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The following story is fiction and contains spankings, shaving and role reversal.  If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  I was inspired to write this by the comment at: which may or may not be true.  Show here.  Section breaks indicate that the narrator changes.

Original inspiration:
This is what happened to my older brother who is 17 years old. He [took] dad's car out without permission. Drove with a restrictive driver's lic's, that doesn't allow passengers e[x]cept his immediate family, was in an accident and was found that he was drinking beer.
Dad had to pay thousands of dollars to fix the car, pay off the major fine for his son. My brother told me that dad gave him a bare bottom whipping in the garage and since he lost his driver's lic. he can not drive anymore. My brother has to wear short-short pants all the time, except when he goes to school. This has confi[n]ded him mostly at home, since he feels so embarras[s]ed to go anywhere in those short-shorts. Dad has told me that my brother has to mind me and do whatever I tell him to do, since he is now a little boy in short pants. He told my brother if he doesn't improve his attitude, he will allow me to spank him.

American high school have four grades – freshmen (9), sophomore (10), junior (11), and senior (12).  The normal graduation age is 18.  The principal is head of the school and the vice-principal (VP) usually handles discipline matters.

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.

Spanked, Short-pantsed and Demoted


I knew that I was a big shot.  I was seventeen years old and had a drivers' license before all my classmates.  I never thought that was because I was the oldest junior in the school but because I was superior.  I got into the awful mess on Halloween.  It was just two weeks after my birthday.  That night Dad was on a business trip, due back on Saturday, and Mom was visiting neighbors down the block.  Even Marky, my kid brother of fourteen, was already at a party with his friends.  The keys to the car were sitting on the hall table; the car was in the garage.  I took the keys and backed out of the garage pausing to close the door so Mom would not notice the car gone when she got back.  As long as I was quiet putting it back I knew that all would be well.  My buds and the chicks would be impressed.  I even thought of driving over to the cemetery so the lucky chick could cling to me while I thrilled her.

Unfortunately, the zillions of goblins out that night ganged up on me.  I didn't get close to scoring so I was taking my buddy Melvin home.  I'm sure it wasn't the beer (or three) I had but I missed a turn and crushed a fender because some lamppost jumped and got into my way.  Well, we were not hurt but there was a [police] cruiser right there and I was busted!

That was definitely not fun.  I scored high on the Breathalyzer® test (which, like golf, is not what one wants to do).  I was fitted for matching stainless steel bracelets, got a chauffeured ride in the back seat of the cruiser to be stuck into a cell at the police station at five in the morning.  That definitely was not fun.  In the next cell were a few dudes from the wrong side of the tracks and they told the jailer they would comfort the crybaby if he would put me in with them.  Since they were cupping their crotches, it was clear how they wanted to do that.  I'm very fortunate that the jailer did not.  It was pretty scary and the slop they called food made the school cafeteria's overcooked veggies seem like gourmet cooking.

I've never seen Dad so mad.  Steam was practically coming out of his ears when he got me out.  He made me sit in the back of the car and the only thing he said to me was: "Shut the f*** up."  He never used that word.  Once back home, I was sent to my room to do my homework and absolutely forbidden to leave except to use the toilet.  I was in deep s*** both legally and at home.  Marky was told to be sure that I obeyed.  He did take pity on me and brought me some leftovers.  He also told me: "You are the most stupid idiot of an asshole ever."  At that moment I agreed with him about being an idiot although I did not say so.  "Dad should have left you in that cell."

The 'rents returned a couple hours later.  They had picked up the car from the police impound lot and taken it to the mechanic to check for damage and then left it at the body shop.  Marky saw the estimate and told me that it was more than my allowance was for a year when Dad sent him to fetch me.  He usually dealt with Marky and me privately but not this time as both Mom and Marky stayed for the show.  He was still furious.  He really lashed into me and he was right to do so.  I had violated his trust, been sneaky, caused a lot of damage, broke several laws and almost killed both myself and my buddy.  He could not imagine that I could have any justifications and, by then, I did not even have them for myself.  He told Mark: "Strip your disgrace of a brother to his birthday suit."  I started to do it myself but he stopped me.  Marky slowly undid every button and opened my jeans to remove my shirt.  Then he pulled off my sneakers and lowered my jeans.  It was awkward to pull my legs out of them and my socks quickly followed.  Mother just sat there as Mark stuck his thumbs into my boxers and lowered them to the floor and had me step out of them.  This was the first time since I was ten that Mom was seeing me naked and I covered my crotch with my hands.  Dad barked at me to put them at my sides.© YLeeCoyote

I had not noticed that Dad had gotten Grandpa's old razor strop until he picked it up.  This was worse than I expected.  I had to bend over the end of the couch and Dad laid into me.  It hurt like the blazes and I yelled and jumped up on the first hit.  Mark was told to hold me down and Dad continued.  I was bawling in short order but Dad continued to beat me.  He must have stopped because later I found myself on my bed.  You wouldn't believe how much my butt hurt.  At some point Mark came, dragged me to the john and made me piss before putting me back to bed.

