Dillon Simmons and Matt Granger

"So anyway, I really think you guys need to take a look at the Palladium stuff. All the games use the same basic rules, so you can cross characters over. Plus, they’re supposed to be releasing a new game next year called Rifts. It sounds incredible."

"Hey, Jack! What’s this stuff?"

I looked across the store to where Matt was calling me, then excused myself from Dillon, who went back to looking at the miniatures.

The two boys were best friends and obviously spent a lot, if not most, of their time together. They were in the store more often together than alone. And I did enjoy their company. I actually enjoyed teaching and interacting with kids, and these two were a great example of why. They were curious about comics and stuff, and we had a lot of overlap in our areas of interest. Matt was more into comics, while Dillon mostly read X-Men, and spent a lot of time painting fantasy miniatures. Our conversation had started when he asked me about Games Workshop’s huge line of miniature games, and spread out from there, before Matt had interrupted us.

Matt was looking at one of the promotional posters I’d hung, and I was explaining the Acts of Vengeance cross-over that would be starting the next month. He was asking me some excellent questions on the history of some of the characters he didn’t know, and I was helping him decide if his allowance could be stretched to cover a new series or two, or if he wanted me to just point out a few key issues that would expand on the titles he already read.

We’d been talking for several minutes when the phone rang. As I was crossing the store to answer it, I automatically went into my normal routine, glancing back and forth to make sure the shelves were straight, the aisles were clear, and checking to be sure I’d not missed or forgotten another customer. Before I finished, I’d received a very nasty shock.

Remember, I’d only opened the store a couple of months before. Some of my customers went back to the time when I’d been working at Comics and Stuff. On the other hand, I had a much brighter, cleaner, and easier to find store and was gaining new customers every day. I didn’t know everybody, and didn’t know a lot of them well, but there were some whom I’d really come to think of as friends.

Matt came up and waited while I finished the phone call, then I rang out his books, choosing not to say anything. I think he could tell I was upset about something, but maybe he assumed it was about the phone call, because he didn’t really say much, either. When he’d paid, he picked up his bag and called Dillon. Dillon came walking up and, as the two started to leave, I finally spoke about what was bothering me.

"I have to tell you that I’m really disappointed."

Both of them turned to face me, shock and worry evident on their faces.

"Why?" Matt asked. Dillon looked like he tried to say something, but his voice wasn’t working.

"Because I really like the two of you, and I thought we were friends."

"We are," Dillon managed to cough out.

"I don’t know that we really are guys. You don’t do this kind of thing to friends. Do you want to handle this between me and you, Dillon, or should I call the police?"

Matt’s face went red and Dillon’s went white, but he didn’t try to deny anything. Instead, even as he was asking, "Please don’t call the police," he was digging a lead Dungeons and Dragon miniature from his bag. Even if I hadn’t seen him in the mirror as he slipped it into the bag, it was large enough that I would have probably noticed it anyway.

The boy laid it on the counter, blushing a deep red all the way to the tips of his ears as I gave him an unpleasant stare. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Please, Jack, don’t be mad at him. We didn’t mean no harm. I dared him to."

"That doesn’t really matter, Matthew," I said, turning to see him cringe as I used his full name. "You dare somebody in games or to do something embarrassing, not to commit a crime." Both boys blanched when I used the c-word. "And the fact that you dared him to do it just means that you are also responsible, not that he isn’t. And it still doesn’t answer what I’m supposed to do with you."

Steven was only 7 at the time, but thanks to my little brothers, I’d already had plenty of practice on my nasty look. The two of them squirmed silently under it in a very satisfactory way.

"I like both of you. I’ve enjoyed talking to either and both of you. However, the two of you have done something pretty rotten. I can’t trust you now. I can’t think of a reason why I should let you back in the store. What I should do is tell your parents. The trouble with that is, it doesn’t sound like your parents," I said, looking at Dillon, "will really take care of you the way they should."

"Matt’s parents," I said, "sound like they’d give him about what he deserves for this." Matt looked like he was whimpering silently at the thought. I might not have had all my parenting skills fine-tuned at that point, but I’d already had plenty of practice ferreting out how cute boys were dealt with when they were naughty.

