granddadandson

GRAND.D.A.D. , D.A.D. and son - Part 1

GRAND.D.A.D. , D.A.D. and son

A Story Set in the Brave New World of D.A.D.

Characters
Grand.D.A.D.: Tom Polley
D.A.D.: Mike Polley
son: Mike jr.

Chapter 1: Tom Start Slipping

Thomas Carver Polley grunted for the last time, put down his barbells and sank back in his chair. He ran his big, raw-boned hands through his shock of white hair. It might be white, but it was still good and thick. Tom Polley ran his hand over his bare chest. Yup! That was still good and thick too, and massively corded with muscles. Tom took a moment and worked his paps. He clamped and massaged his nipples several times a day to keep them big and hard.   And he knew that the rest of him could still compete with most of the younger bucks at D.A.D.

The longevity therapy and the intense physical regimen demanded of all D.A.D.s, kept those men in peak physical condition. Despite his white hair, no one would have ever believed that Thomas Carver Polley was nearly a hundred years old. His weathered face might place him at sixty, but no sixty year old of an earlier generation, could have hoped to maintain the Herculean physique that Tom Polley walked within.

Once again, perhaps just to reassure himself, Tom ran his hand over the thick mat of silver hair on his chest and made sure that his pectorals were still rock-hard and massive they were!

Tom showered, said goodbye to friends staying behind at the gym and flew home through the Island dome.

He found an envelope under the door of his apartment in the forest arboreum. Tom had paid a high price for his tall brick dwelling, nestled amongst towering pines and spruces, but it had been worth it. Tom loved nature and hated the crowded streets of the more heavily populated sections of the dome.

Tom put down his exercise bag and thumbed the letter open. It was from Mr. Nelson, the gray-suited executive manager of D.A.D. Tom read the note.

Dear Tom,

I have become concerned about one of your 'boys.' Mike became
your son, you will remember, after his father was killed in that
terrible explosion on our colony at Antarctica. We still haven't
discovered what was in that strange box that the exploration
found, but perhaps we never shall unravel that mystery.

Be that as it may, Mike was a very sad and traumatized little
boy when you volunteered to be his D.A.D. and you had
your hands full for quite some time.

However, and not to be too cliche, "All's well that Ends well!" and
Mike grew up to be a great credit to you and follow your
example. He trained at D.A.D. and has been eager to be a
father to a needy boy.

Recently, and somewhat against my better judgement, Mike under-
took the adoption of a boy named Roy Levitt.    Roy is not an easy
case, Tom. He came from an extremely neglectful home and had
many serious collisions with the police before coming to the Island.
In addition, Mike and Roy's genetic scanning did not indicate the
best characterological affiity structure. Mike, as you know, is basic-
ally a gentle man with a very soft heart. While he understands that
good fathering combines Devotion and Discipline he has always
demonstrated a propensity to lean heavily on the Devotion and
eschew the Discipline when possible.

Roy Levitt, who Mike had renamed Mike, jr. upon adoption, is a
tough boy who needs tough love.   And.....he's not getting it.

I know that your work for D.A.D. keeps you very busy, and
that you're one of our best D.A.D. trainers, but I'm going to give
you an opportunity to do a number of good things. I am assigning
you to make a prolonged visit to your Son and new grandson.
You'll have the opportunity to have a kind of vacation, to rekindle
your bond with Mike and help both Mike and Mike jr. get their
acts straightened out.

I think that both the father and son could benefit, immeasurably
from some D.and D. from Grand D.A.D.

Please take your portable omnicomp with you and write me
each evening.

Sincerely,

Mr. Nelson

Tom folded the letter and put it down on his dining room table. His son, Mike, was one of the best boys he had ever raised. They hadn't kept in as close communication as they should have, both had been so busy with their D.A.D. work, but now this could be addressed and Tom could offer his son......and grandson....some of his experienced guidance.

Tom went into his study and sat down at the softly glowing omnicomp. He hastily typed in Mike's code and was soon looking at his son's still youthful face.

"Son," Tom said, speaking quietly into the omnicomp's microphone, " it's been too long. How are you, boy?"

"Dad, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. You look wonderful."

