Steven and Troy Betz

It was a dark and stormy night… Okay, it really wasn’t, but I’ve always wanted to say that. Well, it was dark, but you expect that after 9pm in January. It was clear instead of stormy; and, as a matter of fact, it wasn’t even particularly cool. That’s actually not even that unusual for Texas.

I was just leaving the library. I’d really not wanted to be there that late, but the library was looking to expand their graphic novel collection, and I was working to seal the deal to fill their orders. As I was leaving, I saw two boys standing in front of the library, arguing.

The boys were very cute and very young looking. The younger was named Troy. He was about 5’3" and lean, weighing only 100 lbs or so. He had blond hair and hazel eyes that tended more towards green. He had a button nose and freckles, and looked just a little too tall to be 11. Steven was his big brother. Not much bigger, though. Steven looked maybe a year older, and was only about an inch taller than Troy, but looked a little heavier, because he had chipmunk cheeks. He was darker than his brother, with brown hair and eyes, but no freckles. Other than the coloration, they resembled each other very strongly. Both boys had hair passed their collars and which looked very mussed. The look wasn’t totally unappealing on either of them, since it made them look even more boyish.

No, I hadn’t suddenly turned into a mind reader. I’d met these boys this morning, when I had my scheduled meeting. I’d arrived a few minutes early and talked to them while waiting for the library to open. It was finals time at the high school, and their mom had allowed them to be exempt (which is still allowed in our district, if the child has an A average that can’t be changed by the test score and their parent gives permission). While waiting for the library to open, they’d asked me the time, I’d asked them why they were out of school, and we ended up talking for a bit.

I enjoyed the time to study them again. I’d seen them in the library a few times before that, and had decided that they were probably 12 and 14. I wanted to go younger than that, but felt Troy was too tall, and that there was probably more than a year between them. Even so, I didn’t think Steven could be much older, since I’d seen him in shorts (I told you that Texas winters could be pretty warm), and his legs were still hairless. That morning was when I found out I’d been wrong. The high school might allow exemptions, but they didn’t in elementary and middle school. Troy had to show me his school ID before I finally believed he was a sophomore in high school. After he’d proved it, I believed him that Steven was a grade ahead of him, and that the two of them were actually 15 and 17 years old.

They still looked like cute, little boys, though.

"What are you two arguing about?" I asked, walking up behind them. They both jumped at my voice.

As he jumped and turned to look at me, I saw that Troy was holding a couple of books.

"We missed the bus," Troy informed me, "because my stupid brother wouldn’t quit playing that stupid game on the computer."

Steven had mentioned that he was addicted to Runescape.

"You mean you two have been here all day? And don‘t call your brother stupid."

"Yeah," Steven replied, at the same time Troy said, "Yes, sir."

"And," Troy continued, "now we don’t have a way to get home."

"Do you live that far from here?"

"All the way over by the mall."

Now, that wasn’t really all that far - at least not compared to a marathon, but it was pretty a pretty good walk; especially for two shorter boys; especially at night. And, even though it wasn’t cold, it was a little nippy.

"Well," I told the two boys, who looked on the verge of starting to argue again, " I suppose I can give you a ride home, but I walked over here. I’m parked by the comic store, so we’ll have to go over there to get my car."

The two of them were happy to have the offer. The store wasn’t far, especially if we cut across the college campus. That wasn’t a problem since that was a nice stroll. And, it was also about 3 miles closer than their house.

As we started walking, I talked with the boys a minute or two. Troy wasn’t nearly as into the game as his big brother, but he enjoyed it. He’d spent part of the day playing it, and part looking around online. He also showed me the books he’d checked out. One was a pretty good novel (one of the Valdemar novels by Mercedes Lackey) and the other was a great graphic novel (Bone Vol. 2). We talked about books, sci-fi/ fantasy, and comics for a few minutes, when I noticed that Steven was looking a bit sulky. I finally asked him why.

"Because he’s always right about everything." The way he stressed ‘everything’ let me know this was an old argument.

"Well, Steven. You did know what time the bus runs, didn’t you? I mean, didn’t you know that it’s last trip by here comes at 8:50?"

He glared at me for a minute (a rather non-threatening look, coming from someone who looked like a cute, and not particularly big, 13-year old), then looked away and nodded his head.

"Well, then your brother was right. Wasn’t he?"

He nodded again, obviously reluctantly.

"Well, Troy was wrong to say you were stupid, but it was rather irresponsible of you. Wasn’t it?"

Steven sighed and looked a little… rejected maybe? as he admitted it.

"I mean, I expect my older boys to be responsible and a good example for their little brothers. You and Troy are close enough in age that that shouldn’t be a big deal, but he did the right thing waiting on you, and you repaid him by making him miss the bus. Did you think about how you’d get home, when you refused to leave a few minutes earlier?"

"No, he didn’t."

