Batter-ing Chase

Chase Wagner stayed with us the day before Thanksgiving because neither of his parents had been able to get the day off, and they don’t know many people in the area yet. Chase is the same age as Scooter Malone, and he’s fit in here well the other times he’s visited, so I had no problem with the idea.

Now, let me tell you just a bit about Chase. Chase is cute as a button quail. He’s got light brown hair, blue eyes, well-defined features, and a button nose. He’s not built like most boys about six. He’s tall and slender. Also, like a certain Warner Brothers’ cartoon, when you first see him, he should go into freeze frame, then underneath him, it should say, ‘Chase Wagner’, and beneath that, ‘Boyus Nonstopus’. The kid is a running machine.

That’s not to say he’s hyper. He’s definitely not ADHD. When he came to the Scout meeting right after Halloween, he was fascinated at what we were doing and sat quietly, watching everything that was going on. However, when he’s on his feet, fast forward seems to be his only speed.

I can see how he might get on some adults’ nerves. In some ways, he’s worse than Gordy. It’s not that he’s fidgety so much as it seems like he’s afraid he’s going to miss something. This is a boy who’s definitely going to have to make an effort to stop and smell the roses.

On the other hand, he is willing to sit and talk, if you’re willing to pay attention to him and can keep up (did I mention the little fellow’s smart?). We were talking about Pokemon. He was fascinated by all the cards, having watched the TV show, and wanted to learn how to play. I was happy to talk to him and promised to teach him the game, but it was the day before Thanksgiving, and I was a little busy. As a matter of fact, I was making a cake.

As you might guess, when a six-year-old boy realizes that you’re making a cake, he has one predominant, nearly instinctive reaction: "Can I lick the bowl?"

While bowl licking in my house occurs (it often doesn’t, since I usually bake while the kids are at school), it’s on a first come, first served basis. Chase was first in line, but I had to tell him he’d have to wait. With the size of my Thanksgiving guest list, I was making more than one cake. The bowl he wanted to lick would still be half-full of icing when I finished. I told him not right now and tried to explain why, but I think he may have been sulking too loudly to really hear me.

I know that for six year olds (and for not a few sixty year olds and most people in-between), ‘not right now’ and ‘in a few minutes’, sound a whole lot like ‘no’, so I took a few seconds to pay extra attention to him. I checked the ovens, then got around behind him, scooped him up onto my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, smacked his bottom a couple of times, twirled him around once or twice, then dropped him back onto the stool and tickled him. He was laughing and squirming, and I’d wired him up enough that he ran off to see what the other boys were doing.

As soon as Chase was chasing something else, I straightened up a bit, checked the oven, and took a quick potty break. I swear, I was only gone about two minutes. I may have heard some unusual noise, but I was washing my hands and quite honestly, it’s a weird time around my house if the boys are home and you don’t hear unusual noises.

Something looked weird when I came back into the kitchen, but it only took a second to realize one of the bar stools was gone. That’s not a big deal when we have a bunch of kids over, since they often end up migrating to someone’s room. It was when I came around the corner that the awful truth was revealed to me.

The missing bar stool was pushed up against the kitchen counter. At the foot of it knelt Chase, who was trying to scoop fudge icing back into my mixing bowl. Thankfully, I was using a plastic bowl, so nothing had broken. As soon as he saw my feet, he looked up, panic smeared across his face.

"Chase, don’t put it back in the bowl, honey. I think the floor’s clean, but we’d better make some more, just in case."

"I’m sorry, Mr. Jack."

Chase has a good vocabulary and is well spoken, but he’s missing one of his front teeth right now, and another has only half come in about halfway so far, so everything he says has a mild lisp. It’s because of that that I’ve tried to get him to drop the ‘mister’, but his dad insists on it as basic politeness.

It’s funny, but I’ve noticed I let little things distract me at times when I should probably get mad. It’s probably a way to keep from killing too many kids.

"Chase," I answered, having let all that run through my head in just a second, "I know this was an accident, and I never get upset about accidents, but didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t have any icing right now?"