"If both of you got punished like that, I wouldn’t mind turning you over to your parents. I’m willing to bet that by the time Matt’s dad gets through with him, I’ll be able to trust him to behave for a while. The problem with that is," I said, turning back to Dillon, "that it won’t be very fair to him."

"My dad’s whipped Dillon before," Matt assured me, much to my pleasure. Not so much Dillon’s, though, judging by the dull red color he turned. Neither boy was exactly vivacious, but Matt was definitely the leader. More than that, Dillon was extremely shy, almost to the point of being withdrawn. It was only later that I learned he’d had a slight speech impairment as a child and had become very shy about talking before it was corrected.

After a moment’s silence, I pursued the matter. "How did that happen?"

"Well, Dad’s spanked him more than once; we’ve been friends since we were 5, you know. The time he whipped him was a few weeks ago." Matt paused and flushed a light pink himself before going on. "He caught us smoking. Dillon was staying with us, so Dad whipped him too."

"And is he staying with you now?"

Matt shrugged, but Dillon answered. "No, Sir."

"Then it doesn’t matter because your dad won’t be whipping him this time. That does sound like what you deserve, though; doesn’t it, Dillon?"

Dillon nodded dully; his blush, which had been retreating, returned as strong as ever.

Part of it was because of his nature, but I think part was probably because of their looks. Both were a little big for twelve, each standing about 5’4" or 5'5". They were neither fat nor skinny, but Matt probably weighed about 120, while Dillon was a bit leaner—maybe 112 or so. Other than that, they were pretty dissimilar. Both boys were cute, but in a geeky way. Matt’s features seemed a little big for his face at that time, and he wore his hair at a mid-length that didn’t really do much for him. Dillon wore heavy, plastic framed, ugly glasses (it turned out he was just recovering from a total klutz phase during which he‘d broken three pairs in a year) and his teeth were a bit crooked. Neither boy was ugly, but you could tell that the girls wouldn’t be chasing them. The main difference, though, was their coloring. Matt was blond with light green eyes, while Dillon had dark brown hair and eyes of a dark blue. Despite that, Matt’s skin tone was actually a little deeper than Dillon’s, and he had a bit of natural ruddiness to his cheeks. Dillon, despite a slight problem with acne, actually had smooth, creamy skin, without so much as a freckle. Unfortunately, that skin clearly revealed every blush that came his way.

After I’d let them stew for a moment, while pausing to examine them, I made my bid. "Since you both did basically the same thing, it’s only fair that you’re punished together and in the same way. I wish I could just spank both of you myself. That way I’d not just know you’d been punished the same way, but I’d be sure you’d had what you deserve, so I wouldn’t mind letting you back in here."

The two of them looked at each other for a second, then Dillon leaned over and whispered something to Matt. Matt looked at me, then back at Dillon and shrugged. After a second, Matt nodded, then Dillon nodded, then they both looked back at me. As usual, Matt took the lead.

"If you tell our parents, we’ll both get grounded, but I’ll get whipped too."

"Yeah," Dillon continued, almost like they’d rehearsed it. "But he’ll get grounded for like a week or something. My parents don’t spank me no more, so I’ll probably get grounded for like a month or something."

"And really," Matt picked up the thread again, "my parents’ll chew me out pretty good, but they’ll think it was mostly Dill’s fault, cause he didn’t have to take the dare; but really, I’m just as guilty as he is, just like you said."

"So if you’re gonna spank us, please don’t tell our parents, too. That wouldn’t be fair."

"And that’s what you want to do? You’d rather me punish you both now, like Matt’s dad does, and get it over with?"

They looked back at each other for a moment. Then they both nodded and turned back to me. "Yes, sir. We deserve it, and we’d rather get it over with."

Then Dillon picked it up again, "Besides, like you said, we should both get the same punishment."

"Yeah," Matt went on, " and I know I shouldn’t a been daring Dill to do stuff like that, so he should get to watch me get it, anyway."

"Okay. Before we do anything else, I want to make sure we’re all on the same page, though. You’ve both told me about how you get in trouble at home; but, just to make sure there’re no misunderstandings—Dillon, why don’t you tell me about what happened when Matt’s dad caught you two smoking."

