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Here I was -- a happy, fun-loving normal fourteen year old -- rather I had been until an hour ago. Now I was totally miserable. Naked, crying like a little kid into my pillow even before my new lights out time of nine o'clock with my bum flaming red from the first spanking I ever had. And it was all my brother's fault. Yes, it was Richards' fault. I know what you're thinking; how I'm the victim of delusions rather then injustice. No, I'm not a total angel but I'm also smart enough to give that impression much of the time. Gather close, and I shall explain.\n\nFour days ago my stupid, idiotic, wimp of a big brother let mum find proof positive that he smoked, drank and had porno (complete with cum stains). He is sixteen years old, more than two years older than me, and he kept a bottle (empty -- probably his first. Some souvenir; will he keep his first used condom too?), some fags and the porno mags where mum could and DID find them. He even had been hiding a pair of school shorts with them. Actually, I did not find out about those for a month. I'll get back to them later. When the you-know-what hit the fan, mum and dad not only hit the roof but went through it. Dick got his bum spanked right proper. Dad stripped him down to his birthday suit pulled him across his lap and spanked away. As his bum turned red, his howls grew louder. \"Don't hurt your hand, dear, use this.\" is exactly what mum said sweetly, handing him grandma's old hairbrush. It was a heavy oak brush about three inches across (7.5 cm). Just like the ones in stories the old folk tell us about. This really did a number on his arse.\n\nNot only were his cheeks red hot, the rest of him was also red. This was because Dad had stripped him completely before he finished lecturing him. Thus he was blushing from mum, as well as dad, seeing his bat and balls -- complete with his bush which he just started to grow a half year ago just as I did. Although he is more than two years older then me, I'm at least as developed _s_e_x_ually as he is. Mum had never seen his bush before and hadn't even seen his tackle since he was twelve and it was boy sized. I thought that this was somewhat crueller than it had to be, although mum did not even look. On the other hand, even I thought that he really earned the spanking for his stupidity. I also thought that it was hypocritical for dad to beat on him for stuff that he does -- I don't think that he _f_u_c_k_ed mum just twice and they both drink. And although dad does not smoke now (I'll give him credit for that), he did -- having started at sixteen which is Dick's age.\n\nEventually, dad stopped spanking him and stood the crybaby up. He no long cared about his stuff hanging out for his arse was on fire. They made him stand in the corner for a half hour while I was sent to do my homework. Just before dinner, mum came to our room, got some clothes for Dick and told me come down for dinner. Once we are there, she dressed Dicky like he was a five year old. No, not with clothes in a style appropriate for a five year old but actually dressing him. It was not so bad when she put the blue polo shirt on him but when she tucked his balls into his pants he nearly fainted. (Truth be told, that was pretty bloody awful.) Then the grey school shorts and knee socks. He looked like a kid from at least thirty years ago rather than the 1980's or his namesake from The Famous Five.\n\nDad read Dick the riot act. Dick was told that he was going to be dressed in this school boy uniform from now on; everyday not just school days. What I did not realize at that moment is he would have shorts and NOT longs. Then I got hit with the next salvo, just like Dick. \"New rules for BOTH of you. I'll work out the details and tell you by the weekend. You boys have been running wild far to long and your mother and I have had more than enough.\" We ate the rest of the meal in silence.\n\nDad drove us to school in the morning and Dick's troubles started immediately. It certainly did not help that mum had taken her wooden spoon to the back of his thighs -- below the shorts -- for not having his socks properly pulled all the way up. Even though few guys got spanked these days, we all knew about the marks left by spankings and Dick had some fresh ones. He was rejected by his friends. The uniform was not the problem for everyone wore them at our grammar school. The shorts were the problem. Even the first form kids wore longs. Shorts were definitely little boys stuff. He was a loser big time.\n\nI probably should explain what this shorts stuff is all about for the non-Brits. Up until about 1960 the British school boy was always in uniform. There were minor differences between schools but basically they were the same -- a cap (gone by the 80's), shirt and tie, blazer, short trousers, knee socks (and they better be pulled up!) and dress shoes (shined). Long trousers were a sign of age and maturity. By the eighties, however, even primary school boys wore longs except, perhaps, in the most posh public schools. So being the only one in our school with shorts marked one as strange and as a baby.\n\nIt was three days later that my sky fell in. Dad told us the new rules and I lost it. Well to be more precise, I lost my nut. Believe me, you would have also. I ranted at the injustice of it all: \"Dick does wrong and I'm turned into a freak. I gotta wear shorts not only to school but everywhere and a nine o'clock bedtime like I was ten! You must be daft. This is 1982 not 1882!\" (I thought that was a cleaver line. Neither mum nor dad thought so.)\n\nDad first snapped at me to be quiet but I just yelled more. I finally stopped when he slapped me. He had never done that before and I was stunned. Then he ripped off my shirt and yanked down my trousers. I soon found out why Dick was howling so much when he was being spanked even before the hairbrush action. Yes, I knew that spankings are supposed to hurt but I was not prepared for the pain and the total helplessness of the situation. As he started his assault, he sent Dick for the hairbrush. In just a few minutes, I felt like I was only five years old and I was even bawling like one. And spanked I was until I thought that I would never sit again after I felt the hard wood hairbrush.\n\nThen I was led upstairs and ordered to clean my teeth and wee. You think that weeing with a morning hard-on is tough, try it when you're fourteen, with a flaming tail and your parents are watching. It was only after dad mentioned nappies as an alternative and mum went to deal with Dick that I was able to.\n\nIn the morning mum came in to wake us and make sure that we dressed properly. It was like when I was under ten when Dick and I both went naked almost all the time, particularly on our holidays at the shore. Somehow mum never noticed that both of us were now men, well, young men with appropriate signs.\n\nDad dropped us off at school and we walked into hell.\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "It was devastating.  Here I was -- a happy, fun-loving normal fourteen year old -- rather I had been until an hour ago.  Now I was totally miserable.  Naked, crying like a little kid into my pillow even before my new lights out time of nine o'clock with my bum flaming red from the first spanking I ever had.  And it was all my brother's fault.  Yes, it was Richards' fault.  I know what you're thinking; how I'm the victim of delusions rather then injustice.  No, I'm not a total angel but I'm also smart enough to give that impression much of the time.  Gather close, and I shall explain.

