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Tony Morelli Junior

My name is Tony Morelli, junior. It used to be John Michael Anthony Turner, but then my mom married Tony Morelli and we went Italian. That means that Tony, my dad, is the king of our house and that I have to mind him. It also means that he takes being my papa very seriously!! Very seriously. So seriously that he decided that my first two names could take a hike, and that only the Anthony mattered. Hence, the title: Tony, junior.

I have to tell you that I went through a period of adjustment with my new dad. After all, I’m sixteen and he’s only twenty-four, and at first I didn’t expect to take him seriously as a father, but man was I wrong. Tony Morelli is a very serious father. If you don’t believe it check out my rear end when I’ve stepped out of line. On second thought, don’t check out my rear end. It isn’t any of your fucking business.

My papa not only makes me go by the name of Tony, junior, just like I was his real, biological son, but he makes me write "Junior Morelli" on my school papers and tells all his buddies that my name is Tony Junior and now they either call me "Tony Junior" or just "Junior." For fifteen years everyone called me John or John Michael, now I have a father and my name is Tony Junior.

My papa is one big guy, over six feet tall and with a body like the Terminator’s (movie #1). When he decides that it’s time to administer a little pa-rental discipline, he just tosses me over his lap and whams the living crap out of me. Do I what? Do I cry? Don’t laugh dickhead, you’d cry too if my papa started whaling on your butt, believe you me. He’s got a hand like a side of beef and he’s recently acquired a hairbrush that’s serious shit. And don’t tell me that you can’t believe a sixteen year old gets spankings; meet my papa and ask him about it.....but you’d better be ready to run after you ask.

I can’t talk to you anymore, my papa’s taking me to the gym with him and he just called me from downstairs.

“Hey, Junior! Are you comin’ or what? Do I gotta come up there and get you? If I do......”

Yeah, that’s him. Later.

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Tony Morelli loved being a papa. It made him feel taller than he already was. It made his chest hair curlier, it made the curly hair on his head blacker, it made his muscles bulge and it had made him decide to grow a mustache and goatee and smoke big El Profundo cigars. "All papas have moustaches," Tony told his buddies at the gym, “and all papas smoke cigars.”

Tony’s buddies knew that Tony loved his new son. They also knew that Tony was old-fashioned in the discipline department; they had all grown up with an intimate acquaintance with their father’s belt and the flat of his hand, so they werent surprised that Tony spanked Tony, junior. Only Nick seemed obsessed with the idea.

When Tony told his pals that he was going to bring his boy to the gym that evening, Nick had asked, Ya sure hes okay to work out?

Howdya mean? Tony asked.

Well, didnt you have to spank his little ass on Monday on account of some math test?

Yeah, so? Tony snapped back.

So, you know? Can he work out?

Whats the matter with you, Nick, Tony said laughing. I spanked the kids behind, I didnt break his legs!

Okay, okay, I was just concerned, Nick asked. So can he sit down?

Tony playfully booted Nicks rear end with the side of his shoe. Nick laughed and jumped to the side.

Ya ask too many questions, Nick, Tony said howling, and you wont be able to sit down! Ill see ya later.

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Ya know what,papa? Tony junior said, as they were driving over to the gym.

What, kid? Tony said, chewing his gold-banded El Profundo cigar to a corner of his mouth.

Those stogies of yours sure smell! Tony junior laughed.

Tony pulled at his cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke. Oh boy, he said, mock threateningly, somebodys askin for a red hienie. Who could it be?

Not me, Tony junior said, holding up his hands and giving a little laugh, hey, Im still recuperating from Monday. Tony juniors humor faded a little as he shifted in his seat. Ya know, papa, I really am too old for spankin.

Tony glanced at his son, stuck his stogie back into his jaw, and looked at the road again. No, youre not! he said decidedly. Youre not even near. My papa took his strap to me until I was twenty-one. I never strapped you so far, junior, Tony shot the boy one of his dont get wise looks, but your backside is mine until I tell you otherwise. Kapesh?