"No one asked you, Troy. Steven?"

"No, I didn’t think about it," he grudgingly admitted. "But, I hardly ever get to play since Mom’s computer broke."

"Well, I’ll say you're lucky tonight in two ways, Steve. First, because you found somebody to give you a ride home. We might not have a high crime rate around here, but that doesn’t mean that nothing could have happened to you two. Plus, I remember Troy saying he had a test tomorrow, and if it took you two or three hours to get home, what would that have done to his grade."

Steven just shrugged. Obviously not wanting to think about it.

After a minute, he spoke again. "You said I was lucky in two ways. What’s the other one?"

"You’re lucky you’re not my kid. I’d paddle your rear for a stunt like this."

Steven tucked his head down a bit. The light was too dim to tell for sure, but I think he was blushing. He was definitely quiet. His brother wasn’t, though.

"Yeah! He needs one."

I’m sure you know me by now. If I’m offered an opening, I’m going to pump for some information.

"He does, huh? How long’s it been since he had one?"

"Last year," Troy was happy to inform me. "Right before his birthday."

Steven was back to glaring again, this time at his little brother. Well, I could understand that. No one likes their dirty laundry aired; especially not when it reveals a boy was spanked until he was almost 16.

We’d crossed into the campus and were walking along a sidewalk. At this time of night, away from the dorms, and on a weeknight, it was pretty quiet. The campus wasn’t nearly as big as a major state school, like A&M or UT, but it was decent-sized and the grounds were well cared for. I glanced around and we were alone, so I decided to tease a bit.

"What do you think, Troy: should I spank him, then?"

"Yeah. With your belt!"

I was dressed like I normally did, in business casual. A button-down Oxford tucked into khaki slacks. My belt was hardly hidden, but it was interesting that he’d noticed it.

"Is that what you’re used to getting spanked with?"

"Uh-huh," Troy continued to volunteer. "When we got bigger, Mom started using one all the time."

"C’mere, Steven." I said as I started to pull the tab of my belt loose. "You think ten would remind you to be responsible next time?"

"Oh, no. I don’t like getting spankings."

I didn’t notice it then, but his phrasing was a little unusual and, had he stressed the ‘I’?

"Most people don’t. That’s why they do some good. Now, are you going to come here…?"

Usually you don’t have to finish that, for them to understand the threat. Steven apparently didn’t understand that I was joking (well, mostly) or didn’t want to take a chance. Or, maybe he felt Troy and I were picking on him. Either way, he ran a little bit ahead, then slowed to a fast walk. At first, we could keep an eye on him, but he soon pulled away from us.

"I wonder where he thinks he’s going?"

"Well, you said you parked by the comic store , so that’s probably where he’s going."

That made sense, so I saw no reason to worry.

"Would you have really spanked him?"

"No. I might have given him a few swats, but not hard enough to be real spanks. I would have just played with him."

"Really?" He sounded just a little disappointed. Of course, don’t most boys want their brother to get an occasional spanking?

"Yeah. You said he hasn’t had one since before he turned 16?"

"Uh-huh. I know it was right before his birthday; because Mom had promised to take us out for steak for his birthday, and he was afraid she’d change her mind. That’s why I remember it was right before."

"When’s his birthday?"

"November."

"So, he hasn’t been spanked in about 14 months," I said, musing to myself. Mostly thinking about a cute 17-year old boy who’d only been that long since his last spanking, even if the ‘mom‘ and ‘belt‘ parts didn‘t do that much for me.

"Yeah," Troy answered, not realizing I’d mostly been speaking to myself. "That’s why he needs a spanking so bad now."

"Really?" I replied again. "So, how long since your last spanking?"

"Before that. I let him talk me into skipping school last year, when it first started. We got caught and Mom whipped us really hard. We both cried that time."

"Right after school started, huh? So probably September?"

He thought about it for a minute, then agreed.

"Well, it sounds like Steven’s not the only one that could probably use a spanking."

"Me? But I didn’t do anything. You said he was being irresponsible."

"True. But are you going to tell me that, over the last 16 months or so, you haven’t earned yourself a good spanking or two?"

He was quite for a minute or two and we just kept walking. I was about to change the subject when he finally answered.

"No, I guess I probably need one, too."

I glanced over at him, but he was looking away from me. I glanced around, and we were coming up on a bench. I reached up to put my hand on the back of his neck. He looked at me, and I pointed at the bench.

"Well, this looks like a good place to take care of that."

I expected Troy to argue or pull away from me, but he didn’t. I steered him to the bench and he meekly followed my lead. Sitting down, I felt no resistance as I pulled Troy across my lap. I hadn’t sat back on the bench, so he was draped over my legs, and was only a little too tall (his feet still touched the ground, which isn’t perfect, but he still looked real good there). I patted his bottom a few times, noticing a wallet, then struck. One swat! A second. Again and again. I’d landed one swat on the upper part of each cheek, then back to the lower part of each cheek. The third swat had caught his upper leg a bit, as I tried to avoid the wallet. Then, one last swat firmly placed right over his anus.

