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The following story is fiction about a high school student's paddling.  The story contains a scene of paddling.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  This short story was inspired by the drawing by Jonathan at   Click to open the image off-site (NSFW).

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

Paying the Writer


It had not been a good day for the jock.  Actually it had not been a good week.  He had been messing up every day.  Today Coach Tanner had enough and ordered him to do an extra twenty laps about the track.  As he finished the first lap very leisurely the coach blew his whistle.  "Boy, you're not putting any effort into this.  A ten-year-old girl could beat you without raising a sweat!  Make that twelve and you got twenty minutes.  Now, move your ass!"

Jackson suppressed the nasty words and resumed running at a decent pace.  He knew that any comments would get him into deeper trouble.  The coach was of the type that when he said "Jump!" you had better be in the air before you asked "How high?"  He was exhausted as he returned to the locker room noting that the coach was on his way out.  "Shower and dress, Jackson." snapped the coach looking at his watch.

The tired jock kicked off his runners and flipped them into his locker along with his running shorts.  It was then that he saw that there was a gaggle of new graffiti on the back wall.  Apparently he was not the only one pissed at the coach for they all suggested that the coach pay respects to the central part of the writers' anatomy.  Jackson made a terrible decision and grabbed the marker from his pack and went to the wall.  He was almost finished with most illuminating contribution – COACH TANNER IS A FAGGOT – when he heard something.  It was sort of a clapping sound and he turned.

He was horrified.  It was the coach.  And he was tapping his hand with his paddle.  "Well, at least you spelt it right, Jackson."  Like a deer caught in the headlights, he froze with the incriminating marker in his hand and in mid word.  He was so surprised that he was speechless.  "No need to finish that libel, Jackson.  You'll just be scrubbing it off anyway."  The coach paused.  "But first get into position.  Bend over and grip the bench with both hands.  Keep your butt up and your eyes on the graffiti."  The youth hesitated and the coach angrily barked: "NOW!"

As he assumed the position, he heard: "Where is the wall that needs cleaning, Coach?"© YLeeCoyote

"Right here, Mr. Sonafrank." replied the coach to the janitor.  "And you got an assistant for Jackson has volunteered to help you."

The coach stepped into position and made sure that his paddle would land on the lily white butt of the errant jock which was nicely framed by his jock strap.  He raised the paddle and brought it down hard on target.  Jackson yelled for it hurt and his butt started to turn crimson.

Again the paddle was raised and lowered forcefully.  WHACK!  Again the boy yelled.  "You had better start counting, Jackson."  WHACK!

"Three, Sir.  May I have another, Sir?" said the boy now reminded of the protocol.

"Start with 'one' Jackson."  WHACK!

"He's turning quite red, coach." observed the janitor happily.

"One, Sir.  May I have another, Sir?"

"Of course."  WHACK!

"Two, Sir.  May I have another, Sir?"

It was right between pops four and five that the JV football team trouped in and got to watch the proceedings.  It was increasingly difficult for Jackson to count for he was crying.  Eventually he got to "Ten, Sir.  May I have another, Sir?"

"No boy.  Now you can clean up this wall to Mr. Sonafrank's satisfaction."

"Yes, Sir."  The coach returned to his office, the janitor stood there watched as the errant youth scrubbed away with his butt glowing like the warning lights at a RR crossing.  The JV coach had to encourage the freshmen to go shower and change.  There did not seem to be a need to explain how to avoid such a paddling.  By the next day everyone one in school knew what had happened and that Jackson had cried like a baby.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. May 1, 2015

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Last updated:  September 15, 2023