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3 D.A.D.s / 3 BOYS - Part 4

Chapter Four: D. A.D. (Robert) and boy (Kenny)

Kenny Walski and Robert Scott materialized in a modern living room of a high
rise, somewhere in Manhattan.   The first thing Kenny was aware of was that
an entire wall of the living room he was standing in was windows. Outside
there was a view of another building across the street and enormous windows,
just like the ones Kenny was facing; through these windows, he could clearly
see small dramas being enacted.

Robert Scott took off his suit jacket and walked to a double door closet in a
hallway off of the living room.

"This is our home, Kenneth," Robert said, carefully hanging his jacket on a
hangar. "Let me show you where everything is."

Robert placed a strong, firm hand on Kenny's neck and steered him through a
living room with a low glass coffee table, a dining area with Scandanavian
table and chairs, into a large kitchen with central preparing island and down
a hallway, past a bathroom into a master bedroom.

"This is my room," Robert said. "Let me show you yours, son." This was the
first time that Kenny had noticed Robert using that word, and the boy was
revolted.   This man wasn't his father.   A government agency saying he was
wouldn't make Kenny Walski subscribe to the idea.

Robert Scott opened a door in the wall of his bedroom and lead Kenneth into
another room. It was a somewhat smaller bedroom outfitted for a young boy.
Kenny saw college pennants on the wall, some benign art work, a bookcase, and
a desk and omnicomp. The room was attractive, but spare.

Kenny noticed a closet in one wall and wondered what was inside.

"Who decorated?" Kenny asked. "This sure doesn't reflect my tastes."

Robert didn't respond. He went to the closet and opened it up. He took out
a hanger. One the hanger was a neatly pressed pair of khaki pants
(short-legged) and a blue polo shirt.   He leaned down and took out a pair of
black leather shoes into which dark socks had already been rolled.

"I want to be a good father to you, Kenneth," Robert said.   "There are lots
of wonderful things that you can do in life, but you first have to change
your life.   I want you to take off your clothes and put this on.....Right
Now!"

Kenny stared at the hangar and the pants. His cheeks burned and he ran his
hand threw his tousled hair.

"No way!" he said.   "What the hell kind of crap is that? I'm not
put.....What are you doing?"

Robert Scott had unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and was now rolling
up the sleeves.

"I made you a promise as we were transporting, and I think it's time I kept
it." Robert rolled his shirt sleeves up to his biceps and Kenny had his
first look at Robert Scott's bare arms.   The white shirt had concealed much
of the man's amazing musculature. Now it was laid bare.

Kenny couldn't hide his own amazement.   "Hey, man, you must really work out!"

"D.A.D. trains all its D.A.D.s; part of that training is the development of
our physical selves. Come here!"

Robert Scott had seated himself on the edge of the bed and was beckoning to
Kenny with one finger.

Kenny took a step back.

"No way, man!" he said. Then he grinned.   "Hey look, we don't have to get
intense about this. You want to be daddy....that's okay, but......"
Robert Scott grabbed Kenny Walski by his left ear, he twisted it and Kenny
shrieked.

"My name is not 'man'!" Robert Scott said, hauling the boy over to the bed.
"My name, to you young man, is father or sir!"

Robert Scott, still with a 'death grip' on Kenny's ear, forced the boy down
and across his knees.

Kenny gulped when his feet left the ground and he felt Robert Scott's thighs
under his body. He was lying across this man's lap; like a baby!!

Robert had let go of Kenny's ear and now his hand was clamped against Kenny's
neck, holding him down.

"You think you're quite the 'bad boy,' don't you, son," Robert Scott said.
Holding Kenny in his lap and talking slowly and calmly.   "Well, your father
doesn't put up with bad boys.   In this house, bad boys get their bottoms
smacked!"

Robert Scott raised his thickly muscled arm, opened his wide hand and
walloped Kenny across the seat of his pants.

Kenny jerked on Robert's knees, but didn't make a sound.

Robert walloped him again, and Kenny grunted. A sharp stinging sensation
opened up, like an angry blossom, inside of Kenny's pants.

"Sometimes boys need a lesson driven home where they are reminded of it
everytime they sit down," and Robert Scott punctuated his idea with another
sound SMACK!

Kenny tried to squirm off Robert's knees, but he only succeeded in mashing
his dick and balls into Robert's thigh.

