself about how his dad would have killed him for fucking up at college. That certainly could not happen; not ever for his dad had died last year. But I knew what he was talking about for I had seen Ken's butt after a session with their dad. I also knew how Ken changed after his tail had been paddled. It was not rocket science to realize Tex had reacted the same way. I could see that the letter that Tex had on his desk was from the college.
I could also see his dad's frat paddle still hanging on the wall. I vividly remembered seeing Ken get it from his dad once. I was terribly grateful that I never did.
Tex would glance up at it frequently as he read and reread the letter. It was clear that he knew that he had fucked up and what would have happened had his father been alive. But his mother would never do it.
I stared at the paddle, also. We were alone. I got the paddle from the wall. "Tex, this is what you need." I said in a flat voice. He looked at me. I stared back. After a minute I continued: "You need a reminder to do your school work." He nodded almost imperceptibly. "Get into position, young man." That's exactly what his father had said to Ken.
He got up. "Yes, sir." He dropped his pants and bent over the bed presenting his bare ass for the paddle in my hand.
Ken had gotten three a year ago for messing up in school. Tex was older and bigger. I decided on six. I swung hard for I was not nearly as strong as his father had been.
Tex grunted but remained in place. He remained still for the other five but it was a struggle as I could see. Of course, his butt was glowing like two polished apples. "OK, you may get up now." He collapsed on the bed. I heard Ken come in and went downstairs.
"Hey, got a soda, man?"
"Sure; need one myself."
An hour later we went upstairs. Tex was studying. "Thanks, Eric." he said.
Ken looked at me quizzically. "I let him study. We all need to hit the books at times." and then to Tex "No problem, dude."
It was a week later that we could talk. "Thanks, Eric. You won't believe how much that helped me."
"My pleasure, Tex. I'm available anytime you need it and it's our secret." What I didn't add was that I'm looking forward to it. I practically creamed in my pants that first time and now I see his apple-red-butt every time I jerk off.
© Copyright A.I.L. August 16, 2005
A teen teaches his kid twin brothers a lesson.
The twins did it again. They told tall tails, a.k.a. lies, to me expecting that I would go off and get into a fight. Rather than do that, I had a very serious discussion with our parents. They, in turn, had a talk with the twins warning of dire consequences if they did not mend their ways.
It was less than two weeks later that they disparagingly reported that they had seen Rick sucking face with my girlfriend Nancy. Rick is my classmate but not really my friend. It was enough to make me mad but fortunately I knew that both Rick and Nancy were busy with different school activities.
They were hoping that I would clobber Rick or get clobbered by him. I let them think that as I stormed out of the house. I figured that I would find Rick in the park. I asked him to help me. We went off to the less crowed part of the park. The twins were still following surely hoping to see a fight. They were quite surprised when we cooperated in catching them rather than going at it tooth and nail.
"Rick, what happened to you when you lied?"
"I got strapped so hard that I couldn't sit for a week when I was fourteen. What about you, dude?"
"Dad used the hairbrush but I was only eleven." The twins suddenly got the idea and both turned pale. It was clear that they remembered the talk of ten days ago. They began to struggle and protest but Rick and I were prepared for that and it did not do them any good.
I sat on the nearby bench and undid Timmy's belt and opened his jeans. He looked so very sad and was begging me not to spank him and promising never to lie again. I think that he knew that he was going to get it and was not trying to get away anymore. So for the first time, I pulled him over my lap and held him in place. His cute little buns just stuck out waiting for my hand. I patted them a bit. Then I lifted my hand up and was about to deliver the first spank. It was very hard to do. I did not want to hurt my kid brother but now I could not stop. I brought it down medium hard. It made a loud spank sound and left a hand print. I gave him another twenty – some harder and some not. He cried some but not excessively.
Then it was Sammy's turn. Everything went the same way from jeans down to crying. I wiped their little faces. They ran off into the bushes to finish crying. "Don't be late for dinner." I yelled at them.
"Yes, big brother."
At dinner, mom asked how their day went. "Devan spanked us for lying." said Timmy very matter-of-factly.
"We deserved it." added Sammy. "We still love him."
Mom and dad were so puzzled they were silent.
© Copyright A.I.L. August 21, 2005
A Weblos den is self-governing – and punishes it own members.
They had made a solemn and secret Pact before the camping trip. It was with elaborate ritual and nine times nine drops of hot red blood had sealed it.
Regrettably, on the trip one had failed by having broken one of the rules. Following the Pact the eight Webelos and their first-class scout den chief had assembled in secret, in the relative dark of night to hold the trial. Part of the essence of the Pact was not to involve the rest of the pack, the den leader or other adults at camp for any violations. Their indoctrination of the meaning of democracy and self-government was complete. They could not be the best if they washed their dirty linen in public.
The Pact included the rules of conduct and procedures and even a punishment scale. The first business was to chose the officers – judge, jury; prosecutor and defense council. The charge was read and the evidence given. The defendant confessed and just pleaded for mercy with promises of good behavior.
Without the need for a verdict, the defendant waited while the others debated the punishment. The sentence was three cuts from each of the other members of the den. The convict went to cut necessary switch. When he returned, he stripped and got into position over a fallen tree. Even the slightest hesitation would have been dishonorable, shameful and a reason for scorn.
Then, by the light of the full moon, they lined up to do their unpleasant duty. Three times they delivered one cut each. The convict suffered in silence as befits a brave scout. He had trouble sleeping that night.
