dadinc

D.A.D. Inc. - Part 2

Mr. Tucker took one quick look around the bathroom and seemed to feel right at home. Certainly the way he handled Hollis would have given any observer the sense that he had washed out the mouths of more than one wayward boy.

Mr. Tucker sat on the edge of the bathtub and sat Hollis on one of his knees. With his right arm wrapped about the boy, he kept Hollis’ arms pinned to his sides. While Hollis yelled and kicked, Mr. Tucker turned on the tub taps and pulled down a washrag from the conveniently placed towel rack.

Mr. Tucker thoroughly wet the washrag in the running water, then - holding the cloth like a mitten - picked up the bar of yellow soap from the soap dish at the side of the tub. Harris worked the soap around in his hand until the wash cloth was coated and foamy with soap suds. Then he turned to Hollis.

"Open your mouth, son," he ordered.

Hollis had been watching Mr. Tucker’s machinations with gaping eyes and now he clench his lips just as tightly as he could.

"I said ‘Open your mouth, son,’" Mr. Tucker repeated and gave Hollis a quick hard squeeze with his right arm. Hollis gasped as the air was forced out of his lungs and the washcloth covered hand entered his mouth.

"Glugh!" Hollis gurgled.

As he wriggled on Harris Tucker’s knee, Harris meticulously scrubbed the inside of Hollis’ mouth with the washcloth. First, Harris did a general sweep of the area. Then he soaped the top of Hollis’ mouth and the inside sides of his cheeks. Harris took hold of Hollis’ tongue with the washcloth and scrubbed it up and down until it was coated with creamy soap. Mr. Tucker took the cloth out of Hollis’ mouth and put it under the tap again. Meantime, Hollis tried to spit his mouth full of soap at Mr. Tucker, but only succeeded, due to the great amount of suds, to dribble it out of his mouth, down his own chin and onto his chest.

Mr. Tucker had once again soaped the washcloth thoroughly and now he started cleaning the outside of Hollis’ mouth. Mr. Tucker scrubbed Hollis’ lips and the area around his lips while Hollis shut his eyes and squirmed in the strong man’s grasp.

Only when experience told him that the boy’s mouth was properly disciplined, did Mr. Tucker stop scrubbing. Then he stood up tucking Hollis under his right arm, and carried him back to the bedroom. As soap spilled from the boy’s mouth, Mr. Tucker sat down on the bed and put the boy, once again, on his knee.

"You know, you’re going to get arrested for this," Hollis said, a bubble floating away from his mouth as he spoke. "You’re going to get arrested, and I’m going to press charges, and.....what’s that?!"

Harris Tucker had taken a very old looking brown bottle out of his briefcase along with a metal spoon. He did a good job of opening it one-handed, but he had to put the spoon on the bed and pour the contents of the bottle into it.

"This is castor oil, Hollis," Mr. Tucker said, picking up the spoon. "It can be used in a number of ways. It can keep your body systems in good operating condition, and it can remind a boy whose gotten too big for his britches, that his dad can always find a way to bring him down to size. Now open wide and take your medicene, son."

Once again, Hollis tight-lipped it, but this time Mr. Tucker didn’t put the squeeze on him. Instead he said. "Okay, then, we’ll do this in reverse. I was going to give you your medicene first and then administer your spanking, but I guess you really need that spanking right here and now."

"Help! Help! Help!" Hollis shouted, but Mr. Tucker couldn’t have cared less. He reached into his briefcase and took out the wooden hairbrush that Hollis had glimpsed earlier.

"You can’t hit me with that!" Hollis screamed.

"Son, you just aren’t getting this picture are you?" Mr. Tucker said. "I’m your dad, and dads decide when their boys get hit; not the boy!"

Harris Tucker now used both hands to pick Hollis up and turn him belly down across his knees. Hollis felt the man’s strong thighs under his chest and crotch and panicked.

"Help! Help! Let me up! This guy’s tryin’ to kill me!"

Harris put his hand on the back of Hollis’ head and pushed his mouth into the bedspread. Hollis’ screams were muffled.

"That’s much better, Hollis," Mr. Tucker said. "Now it’s time for you to pay attention to what your dad is doing, because that’s how you learn. First, dad’s going to take down your pants and underpants."

Harris pulled Hollis’ pants down to his ankles. Hollis tried to kick, but his feet were all tangled up in his pants and he could only drum both legs up and down. Hollis felt Mr. Tucker’s fingers curling into the privacy of his underpants band. Then, with no ability to prevent it, Hollis Harrison-Stanley, for the first time in his life, had his underpants taken down and his bottom laid bare over a man’s lap.

