Tony Morelli Becomes My Papa - Part 1

Author: Writer8322@aol.com

Who was my real dad?  Don't ask me, I don't know and my mom doesn't know either.  Although I just turned sixteen, my mom's only thirty-two years old.  She was pretty hot when she was a teenager, and she did a lot of flirting and fooling around.   She and my grandpa didn't get along  he was always beating her with a strap and mom said it only made her wilder. 

Her wildness lead her to three teenage boys who lead her to bed  then I came along and they put their pants back on.

Since mom never knew which of them was my real dad she named me John Michael Anthony Turner, in hopes that one of them would come forward and claim me, but no one did.

During the sixteen years that mom has been raising me alone, she has had some other boyfriends  some of them liked kids and some of them didn't.  Mom liked her men, but she loved me, and no one was allowed to get tough with me (like you read about in the papers), even when I deserved it.  That is, until mom met Tony Morelli.

I think that Tony reminded mom of her teenage years  shit, he wasn't so much more than a teenager himself.  Tony was twenty-four years old, only eight years older than me.  As mom and Tony went out more and more, and he hung around, she started teasing him about our names.

You know, Tony, she say,  if you were a couple of years older, I would think that John Michael Anthony was your kid.   You two look like father and son.

Mom was only flattering his balls.   Tony and I had a passing resemblance  we both had dark curly hair and blue eyes and swarthy complections.  But Tony was six foot three, weighed two hundred and ten pounds and had the powerful  rounded arms, legs and chest of a weight-lifter.  Tony did pump iron and sometimes he took me to the gym with him.  I, on the other hand, was five foot six, weighed in at 125 lbs and looked like I needed someone to feed me egg malteds.

Tony was good about mom's teasing.  He would catch my head under his arm in a playful half nelson and give me a nuggie on my head.   "Yeah, he's good lookin' like me."  Tony would say.   "What do ya think kid, ya think I'd make a good papa?"

I'd grin and shrug.   How could an sixteen year old, trying hard to be a man himself, answer something like that.  Of course, Tony was so big, it was hard to feel like almost a man next to him.   In fact, his size made me feel like almost a little boy.

Then, one night, mom came home dancing.  She waltzed around our shabby living room (we didn't have a lot of money on mom's waitress salary), and showed me her hand.   She had a small diamond (maybe) ring on her finger.

"It's gonna happen, John Michael Anthony," mom said, "Tony and I are getting married."

I smiled and hugged her.  "Hey, that's great mom."  This was new  it was one thing to have Tony hanging around as mom's boyfried, but permanent residence was another thing.  I liked my space, and mom didn't pay too much attention to what I did with it.

Then she stopped dancing and took my arms in her hands and looked me right in the eye.  "Guess what, honey," she said.  "Tony's going to adopt you  he really wants you to be his son.  Isn't that great?!"

"No!" I said.  "It's not great!   What the hell are you two thinking about.  I'm sixteen  I don't need a father  Tony's not my dad."

A slightly worried look flashed across mom's face.  She pushed back her reddish hair (I think it was really brown, but she had never let that fact surface beyond some darkening at the roots.)  "John Michael," she said, "I don't want you making trouble for me, you got it.  You should be glad that Tony likes you.    And you do need a father  that's one of the problems around here." 

"I'm working all day, and you know that you mess around.   When was the last time you had a full day at school?"

"School sucks," I said.

"And I don't like the guys you hang out with."

"What's the matter with them, they're cool!" I said defensively.

"And don't think I don't know about the smoking and the beer."

"Shit, mom.  Everybody does it.  Give me a break."

Mom looked serious, and then she looked worried again.  "You're a minor John Michael, and so you've got no say about it.  Tony and I have already filed the preliminary papers.   You are going to have a dad, and I think you're lucky to have such a good one."

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *  *   *   *   *  *   *   *   *  *   *   *   *  *   *   *   *  *   *   *   *  *   *   *   *  *   *   *  

So Tony and mom got married, I got adopted and my new dad moved in with us.

Things were different almost right away.  Tony came from a large Italian family, and after the period of courtship during which he treated mom like a queen, he expected to be king of his house. Mom was so crazy about her handsome, young husband that she didn't seem to care.  On the contrary, she seemed to really like it.

When Tony sat in the living room, watching sports in his undershirt, mom brought him beer and snacks.   When he went down to the basement to work out with his weights, mom brought him fresh towels to dry off with and cold drinks.

Tony took his role as my father seriously.  When the adoption papers were legal, Tony gave me a crushing bear hug and said, "Well, kid, you got yourself a papa.  That's what the kids in my family call their father, 'Papa' and that's what you call me.  Okay?"

"Isn't that pretty old-fashioned?" I asked.  I couldn't imagine calling Tony 'Papa' in front of my friends.

"Hey, sonny boy," Tony said, lifting my chin, "I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy.  Remember that."  Tony grinned and winked at me, but I felt an uneasiness creeping into my stomach.

