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The following story is fiction about an older gent who is reduced to an obedient boy.  The story contains scenes of spanking, shaving and gay sex.  If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

I am recovering the previously unpublished stories that I wrote more than a quarter century ago before the internet spread its tentacles everywhere and before personal computers became common place using an early office word processor – The Wang.  Although I'm cleaning up technical things, I am leaving the stories as they were then.  I am grouping these stories as "Classical Coyote".

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private 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.

Young Dad, Old boy


I am a middle-aged guy; well, let's be honest: 62 years. I don't look that old – I still got my teeth and most of my hair and look reasonably good (honestly!, truly‼).  Anyway, I was sitting in the art museum, resting my eyes after viewing a detailed exhibit, when this young (twenty-nine!) guy did likewise.  After a bit we got to talking and left together for dinner.  Bart was a take charge guy and it was very evident that evening.  Later I found out that he was the oldest of three kids and when his father abandoned the family when he was just seventeen, he really kept the rest of the family together and practically raised his younger brothers with little help from their mother.  He was, justifiably, proud of the job that he did for they all got through college and were now out working.  He explained that he had been tough and extolled the principles of hard work and strict discipline.

After dinner we went over to my place.  It was in its usual state of messiness, to which I had grown accustomed.  Bart, however, was most appalled!  He was also very outspoken about it.  I maintained that it really wasn't dirty but merely messy.  Bart did not buy that and told me that his kid brothers and he would have had a discussion about such things – in the woodshed.  I laughed and stated that I was now far too old for such juvenile treatment.  Unfortunately, Bart did not think it was funny.  In fact, he was scowling while I continued to laugh like a moronic kid.

We had been sitting next to each other on the couch through all of this and suddenly Bart reacted physically.  He reached out and pulled me across his lap and began to spank me.  Initially, I thought it was funny and continued to laugh, but Bart was a big and strong man and soon I was trying to escape from his grasp.  And trying was the operative word; for my attempts were absolutely impotent and futile.  He had gotten my arm in a hammerlock and was holding me tightly in place.  My pleas were met with lectures and still harder blows on my posterior.  I don't understand how nor why but strangely and amazingly soon, I did feel just like a naughty, little boy across his Daddy's lap getting his just deserts.  As such a boy, it was a fitting situation to be in so I ceased my begging and struggling and meekly accepted this most justified discipline that my boyish conduct merited from this decisively authoritarian man.

Bart apparently noticed for shortly afterward he stopped and stood me up in front of him.  Submissively I stood silently and passively as this strong, handsome, young man, just half my age, treated me as if I was his wayward boy just half his age.  Silently, he opened my belt and trousers which fell to the floor and pulled my undershorts down to my knees exposing me like a young child.  Since I was in shock I remained mute through all of this, just as if these were routine events.  Then he turned me over his lap once again and resumed spanking me – now on my bare butt.  As his hard, strong hand pounded away at my ass, painfully turning it bright red, it also completely shattered and scattered my shell of manhood exposing the inner little boy who now begain to bawl.  Shortly afterwards he stopped and led me to the corner of the room, stuck my nose into it and simply, but very firmly and authoritatively, commanded: “STAY, boy”.  I was without a will of my own; I obeyed his command.  As I submissively stood there, like a little boy, with tear streaked checks and my hot, red ass hanging out doing ‘corner time’, I heard him go to the bathroom and return.  Then he sat there reading a newspaper while I, embarrassed and ashamed, tried to understand what was happening.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he called me back to the couch.  After pulling up my pants, I again sat beside him when he ordered: “Tell me why you got spanked, boy”.© YLeeCoyote

“I earned it because of the childish mess here and my bad attitude, Sir.” I replied (remembering what he told me during the spanking).

“Since you behave like a little boy, you should look like one; strip.” he ordered. Puzzled, I hesitated a bit and he roared: “NOW, BOY!”  Then in less than a minute I was obediently standing stark naked, cowering, humiliatingly ashamed, and with my head bowed in front of him.