The poor kid nodded miserably. I knew that his father was strict with him, maybe even a little stricter than I was with Van in some ways. In this case it didn’t matter. What the boy had done was direct disobedience. I’d told him he’d have to wait for me to do the other cakes before he could have any icing and he’d decided not to.

I grabbed some paper towels and a sponge and we got it cleaned up. Then I stood and picked him up.

"What did your daddy tell me to do if you didn’t behave today?"

"Spank me," he sobbed, tears already forming in his eyes.

"Do you think that sneaking icing after I told you to wait is behaving?"

"No, sir." The poor kid was on the edge or really crying now, and I felt horrible, even though I knew I wasn’t going to let him off.

"C’mon, honey. I’m not mad at you. What you did was wrong, and I’m going to spank your bottom so you’ll remember to mind, but I promise you’ll live."

"I don’t wanna spankin, Mr. Jack!" he nearly wailed. He was trying to push away, but I held him a bit more firmly, and he let me pull him against my shoulder.

I had to pause on the way to my office to get Ryan to watch the oven for me, but we were still there in a minute. I walked over to the spanking chair and sat down before putting Chase on his feet.

His eyes were wide and watery, with a few tears slowly creeping down his face. He was sniffling, and his mouth looked poised to erupt into wails, but he was looking right at me, and I think he was trying to be brave.

"You and Van have talked about spankings haven’t you?"

"And Dex, too," he assured me, and it took a second to realize he meant he’d also talked about spanking with Dex, not that he and Van had talked about Dex.

"Then you know what’s going to happen, so let’s get it over with."

Chase was wearing sneakers, but also jeans with a little western belt and a pearl-snapped shirt, looking very cowboy, except for the hair that his mom had moussed into little spikes. I undid the belt and removed it, placing it on the desk behind me, then reached up to the top snap. He watched intently as I undid each button, exposing his plain white undershirt. When the last one came open, he held out his arms to me, so I could undo the wrist snaps. As soon as those were open, he lifted his arms for me to pull the shirt off.

Chase didn’t resist as I took his hands and guided them to the sides of his t-shirt, then had him lift it up, so it rested under his arms. The boy is very lean; not that there’s more definition than you’d expect to a six year old, but his belly was flat and you could see the gentle ripple of his ribs. Considering the way I’d seen the kid eat, it was no wonder he ran so much; his metabolism must be set on overdrive.

He was obviously nervous and unhappy but was very obedient. His father obviously expected compliance and got it, since Chase seemed to anticipate what needed to be done. I worried a little bit about a six year old having had that many spankings, but I also knew that Chase was a boy who loved to please, and it wasn’t really that much different from how Van behaves when he’s spanked. Plus, Chase’s dad, Christian, seems like a really nice guy, and the two of them have a great relationship. If I ever saw a sign of abuse, I might worry, but I never had.

Chase did wince when I undid the snap on his jeans but didn’t try to move away as I lowered the zipper, exposing his Spongebob briefs. They were very cute: white, but the waistband, leg bands, and fly were all in dark blue, and it had a little picture of Spongebob on the front. When I got the chance, I had to make a point of turning Chase, so I could see the Spongebob playing ice hockey on the back.

As soon as his jeans were undone, I slid them down to his knees, then lifted him to my lap, so I could take off his sneakers, then his jeans. Setting him back on his feet, I slid Spongebob down. The boy seemed a little embarrassed as the sliding briefs exposed his little penis, but he was an average, circumcised little boy, and I didn’t pay it any more attention than I had his cute little belly button; which is to say I noticed it but hardly stared. My casual acceptance seemed to reassure him, and the little extra tension drained away. As soon as the briefs hit his ankles, Chase lifted each foot in turn. His eyes went wide as I opened the paddle drawer. I had to dig for a minute to find the Bare Cub, but I set it in my lap and closed that drawer, so he wouldn’t have to look at it.

"Is that what you spank Van with?"