Even in the morning my butt was still aflame.  I discovered that my life was changed permanently and I still had to go to court.  I had a whole new set of rules to govern my life.  Actually, they were not new but resurrected rules.  They were the rules that I had before high school when I was in the seventh and eighth grades with two new and terrible additions.  I was to wear short-shorts except for school (and when I had to wear a suit) and briefs.  Since I was demoted to a little boy in shorts, Mark, now my mature, trustworthy BIG brother, was in charge of me with the right to spank me when he saw fit.

I was taken shopping that very afternoon for my new wardrobe.  I hadn't even known that they still made shorts with only three inches (7.5 cm) inseams but they do.  Mark, ever helpfully pointed out that my boxers would stick out so I also got a dozen pairs of briefs.  I wanted to get some nice ones, at least, but I was stuck with NoBrand tightie-whities.  "We have to pay for the car repair, young man." Mother said.  When I whined, Mom gave me a slap on the butt which made me jump.  I yelped when Mark did it a lot harder.  I stopped complaining.  I also got several pairs of plain chinos for school – no more jeans for me either.

After we paid for the stuff, Mark took me back to the fitting room to change.  I had to hand over my jeans and boxers and put on tightie-whities and short-shorts.  I'm sure some of the guys from school saw me although not anyone I knew well.  (Well, I hoped not.)

After dinner Mark brought in the envelope that cops had put my stuff in and Dad had collected along with me, into my room.  "Tommy, we have a few things to tend to."  First, he taped my torn driver's license to my mirror.  "That's to remain there until you have to surrender it to the Court."  I nodded.  "Now you are to change the message on your cell."  He handed me a slip with the message written out: «Tommy's phone.  Sorry, no calls after eight on school nights until school's out the next day and none from ten to eight other nights.»  I was allowed to add what I wanted after that.  I saw that I had several messages but I was not allowed to listen to them as it was my bedtime.  "You can do it when you get home tomorrow.  Your phone stays in the charging cradle until then or you'll have even more trouble sitting."  I went to bed, depressed and defeated.

In the morning we went off to school.  Mark immediately joined his friends leaving me to do the same.  Because of the school cutoff date for admissions was right between our birthdays, Mark was only two years behind me in school, rather than the three that you would expect.  That meant he was a freshman when I was a junior in the same high school which made it possible for him to check up on me all day.  This was the pits and the nightmare was only just starting.

I had an eager audience that I did not want.  My friends knew I had been busted after the accident and demanded to know what had happened.  They already knew it was tough because they had heard my new voice mailbox message and now they saw that I was 'out of uniform' in chinos rather than jeans.  When I quickly stood up after sitting only a few seconds, they knew that I had a very sore tail.  There was not any point to deny it for they would see it in the locker room when we had to change for gym.  "Guys, it was more than I could count with Grandpa's razor strop.  That mother hurts like a red-hot bar.  A belt is child play by comparison." I lamented.  I had to try to be macho.  "Dad is furious like it's the end of the friggin' world.  He tore up my license, too."  Outwardly, they were sympathetic but each and every one of them was glad they were not in my place.  I sensed that they were each ready to displace me as leader in my weakened condition.  The law of the jungle does not know about mercy.

When I got home, I did not have to change into my shorts but into my suit for the court.  Dad said that I might as well plead guilty since the evidence was overwhelming and the best that a lawyer could do was reduce the fine but he would charge more.  It was all over in a few minutes.  My drivers' license was revoked and I could not even apply for another one for three years because I had a nonfamily member as a passenger which was prohibited.  The fine and fees were more than car repair.  I had had some hope that Dad might relent about some things but with the cost more than doubled that was less likely.  I would be a social cripple without a license and three years was an absolute eternity.  I had to lean on Mark when we left the court.  When we got home, he (not Dad), led me upstairs and told me to change into my shorts and start on my homework.  I obeyed as I did not have any will to resist.  The most optimistic thought I could muster was it could not get any worse.