Four days ago my stupid, idiotic, wimp of a big brother let mum find proof positive that he smoked, drank and had porno (complete with cum stains).  He is sixteen years old, more than two years older than me, and he kept a bottle (empty -- probably his first.  Some souvenir; will he keep his first used condom too?), some fags and the porno mags where mum could and DID find them.  He even had been hiding a pair of school shorts with them.  Actually, I did not find out about those for a month.  I'll get back to them later.  When the you-know-what hit the fan, mum and dad not only hit the roof but went through it.  Dick got his bum spanked right proper.  Dad stripped him down to his birthday suit pulled him across his lap and spanked away.  As his bum turned red, his howls grew louder.  "Don't hurt your hand, dear, use this." is exactly what mum said sweetly, handing him grandma's old hairbrush.  It was a heavy oak brush about three inches across (7.5 cm).  Just like the ones in stories the old folk tell us about.  This really did a number on his arse.

Not only were his cheeks red hot, the rest of him was also red.  This was because Dad had stripped him completely before he finished lecturing him.  Thus he was blushing from mum, as well as dad, seeing his bat and balls -- complete with his bush which he just started to grow a half year ago just as I did.  Although he is more than two years older then me, I'm at least as developed _s_e_x_ually as he is.  Mum had never seen his bush before and hadn't even seen his tackle since he was twelve and it was boy sized.  I thought that this was somewhat crueller than it had to be, although mum did not even look.  On the other hand, even I thought that he really earned the spanking for his stupidity.  I also thought that it was hypocritical for dad to beat on him for stuff that he does -- I don't think that he _f_u_c_k_ed mum just twice and they both drink.  And although dad does not smoke now (I'll give him credit for that), he did -- having started at sixteen which is Dick's age.