WHAM!

Again the powerful hand descended and this time, it hurt enough so that Kenny
gave a little involuntary cry of "Oh!"

Then Kenny steeled himself. He wasn't going to let this Superman-wannabe
break him.

WHAM!

Kenny gave another cry, but he grabbed breath and said, "You can beat the
shit out of me, but you're not going to break me! I'm not a little kid!"

WHAM! Robert Scott didn't replay at first, in fact he didn't reply for five
minutes, during which he calmly and methodically paddled the seat of Kenny's
trousers with his hand of steel.

The amount of pain that the man communicated, even through the seat of
Kenny's pants was shocking.   Kenny's eyes kept filling with tears which the
boy tried to dash away by shaking his head. This was hard to do with Robert
Scott's grip on his neck. Kenny tried to alter his position on the man's lap
to control where the blows would fall, but he had no leverage to do so and so
the hand fell repeatedly in the same spot.

When Robert Scott stopped, Kenny almost collapsed into greatful tears, but
his ordeal was only beginning.

Still holding Kenny over his knees, Scott said, "You think I want to 'break'
you. Son, nothing is further from my mind.   You are a great boy and you
could be a great man, but not in the direction you're going. You need
school, you need discipline and you need love. Unfortunately, you also need
to be receptive to those things."

Robert Scott let go of Kenny's neck and lifted him up by supporting his
chest. Then he got up, took Kenny's firmly by the arm, and said, "Your dad's
going to increase your receptivity. Come with me to the bathroom."

Kenny started to resist but Robert Scott looked down at him with a
steely-eyed glare that actually made Kenny tremble. "Listen, son, if you
give me any trouble, I'll pick you up and carry you into the bathroom and you
know that I have the size and strength to do it. If you try to run away,
I'll strip you naked and put a dog collar around your neck and have you sleep
at the foot of my bed.   Do you understand, son!"

Kenny couldn't take his eyes away from Robert Scott's.

"I don't like bad language and I don't like defiance, and I have a remedy for
both!"

With those words, and without any resistance from Kenny, Robert hauled the
boy through the bedrooms to the large bathroom.

Robert Scott closed the bathroom door and locked it with key.

"Whydja do that?" Kenny asked.

"Quiet!" Robert Scott said in a loud stern voice. "You've said more than
enough." Robert Scott took a large wooden hairbrush off of a vanity shelf
that also contained towels.   Kenny saw the man brandish it in a very
determined fist grip. He held it up to Kenny's face.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, his voice continued to be loud and
angry. Somethin about both the volume and the tone affected Kenny's nervous
system. He gave a little involuntary tremble.

"It's a hairbrush," he answered.

"It's a hairbrush, SIR!" Robert roared.

Kenny trembled again and quickly said, "A hairbrush, sir." Then he shook
himself and said, "Huh!"

Robert smirked slightly and waved the brush at the boy, "This is for your
bare bottom. LATER!"

Robert Scott put the brush on the sink where Kenny stared at it. Then Robert
Scott turned on the water tap and picked up a large bar of yellow soap.

"Get up!" he said.

Kenny wanted to say, "Fuck you!" But he wasn't sure, so he didn't. He just
got up.

Robert Scott put the soap under the water and held it there. Then he took
Kenny by the arm, pulled him to the side so that he could take the boy's
former seat. Then, to Kenny's horror, Robert Scott pulled Kenny down so that
the boy was sitting on one of his knees.

"Hey!" Kenny said loudly and this was another mistake. As soon as his mouth
opened Robert Scott jammed the bar of soap halfway in.

"Gluf!" Kenny tried to pull back, but Scott's left arm had wound about the
boy's body like a boa constrictor; now it held his arms to his side and kept
the boy tightly in place on his knee.

Robert's right hand began rigorously scrubbing Kenny's mouth with the acrid
soap. Kenny gagged and gurgled as the saliva in his mouth and the wet soap
began to produce large quantities of lather.

Kenny tried to move his head, but Robert Scott's right hand worked the soap
relentlessly within the boy's mouth. Kenny swallowed soap, bubbles and
lava-like lather spilled over his lips, and still Robert Scott continued to
scrub his son's mouth as though it were a a filthy germ-infested pest hole
that only the most thorough cleaning could remedy.

