A Tale of Three Boys and Their Three Bath Brushes

by PJ_Franklin

Chapter 1: Randy Williams Meets His New Family

Summary:

Randy William's mom finds a new husband after her first, Randy's biolocigal father skips town leaving mom without a husband and a son without a dad. Only there's a big catch. David Miller is a widower with two sons of his own, 15 year old Mark and 17 year old Paul. And dad is a strict disciplinarian.

I already felt a low level almost sick-to-my stomach kind of feeling as I looked, stared really, up at what was going on across the floor a few feet away as well as perched up on Mark's bedside. Certainly not the feeling you can get when you get sick from eating something that doesn't sit well with you. Or because you're maybe having an illness coming on,  no. It was the kind caused by very high anxiety. A bit excessive worry and concern thing, maybe.  

And there was no option for me not to look and why? Step-dad's orders of Paul and I, that's why.  As it was I was seated with my knees drawn up up against the far wall opposite the action in front of us. Us meaning me elbow-to-elbow next to my new older-than-me-by-two-years new step-brother, Paul. So that it was my new same-aged step-brother, Mark, who was now laying face down over my new step-father's lap readied to get a very adaquately more-than-earned bare bottom spanking from his dad.

The stern lecture given by my new step-father, David Miller had preceded Mark's vulnerable positioning. Mr. Miller was very importantly not angry. Far from it actually in a way that simply seemed to make the situation even much more vulerable. You know, humiliating or embarrassing feeling, though I can't say exactly why.

I had known friends whose fathers spanked their wayward sons while angry so that if I was a witness, it was really easy to justify that the father had no business punishing his son in that state of mind. It was so pie simple to dismiss the whole thing then because A) It wasn't me getting yelled and B) I was more than capable of marshaling a substantial amount of self-serving self-righteousness so much so that I could justify scowling at the involved "asshole" male adult involved. 

But now, not so such. In fact not at all. Mark had indeed crossed the line, disobeying his father a second time after being grounded the first time for an unwise choice, it really didn't matter what it was in the Miller family. Disobey dad, most times get a non-spanking warning first as Mr. Miller had given his son the first time. But cross the line too soon after the first warning? May as well just march your dumb-ass to your bedroom and get ready for a painful over-the-knee physical punishment, a really hard bare ass spanking and not just with dad's palm. 

And oh, what of a Mrs. Miller? That was a touchy subject with the Miller males. One that I would never wish on myself, anyone really. She had been killed in a head-on collision with a drunk driver about five years back. So that's a digression that I am all too happy to give up starting now. 

Anyway. I had witnessed fathers spank their sons with their palms. I had seen belts used. I even once witnessed a switching in the backyard to a bare-bottomed friend. That was intense. All of them had been earned, but many of the fathers had seemed overly upset, but not all of them.

My problem or one might say, my advantage back then was that I did not have a dad in my life who would do this to me. And my mother was not inclined to use corporal punishment if I crossed any of her lines. I had privileges revoked and groundings and if I violated those, she would simply make me do more chores and increased the grounding time. I thought at the time that those were bad enough, but was thankful that she did not spank me.

But those days were now long gone because after my shit-headed birth father left the family never to be seen again, several years later she finally found a man to relate to that would treat her with respect and love and they married. At least mom had the decency to not so much ask my permission to marry David Miller as to at least introduce David and his two sons, 15-year-old Mark and his older brother, 17-year-old Paul to me before the final decision was made. I too am 15, just like Mark. My name is Randy Williams.

The Miller family ritual for corporal punishment post-madatory lecture commenced. Next seemed the worst at the time because I had never seen this. Mark had to stand with hands on his head as his own father reached up, unbuttoned Mark's jeans. Unzipped the fly and then lowered Mark's jeans with his white briefs to Mark's ankles baring his white un-marked backside to Paul and I, Mark kicking them away from his stocking feet as in "see you later boys." Did it matter that Mark was not told to do so on his own? That he had to have dad do it for him? Talk about stomach churning.

No fucking way I would ever let a man do that to me, if it was up to me, no matter his authoritarian standing with me and especially so at my advanced "adult" teen age, right? But before I answer best not use that that word: "fucking" or anything close to it.

In fact I had best just dump my tendency to potty-mouth four-letter words whenever I wanted to right now because both of my new step-brothers told me that retaliatory mouth-soapings were only a few steps away down the hallway from the bedroom inside of the bathroom in the the form of a bar of yukky tasting soap. Make that bars of soap lined up in a cabinet like small hand-grenades. Pins already half-way pulled out and ready to be accurately deployed into any potty-mouthed Miller boy who got caught cussing and especially so in front of dad or any other adult who might eavesdrop. 

It should not matter who does the honors of lowering clothing to get to a guy's bare ass, but it did matter, at least to me. A lot!  I could literally feel Mark's humiliation in having his dad do so like Mark is 5 or 8 or whatever age younger. Totally cringy let me tell you. I instantly felt even a little sicker to my tummy just watching that happen and I knew implicitly that my step-dad likely did that to add to the punishment because dad has a PhD on the subject.