Dillon ummed, erred, and stuttered through most of it, blushing the whole time, but managed to tell me about it. "He told us to go to Matt’s room and get ready for bed."

"How do you do that?" I interrupted.

"Just take off our clothes."

"So you both sleep in…?"

"Just our shorts. Anyway, he came in a couple of minutes later. We were both sitting on Matt’s bed, and he chewed us out for a while and told us stuff like how dangerous smoking was and stuff. Then he made us stand up and take off our underwear, and he took off his belt while we did that. Then we had to lay down on Matt’s bed, and he started hitting our butts with the belt. It hurt really bad." Dillon paused at that point, his eyes unfocused, as if he was reliving it. "It hurt really bad," he repeated, "and I couldn’t stay down. I kept trying to get up and putting my hands behind me, so he had me get up while he finished whipping Matt. I thought I was over, but he whipped Matt a bunch more, ‘til he was crying really hard— I was already. Then, when he let Matt get up, he made me lay down again, but he had Matt hold me down and hold my hands out of the way."

"And that’s been a few weeks ago?"

"Well, it was Spring Break when I stayed with them, so…."

"About four months," I supplied. "But you obviously remember what it was like. You’d rather me do that than turn the both of you over to your parents?"

This time they didn’t have to look at each other before nodding. Since we were all in agreement, I took the phone off the hook and locked the door, putting up a ‘Back in 10 minutes’ sign. Then I led the two boys to the back of the store.

The backroom of that store was huge, forming an ‘L’ shape around the outside of it. The back of it was my warehouse space. The side I’d set up like an office. I’d started to put a break room there also, until I realized that since I’d be working almost exclusively by myself, there wasn’t much call for a break room. Still, I’d brought in a couple of pieces of garage sale furniture, and it was there that I led the boys.

"Start," I told them, coming to a halt by an armchair and coffee table, "by getting your clothes off."

I like geek-cute a lot better than handsome. As I said, both boys were a little tall for 12 and had a medium build. I watched the unveiling with interest as they began, both a little hesitant and nervous—obviously shy about me, if not each other.

Dillon was wearing a t-shirt, which came off quickly, before he knelt down to undo his shoes. He started to toss one to the table, but I stopped him.

"You boys have already been caught, and I’d like to believe that you would have admitted it if you’d taken anything else. However, right now, I don’t feel like I can trust you, so hand me your clothes as you take them off."

Dillon handed the shirt to me, and I ran it through my hands before dropping it on the table. A minute later, I did the same to Matt’s Hawaiian shirt. With no shirts, Matt was a bit softer than Dillon. Dillon’s belly was flat and firm, with a crease running down it from his chest. Matt wasn’t flabby, but his belly didn’t really have any definition to it.

When Dillon stood up, I signaled that I didn’t really need to check his shoes, so he dropped them under the table. Matt was wearing loafers and just toed them off, before starting on his jeans, but Dill was only a moment behind him.

Boxers for young men had been around for a few years at that point, but they’d not really caught on yet (at least not in Bransom), so I was expecting what I saw when they each spread their flies to reveal white cotton. Matt shoved his jeans down as soon as they were loose, but it looked like Dillon had to take a moment to gather his courage before doing it—blushing deeply as he did.

Dillon had to stand there for a minute, holding his jeans out to me, while I searched through Matt’s pockets, assuring myself they’d taken nothing else. Then I did the same to Dill’s pants, which suddenly left him unsure of what to do with his hands.

Both boys had a fairly nice bulge, which didn’t surprise me at their height. They were standing there nervously in just briefs and socks, though I’m not sure if the nerves were from embarrassment or their upcoming punishment—probably both.

"You can leave the socks on, but I want to check them real quick," I told them, as I laid Dillon’s pants on top of the heap of clothing. Both boys fidgeted as I knelt down in front of them, running my hands over their crew socks, bringing me close enough to catch a whiff of the musky, slightly stale smell of boy sweat from each of them. I think Matt liked the position, since his bulge became more prominent in the moment I was checking him.