Mr. Tucker picked up the hairbrush. "You know, Hollis my boy," Mr. Tucker said. "Some people think that a hairbrush is a grooming aid to smooth down the hair, but I personally think that it was specifically designed as the perfect tool for a dad to use on his errant’s son backside. It fits perfectly into dad’s hand and the paddle side is ideal for administering a firm spanking."

Having imparted this opinion, Harris Tucker raised his arm and began the hairbrush spanking of Hollis Harrison-Stanley.

Young Hollis’ tender bottom was so outraged by this assault, that Hollis was actually able to press his head up out of the bedspread to scream.

"YOWTCH!"

"I’m afraid," Mr. Tucker said, pausing in his spanking, "that a hairbrush spanking is quite painful, especially on a pampered behind such as yours Hollis. I probably should have prepared it with my hand first. Well, it isn’t too late to do that now."

Mr. Tucker put down the hairbrush and raised his open palm well over his head. "A good handspanking first, and then the hairbrush to add the shine." Mr. Tucker’s hand came cracking down and a red handprint bloomed across the wealthy cheeks of Hollis’ bottom.

"Oooooow! Ooooooh! Oooooooow!" Hollis roared.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Over and over again, the wide palm of the handsome Harris Tucker punished the bottom mounted over his leg. The young boy howled for a while and then the howls began to sound choked.

"Hmm," Harris Tucker thought as he continued to spank Hollis, "he’s near tears. I hate to keep spanking him, but he really does need a lesson." Harris sighed and took up the hairbrush.

"Now, for your hairbrushing," he said aloud and walloped Hollis with the back of the brush.

The boy burst into frantic tears and gripped the bedspread with his little fists.

Harris Tucker spanked away and the boy’s bottom turned crimson. Harris could feel the heat coming from the boy’s skin, but still he paddled the flaming bottom. Hollis waved his arms in the air and gurgled on his tears. He had slipped into the garbled pleadings for mercy and forgiveness that all spanked boys regress into.

"Oh, daddy! Oh, please! Oh, no more, daddy!" and so on.

Harris continued to spank Hollis, and now, as the boy neared his limit, he lectured him. "Are you sorry that you had a tantrum and were rude to your mother?"

"Oh, daddy! Oooooooo. Yeeeeeeeees!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Are you going to speak nicely and respectfully?"

CRACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Aaaaaaaah, I’ll be gooooood. I prooooomissssssee! Oooooooh!" Hollis’ pants had long since come off along with his shoes and one of his socks. His underpants twirled around one drumming ankle and still Harris spanked away with the hairbrush.

"If I hear that you’re having tantrums, I’m going to have to come back and punish you again, Hollis. Do you understand?"

"Ooooowwwww! Yeeeeessssss! Stooooooooop! I can’t take anymooooooore! WaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaH!"

"Just another five minutes, son, then it will be time for your castor oil."

Mr. Tucker kept the sobbing boy over his knee for another five minutes of spanking, but the wacks were not as hard, just hard enough to keep the red, swollen fanny completely tenderized. A very little boy inside of Hollis Harrison-Stanley had been released by a variety of things that were happening to him. He had lost control of his own body, been put across a man (his ‘dad’s??) lap for a spanking, and had had to endure the terrible hairbrush beyond his perceived ability to endure it. This man was in charge and Hollis relinquished to him in despair.

"Oooh, daddy, I’m a good boy now. I’m a gooooooood boy," Hollis slobbered.

Finally, the hairbrush stopped rising and falling, and Harris Tucker picked his ‘son’ up off his lap and stood him in front of him. Hollis did as frenzied a ‘spanking dance’ as he could, considering that Mr. Tucker held his arm and kept him pretty much in place. Hollis’ hands clutched his burning botom and he blabbered almost non stop.

"Ooooh, daddy, it hurts. It hurts, daddy. My tushie hurts soooooo bad, daddy. Don’t spank me anymore daddy. Ooooooh." And so on.

Harris Tucker allowed Hollis to rant for a few moments and then gave him a little shake. "That’s enough now. I know that spanking hurt, but now I want you to be a big boy and pull yourself together."

"Ooooh, daddeeeee!" Hollis whimpered.

Harris Tucker looked at Hollis’ tear-streaked face and his running nose and pulled the boy into his chest. He let Hollis cry it out with his head on his shoulder while Harris held the back of the boy’s head.

Then he held him at arm’s distance again, remembering that he was a "D.A.D.,Inc." dad and his training. DISCIPLINE and DEVOTION were the key words, and he was still in the discipline mode.

"Now it’s time for your castor oil, Hollis. It’s going to make your tummy feel funny and you’re going to be a little crampy."