Eventually, dad stopped spanking him and stood the crybaby up.  He no long cared about his stuff hanging out for his arse was on fire.  They made him stand in the corner for a half hour while I was sent to do my homework.  Just before dinner, mum came to our room, got some clothes for Dick and told me come down for dinner.  Once we are there, she dressed Dicky like he was a five year old.  No, not with clothes in a style appropriate for a five year old but actually dressing him.  It was not so bad when she put the blue polo shirt on him but when she tucked his balls into his pants he nearly fainted.  (Truth be told, that was pretty bloody awful.)  Then the grey school shorts and knee socks.  He looked like a kid from at least thirty years ago rather than the 1980's or his namesake from The Famous Five.

Dad read Dick the riot act.  Dick was told that he was going to be dressed in this school boy uniform from now on; everyday not just school days.  What I did not realize at that moment is he would have shorts and NOT longs.  Then I got hit with the next salvo, just like Dick.  "New rules for BOTH of you.  I'll work out the details and tell you by the weekend.  You boys have been running wild far to long and your mother and I have had more than enough."  We ate the rest of the meal in silence.

Dad drove us to school in the morning and Dick's troubles started immediately.  It certainly did not help that mum had taken her wooden spoon to the back of his thighs -- below the shorts -- for not having his socks properly pulled all the way up.  Even though few guys got spanked these days, we all knew about the marks left by spankings and Dick had some fresh ones.  He was rejected by his friends.  The uniform was not the problem for everyone wore them at our grammar school.  The shorts were the problem.  Even the first form kids wore longs.  Shorts were definitely little boys stuff.  He was a loser big time.

I probably should explain what this shorts stuff is all about for the non-Brits.  Up until about 1960 the British school boy was always in uniform.  There were minor differences between schools but basically they were the same -- a cap (gone by the 80's), shirt and tie, blazer, short trousers, knee socks (and they better be pulled up!) and dress shoes (shined).  Long trousers were a sign of age and maturity.  By the eighties, however, even primary school boys wore longs except, perhaps, in the most posh public schools.  So being the only one in our school with shorts marked one as strange and as a baby.

It was three days later that my sky fell in.  Dad told us the new rules and I lost it.  Well to be more precise, I lost my nut.  Believe me, you would have also.  I ranted at the injustice of it all: "Dick does wrong and I'm turned into a freak. I gotta wear shorts not only to school but everywhere and a nine o'clock bedtime like I was ten!  You must be daft.  This is 1982 not 1882!"  (I thought that was a cleaver line.  Neither mum nor dad thought so.)

Dad first snapped at me to be quiet but I just yelled more.  I finally stopped when he slapped me.  He had never done that before and I was stunned.  Then he ripped off my shirt and yanked down my trousers.  I soon found out why Dick was howling so much when he was being spanked even before the hairbrush action.  Yes, I knew that spankings are supposed to hurt but I was not prepared for the pain and the total helplessness of the situation.  As he started his assault, he sent Dick for the hairbrush.  In just a few minutes, I felt like I was only five years old and I was even bawling like one.  And spanked I was until I thought that I would never sit again after I felt the hard wood hairbrush.

Then I was led upstairs and ordered to clean my teeth and wee.  You think that weeing with a morning hard-on is tough, try it when you're fourteen, with a flaming tail and your parents are watching.  It was only after dad mentioned nappies as an alternative and mum went to deal with Dick that I was able to.

In the morning mum came in to wake us and make sure that we dressed properly.  It was like when I was under ten when Dick and I both went naked almost all the time, particularly on our holidays at the shore.  Somehow mum never noticed that both of us were now men, well, young men with appropriate signs.

Dad dropped us off at school and we walked into hell.
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