Both boys’ legs had been smooth, but I’d noticed Dillon had a little hair under his arms, as he’d pulled his t-shirt off. I was really looking forward to seeing what was still hidden but also knew I had to do this properly. I stared at them for a moment, running through different options in my mind, but also enjoying the darkening circles of their areolas, Dillon’s firm, mildly defined chest, and Matt’s more boyish one.

"Matt, you two are about the same size and about the same age. Even though it was your idea and you’re both in trouble, Dillon’s the one who actually stole it. That means that I’d usually make him watch you get it before he took his turn. To me, it’s worse to have to wait and see what you’re getting. However, since this is what you’re used to, and Dillon’s only got it this way once, I think we should let him go first. You okay with that?"

I think ‘okay’ might have been stretching things a bit, especially since I’d just told him that waiting was worse. He did finally nod, however. I think his concern for his friend finally overcame his fear.

"All right then, shorts off, both of you."

The two of them hesitantly shoved their briefs down their smooth legs, then stepped out of them before standing again. Matt cupped his hands in front of himself, but not quickly enough to keep me from seeing he was standing not quite straight up. When Dillon stood back up, he let his hands drop to his side for a minute. Then he looked over and saw Matt covering himself, and he started to move his hands in front of him, but I put a stop to that quickly enough.

"Hands by your sides."

Both boys flushed a bit at the command but exposed themselves. They were both decent size for twelve-year-olds. It was easy to see that Matt was nearly four inches, since he was over half-hard. He wasn’t especially thick, though. Dillon, on the other hand, was too soft to guess at his length, but even soft, he looked like he had a good width on him. Both of them had nice-sized balls and plenty of dangle, though their sacs were still loose with boyhood. Again, the biggest difference between the two of them had to do with hair. Dillon had a thin line that was long enough that it was beginning to get some curls. Matt was still hairless. At first, I’d thought there was a bigger difference. Matt was a little excited, but Dillon wasn’t, and I almost thought Dillon was uncut, until I realized he just had a very loose circumcision, and his nerves had the little guy trying to pull back inside.

They may have been made a little nervous by my quiet examination of them, but I think that the other thing I was doing had most of their attention. I know their eyes were riveted to my hands as I slid my belt out of the loops. I was doing it slowly and saw them wince with each snap as it popped through another loop. Once it came free, I grasped the buckle in my hand and wrapped the leather once around my fist, then doubled it over. I took the far end in my left hand, gave it some slack, then snapped it. They both flinched, and Dillon’s eyes were suddenly shiny with unshed tears.

Letting the belt droop down from my right hand, I grabbed the chair with my left and turned it so its back was to the room. Then, after a moment’s thought, I pulled it back a couple of feet.

The chair was a bit unusual; it had a fairly low back—not quite three feet high, which also had a bit of a slant to it. Since the arms were at the same height as the back and curved, and since the whole thing was padded along the top, it was actually fairly relaxing to slip into for a minute. The real reason I’d picked it up, though, was that the back was about the perfect height for someone between about 4’10" and 5’8" to bend across.

When I was satisfied with the chair’s positioning, making sure I had room behind me for a good swing, I turned back to the boys. "Dillon, I think we’re ready for you now."

The boy’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, even as he looked up, either trying to relax a stiff, aching neck, or in a brief prayer. Either way, before I could say anything else, he glanced at Matt, took a deep breath, then stepped up to the chair.

"Hand me your glasses," I told him. "No use in getting them dirty and wet." I took them from him and laid them on the coffee table, deliberately nestling them into Matt’s briefs.

Turning back to the boy, I directed him across the back of the chair. It was just the perfect height. I watched him go up on the balls of his feet as he followed my direction to put his head in the seat; then he had to go nearly on tiptoe as I had him spread his legs about as wide as the legs of the chair. When I was satisfied with his position, the only problem was that his hands were dangling free, so I turned to the other boy.

"Matt, since Dill couldn’t stay in position for his last whipping, I think you should just help him from the start." I saw Dillon flinch at hearing that, though I couldn’t tell if he thought it implied cowardice on his part, or he was worried about his friend’s naked body coming into contact with his own. Either way, Matt hesitantly made his way to stand by the other boy’s head.