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For a while, I watched my step with Tony in the house.   It paid to check out the territory and see what was up.   But after a while, things seemed to fall into place.   Tony and mom had a lot of fun and so did I, to be honest. 

Tony had me work out with him and my little frame began to get a little definition.  Tony was good-humored and liked to play ball with me.   He also liked to play cards and mom, Tony and me almost always played a couple of hands of poker before I went to bed.  It wasn't too bad.

So, I began to relax.   This meant that I started cutting school and, when the school sent notes home, I intercepted them and wrote fake sick excuses.

Instead of school, I went behind the metal foundry with Dave, Carl and Charlie and smoked cigarettes and whatever joints we could get ahold of and drank beer and puked a lot.

One day, after a joint-beer-puke fest, I got home and found Tony in the living room.   He had on his black, work-out tank top and sweatpants.   He was reading a note.

When I walked in, Tony looked up and right away I knew he was pissed as hell.   He came over to me waving the letter.   "What the fuck is this?" he asked.   Now I knew he was pissed.  Tony was one of the few Italians I knew who practically never said a bad word.

I looked at the note.   It was from Mr. Koligson, the school principal, it said:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Morelli,

Your son, John Michael Anthony has not been in school  for the past
two weeks.   We have received a number of letters from you
stating that John is ill, but due to the number of absences he has
accrued this semester (23 days to be exact) we require a doctor's letter.

If this is not forthcoming, we will send the district attendance officer
to your home to investigage.

I am sorry if the tone of this letter is excessively formal, but we are
concerned about John Michael Anthony.  He is a very bright boy
who simply doesn't seem to care.

Perhaps we can meet soon and discuss both his academic
peformance and his behavior.   I will have my secretary call to
set up a meeting.

Sincerely,


David Koligson

Tony took hold of my arm and pulled me into the living room.  

"Hey," I said, trying to pull free, but that was a no go.  Tony dragged me over to the sofa and then shoved me down on it.  He loomed over me and waved the letter in my face.

"Why the hell are you doing this stuff?" he asked.   His voice thundered and I have to admit that my heart was knocking.

"I don't know," I said truthfully.

"You don't know!" Tony thundered. "You don't know!  Do you know that you are in serious trouble?"

I did know that I was in serious trouble, and I seriously wanted to get out of that living room as fast as I could, but 'Papa' was blocking my exit.

"If I did something like this when I was your age," Tony said, starting to pace back and forth in front of me, "my papa would have...."

Tony stopped talking and stopped packing.  He turned and stared at me.  Then he frowned and nodded his head.  He reached out and grabbed my arm again.

"Come on!" he said sternly.

"Wh-where are we going?"

"Upstairs."  Tony's voice was low and threatening, and he hauled me off the couch and toward the stairs.

"Why?" I asked, I think my knees had started knocking together.

"Because I got to punish you, kid," Tony said.

"No you don't," I said nervously, "I swear to god, you don't haveta."

"Yeah," Tony said, looking at me and nodding his head again as if he were thinking this over on a very deep and personal level, "yeah, I'm your papa, and I got to punish you.  Come on!"

I pulled back and said, "I ain't going up those goddamn stairs!"

Tony looked me in the eye, opened his hand and smacked me right across my mouth.  "Don't you ever, ever talk to me like that," he said.  "Now you get up those stairs, or I'll pick you up by your ass and carry you up them.  Now move!"  Tony grabbed me by the neck and pushed me up the stairs. 

I was afraid that he would carry out his threat, so I ran up the stairs ahead of him and right into my bedroom.  I slammed the door and locked it quickly.  Tony pounded his fist on the door.

"Open the door, John Michael Anthony" he said, "you're only gonna make me more angry."

"I'm not opening the door!" I yelled.

"Open the damn door.  I'm your father!"

"You're not my father!" I yelled back.

CRASH!  Tony kicked the door so that the whole handle and lock cracked off and flew across the room.  Tony came through the doorway like a bull.  His nostrils were flared and his eyebrows arched dangerously.

"Got ya!" he said, as he caught me by the front of my shirt.

Tony sat on my bed and pulled me right up to his chest.  "Your mother was right, boy, you do need a father.  She told me you were out of control and said for me to take you in hand and John Michael....I'm going to take you in hand!"

Tony hauled me up over his left knee so that my chest and arms were on the bed, my crotch was on his lap, and my legs were left kicking in the air. 
What are you doing? Tony, don't.  Hey come on!"

Tony's left arm was curled around my waist, so I couldn't do much but thrash my feet.  I couldn't even turn my head to see what he was doing.

"I'm not Tony to you, kid, I already said that once.  You don't learn things easily, so maybe you'll learn them hard.  When I got out of hand, my papa used to tie my hands to the top of the door frame.  Then he'd take off every bit of my clothes and whip me, from my neck to my ankles, with a strap."