Tony junior didnt answer right away and Tony senior pulled his cigar out of his mouth and eyeballed the boy. Kapesh!! he said firmly.

Yeah, papa. I kapesh, Tony junior said resignedly.

They drove in silence for a few moments.

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Thats how it is. My papa doesnt take shit! The way I figure it is this, you gotta take the good with the bad. I know a lot of kids my age whose fathers dont even know theyre alive. They dont do much with the kid, unless they happen to get a couple of tickets to a Knicks game, and they arent very involved in the kids life. My papa is very involved. He keeps up with my schoolwork, wants to know my friends and likes to take me places with him.

I guess I love him.

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I love takin my son to the gym with me. First of all, hes a good lookin kid and he relates well, so I feel proud that hes my boy. Second, all the guys there know me and I like junior to see that his old man gets on with people. He knows that, but - hey - its good for a boy to see that his father has friends and gets treated with respect. I also like the kid to know how to handle himself with men. Its a hard world, and I dont want my boy to get second-class treatment.

Nick and Rocco are pulling weights when we come in, and they dont break their series. But they grunt a greeting.

I take Junior to the locker where we change into our tanks and sweat pants and then hit the weights.

Juniors starting to get a little build on him. I can see more definition in his chest and biceps, so I give him a little extra weight to work on and start working out myself.

After a few minutes, I told Junior to quit and hit the treadmill for awhile while I stayed with the weights. I dont want the kid to strain himself.

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Papa is always worried that Ill strain myself with the weights, so even though I wasnt really ready, he made me stop and work out on the treadmill. I hate the treadmill. I especially hated it cause Nick came and started jogging on the treadmill right next to me.

Hey, Junior, how ya doin?

Okay.

Yeah! Thats not what I heard.

I tried to just run and not pay attention, but I also didnt want to look straight out rude. Papa doesnt go for that.

I heard, Nick went on without encouragement, that youve been havin a little trouble with math. That right, kid?

Oh, shit! I knew he was heading to Monday.

Math sucks! I said and shrugged.

Sucks?! Nick said, clicking his tongue. You shouldnt curse, Tony junior, you wouldnt want me to tell papa that you were swearing. No, he shook his head, your papa dont like swearing. I know that for a fact. Nick shook his head. Hm-mm. Ya know, I think if I told him that you just swore when you talked to me. Hed give you a repeat performance of Monday night.

I cant believe that I have to sweat on this fucking treadmill and listen to this shithead at the same time. Whats with him?

Papa give you a real good spanking on Monday, did he? Nick pushed.

Yeah. I guess, I said, hoping if I offered him a little red-faced embarrassment he might back off. No such luck.

He take your pants and panties down, put you on his knee and slap your little bare rumpus?

I didnt answer, and I didnt look at Nick either.

No, he said, I think if I told old Tony that you cursed when I was talkin to you, hed just put you over his knee, take down your britches and tan your backside something fierce!

I knew that Nick was just taunting me, trying to get me to step further out of line, so he could see me get it from Pa, but I couldnt help it. I blew.

Fuck you, dickhead! I said, and flew off the treadmill.

In another second, I was wrapped all around Nick punching away, while he tried to capture my wrists. Suddenly somethng took hold of the seat of my pants and I was swung into space and left there hanging. It was Papa.

Hey! Hey! he shouted. Whats going on?

Put me down! I screamed.

Papa put me down, but held onto my arm, so I couldnt fly into action.

Whoa! Nick said. That kid of yours has no control.

I shot forward, but Papa yanked me back in place.

Get under control, son! he said. What happened?

He keeps riding me, I said. He was talking about Monday.

Papa looked at Nick.

Yeah, thats right. I asked the kid if he was still having trouble in math, because I heard what happened on Monday.

You didnt ask it like that, Shit-for-Brains! I screamed.