"Dillon, put your hands behind your back. Matt, take his wrists and just hold them. Don’t bend them towards his shoulders, and don’t push down on his back. Are you both okay like that?" Both of them assured me that they were. I’m not willing to swear to their veracity, but I think neither of them was totally uncomfortable, anyway.

With Dillon in position, I was able to admire his rear for a moment. With his legs as far apart as I had them, he couldn’t clench much at all, but his cheeks were still tense with trying. Like his belly, his bottom was firm and shaped. The cheeks might have been a bit too deeply dimpled but had plenty of backwards shape to them. Instead of being pressed together, his cheeks seemed to stand a bit apart from each other, giving a deeper view of his crevice, though not exposing anything. He did have what seemed an especially distinct ‘V’ at the top of his cheeks, blending into his lower back.

I ran my hand across both cheeks, then gave him a pat. "The bad news, Dillon," I said, finally breaking the tense silence, "is that, despite what you’re used to, you should be able to take a very hard whipping… which is exactly what you deserve."

Even as I was saying that, I was measuring the leather against his bottom for the first stroke. I paused for a second and pulled the tab of the belt just a bit, shortening it enough that it would bite into his dimples without snapping around to bruise his hips. As soon as I was happy with that, I let the first lash fly.

I didn’t use much shoulder, mostly elbow and a bit of wrist, but it seemed to be enough, judging by the way Dillon howled when the belt snapped across his cheeks. His body jerked, but he didn’t try to stand, though Matt did have to suddenly take a firmer grip on his wrists. I watched for a moment as the swath of white running across the middle of Dillon’s creamy buns slowly grew red, then I placed another one just below it.

Dillon must not have really remembered how badly the belt hurt because he took the second swat better. It didn’t take many more swats to have him howling again with each of them, and he began to sob, which slowly grew more distinct after each stroke.

Four strokes from the middle of his bottom to the lowest parts, then I started again at the top. I was tempted to go down onto his legs, but there was no telling how he ran around his house at night, and I didn’t want to leave anything that would draw attention. Even though I was trying hard not to leave marks, I knew the redness from a good strapping could still last for awhile.

Seven more strokes, the first three striking on fresh territory that wasn’t as sensitive, and I think he thought he was growing used to it, because when the belt cut back into the lower bottom, onto already reddened territory, he positively shrieked and began to fight to get up. Matt looked up at me, tears running down his face, possibly in empathy for his buddy, or dread that I was soon going to be doing the same to him, but probably both. Matt did continue to hold the other boy down, though, as the belt tracked back to the lowest, most sensitive places on his rear.

Dillon was running out of energy but still managing to kick and squirm as I finished the second trip down, counting 11 full strokes. I didn’t think that was quite enough for a 12-year-old who’d been caught shoplifting, so I choked up on the belt a bit more, then leaned in to put my left hand in the small of his back. At my signal, Matt released Dillon’s hands, and I cracked two extra-hard lashes, as quickly as I could, into the place on either side, where cheek became leg.

As soon as the second stroke had fallen, I removed my hand, and Dillon came up like a shot. He might have been low on energy a moment ago, but he was now doing a vigorous fire dance, jumping around, crying loudly, and totally unconcerned about how his boyhood was flopping about.

Matt watched him wide-eyed for a moment, until I signaled Matt to come around the chair. Reluctantly, already knowing that I wasn’t going to be going any easier on him, knowing that the next three or four minutes were going to be agony, and knowing that he’d soon be making as much of a spectacle of himself as Dillon now was, he made his way around and bent across the back of the chair, spreading his legs and going up on tiptoe, just like I’d had his friend do. There was only one difference.

"I expect you to be able to keep yourself down, Matt. Just reach forward, grab a hold of the chair legs, and hang on tight. This is going to be hard, but you’re too smart to pull a dumb stunt like this, so it’s no more than what you deserve. Isn’t it?"

I watched his shoulders shift as he leaned forward, then saw his chest expand in a deep breath, before he replied, "Yes, sir."

Like I said, Matt was a little heavier than Dillon. That’s not to say he was fat. He looked to be in pretty good shape, but he had just a little extra weight on him, like he was getting ready for a growth spurt. It kept him from having much definition, but he had a great butt. Rounder than Dillon’s, though it didn’t have the dimples that I like. It wasn’t quite round enough to call it a bubble butt, but it was pleasant.