"Thank you, son. I understand that you've become a D.A.D. yourself. AND, you didn't even send me a communication." Tom grinned and said in mock menace, "You're lucky you're not here and I don't have my hairbrush at hand. We'ed soon mend that fence."

Mike laughed, and his cheeks glowed. He well-remembered his father's hairbrush and his many conversations with it.

"Dad, I think maybe I could benefit from that old brush. First of all, I'm sorry to have been so remiss. D.A.D. moves you around from assignment-to-assignment so quickly that you spend all your time focusing on the case in front of you.

'When I was first assigned to Roy.....Mike, jr. that is....I had no idea that I was going to adopt him. Then, bang, I did it.

'Dad, I'm not doing such a great job of it. Roy....Mike,jr. ........isn't responding and...."

"That's okay, son, that's why I'm here. Mr. Nelson recommended that I pay you and Mike, jr. an extended visit.   Boy, I need to get my love around you, and I'm damn eager to meet my grandkid. I'm going to pack and, if it's okay, I'll teleport first thing in the morning."

Mike's face looked like a Christmas Tree.   When he responded, Tom heard his boy in the man's exuberant voice, "Oh, Dad, that's great. Just great! I can't wait. See you for breakfast?"

"Sure thing," Tom said, "and son...."

"Yes, Dad."

"When you tuck young Mike, jr. in tonight give him an extra big hug for me and tell him his old GRAND D.A.D.   is looking forward to knowing him."

The omnicomp flickered and Tom signed off.

It had been great seeing his son again.

Tom took out a single suitcase and packed quickly. He had always been an extremely organized man and D.A.D. training had only enhanced this skill.

As he packed his shaving gear, Tom picked up his official D.A.D. hairbrush and held the large wooden implement in his fist. He hefted it a little and chuckled. "Just like a glove," he said to himself and - almost reverentially - packed the brush into his suitcase.

(to be continued)

P.S.: I know no one got spanked in this chapter, but be patient boys, or I'll take my regulation D.A.D. brush to YOU.......it's coming!

Love,
Sandy

GRAND.D.A.D. , D.A.D. and son

A Story Set in the Brave New World of D.A.D.

Characters
Grand.D.A.D.: Tom Polley
D.A.D.: Mike Polley
son: Mike jr.

Chapter 2: Multi-Generational D and D

"Let me have a look at you, boy!" Tom said. He put his arms on the shoulders of the lanky boy standing sullenly in front of him. He was a handsome boy, despite his surly face. He was tall for the age he appeared to be he was undoubtedly much older than 15, but longevity therapy was always confusing. Tom wishes that someone would calculate how long an age lasted with longevity so that you could simply say that someone was ten years old for ten years, but the treatments were too new for that level of specificity to exist.

Mike jr. (formerly Roy Levitt) was about five foot, six inches tall and had almost white, blond hair cut in a severe crewcut. It didn't look like Michael's taste in hair cuts, and Tom assumed that the boy had determined his own style (not good!).
The boy was wearing bib overall jeans and no shirt and he was barefoot!

"Who is he trying to be? Huck Finn?!" Tom thought, then he almost smiled. He was probably pretty close to the mark. ("Heh, heh," Tom chuckled...."the mark...the Mark Twain! Heh, heh!")

Mike Senior put his hand on his son's shoulder, and Tom saw the boy shrug it off. "Doesn't he look great Dad? And he's a bright boy, if I do say so."

Tom smiled and nodded. "Glad to hear it. Making good grade at school are you, son?"

Mike jr. rolled his eyes and his father nervously answered for him, "Mikey's got a high I.Q., Dad, and he's incredibly retentive." Mike pulled at the collar of his D.A.D. suit. "But we have to do a little better at school. Right, son!"

"Whatever!" Mike jr. answered.

Tom recoiled and held himself in check by a hair.

"Can I go now, dad?" Mike jr. said, confronting his father with his hands on his hips.    "I want to meet and hear his new discs."

"Well, Mike," Mike sr. said carefully, "I thought we talked about your staying home and visiting with your Granddad for a......"