In the morning, it was obvious to all that he still felt the stings of the switch. But the eight Webelos were so very proud of their den chief. Not even once for the five remaining days of the trip did they fail to do as he directed the very first time. Their unity, group cohesion and den spirit showed as they triumphed in event after event.
© Copyright A.I.L. August 29, 2005
A bully gets summary judgement from his classmates.
By the time they were all in the third form it was unanimous among his classmates – Luther was a coward and a bully. Unfortunately, the school powers did not see his myriad of faults. When he was appointed to a position of minor authority with a little bit power he became even worse.
It was obvious to his classmates that he intimidated the other candidates for the lead role in the school play. He was determined perform the role of the great admiral as Midshipman Nelson and to be the star. It got to be too much for the other players until one of them developed a battle plan. The entire cast and crew all signed on. The end of the play was rewritten and an epilog added all in secret. The necessary props were gotten.
The play was going well except for the star's lackluster performance. The last unchanged scene went very well. "Midshipman Nelson you are to receive ten cuts for stealing." the Captain pronounced at the hearing with great enthusiasm
"Aye, Aye, Captain." replied the Bosun as a sailor bound the star's wrists. The rope was different than in rehearsals. Luther was led to the cannon and pulled over it more roughly than in the past. The rope was quickly clipped to the cannon's base. The bully was in the trap before he knew that there was a hunt.
"Sailor, ready him." ordered the Bosun. Luther was a little surprised but did not resist and his britches were pulled down and a second rope was wrapped about his ankles and belayed. The trap was now closed.
Luther was surprised when the officer did not dash on to the set yelling: "Hold it Bosun; there been a confession. Mr. Nelson is innocent. Free him." as he did in the rehearsals. Instead, his pants were yanked down and the officer expounded on the sentence and finished with: "Do your duty, Bosun."
And that is just what the Bosun enthusiastically did. He raised the section of untwisted hawser and brought it down hard on the exposed buns of Luther in front of the entire audience composed of the student body and parents. Luther yelled! Luther cursed!
"Gag him." snapped the officer. That done the Bosun continued the strapping. Struggle as he might, he could not free himself nor effectively complain. The scene was watched with great pleasure by the other students of the school all of whom wished that it was real.. As the realization that the flogging was indeed real enveloped them, not one of them sympathized with Luther as they enjoyed his buns turning red.
The curtain came down to a standing ovation. When raised for a curtain call, a short epilogue was said explaining that the Great Admiral Nelson was never so treated for such an offence.
© Copyright A.I.L. September 12, 2005
An undercover agent investigates reports of excess violence in a high school. In American high schools the vice-principal (VP) is in charge of discipline.
There had been unsubstantiated reports. I was here to investigate and to bear witness should those anecdotes be proven true. Along with a hundred others, I reported on the first day of school. I was just another new freshman. I did not feel good about this assignment; it was a dirty sort of job but I was assigned and my oath required that I do it and to the best of my ability. Sometimes the way to a better world is through not so nice methods.
Things were going well for within two weeks I located the school toughs; the guys who constantly caused trouble. The ones most likely to know of the evil that was being committed but who obviously could never be called to testify. I made friends and enemies. I was generous and could be counted on to obtain beer. My reputation grew quickly; all knew that I was a nasty character.
I quickly moved from one detention a week to three. I had many visits to the VP. We did not like each other at all. He had a reputation for using the paddle. A big, nasty paddle like a fraternity paddle on steroids. The toughs did not appreciate a mere freshie moving in like I owned 'their' place; we had fights.
I was there just two months when the VP used IT on me. He gave me a choice – drop my jeans and briefs and bend over or be helped by the gorilla-like janitor to do it. The second option came with a bonus of 10 percent. I took the first option. I dropped them and assumed the position. I got five hard ones. I was red for days. Freshmen usually get only three the first time but he was in a generous mood. I called him some creative names and disparaged his ancestors. He laughed. The guys admired my butt in the showers; awesome was the word they used.
It was a week later that I went for it. In the morning I told off sweet old Ms. Krinke and walked out of her class. Then I slipped into the girls' locker room. That was fun. When they spotted me, they freaked.
The VP was smiling when the gorilla dragged me into the office. "You went too far and are going to be a very sorry boy." I tried to escape but soon they had me stripped and in position. The VP stepped into position and attacked my vulnerable butt with a vengeance. I screamed on the third and I got twelve cuts. He put his all into it.
They were both surprised when I pulled out the cuffs and snapped them on as I arrested them on a section 826f charge: assault with excessive number and force. I had the proof for the court.
If I had been a human I would have had a busted pelvis but I'm an android. For this assignment I was enhanced with EDGE (electronic data gathering equipment) in my butt.
In these closing days of the contest I realized that I had not done an EDGE story. I find them hard to do because I like to have some fun and edgy is not usually fun. I checked to see what acronym might fit in hope of doing a twist on that. Well, I did that but the story is actually edge for it is about excessive punishment.
© Copyright A.I.L. September 22, 2005
A youth is punished for behaving stupidly.
It was a blazing hot day even at the lake where my family and my cousin's were spending the week. My cousin Jeff (my age) and Timmy and Andy, our kid brothers, were going to go swimming. Jeff insisted on putting on all his gear so that he looked like an alien and his flippers slapped every step on the stair.
Our dads were chatting and as we went down the porch step, Uncle Peter called out: "JEFFERY, WHAT HAVE WE SAID ABOUT WEARING FLIPPERS OUT OF THE WATER