I ran my hand across his cheeks, then gave both a firm squeeze. It was soft, but with a firmness beneath it. He took the attention stoically, but flinched when I laid the leather across his cheeks. His rear was broader than Dillon’s, so I adjusted the belt again, then lined it back up. I thought I was ready to start Matt’s whipping, but glanced up to see how Dillon was taking it and was shocked. I’d thought he would be interested in Matt’s punishment, but the naked boy had his arms wrapped around himself, his head tucked down, and was still shaking hard.

I stepped away from Matt and reached up towards Dillon. He had to have seen my hand, but still flinched when I touched the back of his neck. I squeezed, and he looked up at me. I nearly flinched when I saw the haunted look in his eyes.

"Hey, Dill. It’s okay now. It’s over, okay?"

He looked at me for a minute, then nodded slightly.

"I know that was really harsh, but what you did was wrong and could have got you in serious trouble. But it’s over now. Stay outta trouble and it never has to happen again. All right?" I asked a second time, quietly. He nodded again, but seemed a little more confident this time. I picked his glasses up and handed them back to him, then turned my attention back to Matt, as he slid them on.

As I stepped back over to Matt, I lined the belt up to be sure I was standing in just the right place. I glanced back at Dillon. He was giving his rear a soft rub and watching Matt, so I felt like he’d gotten through whatever crisis he’d been having. Looking back down, I checked the belt again. When it was perfect, I let it fall.

Matt yelped as the belt snapped down across his cheeks, making them shake just a bit, but he didn’t howl like his buddy had. I snapped the belt down again, and suddenly regretted not having spanked Matt first. His chubby butt could have stood a lot more, and it was hard to be fair to him, when I wanted to whip each cheek separately. Still, I contained myself, snapping the belt across the bottom half of his rear, a little lower each time, until I reached the point where bottom met legs, and I started over again.

Matt yelped where Dillon had howled. Where Dillon had struggled against his friend’s hold and tried to get up, Matt kept a hard grip on the legs of the chair, and was holding himself down, even as his yelps turned into sobs and cries.

I was still taking my time with each lash, letting the last one fade to red before I started the next one. As they started tracking down across the already reddened, lower part of his butt, his legs were twitching hard, his feet would come off the ground, then settle back, but I could see his toes curling into little fists, even as his head was coming up and his back was arching. I would watch each swipe color, then watch his legs do their little dance and settle down before giving the next.

With the next swat, right above his sit spots, he couldn’t hold himself anymore, and his hand flew back to cover the spot. He wasn’t rubbing, he had his palm out, trying to protect himself from the next stripe.

"Move your hand, Matt."

"Please," he forced through his sobs, "please, I’m sorry. That’s enough. Please!"

"I’m not going to tell you again, Matt."

His left hand was still holding on to the chair, but his right hand wasn’t moving from behind him. "All right," I said as the belt cracked down again across his hand. He screamed and jerked his hand away, shaking it as I cracked the belt down again, driving his scream up to a shriek.

"I warned you, boy. Now grab the leg and don’t let go."

He was crying hard now and loud as he reached back down to grab the leg. He’d really already had as many as Dill, so I choked up on the belt again and gave him the last two strokes like I had Dillon, but a little more slowly.

After the second one, I told him he could get up. He moved to his feet a little more slowly than Dillon had, and his dance was more soft shoe than Dillon’s energetic modern dance had been. Mostly, Matt was shifting from foot to foot, shaking and curling one, then going back to the other. What I liked best was, he wasn’t rubbing his rear, he was squeezing the cheeks, one then the other, then giving a brief rub before squeezing again.

He finally settled down, and I had him step over by the other boy. Dillon had apparently been beginning to enjoy some afterglow, and I’d been able to see that Matt actually was longer than he was.

"What I ought to do is bend you both over and give you a little more. That way, since the two of you got in trouble together, you can have a good cry together." Both of them flinched and looked very worried. "As a matter of fact, because Matt was honest enough to admit what happened, I actually gave both of you barely half of what I think you really deserve." Matt’s sobbing had been settling but suddenly became harsher; and Dillon’s lingering tears started to flow more heavily again.