"No. It’s what I used to spank Van with, but now we use…" I turned back to the drawer, and quickly drew Mr. Spanky out, "this, since he’s bigger now."

"I’m nearly as big as Van," he informed me.

"Do you want me to use this paddle instead, then?"

His eyes went wide as he realized what he’d said and was quickly shaking his head firmly. I dropped Mr. Spanky back into the drawer, then turned back to him.

"Chase, I just want to be sure you understand that I’m not mad at you, and I’m not spanking you for knocking over the bowl. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Why am I gonna spank you?"

"Because I didn’t mind."

"That’s right. Now, we both know spankings hurt, and you’re gonna cry, but I also know that you’re a good boy and a brave boy."

"But I didn’t mind you, and I’m scared. Van says you spank really hard."

"I know, buddy, but I have to spank hard to make sure you learn your lesson. Anyway, being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. It means you’re scared, but you do what you need to do anyway. Okay?"

I was trying to talk softly, and he was listening close. I waited for him to nod before I went on.

"And you are a good boy, Chase. You just made a bad decision. Now you have to pay for that, so we can put it behind us and get a fresh start. Are you gonna be brave for me?"

His little chin was quivering and his eyes were still damp and runny, but he nodded, even as he sniffed.

We were ready to begin, and I reached out for him, planning to turn him just a bit, so I could lift him over my lap, when he showed his first sign of resistance, backing away from me when I tried to turn him.

"Chase…?" I said, more questioningly than ominously.

"I want my Spanky Bear," he whined in reply.

I had to think a minute before asking, "Did you bring him with you?"

"No," and the poor kid sounded so piteous, it was hard to believe he’d only had his Spanky Bear for a few weeks.

"Well, if you d…. Would you like to use Van’s?"

"Can I?" he asked with sudden excitement and even a bit of happiness."

"I think he’ll let you. Why don’t I go ask?"

Before I could start to stand, Chase was nearly to the door, calling back, "I’ll go."

I could have called him back, but he didn’t seem very modest, he was already pulling his t-shirt down before he hit the door, and it’s not like he’d be the first naked boy we’ve had running around here anyway.

It was only moments later that he came back. He was holding the t-shirt down to cover his little peter, but, as soon as he came into the room, the shirt came back up his chest. "He’s not there. Bryce said they’re outside playing." Running around the house naked might be acceptable to him, but going outside was clearly something else.

"Well, if Van’s not here, then I’ll tell you it’s okay to use his Spanky Bear."

"It is?"

"Absolutely," I assured him. "We tried to ask Van, and since he’s not here, I’m telling you it’s okay as his daddy."

That seemed to be enough for Chase, and he was right back out the door, shirt coming down in front, but not enough to hide his pale, little bottom. He’d left the door open behind him, and I noticed a couple of the older boys watching TV had watched him go by with an understandable mix of sympathy and fond amusement.

Chase was gone only slightly longer this time than the last and walked back into my office with Spanky Bear squeezed tightly in the crook of his right arm, while the left arm casually held his t-shirt down, but not enough to prevent anyone who might have been interested in getting a peek at his boyish charm.

I had to tell Chase to close the door behind him. As soon as he did, he came back over to stand in front of me. I took the bear for a minute, and tried to adjust his t-shirt, but it kept sliding down, so I finally held it up, and let him grab the bear from my lap.

"There," I said, as he hugged the bear snuggly in both arms, "if you hold him like that, you’re shirt’ll be fine."

The poor kid’s happiness disappeared as I turned him so that I could lift him over my lap, and he was starting to snivel again by the time I had him in place. I knew it was best to just get it over with, but I couldn’t help pausing for just one second to admire his little bottom.

If Chase had any baby fat left on him, it must have been on his bottom. He didn’t have the top to bottom development that Bryce and his friends did, though his bottom wasn’t quite as round as Van’s or Scooter’s. What he did have was firm and nicely shaped, but with only very mild dimples, even with him tensed up.