He reached out with one hand and grasped me tightly by my genitals, which were shrivelled from embarrassment.  Then, while I stood petrified, he turned on my own hair clipper (which had been in my bathroom) and commenced to remove my pubic hair.  In less than fifty seconds my pubes were as hairless as they were fifty years ago when I was a pre-pubescent elementary school boy.  As Bart did this, somehow, it seamed to be the proper thing; this was the way I was suppose to be.  I stood still, as if I was in a trance, as this metamorphosis was happening.  Bart must have also raised my arms as he clipped my pits bare also, I don't recall it happening.

The next thing that I can recall was sitting in Daddy Bart's lap being held tightly and hearing: “You're going to be my good boy.  You're going to do as I tell you to, my obedient boy.  And you’re going to be kept hairless so that you won't forget that you're my docile boy.”  “Oh, yes, Yes, YES! Daddy” I exclaimed happily, “I want to be your boy.”

* * * * * * * * * *

We made passionate love that night.  I was completely under his direction for every instant of the time.  While he manhandled me, like a maiden captured by pirates, I soon learned that I was his property.  He enforced his will with immediate physical punishment.  My minor errors earned me slaps on the butt; the more serious offenses, slaps on my balls.

In less than two hours I also learned how amazingly potent he was.  The first time he came was when he was face fucking me.  The second, (ass) fucking me.  The third when I sucked his still juicy tool.  As we lay cuddled together like spoons with me once again impaled on his apparently permanently hard mancock he announced that I would be his boy – body and soul – in no time at all.  We fell asleep with me realizing that my life had started to change.

In the morning when I awoke, I started to play with myself.  This was met with swift reprimand.  Bart's hands quickly pulled mine away and then he slapped me very hard and twisted my penis.  As I wilted under his punishing and correcting hands he softly but most firmly told me: “Do not ever play with your little boy pee-pee again!  The only cock that matters to you is now in your ass, boy!  Understand, boy?”  As I acknowledged and accepted this injunction, he rolled me onto my stomach and fucked me soundly once again.  After he again blasted his load deep into my bowels, he remained in me and continued to hold me still.  It felt so wonderful to be held and covered (both literally and in the veterinarian sense).  In due time, I realized that he was filling me up with his piss for I could feel the pressure mount in my gut.  When he was finished he pulled out of me and allowed me to dash for the toilet.  Fortunately I made it and exploded into the bowl.

After he had his breakfast, showered and got dressed he told me that he would call at six, would ask the obvious question and that I should be prepared.

* * * * * * * * * *

I spent the day house cleaning and was ready when he called.  As soon as I told him that I wanted to be his boy I was ordered to report to his place at seven, SHARP!, with an application but without my mustache.  With barely enough time to get there I quickly shaved my lip, penned a brief (and surely inadequate) application and rushed to his place.

Most Esteemed Master Bart:
Please, Sir, take me and train me to be your obedient boy as you see fit.

When I got to his place, I found a note instructing me what I should do.

Just a few moments later I was naked, dutifully knelling with my hands behind me at my Master's feet and presenting my brief application, like a puppy with a newspaper, in my mouth.  After a long pause he asked: “Are you sure, boy?”

“YES, SIR, very sure, Sir.”, I replied.  He then reached over, coiled a steel chain about my neck and snapped a lock closed to secure it proclaiming: “So be it my boy!”.  Now I could physically feel what I knew: that I was really his.

He took me to his bathroom and, while I was standing in his bathtub, used a hair clipper all over me.  The little hair on my chest, and the peach fuzz on my back, arms and ass was soon about my feet.  Then he wet me down using the shower hose and covered me with shaving cream.  Carefully, methodically and, very thoroughly he shaved my entire body absolutely smooth.  I did not think that he missed a single spot; I now had less hair than when I was twelve for even my boyish down had now vanished.  This became evident as he gave me a bath.  While washing (more accurately, scrubbing) me he would occasionally use the razor even when I could not see any change.  After all this cleaning of me, he dried me off with a big soft towel.

Together we had a light dinner which he had ready but I did all the fetching, carrying and washing up.  Under his probing questions I revealed that I had done as much cleanup of my messy pad as I thought was necessary.  But by Bart's standards I was, alas, still very deficient and therefore earned a visit to the woodshed for a strapping.  The ‘woodshed’ was in his basement.  It was a boy's nightmare.  One wall was covered with leather belts, straps and paddles and even British canes.  Another wall sported various restraint devices and ropes.  In the middle of the room was a padded sawhorse which I was soon to get to know intimately.  Bart put his arm about me and guided me to the strap and belt display and cheerfully, just as if he was offering a fancy chocolate treat, ordered: “Pick one out, boy.  Which one would you like to know first?”  I chose a long wide supple belt and handed it to my Master.  He lead me to the horse and bend me over it.  Then I discovered the hand grips and was directed not to let go until I received and thanked him for six strokes.