I let Troy up and he gave me a rather disgusted look. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting, but I must have misread the signals. It was a shame, because I really liked the kid so far, but I guess getting to know him any further was now out of the question. I stood and started walking, and he quickly caught up with me. After a moment, he finally spoke.

"That didn’t hurt at all. It barely even stung a little, and that was only one swat."

I wasn’t sure what to make of Troy at that time, so I reached down very tentatively and placed my hand where I’d given the last swat.

"This one?" I asked.

"No. That one felt a little weird, but it didn’t sting." He reached behind him and took my wrist in his hand. Then he moved my hand to the left and down. "This one."

"Oh, that’s because I caught the top of your leg. It stings more there. If it’d been a real spanking, I wouldn’t have let you keep your wallet in your pants." I paused. "Then again, if it’d been a real spanking, I wouldn’t have let you keep your pants on anyway. That’s why it didn’t hurt. Your jeans are too thick and baggy."

As I said the last part, I gave his leg a squeeze, then removed my hand.

"Yeah, Mom always made us take our pants off when she spanked us. Did you say that you have kids?"

"Yeah. Nineteen sons." I’m used to dealing with skepticism, so I told him about my family, which were fosters and adopted, and my ‘real’ son, like being a sperm donor makes me more real to him than the other boys.

"Do you spank them?"

"Well, you’ve got to remember that my Steve just turned 26. I still spank the younger ones, though."

"You pull their pants down?"

"They wish that’s all I did."

"You mean you spank their bare butts?"

"Yup," I replied, then glanced at him. "You ever get it that way?"

"Yeah, when we were younger," he answered without hesitation, not seeming bothered by it in the least.

"Not since I was 11 or 12, though. Mom stopped because she said we were getting too old for her to take down our shorts."

"So she stopped spanking your bare bottom because she’s a woman and you two are boys?"

He thought about it for a few seconds. "Yeah, I guess so."

I took a step closer to him and rested my hand on his far shoulder.

"That doesn’t apply to us, though. I guess next time, I need to slide those jeans and Joe Boxers down before I try to spank you."

I gave his shoulder a squeeze and was about to move my hand when he leaned into me. When he’d been there a moment, rather than remove my hand, I let it fall forward, draping my arm around his shoulder.

"Yeah, that really burns. I’d sure learn my lesson that way."

We walked on a few of steps before he said anything else.

"You spank all your guys like that? Bare, with you hand?"

"Oh, no. I almost never use my hand. I have a bunch of paddles. A real little one for Van - he’s the six-year old - and a bath brush I can use on the oldest boys if they need it."

"You spank with a brush? Have you ever used the bristles?"

Not many people seem to have heard of bristle spankings. I only remember reading one story about it, so I’m not sure I’d know about it, if it hadn’t been for growing up friends with the Riley’s.

"I’ve done it a few times, if I really want to teach a lesson. The trouble with that is, it leaves all these little circles over the bottom, like pinpricks where the bristles hit. That used to be okay, but you’re not supposed to leave marks anymore when you spank." I paused for a second, to gather my thoughts. "I had friends that got spanked like that. They said the spanking was way worse than a normal spanking. A lot of times, they were still sore the next day, and it really hurt when they had to sit down. What was really bad was, after it stopped hurting, the little marks stared healing and they itched! Jeff told me that was almost worse than the spanking. He said he could feel the itch for two or three days after it stopped hurting."

Troy shifted, so I started to remove my arm, then realized he’d just moved his hands behind him and seemed to be rubbing his rear.

"So one spanking hurt for like, three or four days? I‘ll bet they stayed out of trouble for a while after that."

"I know they tried, but their parents were really strict. I think they must have got spanked two or three times a month, up until they were 11 or 12 years old."

Troy seemed a little disappointed as he asked, "You mean they stopped getting spankings then?"

"No, but like with your mom, their mom felt they were getting to old and to big for her, so their dad started whipping them with his strap."

He seemed to think about that for a minute. His arms shifted again, and his right arm settled around my waist in a half-hug. We walked like that for a little bit. It was taking us a while to get across the campus, but we were taking our time. I don’t think either of us were in a hurry to get to the car.

"Have you ever wet your hand when you spanked somebody? That stings a lot."

"I haven’t done that, but I’ve taken boys out of the bath or shower and spanked them when they’re wet."