"But, I think you’ve had enough, so I won’t. Put your shorts on."

Both boys looked like they nearly collapsed with relief and nearly scuffled in the rush to retrieve their briefs. I have to admit to a certain amount of enjoyment as I watched them pull on the white cotton, as they so carefully bent to slide their feet into the leg holes, then winced as the soft cotton settled against their blazing buns.

As soon as they’d managed that, they reached for their pants, but I stopped them. "I don’t think we’re ready for those yet." Dillon flinched and Matt groaned, but neither of them argued. Probably a good idea since the belt was still in my hand.

"I want you two to understand that I really like both of you. You’re nice kids and I enjoy talking to you. If I didn’t like you, I would have called the police and not had to deal with all this trouble. Got me?"

I paused for them both to nod.

"Good. However, just because I like you, doesn’t mean I trust you. You ruined the trust today, and it’s going to take you a while to earn it back. So from now on, anytime you’re in the store, if I want to make sure you’re not taking anything, I’ll tell you to come back here, and you’ll strip down, just like you are now. Understand?"

They both nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly.

"And do you agree?"

They looked at me blankly for a minute, then looked at each other. Neither of them was excited about being an active participant in this.

"Look. Most of the time when you two come in here, you’re either alone or together. I won’t do this in front of other friends or your parents. However, I will do it whenever I feel like it, not just if I think you might be stealing something. That way, I can prove to myself that you’re not trying to steal again, and you can earn my trust back. Now, are we okay with that, and do you agree?"

They both said ‘Yes, sir’ with quite a bit more enthusiasm.

"Good. Then you two need to get washed up. You can get to the bathroom through the back; just follow it all the way around. When you’ve washed up and got a drink, you can come back and get dressed."

While I’d been talking, I’d also been threading my belt back into my pants, much to their obvious relief, since it seemed to take the threat of more whipping completely off the table. Both boys were moving slowly and stiffly, obviously not going anywhere in a hurry.

"Move boys!" I snapped at them. "You don’t want to get in trouble for getting home late." Even as I spoke, I stepped up and placed (fairly) light pops on each cotton-covered bottom. Both of them yelped and jumped, then managed to pick up their pace, at least a bit.

I stepped into the front of the store and re-opened. No customers were waiting, so I crossed to the other door to the back room, which opened next to the bathroom. The two boys were both in there, and the door was partially shut, but I stepped close enough to see that they both had their briefs down and were checking out each other, and it looked like they were using the full-length mirror that hung across from the sink to check out themselves. I had to smile and wonder if there was a way I could install a peephole, wishing that I could join the inspections.




The boys kept coming in and I did strip search them a few times. Not every time, but several times over the next few months, but together and alone. I finally quit when I was sure I’d made my point and they felt I’d come to trust them again. Then, about six months after the shoplifting incident, I realized that Matt had finally had that growth spurt I’d been expecting, and I teased him into the back room for one last search. He wasn’t hard, but he’d firmed up very nicely.

Both boys continued to be customers, for a while. The summer the boys were 16 (1993), Matt’s dad got a big promotion and they moved to-- Amarillo or Abilene, I never could remember. Even after that, he and Dillon remained friends, and I saw him a number of times over the next two or three years, even hosting him on a couple of occasions when he couldn’t stay with Dillon for some reason (such as when Dillon came down with a bad case of the flu one day into his week’s stay).

Dillon, on the other hand, finished high school and college right here in Bransom. During that time, he and I became best friends. He never did quit reading comics entirely, though he cut back a lot as he grew more and more interested in gaming. He finally moved out of Bransom in 2001 to take his dream job working in a computer game-development company. By that time, he was married and had three step-children. A couple of years ago, he moved back. Our families keep us from spending a huge amount of time together (and he lives across town, so his kids aren’t close with mine), but we’re still friends and try to get together at least occasionally.

I know that’s not the last time the two of them dared each other into trouble; but if Matt or Dillon ever shoplifted again, they were much better about it, because I didn‘t catch them. That’s not to say it was the last time I spanked either or both of them, though. Those stories will just have to wait for another time.