The first blow soon hit my vulnerably exposed ass right across the middle and I cried out in pain.  I desperately wanted to flee; to escape this antediluvian corporal punishment but I did not dare to disobey him.  I stayed put, obediently yet most fearfully waiting the next stroke.  After a pause the second blow hit as hard as the first provoking another boyish cry.  “You're not counting, boy.” Bart stated as he laid the third blow on.  I whined a weak “Three, Sir.” along with a howl.  “No, boy.  You must start with ‘one’ and don't forget the ‘thank you’.” Bart instructed and proceeded to continue my strapping.

“One; thank you, Sir.”  I managed to mutter for the next (fourth) and through the ninth stroke.  The price of my stupidity had gotten me an extra fifty percent; ouch!  It did not take me long to promise (and really mean it) ‘to clean up my room properly’.  The rest of the night was a lot more fun as Bart again ravished me all that night.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was now a few weeks later.  Except for my job, my life has entirely changed.  Bart had taken over and my life now centered about him.  Between the steel chain locked about my neck and my hairless body, I'm continually reminded that I'm Bart's.  My happiest times are with him, even when he determines that it is necessary to discipline me.  I have completely lost any interest in ‘abusing myself’ as some unmanageable naughty boys are inclined to do.  My little pee-pee is just that and the only cock that matters is Bart's big one.

One day Bart told me that he had to go on a business trip for ten days.  I wanted to go along, but he told me that wasn't possible.  Not only would I miss my Master, but I would get disgustingly hairy without him to shave me.  Bart had anticipated my concerns and told me he was going to do two things special this last night.  First, he had prepared an list of things for me to do and second he did a special hair removal.

He took me into the bathroom and smeared some foul smelling goo all over me but especially my crotch, ass (including the crack) and armpits.  He left me standing there, alone, for a half hour.  When he returned I was ordered to shower and discovered that the goo was a depilatory and I was now without hair or even any hint of stubble.  Then he rubbed me down with baby lotion so that I was as smooth as a baby boy.  In the morning after a wonderful night he told me that it was time for my spanking.  I immediately laid myself across his lap, just as he had taught me.  As he spanked me he explained that this was just a prophylactic spanking so that I wouldn't forget to be a good boy during his absence.  It was quite wonderful for it seamed that there was love behind it all.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Bart returned we got together again.  After dinner I was sitting on his lap (naked, of course) when he asked if I had good boy or if I had anything to tell him, particularly that which required repentance.  I admitted to a couple of minor (truly!) transgressions but he kept probing until I confessed that I had played with my pee-pee in spite of strong prohibitions, although while thinking of him.  Bart explained that this was very, very bad and that he would make some ‘modifications’ so that I would no longer be tempted into such perverse misbehavior in the future.

He got a bowl of ice water and had me kneel with my hairless genitals stuck into it.  As my privates became increasingly cold they became numb and shrivelled.  After some time, Bart returned and replaced the ice water with equally cold alcohol.  Suddenly, without warning, he picked up my insensitive blue pee-pee, pulled my foreskin forward and punched two pairs of small holes into the end.  It stung like hellfire when he stuck it back into the alcohol.  He used a cautery to stop the little bit of bleeding when he removed it from the alcohol.  Then he snapped a small lock through the four holes.  This caused the end to pucker so that I could still pee but totally prevented any exposure of the head.  He had INFIBULATED me!

The holes soon were healed and Bart removes the lock frequently so that I can clean beneath the foreskin under his careful and strict supervision.  I quickly learned that trying to have an erection was both painful and unsuccessful, so I had to divert my yearnings elsewhere.  Soon I was rejoicing having Bart's wonderful phallus to worship and being his most obedient catamite.

