granddadandson

GRAND.D.A.D. , D.A.D. and son - Part 2

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 Dan 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, son, 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 the 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 high-step as his backside was kindled into flames!

The spanking was so rapid-fire that the boy didn't have time to yell 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 wasn't going to be a wimp in front of this white-haired muscleman. 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 had meant, even if his grandson didn't. However, he would!

Now for his boy.

Michael was standing straight and still in the corner as his father had ordered. He didn't move or turn around when Tom came into the room.

"Good boy," Tom said.

He walked over to his son and placed his hand on his bottom, gripping it firmly. Michael jerked a bit, but kept in position. Tom smiled. "You've kept up with your workouts, that's obvious. You've got a good firm butt, son. You're gonna need it!"

Tom hoisted his suitcase onto the bed and popped it open. The large D.A.D. regulation hairbrush was right on top where he had carefully placed it. Tom took it out and held it up. "Yup," he thought, "it's still the perfect tool."

Tom took the suitcase off of the bed. He walked over to the small desk at one side of the room, took the chair, and moved it into the middle of the floor. Experimentally, Tom put his foot up on the chair.   Perfect!

Tom walked back over to his son and took hold of his waist. He turned Michael around and saw that his face was calm and serene.   He had been practicing control exercises while standing in the corner. Tom smiled inwardly. 'Control' was one of D.A.D.'s most famous exercises it helped a Man clear his mind and get a grip on his emotions. It would be interesting to see if one D.A.D. could break the 'control' of another.

Michael had a small pencil line moustache over his top lip. Tom thought that it must take a lot of careful work to keep it just that size and, yet, not shave it off.   He nodded in agreement with his own thoughts.

"Michael," Tom said, and Michael looked into his father's eyes. "You are a D.A.D., trained, certified and graduated. Yet you have broken training in the way you are dealing with your son. I don't know why this is happening, but I do know what it means it means that you yourself have slipped, and that's why I'm here. As long as I'm alive, I will be your D.A.D. and I will never slip in my responsibilities to you, son. Never!"

As he spoke, Tom pulled down the zipper of Michael official D.A.D. onepiece and his son's well-muscled torso came into view. Except for an athletic supporter, nothing was worn under the onepiece. Boys wore nothing at all beneath their onepiece - the onepiece that Mike jr. should have been wearing.

"Take it off, Michael," Tom ordered, and Michael stripped off the onepiece.

"Shoes and socks too," Tom said, and Michael obeyed.

Now the man was standing before his father dressed in only an athletic supporter. Tom saw Michael's eyes flicker and knew what he was thinking.

"Hands on head, boy!" Tom ordered. Michael obeyed.

Tom slipped his fingers into his son's pouch and pulled it down off of his penis. Mike's face turned red with shame. Then, Tom reached behind Michael and got his fingers into the straps at the back and pulled them below the man's backside. This done, Tom took the supporter down to his son's ankles and commanded him to step out of them.

Michael Polley stood naked in front of his father.

Tom Polley undid the cuff buttons of his one piece and slowly, and methodically, turned up the cuffs. Michael stared in wonderment as his father's massive arms came into view. He remembered how he had always had great respect for his Dad's size and strength, but he was stunned to see how the Man had not only maintained his physique, but had actually improved it. Tom Polley was like a white-maned daVinci statue of flawless, powerful manhood.

Once again, Michael felt his father's hand take him by the neck and propel him to the middle of the room.

"I'm afraid that this is going to be a very hard punishment, son. But D.A.D. requirements, as you should know, are stringent to say the least, and penalties for failing to observe them are hard. I'm a High Father and your father, so don't expect leniency."

Tom put his foot on the chair and brought Michael between his legs. Then he pushed his son up and over his knee. Michael was unsteady for a moment and he felt his feet leave the ground, and being a big man couldn't imagine that even a man - the size of his father - could support him. Tom Polley could!

Michael hung over his father's broad leg, held in place by Tom's arm across his back with the fingers curled under his chest.

Tom rubbed his son's bottom with his rough hand. It wasn't the same bubble butt he had remembered paddling so many times in the past. It was a man's backside, more muscular and broader, but still well shaped.

Tom patted it and said, "Son, I know it's crazy to think about at a time like this, but I remember once, when I was giving you a bath and you were standing up being washed by me, kissing your little tush. I love you just the same, boy."