On Friday morning, Dad gave me a sealed letter to deliver to Principal McDole.  It was a good thing that I did exactly as I was told because McDole was expecting it.  In his office before he opened it asked me if it really was from my parents and asked if I knew what it said.  That's when I learnt that things could get worse.  It explained that I had been irresponsible and had proven that I needed careful watching and strict discipline.  That was not so bad but it continued to explain that Mark, my younger brother, had full authority over me and I had none over him.  "We will do our best to follow your parents' directives." he said and showed me out.  He told the secretary to give a copy to Mr. Rutter (the VP), put a copy into Mark's file and the original in mine.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a real surprise how stupid my brother was that night.  He will regret it forever for he is going to be paying for it forever.  He's not grounded but as he hates to be seen in those shorts, because they make him look like a little kid, he doesn't go out much.  Of course, he didn't show any more judgment than a little kid would have that night.  And even if he does go out he has to get home early – at least a couple of hours earlier than his buds.  That's a real problem because buses are few and far between at night and the 'rents don't want to pick him up.  As a group, it is much easier since one parent can get several kids and share the effort.

OTOH, it has done wonders for me.  Only once did I have to remind him a second time that it was his bedtime and his friends had to go.  All I said was: "If I have to say this again, I'll bring the strap."  He told them that they had to leave immediately, please.  I know that they figured out what sort of power I have over my older brother from the way they looked at me after that.  It was a few days later that Melvin actually asked me in school and I told him to ask Tommy.  I'm sure it made me seem more mature and less power hungry than a direct affirmative would have.

It was a few weeks before Tommy actually misbehaved enough to earn an additional punishment.  He concealed an assignment and got a bad grade for not turning it in.  When I found out it was late on Friday and I was about to go out so I told him that I would deal with the issue in the morning.  I thought that the wait would be good for him and would give me some time to consider exactly what I should do.  After my buddies and I saw the movie, we were sitting in the food court waiting for the bus and talking.  We discussed several ideas.  Since he practically grounded himself and his allowance was cut, those did not present any possibilities.  There were extra chores and spanking.  "I'll bet that he really hates just the idea of his younger brother spanking him even if it does not hurt like that razor strop your dad used." pointed out my buddy Fred.

Kelly gave me an entirely new idea.  "Last year my big brother really acted like a little kid and Dad gave him a special treatment.  It sure worked for he shaped up for months."  He teased us but eventually he told what happened.  "Dad shaved his pubes.  He was as smooth as a baby without even a single hair from his navel to his taint.  He cried like a baby.  But it was effective."  Both Fred and I immediately agreed that it would be absolutely awful and embarrassing as all get out in the showers after PE.  It would be worse than never having them in the first place; worse than a red butt from spanking.  We agreed that this was a bit harsh for this offence and I should just spank him like a little boy – over my lap rather than as a young man bending over on his own.

In the morning Tommy came to me right after breakfast saying he was ready for his spanking.  I thought that was a bit strange that he was anxious.  I told him that I wanted to do my homework and he ought to do his.  I did figure out why he was anxious – his friend Melvin was coming over.  That would be OK by me.  Either he told him the truth and it would not be a surprise or he lied and his mendacity would be exposed.  I was entitled to some bonuses for all my extra work.  About noon I went to see my naughty brother in his room.  I sat on his bed and lectured him about being devious and the importance of good grades.  Then I undressed him again.  I knew that he hated this a lot so it was important that I do it.  When he was starkers, I showed him the hair clipper and how it had an adjustable head to control the hair length.  He wanted to know what I was telling him so I gave his pubes a little tug.  "I can trim 'em long or I can trim 'em short or I can trim 'em", I paused here, "baby smooth."  I let him consider the horrors of that a while and continued: "But, today, you are just going to get spanked.  Over my lap, now, Tommy."

He gave a great sigh and immediately got into position.  I gave him a few hand spanks and probably hurt my hand more than his hard butt but I wanted to see how it felt.  Besides, it is not just the pain of a spanking that matters but the concept.  I had brought a short strap with me and pulled it out of my back pocket and gave him a few hard ones rapidly.  I caught him by surprise and so he reacted more than if he had been expecting it.  It was very easy on me.  I spanked him long enough that I turned his tail bright red.  Not like the razor strop, of course, but that was in another league.  I paused and lectured him a bit more.  I remembered how I could concentrate on Dad admonitions so well in this position.  I was delighted that I heard the bell while I was using the strap.  Melvin was very discrete but I'm sure he watched as I finished up.  I then told Tommy to stay in the corner, hands on his head, for fifteen minutes to contemplate.  I greeted Mel and told him it was OK to talk with his bud as long as he stayed in the corner.  I was sure to go back fourteen minutes later to tell Tommy his corner time was over just in case Mel had any doubts about my power.