"Yeah, I’ll bet that’s the same thing. Anyway, one time I was at my aunt’s house. You see, when she was still married, she stayed home to take care of my cousin, David. He’s only 13. I think he was 5 back then. But, since she didn’t work, we stayed with her during the summer. I don’t remember what we’d done, but we were all three going to get a spanking. We were standing outside the bathroom door, and she took Dave first, ‘cause he’s the youngest. He cried a lot, but he’s always been a crybaby. You could hear her popping his butt for a while, but she didn’t spank him too long. Then all you could hear was him crying. The door finally opened, and she stood him next to Steve and pulled me into the bathroom with her."

"Aunt Kay always spanked us pretty much the same way. She dragged us into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet, then she chewed us out for why ever she was mad at us, and while she did, she took down or pants and our ‘roos, then she…"

"Your roos?" I interrupted.

"Yeah," he replied, looking a little embarrassed. "My underoos."

"Okay," I told him, urging him to go on.

"Ummm…" He hummed for a minute, as he gathered his thoughts. "Anyway, she was chewing me out, while she pulled down my pants and shorts, and when she got my shorts down, she saw that they were dirty. You see, me and Steve always have to share clothes, ‘cause we’re almost the same size. Because I got in trouble for it, I remember that Steve had put on the last pair of clean ‘roos that day, so I just got a pair off the top of the hamper and didn’t look at them; but, I never got mine dirty like he did.

"So, she chewed me out some more, but instead of spanking me, she took my clothes all the way off, then she took me back in the hall and stood me next to David. She said something like, ‘I’ll deal with you in a minute,’ and left me standing there while she spanked Steven. He doesn’t cry like Dave does, but when he does, my bro cries really loud, and I already knew how bad it was going to hurt, and I was getting really scared.

"When she finished spanking Steve, she brought him out, but she let them go play. Then she took me back in the bathroom, but instead of sitting on the toilet, she sat on the edge of the tub. She had some of those wet cloth things that you throw away…"

"You mean diaper wipes or moist towelettes?"’

"Yeah, those things. But she cleaned my butt like I was a baby. Then she started running some water, and I thought she was going to give me a bath. Instead, she let the water get hot, then she stuck her hand under it and started spanking me. That really stung bad! She’d give me a few spanks, then she’d wet her hand again. I got it so much worse than the other guys, ‘cause wet spanks hurt more, and I’ll bet I got as many spanks as they did, and I had to wait, ‘cause she kept wetting her hand, so my spanking took a lot longer.

"You know what the worst thing was?" I just shook my head, so as not to interrupt him. "After she spanked me, she made me stand in the corner while she put my clothes in the wash. I mean, I’d seen David and Steve crying, but they got to see me naked and see my red butt, and I didn’t even do anything. I mean, nothing worse than what they did too. It was Steve’s fault."

He’d gotten a bit worked up at the unfairness of it, which was surprising, since it was over 8 years ago; but, some things stay with us. He took a breath and seemed to make himself relax, though.

"Anyway, Steve said my butt was really red. After she put some clothes in the wash, she let me wear some of David’s clothes. Steve came in while I was dressing, and he let me see his bottom, and it was kinda red still, so I didn’t feel as bad."

"I’ll bet you were careful about wearing his dirty clothes after that."

He looked at me and smiled. "Yeah." Then he stepped in towards me, so I put my arm around his shoulder again, which seemed to help him finish relaxing.

I looked ahead of us and realized that we had finished crossing the campus. I saw the store and my car, but not Steven. As we reached the street, he pulled away from me a bit, and I let my arm drop from his shoulders. As we were crossing, I saw Steven come sitting on the curb. He stood and walked over to us. There were only a couple of cars in sight, since the comic store and grill were both closed.

"What took ya’ll so long? Where’s your car?"

"Yeah," Troy chimed in. "I meant to ask why you parked all the way over here."

"In the first place, we didn’t run to get here. In the second place, I was already parked here when the librarian called and wanted to know if I could meet with her boss. And finally, my car's right there," I said, pointing at the Porsche.

Both boys jaws hit the ground.

"You drive a Porsche convertible?" Steven said in an unbelieving voice.

"Not real often, at this time of year, but it was such a nice day."

"Why were you here? Do you read comics or something?" "No. Well, yes, I read comics and play some games, but I was here because this is where my office is. I own the place."

I only thought their jaws dropped before.

"By the way, Steven; you’re going to have to let your little brother sit in your lap. The Boxster’s a coupe."

I got the two boys settled in the front seat and buckled in, then took them home. The entire way, the two of them were asking questions about the comic store. They’d shopped at the Lamar store a few times, but couldn’t afford to go there often. Once his brother was around, Troy started talking about his books again and was asking me questions about what I liked to read. They were both disappointed that I wouldn’t ‘open up’ the Porsche, but since we barely got on the highway, I didn’t think it was a good idea.

It wasn’t 15 minutes later, that I’d dropped them off, and was going back through the conversation I’d had with Troy, wondering what other stories he might have, and if I’d ever see them again. They kept running through my head that night, and I wondered what thoughts might have been going through his.<



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