Sweat broke out on my face and I squirmed on Tony's knee.    "You're too little for a whipping," Tony said, "but you sure ain't too little for a good lickin.  John Michael, when I get done with you, you will never again forget who your papa is.   You will never forget to treat your papa and your mother with respect, and you will never, never cut school."

Tony grabbed the belt of my jeans and pulled down, but the pants were fastened too tight, even for his powerful arms.   Tony didn't seem perturbed about it, however, he just used his left arm to flip me over so that I was lying with my butt on his knee and his left arm wrapped around my chest.  Tony pulled open my belt and after a little fumbling, pulled down my zipper.  The he turned me around and tore down my pants.  The pants fell in a pile around my ankles.

Then Tony grabbed the seat of my briefs and didn't even both to pull them down, he just tore them right off me.

"Here's where you take a boy in hand," Tony said.   He spit on the palm of his right hand, "I'm gonna blister you good, son," Tony said and he walloped me with all his strength.

Tony's hand came down across by bare butt so hard that it actually knocked the air out of me.   I could instantly feel the complete shape of his palm and five fingers raise up as a red imprint across my backside.

My eyes filled with tears of pain and I tried to squirm off of his knee, but no luck.  My papa had me and he had me good.

"This is for cutting school," Tony announced, and he spanked me ten agonizing times.

WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP!!!!!!!!!!

I howled and kicked and my poor little dick ground into Tony¹s denim knee.  Tears rolled down my face and my fists drummed the bedspread.

"This is for lying about it," Tony said calmly, and punished me again.

WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP WHAP  WHAP  WHAP WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP!!!

I yelled bloody murder and begged him to stop.  My feet kicked wildly, but Tony threw his right leg over them and pinned them between his thighs.

"This is for using bad language."  Tony whaled away at my bare butt.

WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP!!!

Then Tony lifted me off his knee and stood me in front of him.  I was bawling, but my spirit wasn't quenched yet.  I made my hands into fists and flew at him.  Tony caught both my fists in one hand and held my hands up over my head.

"So, you ain't  learned your lesson yet.  Well, little boy, I guess you want some more."

This time, Tony took a more traditional approach and put me over both his knees.  He held me under the chest with his left arm with his hand clutching my shirt and holding me in place.  With his right hand he pulled my pants off over my shoes and dropped them on the floor.

"You ain't gonna need these no time soon," Tony said, and he set to work on my ass again.

After about five solid minutes of spanking, I was desperate with the hurt.  Ever smack of Tony¹s hand felt like a hot iron was being pressed into my skin.   I had also lost all sense of control over my own body.  This man held me on his lap, he undressed me and smacked me so that I wept like a baby. Snot and tears mingled on my face and I was a complete mess.

Tony got a pocket handkerchief from somewhere and held it to my nose.

"Blow!" he commanded, and I blew.  Tony wiped my nose none to gently and said, "I want to talk to you again now."

"Can...can I get up?.....Please," I added.

"Nope, you can stay right where you are, because I may need to lick you some more.  First off, what's my name?"

I sobbed and more wetness came out of my eyes and nose.  Tony didn't wipe it away this time.   "Papa," I blubbered.

WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP!!!

"You didn't say it respectfully enough!" Tony thundered.   "Do you want me to haul you into the bathroom and scrub out your fresh mouth with the toilet brush?   I will do it!!"
"N-no, papa," I sobbed.  "Y--your name is p-papa," I said it as sorrowfully and respectfully as I could.  And you know what, I meant it.

"Are you gonna cut school any more?" papa asked.

I paused.

WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP!!!!!

I howled and tried to reach back, but Tony slapped my hands so hard that I jerked them away again.

"I think that I'm going to just do to you what my papa did to me, little as you are," Tony said.   "You want me to stip you bare and whip you until you almost pass out?"

"No, no, papa.  I won't cut school any more I swear!"

"You know what I'll do if you ever lie to me and do it!"  Tony warned.  "I'll whip you so bad that you'll wish you could throw your butt away."

"Are you going to mind me and do what papa tells you?"

I felt completely humiliated.  I had been undressed and spanked bare by a man who was only old enough to be my big brother, yet he was my legal father and had complete power over me for a number of years to come.

WHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAPWHAP  WHAP  WHAP  WHAP!!!!

I had take too long to reply and now I had been spanked into frantic tears again.

"I'm going to stand you in the corner, John Michael," papa said.   "And I'm gonna sit right here and watch you.  Then, after you have an hour to think it over with your bare heinie cooling off, I'm going put you back over my knee and warm you up all over again.  Then we'll do corner time, then hienie time, then corner time and hienie time, and I think when we get to round five, you'll be a very different boy.

Papa put me in the corner and spanked me into the correct position.   Then he took off his tank top and sat right behind me.

"Whew!" he said.  "Being a papa is hot work, isn't it John Michael Anthony?"

"Yes papa," I said, in full agreement.

(to be continued)