After almost five minutes of this activity, Kenny was exhausted with both the
struggle and the chemical reactions. Tears ran from his eyes both from
misery and in reaction to the acidity of the soap. Robert lifted him up and
took him to the sink. Robert's knee went between Kenny's legs, raised up
into the boy's crotch, and lifted him up off the floor.

Robert pressed Kenny's head into the basin of the sink and said, "Okay, son,
SPIT!"

Floods of lather came from Kenny's mouth as well as a howl of despair.

Suddenly, Kenny hadn't even seen Robert take it from the medicene chest, the
man had a brown bottle in his hand and a spoon.

He sat on the toilet seat again and put his son back on his knee. Kenny felt
the disturbingly 'little boy' feeling of sitting on a man's lap with his feet
dangling off the floor. If only Scott wasn't so big, Kenny wouldn't feel so
damn little. It disoriented the boy.

While Kenny tried to grapple with these disorienting elements, Robert Scott
unscrewed the brown bottle and poured something thick and darkly yellow into
the spoon.

Scotts left arm once again pinioned Kenny and he said, "Open your mouth, son,
father has medicene for you."

Kenny's eyes opened wide. Robert Scott almost laughed. The boy looked
exactly like one of the Little Rascals, Spanky he thought it was, when his
father had been about to give him a good dose of castor oil. Well, that was
no surprise. Kenneth's father was about to do the same thing!

"Open your mouth, Kenneth, or I'll haul down your pants and give you a taste
of the hairbrush right here and now!"

Kenny almost bawled with frustration, but instead he went to a different
place. He kicked out with his feet, hit Robert Scott's arm and the spoon
went flying.

Kenny used the momentary distraction to literally slide off Robert Scott's
knee and grab for the door knob. Then Kenny remembered, the door was locked!
As he realized this, he also gave a wail of misery and frustration. He
could not get away from this man!

Robert Scott knelt down my Kenny. Kenny looked at him. He had expected, the
minute he had discovered that the door was locked, to feel the man's hand
grab him and, maybe, slug him or do something violent. Instead, Robert Scott
got down on the floor beside Kenny and looked at him without anger.

What Kenny saw in the man's eyes was unmistakably a look of sympathy. "Son,
son," Robert Scott whispered.

Tears came into Kenny's eyes and he pushed at Robert Scott's chest.

"Get away from me!" he half-shouted, half-wailed.

"Son," Robert Scott whispered again.
"I...I'm not your son," Kenny said, he dropped his head and tears ran down
his cheeks.

"It's okay, Kenny, I'm not going to push you, but you do have to obey me,"
Scott said.

Kenny wept and Robert Scott gently put one hand on the boy's head. Kenny
wept harder and thought about the lonely years, where all he had was his
toughness, his brains and Peter and Jeff worshipping him.   He had loved
their worship, but it was so fucking lonely!

Robert Scott gathered the boy into his lap and Kenny did not resist. The boy
threw back his head and gave a howl, almost like a little prairie dog, and
Robert Scott understood. He was a D.A.D.; he understood the heart of a boy.

For a time they sat there on the floor of the bathroom and then, without
words, Kenny and Robert stood up. Robert poured out another spoonful of the
special castor oil that D.A.D. laboratories had created and dosed Kenny with
it.

The unique formula worked quickly. Robert knew this, and Kenny soon
discovered it. The castor oil not only acted as a purge, but it had other
efficacious qualities. For the present, Kenny was just happy to have his
father take his pants and underpants down and help him to the toilet seat.

As the castor oil pumped through Kenny, Robert Scott stood over his son and
wiped his sweaty forehead with a damp washcloth. He raked the boy's hair out
of his eyes as he groaned through the voiding and felt no repugnance to the
process.   He knew that it was doing more than cleaning out the boy's stomach.

When it was done, Kenny was so limp that Robert had to lean him over one of
his strong arms, while the father tenderly wiped his son's sore rectum with
thoughtfully moistened toilet paper.

When Kenny was clean, Robert knelt down and took off the boy's sneakers,
socks, pants and underpants.   Then Robert said, "Stay here, son, I'm going
to get you some orange juice and then we can tend to the last part of this
session."

Kenneth greatfully accepted the juice and felt amazingly revitalized when he
had drunk it down.