Mr. Tucker took up the neglected spoon with the thick, brown medicene in it.

"Ooooh!" Hollis moaned. "I don’t want to. Is it yucky?" His articifical fourteen-year old hauteur had vanished. He was a little boy and dad was dealing with him.

"It’s good for you. It will help you remember how to behave, and it will give you a good cleaning out, which will be good for you as well." Harris Tucker decided to get on with it. He reached out and pinched Hollis’ nose with his left hand. Hollis startled, but did not pull away (he was afraid of losing his nose). Hollis’ mouth opened and Harris spooned in the castor oil.

"Good boy," Harris said.

Hollis grimaced as the thick, oily medicene slipped down his throat.

"Yuck!" he cried. "It’s gross!"

Harris squinted at Hollis and then picked up the castor oil bottle. He looked at its label briefly and shook his head.

"Sorry, son, a boy your age should have two spoonfuls. One more time, Hollis." Harris tipped the bottle toward the spoon, but this time Hollis backed away.

"Nooooo, please. I don’t want to?"

Harris Tucker’s eyes narrowed. "Hollis, do you want me to make you take it?"

Hollis burst into tears. Why was all of this happening to him? How could it be happening to him? He was king of the castle. Hollis put his head back, opened his mouth and bawled like a three year old. Harris shot forward and fed him the castor oil. Once the solution and slipped into the boy’s mouth, Harris, pinched his nose and held his mouth shut so that he had to swallow.

Hollis jigged and swallowed the solution.

"Yagh!" the boy cried. He cluched his throat and danced around. Then he ran to the bathroom to wash it down with some water.

Harris Tucker reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and took out a briar pipe. It was a straight, classic model that fit him to a tee. From his other pocket, he took out his tobacco pouch and deftly packed the bowl of the pipe.

Then, he went into the bathroom, where Hollis wa chugging water, and sat on the closed toilet seat to watch the boy. He took out his lighter and contemplatively lit the tobacco puffing smoke into the air. Hollis had stopped drinking water by now and was fumbling with his toothbrush. He was clearly determined to rid his mouth of any residues of the soaping and the castor-oiling.

Harris smoked calmly and watched the boy. He looked at his watch, knowing that in only a moment or two the castor oil would start to work. "D.A.D., Inc." had many auxiliary branches; one was a pharmaceutical company that made a number of interesting products for the D.A.D. dads to use in their work. They had created a new and enhanced form of castor oil after a great deal of research into why it had been so popular in the early 1900’s. Like so many ‘old-fashioned’ remedies, it was deemed wonderful efficacious when used properly and had become a popular medicene/discipline in millions of D.A.D.-type homes.

As Hollis was rinsing his mouth, he suddenly bent at the waist. He spat out the water, and his eyes grew large.

Harris Tucker, still puffing his pipe, calmly stood up from the toilet seat and moved to one side. Hollis looked up at this ‘dad’ and then threw up the toilet seat and sat down. It was wonderfully convenient that he no longer had pant or underpant to encumber him, because he got very quick action.

While Hollis crouched on the toilet seat, groaning and crying a little, Harris smoked and now and then ruffled the boy’s hair in sympathy.

"I had to do it, Hollis," he said in his calm, deep voice. "You have to learn how to behave." Hollis moaned as his young body reacted to the enhanced castor oil.

Harris Tucker sat on the edge of the bathtub, smoking his pipe, and stayed with his ‘son’ until it was over.

Hollis was pretty washed out by the time the castor oil had passed through his system, so he was actually not embarrassed when Harris (who as a D.A.D. dad was not put off by bodily things) wiped his bottom for him, washed him with a washcloth of warm water and carried him into the bedroom.

Harris Tucker found pajamas in a bureau and buttoned the boy into his sleeping gear. He undid the bed, and put the boy in between the fresh sheet. Then, as Hollis Harrison-Stanley fell to sleep, his D.A.D. Inc. dad, sat smoking on the edge of the bed.

When Hollis was deeply asleep, Harris Tucker touched the boy’ hair and smoothed it away from his forehead.

He tapped out his pipe into his hand and put it back in his pocket. He packed up the castor oil, the spoon and the hairbrush in his briefcase and then made sure the boy was well-covered. Then, Harris Tucker went downstairs.

Soames told him that Mrs. Harrison-Stanley had left for her social evening, and Mr. Tucker said, "That’s alright Soames, I’ll see myself out."

Harris returned to the room with the OmniCorp, typed in a code and then stepped into the portal. For a moment, before the portal started to glow, he looked upward in the direction of Hollis’ room and his face was very serious.

Then the portal became illuminated and when the light was gone, Harris Tucker was too.

(too be continued)