I took a moment to lightly rub his bottom, helping him to relax a bit, while I repeated the lecture one last time. I don’t want to drag things out too long, but I do want to make sure they’re really listening to what I say and understanding it. His little bottom would easily fit in one of my hands, so I lifted my fingers and used just the palm to stroke each little cheek separately.

"I know you’re a good boy, Chase, but you weren’t acting very good earlier; were you?"

"No, Mr. Jack."

"What’d you do that wasn’t very good?"

"I didn’t mind you."

"And what happens to little boys when they don’t mind?"

"They get spanked."

"And that’s so they can get a fresh start and remember to behave next time. Right?"

The lecture was not helping him relax, and he was beginning to sob again, but he assured me I was right. I’d quit rubbing as I mentioned fresh start, and now had the paddle raised and ready to go.

"That’s my good boy. Just remember that I love you and want to help you learn to behave, and let’s get this over with."

Matching action to words, I smacked the paddle down on the upper part of his little bottom, centered right on his crack. He’d started to reply to me, but his ‘okay’ was suddenly cut off by an ‘Ow!’. Lifting the paddle, I saw a light pink blotch, and I quickly placed a second one below it.

The biggest difference between the Bare Cub and Mr. Spanky is length. There is a bit more width as well, but Mr. Spanky is longer, meaning there’s a lot more overlap with each swat, and any experienced naughty boy will tell you that, no matter how bad each swat is, it’s the overlap that’s really killer. With the Bare Cub, practically every swat could be separated.

That didn’t stop Chase from crying as I paddled down his left, then his right cheek—each of them receiving their own three smacks. He wasn’t crying loudly, but the sobs were hard, and he was nearly wailing around them. Each time the paddle landed, he’d go up in pitch for a second.

I repeated those same spanks again, two down the crack, and this time there was some overlap with the first ones, then three more to each cheek, back and forth this time, before I placed a final two on each of his upper thighs.

The poor baby was crying hard, and I lifted him up. He’s so small that, instead of sitting him in my lap, I laid him against my chest, which put the Spanky Bear resting on my shoulder, and Chase resting against the bear. I held him close, rubbing his back with my left hand and his bottom with my right.

It hadn’t been a long spanking, and his bottom was barely rosy when I finished, but it had been enough, especially for a little guy getting his first spanking from someone besides his dad. Noah would have been bemused, and Bryce disgusted, but it had been enough. I couldn’t be sure if Chase hadn’t just thought he’d get away with it, but I really think he wanted to test me. Now that he knew where things really stood between us, I thought we’d be okay. Besides, I could always wear him out next time, if there is one.

He lay against me like that, barely moving as he settled down. All he really did was to take one arm from the Spanky Bear and wrap it around my neck. After a while, when his sobs and hiccups had finally died away, he spoke. "Mister Jack?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Is it behind us now? Am I a good boy again?"

"You were always a good boy, but yeah, it’s behind us now."

"Can I stay here a little longer? I don’t wanna put on my pants yet."

"That’s fine," I assured him, smiling. "But it’s gonna cost you."

"Cost me?" he said, suddenly confused.

"Yep. You gotta give me a kiss if you wanna stay here."

The last of his sobs disappeared in a giggle, and I felt his damp face snuggle against my cheek as I felt a light smack. He leaned back to look at me, and I planted a kiss on the tip of his nose.

After another moment’s hug, I got up and carried him to my bathroom. He decided he needed to pee before letting me help him clean up and blow his nose. This time I made him walk, though we still held hands, back to the office, where I helped him get dressed. Most of the color was already fading, but I think he was happy to avoid sitting and bending for a little while longer.



While Chase and I had been taking care of business, Ryan had mixed up some more icing for us and had taken the other cakes out of the oven. I gave the other boys the rest of the icing that had been in bowl Chase knocked over and explained to him that there were sometimes other costs to disobeying. He wasn’t happy but sat patiently and even helped me ice the last cakes. When that was done, I did make sure he got as much of that bowl as he wanted before letting anyone else at it.





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