Mike's voice was choked as it answered from the far side of Tom's knee, "I love you too, pa!"

"And now, I'm going to spank some sense into you," Tom said, and took up the hairbrush.

Tom had decided to forego any warm-up for his son. This was going to be a hard lesson, and he meant it to be just that. Tom raised his arm so that the whacks could be delivered for maximum force (such as he would never do for a child) and began:

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Tom brought the brush down twice on each side of his son's backside.   Immediately, startling white spots appeared which immediately turned bright red, even before their twin landed. Mike didn't make any sound and he stayed still on his father's knee.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Tom concentrated on the hills of his son's backside. He knew that after only a few swats, Mike would be in pain, and each additional wallop would be increasingly more excruciating. He could feel his boy begin to tense. Tom leaned over so that Mike would feel his body firmly against him he had always tried to give his son a sense of his strong, protective physical presence, even during a stern correction.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"You feel this, son?" Tom said, the hairbrush pausing for a moment. "This is my displeasure with how you're raising my grandson, your son! This is my displeasure with you, son!" When Tom said those words, he heard Mike gulp and choke. The 'boy' was near tears.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"This hurts me son, hurts me hard," Tom said. The hairbrush rose and fell, and Mike's bottom was throbbing over his father's knee, but so far he had not uttered a sound.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Tom curled his left hand and pinched a handful of Mike's skin. Although his son was firm and muscular, his bottom allowed for some leeway. He pulled it so that the man's backside was taught the effect of the hairbrush would be intensified greatly by this action.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Mike gasped and choked.

"You're not a Man!" Tom said harshly, walloping Mike for all he was worth. "You're a boy! A little bad, bare-bottomed boy on daddy's knee!"

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"If you were a man, your son would behave in a respectable way!"

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"If you were a man, you wouldn't tolerate his poor behavior and miserable manners."

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"Your son needs a MAN, boy, a MAN. "

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Mike's legs began to kick out he couldn't hold his stoic intention any longer. Mike gasped and sobbed outloud. "Oh Dad!"

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"Your son deserves a FATHER! A FATHER knows the importance of Discipline in a boy's life. Love is wonderful it isn't soft. But it's soft to think that you can raise a boy without DISCIPLINE!"

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Mike's mouth opened wordlessly and Tom heard his son, gasping and sobbing and then.....

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Mike broke! "Dad! DAD! No MOre!"

Tom paused, hefted the hairbrush, and brought it crashing down at the bottom of Mike's buttocks. The already purpling skin whitened and began to blister.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"Aaah! Dad. Please! (sob) Oooh! Daddy! Stop! Please!"

"Don't you tell me when to stop, young man," Tom almost growled. "I'll stop you!"

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"I'll stop your little backside until you wish I didn't!"

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Mike let loose and bawled. The pain and his father's rebukes had crushed his adult veneer. He was a little boy being spanked by his D.A.D., and there was only Dad, his bare bottom and THE HAIRBRUSH.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"AAAAHH! Papa! Daddy! I....I can't take it...."

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"You'll take it, boy! You'll take it and you'll ask for more!"

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Now Mike was trying to get away from his father, but he wasn't a match for Tom. Tom hoisted him even closer to his body and made sure that his backside, now nearly black and blue, was uplifted for the hairbrush.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

"Daddy! DAddy! Daddy!" Mike cried over and over.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

Mike shook all over and sagged on Tom's knee. Tom's heart ached, but he delivered a last volley of wallops with the brush.

WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!
WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!

And then the spanking was over. The older man used both his arms to draw his man-son close to him. He gently lowered his knee and took his son into his arms.

Mike collapsed against Tom and wept as he hadn't wept in years.

"Yes, boy, yes. Just let it all out on me," Tom soothed. "I know that it's been hard, boy. I should have been there with you! But you have to learn, boy, before it's too late. And that's why your dad is here, to help you learn. Have you learned son, have you?"

Mike chocked and sobbed against his father's chest.   But he answered in deep heaving sobs, "Y-ee-s, Dad! Yes, dad. I have learned."

Tom kissed his son's head and eased him down onto the bed. Mike groaned and rolled onto his stomach. His backside was a mass of black and blue bruises he wouldn't be sitting for a week, possibly more.

"I'll go into Mike, jr. this time," Tom said. "But you lie there and think about next time!"

Tom patted his son's back. Took up the hairbrush once more, and headed out to his grandson.

(to be continued)