Then, Robert took his son by one hand, took up the hairbrush with the other
and lead the boy back into Robert's own bedroom. Kenny was quietly crying
again, when Robert put his desk chair in the middle of the room and sat down
in it.

Kenny continued to cry, just like a small boy, but he did not resist, when he
daddy took him under the arms and put him in his lap.

Robert Scott knew that Kenny was twenty years old, but the miracle of the
longevity therapy presented Robert Scott with the aspect of the smooth, round
bottom of a pre or early adolescent.

There was very little trace of the earlier handspanking, administered through
the boy's pants, and Robert knew that this next session would produce very
different results. He debated not spanking the boy again, but he had said he
would and it was important that a father carry through. Plus, Kenny was a
tough case. Oh, he was soft right now, but he would rally, and he would need
a very concrete memory of what would happen if he disobeyed, or was
disrespectful to, his father.

Robert said, "I'm going to give you a 'real spanking' now, Kenneth, and I'm
afraid that it's going to hurt a good deal more than the little
paddy-whacking you received from me earlier. However, it is essential that
you are spanked and that you are well spanked!"

Robert Scott's voice got louder and angrier again, and Kenny started
trembling.

"You will remember to address me as FATHER....."

Robert Scott raised the brush and brought it down.

CRACK!

A bright red oval appeared, suffused with darker colors and Kenneth howled.

"........DADDY....."

CRACK!

Kenneth cried out and tears shot from his eyes as another burning mark was
raised.

".......or SIR!"

CRACK!

Kenny screamed, "OW! PLEASE! STOP!"

CRACK!   CRACK! CRACK!

Robert Scott hit the same spot on the right side of Kenny's buttock three
times and Kenneth actually wailed.

"You will not use bad language..."

CRACK!   CRACK!   CRACK!

Robert repeated the 'favor' to the other side of the boy's backside and now
both sides were crimson.

"And you will refrain from insincerity!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Robert gave three resounding spanks to the very bottom (or 'sit down' spot)
on Kenny's right side and then three to the left.

Kenny kicked his long bare legs and thrashed his arms, but his size was
dwarfed by Robert Scott's D.A.D. proportions.

Father spanked son with his hairbrush very thoroughly. When the operation
was halfway through (from the father's judgement), the son started pleading
as follows:

"Oh! Oh! Don't, Father! Daddy, please! Oh, Sir, stop! Aaah!"

"I'll stop when you have been thoroughly spanked, son," Robert Scott said
with terrifying calm and the tanning proceeded.

Kenneth was unglued. He had always had tons of control. Now, in a few
hours, he had no control. He had no control of his body, his bodily
functions or whether that body suffered or not. He was a boy under the HAND
of a MAN. The MAN dressed, undressed, and did with him as HE saw fit.

Kenny didn't feel angry, he felt sad. He had made daddy angry and he felt
daddy's anger. BOY DID HE FEEL IT!

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Now, Kenny's bottom was almost purple and the spanking stopped. Robert Scott
wanted to bring it to a state where the boy would be unable to sit
comfortably for one solid week. He would never harm his son, but he knew
that this first lesson had to be real and it had to stay.

Kenny continued to cry loudly, like any spanked boy, even after daddy has
stopped paddling with the brush.

Kenny didn't resist when Robert took him off his lap and stood him in the
corner.

"To think things over," as he said.

Robert lit a cigarette and smoked in a chair behind his son, in the manner of
all father's supervising cornertime, until he thought the boy had had enough.

Then Robert Scott took his son back to the bathroom and gave him a warm bath.
Kenny cried throughout the bath, but looked up at Robert Scott, scrubbing
him gently with rolled up sleeves with the eyes of a little puppy.

Periodically, Robert gave Kenny a small smile and pushed the boy's thick hair
away from his face.

After the bath, Kenny allowed Robert to put him into pajamas and into bed.

"I'm going to make dinner and bring it in on a tray," Robert said. "We'll
eat in your bedroom tonight and have a good talk about tomorrow. Then I'll
read to you for awhile before you go to sleep. How's that?"

Kenny felt like someone in a dream, or maybe someone who had awakened from a
dream.   He looked at Robert Scott and said, "You....you really are my dad?"

It was said quietly and with the complete sincerity of a questioning child.

"Yes, son," Robert Scott said to his boy, "I'm your dad." Then Kenneth
watched his Dad leave the room.

(to be continued)