Mike jr. flashed his grandfather a dismissive look and then turned back to his father. "I'll be back for dinner. You and him can have some time together and...."

Tom's training went into override.

"Go to your room, boy!" he said, his voice low and quiet.

Both Mike and Mike, jr. were arrested by the older Man's words.

"Go to your room, so, and wait there! Sit on your bed and don't do anything else. Don't read, don't play with anything.....Just Sit!"

Mike jr.'s jaw actually dropped! He stared at his grandfather, unaware of why the Man's voice, was having this affect on him.

"He doesn't know about voice and pitch training," Tom thought. He had spent more time in that particular study than most D.A.D.'s it was something you had to have a natural ability with to begin with, and Tom had tremendous natural ability.

Mike sr. watched his son turn around and walk upstairs to his bedroom. He turned back to his father and shook his head in wonderment.

"How do you do that, Dad!"

"How do you do that?" Tom asked his son.

"Huh?"

"How do you let a little boy get away with that kind of flip, disrespect?" Tom asked. "Your training, Michael.   Surely, this must trigger a disciplinary reaction in your pheromones. He was blatantly disrespectful to me and to your authority!"

"Dad, I.....I'm not as convinced about the Discipline as you are."

Tom frowned and stared at his son in surprise.

"You were a great father! And you always made me feel, even when you walloped crap out of me, that you did it out of love, but I'm just not sure that ......."

Tom's face froze into a look of contained anger. "It's my fault, boy!" Tom said. "My fault. I was to quick to get back to work when you went into training and I neglected my duties as your D.A.D. But that's over. I'm here now, and I'm going to help you and help my grandboy. But my own son comes first."

Tom reached out and did something he hadn't done in over a decade, he clamped his massive hand around his son's neck. "Come on, boy. We're going to my bedroom and have a good, long talk."

"Dad, you can't be serious!" Mike said.

Tom increased the pressure on his son's neck and Mike, despite his own size and strength, cringed in discomfort. "Son, you know better than that. I'm always serious! I'm serious about play, about love and about discipline!"

With that, Tom walked his grown son up the stairs and into the bedroom that Michael had put his suitcase in just an hour before.

"Looks like we'll all be a little late for breakfast," Tom said. He put Michael into his room and said, "See that corner, son. Go stand in it with your face right up to the crack!"

Mike's eyes widened and he almost half-smiled in disbelief until his father's steel-gray eyes killed that dead.

"Do it, boy! Now!"

Mike went into the corner. Tom saw him nervously clasp his hands on top of his head. Mike smiled so his son hadn't forgotten everything! (chuckle)

"I'll be right back, son," Tom said, and he stepped down the hall to his grandson's room.

He opened the door and saw Mike jr. sitting on the bed with an almost funny look of bafflement on his face.

"It's good that you're sitting there, boy," Tom said. "I'll be back for our talk in about an hour, and you'd better not be doing anything else. I'm trained....and I'll know if you moved off that bed. There'll be hell to pay if you have. Understand?!"

Mike jr. frowned and nodded.

Tom strode over to the bed, grabbed the boy's upper arms and jerked him upright. Then holding the arm up so high that the boy had to go on tiptoes, Tom made his palm flat and walloped the seat of the boy's overalls twelve times! Mike jr. tried to dance away, but his GRAND.D.A.D.'s grip was steel.

All the boy could do was a high-stepping dance as his backside was kindled into flames!

The spanking was so rapid-fire that the boy didn't have time to cry out or cry until it was done. Then he opened his mouth and bellowed.

"OWWW!" Tears popped into his eyes and one ran down his cheek.

"Quiet!" Tom said. "Sit down and next time I ask you a question you address me properly. You say 'Yes, Granddad.' Understand, Michael?"

Mike jr. reflexively started to nod, but quickly caught himself and said, "Y-yes, Granddad."

"Does your backside hurt?" Tom asked the boy.

The boy snuffled, but did everything he could to blink back his tears. He grimaced but replied as his grandfather had instructed, "Y-yes, Ganddad."

"No, it doesn't!" Tom said and left the room. He knew what his last remark meant, even if his grandson didn't. Now for his boy.

(to be continued)