Papa took my face in one hand and jerked me around so that I was looking at him and my lips were like goldfish lips. Tony! he said, and I knew I was in trouble. He never just called me Tony unless he was about to blow! I hear one more fresh word out of your mouth and Ill wash it out until you breathe bubbles, you got me, son?

I wanted to turn and glare at Nick, but Papa had my face in bondage. Yes, papa, I said, mindful of respect even in my extremity.

Papa turned to Nick. Nick, are you teasing my son?

Nick put on a flabbergasted face. Then decided to try for the upper hand but acting angry. Im outa here, he said. I cant believe youre even asking me.....

He didnt get any further, Papas fist shot out of nowhere and Nick went down. Really down. TIMBER! Down. And he didnt get up. Several men ran over, but they didnt do anything. Rocco ran to get some water and Papa turned me around.

Come on, kid, we both need a shower!

I looked at my Pop with pride, and I didnt even feel like a baby when he took me by the hand and lead me into the shower room.

We stripped down and, along with four other guys, Papa started showering and soaping his body. I just stood there staring at him. In all my fucking life....no one ever stood up for me like that.

I didnt even mind when Papa noticed I was just standing there, and took hold of me, just like I was seven, and started soaping me down. I just stood there like his little boy, while my father shampooed my hair, soaped my chest stomach, butt, and even lathered up my dick and balls. And you know what. I was filled with love for the guy.

Just as he was rinsing me off, I looked at him and grinned and said, Your the greatest papa. You really took care of that Dickhead!

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Well, there we were having this meaningful father/son moment and he had to louse it up by getting foul-mouthed again. Hey, a dads gotta do what a dads gotta do.

So I grabbed him by an ear and hauled him over to the benches.

Hey, dad, whatre ya doin? he cried. But in the next second, he found out.

I put one foot up on a bench and pushed Junior up over my knee. He hung there with me holding him in place, and I said, I love ya, and I aint gonna let anyone tease ya, but I also aint gonna let ya have a dirty, filthy mouth! And I held him there for ten minutes while I spanked the holy SHIT out of him.

Man, a boys bare hienie really resonates when you wallop it in a shower room, not to mention the kids howls. In about three minutes, we had the whole gym crowding in to watch me spanking my son.

There was a lot of laughing and head nodding and little unhelpful asshole comments like....

Oooh, Tonys workin him over!

AND

Hey, kid, ya face is turning red!

At one point I bluntly suggested that they all get the hell outta there and mind their own damn business, but the show was more powerful than my words, cause most of em didnt move and watched the show till the end.

I was sorry about that, cause Tony junior was cryin his eyes out, and I couldnt comfort him like I wanted, and could only dry him off (howlin all the while) dress him in his clothes (howlin all the while), and take him outta there.

I dont know what happened to Nick; they probably took him home with an ice pack, but who the hell cares. He better shape up, or hes history in my book.

Once we got to the car, and I got the cryin kid buckled into his seat belt and came around and got in the drivers seat, I was able to throw one arm around him and let him slump against me.

I leaned that why crying all the way home and saying, Pa-pa, Im sor-ry. Are ya mad, pa-pa. Dont (hiccup) be mad, da-ddy. I love you. Just like a real little guy.

He was so worn out by the time we got home that I picked him and carried him, half asleep into the house.

His mom wanted to hear all about it, but I held up my hand and she backed off. I carried the kid upstairs and put him to bed.

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I know that my dad thinks I was asleep when he undressed me and just put on my pajama top and tucked me in, but I wasnt. I just let him take care of me, just like I was a little kid. And you know what....I liked all of it.

I even like that he knew not to put the bottoms on because of how hot and sore my backside was. I didnt hold that against Papa. Hell, why should I, Im the one who cursed. Hes my dad; he cares about how I turn out.

There are only a few things in life a guy like me can count on, and Im lucky cause I can count on some really important things. I can count on the fact that my dad will spank the crap out of me if I get out of line, I can count on the fact that he wont let anybody else treat me wrong, and I can count on his love.

Im proud to be Tony Morelli, Junior.

THE END