It was more than a month later that I was summoned to the VP office.  I was surprised and puzzled until I made that last turn and saw my brother sitting on the bench by the office.  It was obvious that he was in big trouble.  On the other side of the door was another guy looking just as miserable as Tommy.  I sat down next to Tommy and told him to tell me what was going on and not to lie.  They had gotten into a stupid argument and when the teacher tried to break it up, she got shoved.  Other students separated them and well … here they were.  I went into the office to hear the official side.  The VP was quite nice (well to me, like to a parent or guardian) and the other guy's father was also there.  Tommy had told it straight and I gave him credit for that.  The school didn't think it was deliberate and the two were not actually fighting although close.  I suggested a three fold plan.  First, let them battle it out in the gym under the watchful eye of the coach in some way.  Second, require letters of apology to the teacher.  Third, be punished at home as per family standards.  The other boy's father thought that was a good idea and the VP agreed.

The miscreants were called in and told.  Then they were sent to the gym for battle.  I figured that the coach would figure out something far better than bare knuckles to a knockout.  It would not matter what or even who won but they had to battle in some way.  The father and I went to the gym to watch.  The coach tired them out with exercises and then leg and arm wrestling.  There was not a clear winner which was perfect.  The father gave us a ride and the two were pals in the back.  Once home I set Tommy to work on the apology while I decided on the CP part.  I got Tommy into the shower and told him that I decided to use the clippers.  He immediately begged me not to but I snapped at him to be quiet.  "I'm going to leave the guard set to four mm unless you give me trouble.  If you object then you get strapped and get clipped smooth.  Understand."

He understood and stood still, breathing hard, while I trimmed him.  When I was finished, I told him to shower and get to bed.  "Mark," he said, "thanks for not…." he could not finish.  Well, this was probably more effective as he now knew that smooth was a definite possibility.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was really tough being supervised by my younger brother and having to wear shorts except for school.  That and my early curfew kept me from doing practically everything with my friends.  They did not want to be with the little kid in short-shorts and I kept having to leave early.  Dad was not ready to consider easing up on me yet so I appealed to Mark.  "Please take me to the movies with you." I asked, practically begging.  He noted that I would get home after my curfew even on weekends.  "True, but I'll be with you and you're in charge of me.  Remember how the 'rents did that when we were little."  That did the trick and he agreed although he said he would check with Dad.  That weekend, for the first time in months, I went to a movie.  Sure I was in short-shorts but it was better than staying home again.  And it was a flick I could talk about with my friends.

Time, as always, passed and soon the school year was over.  My grades were good and Mark said I might talk to Dad about changing my rules.  We talked for a while and Dad admitted that I was behaving better (Mark said he didn't have to punish me very often) and confirmed that my grades were good.  Well, some things changed.  I got a later curfew and was permitted to wear jeans three days a week.  I still was in Mark's charge but he had more discretion with my day-to-day rules now to allow me more freedom.

One good thing out of all this was that Mark and I have really grown close.  He was strict and even admitted that he savored his power over me but he rarely abused it for which I'm grateful.  Dad says that until I graduate, he will be in charge.  I'm certainly not sure that is a bad thing.  He is very even-tempered (much more so than Dad) and told me he never even thought about using that razor strop on me.  I do wish he would forget about the clippers though.  I hoped that I would do as well in my senior year as I did in my junior year.

* * * * * * * * * *

It has been almost two years since Tom nearly killed himself and that Mark has been in charge of him.  I'm more than delighted that this arrangement has worked so well.  Tom has gotten back on track (he is starting college next week) and Mark matured much earlier.  He even consulted me about how to handle his brother.  Interestingly, Tom accepted stricter rules from him than he would have from me.  Both of my boys are pleased with the arrangement.  I really got a shock when we had our annual pre-new-school-year discussion to set up the rules for the coming year.  They have always wanted more privileges and later curfews.  Mark did not ask for very much this year.  Tom threw me for a loop when he said: "I'll just leave all that for Mark to decide."

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., November 17, 2008

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