* * * * * * * * * *

Once I really picked the wrong time to be, shall we say, difficult.  Bart was having his cousin, Tom, over for dinner to celebrate his coming-of-age.  Tom was a handsome youth with a stunning body.  They were both dressed up – tie and jacket – for the occasion while I was forced to wear a little boy's sailor suit which was a couple of sizes too small. Bart liked the way it showed off my boy buns.  Even worse, Bart told him that I was just a little hairless boy, a naughty one at that, and treated me as such during dinner even to extent of depriving me of dessert (for an earlier transgression).  Afterwards we were sitting in the rec room when Bart started to give Tom his presents starting with a birthday spanking.  Tom objected that he was too old for such baby stuff for, after all, he already had a driving license and had even started college.  After a bit of playful banter they decided that a substitute would satisfy the ‘legal’ requirement for a real birthday.  I was proclaimed that substitute and then suddenly I was flipped over Tom's lap for the event.  Tom playfully and gently gave me the required count.  Then just before the ‘one to grow on’ Bart stopped him and explained that I was an extremely naughty boy who was due for a real spanking and we might as well do it now as I was in position.  “In that case” Tom declared, immediately getting all into this, “We should remove his pants for spankings should be done on the bare butt!”  Straightaway, without another word, Tom stood me up and deftly removed my short pants.  Now when I am naughty, Bart makes me wear girls' frilly pink panties instead of boys' briefs so Tom had a good laugh as he striped those away also.  And not only could he see that I was hairless but also the infibulation lock which he carefully examined; I know that he found it exciting as I saw the boner in his trousers when I was again placed over his knees.

Tom really liked spanking my bare ass for he went at it hard.  I learned later that he had been frequently spanked and used when he was younger by both his pa and grandpa but now with me he literally had the upper hand and loved lowering it – hard!  I was, of course, soon crying like the sissy boy I am.  Bart eventually stopped him and sent me to stand in the corner.  While I stood there, I heard Bart tell Tom that I was his boy toy for the weekend as part of his birthday present.

Bart eventually ordered me to remove my sailor blouse and to kneel before Tom who was sitting in an easy chair.  This gave me the opportunity to stare at the large pulsating tent pole in Tom's pants.  Then Bart told Tom to relax and just enjoy what was going to happen and commanded me: “Go for it boy.”  Hungrily I did; quickly I undid Tom's pants and pulled his briefs down allowing his turgid man tool to spring free and wave unfettered.  However, it did not remain this way for long for I immediately engulfed it with my mouth.  I savored this young man's meat in every way I knew and soon Tom began to moan.  Suddenly he grasped my head, pulled it down thus driving his man shaft deep into my mouth and with a cry of joy, shot – nay, blasted – his hot sweet load down my gullet into my belly.  (Hey, I got dessert after all.)

I continued to nurse on Tom's man cock while they talked.  It was so, so much fun.  Then Tom asked to be excused as he had to ‘relieve himself’  Bart told him he should stay put; after all that's just one of the things cock sucking boys are for.  Tom's organ stiffened at this and he questioned Bart saying: “You mean ….”  Bart told him: “Absolutely” and to go for it.  Tom took hold of my head again and I could feel him trying to pee through his hard-on.  Although he started slow, he quickly built up a powerful stream that rapidly filled my tummy with his essence.  “That was just AWESOME, Bart.” he declared.  They then went to the theater as planed leaving me to clean up and prepare for their return.

When they did return, both the house and I had been cleaned up and I was sitting on my dog blanket, naked and douched as per standing orders.  After they had a night cap, Tom took me off to the guest room.

It wasn't long before he had fucked me twice and we slept with his young hard shaft deeply embedded in my butt hole all night.  I dreamed of being fucked several times that night and I still wonder if it was only a dream or did this young stud keep doing it.  In the morning after he enjoyed a leisurely fuck, he again filled me with his hot piss although this time up my bottom.  The rest of the weekend Bart spent instructing Tom in the nitty-gritty of being a Top Man and, of course, I was the practice dummy.  Bart justified all the spankings, paddling, strapping, etc that I received as I had earned many demerits which had to be paid for physically.  I will admit that the several days when I couldn't sit properly, particularly at work, has caused me to really try to be a most obedient boy and to always please Master Bart in every way.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. 1990, September 29, 2020

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Last updated:  September 15, 2023