David would then hand-spank Mark next and then Mark would get a paddling with his father's bath brush. I could see the thing lying there to Mr. Miller's right like a hibernating predator, a nuclear weapon ready to be armed, grasped and awoken for use after the initial hand warming of his son's well up-turned bare bottom.

I'd never seen a bath brush used. Several times I had seen hairbrush paddlings and even once a paddling of a friend on his bare with a principal's paddle. Somehow, the bath brush looked far more painful than all of them, but that was probably just my high anxiety as this was the first time for me to witness a Miller boy suffer even just the basic ordeal of his father's discipline.

And that was part of the ritual, the witnessing thing that is. I was told by Mark and Paul that should any of us, including me, cross lines with their father, now my step-father, that the other two non-punished boys would always have to witness the spanking. Yes, not optional. Not only that, but we were also not allowed to look away or look down from our compatriot's demise.

The hand-spanking started. I had seen hand spankings lots of times, but was never, ever at risk. Yes, I will confess that the boys that I knew of including myself were utterly mesmerized or fascinated when another boy gets punished like that. It's the male adolescent equivalent to being mesmerized by a train wreck or video of a ship sinking at sea, that sort of thing. Why is it that we secretly or sometimes not so secretly glory in the painful corporal punishment of another boy, especially close to our own ages? We simply do.

My step-father started the hand spanking. It did not seem all that hard compared to others that I'd seen. And it counted up to only twenty kind-of-hard palm slaps distributed evenly over both cheeks. Mark winced but did not otherwise seem very fazed. But again, I already knew that was just a warm-up.

Still, the spanking left Mark's ass pretty red with a collection of blotchy paternal hand-print welts. My step-dad then said not a word as he opened the B-52's bomb bay doors, the thermonuclear weapon, the bath brush armed, grasped. I bit my lower lip so tempted to look away, but I was told that I would be warned just once if I did, violating the dictum a second time might not earn me the bath brush, but most certainly I would be given a hand-spanking that would far exceed the one that Mark had just been given.

I actually did glance away just a bit, but my alert big brother to my rescue, Paul making sure that I sat very close to him, so that if I did seem tempted to look away, I would get a sharp elbow in my ribs and right then I did. "Hang in there buddy, don't put yourself at risk," Paul whispered very quietly to me as talking between the witnesses was also quite forbidden.

I never had either a little brother or big brother in my life, and now I had both. And though technically they are my step-brothers, from the get-go I counted them as just brothers without the "step" in between. And just then Paul slid his right arm across my back and firmly gripped my right shoulder to not only remind me, but also to support me. The feeling of physical closeness to Paul, his support felt unbelievably good to me, but was short-lived as Mark's bath brush paddling began.

I don't know why, but that bath brush seemed the harshest of any of the implements I had witnessed to date. I know, that makes no sense. The other implements had made the boys during my other witnessed implement punishments cry plenty of tears and as Mr. Miller paddled his son, Mark cried freely though otherwise kept his position in a way I was not sure that I could should I befall a similar future fate.

And though I had not been spanked by Mr. Miller, yet anyway, I felt something that I had never felt before witnessing other boys' spankings. Sympathy, and a lot of it. Not empathy, not really. Empathy is when you share something with another person, usually some kind of loss you could relate to. Something in common. Sympathy by itself otherwise carries with it an inherent barrier. So, anyway.

By the time that Mark had taken all of his bath brush paddling, close to 40 blasts, he was beside himself crying and sobbing and even softly had begged his father to stop the punishment, falling on deaf ears, of course. But finally it was done. I could breath again. I glanced a two-year-older very spank-experienced Paul and his face was red, him shaking his head. Now that startled me. I spontaneously reached up and squeezed on his near should and he reached up and patted mine. Now that my friend is pure-gold empathy and that even though I had yet to really empathize with my own torched behind. 

Mr. Miller leaned over and whispered something to Mark that Paul and I could not hear. Not a lecture. Mark turned his head and said something back that seemed to put a small smile on his father's face, Mark's too. Talk about never seen before by me. The other boys and dads I had ever witnessed had been left, both of them very unhappy, sometimes simmering anger on the boy's part if not also the dad's.

Then the last phase of the punishment commenced. Dad helped Mark to stand and then ... then something happened between the pair that tugged mightily very hard at my heart. And let's not dwell on the fact that now I could see Mark's blistered bottom. Beet red, very beet red. But that's not what took me by startled surprise. Mark hugged his dad tightly just then, dad hugging his son like he really loves him in spite of the ordeal. From real love too and not just something obligatory and forced. Nothing forced about their warm dad and son embrace in my mind anyway.

Not looking at Paul or me, Mark pulled up his jeans with his white underwear but only to just below his very red bare bottom and walked over to the corner for corner time. Apparently the time was standard because Mr. Miller said nothing. "Thirty minutes," Paul whispered to me.

Half an hour seemed like an eternity to me and I was not Mark. My step-father stood and nodded down to us. Paul and I stood or rather I stood after Paul did. "How are you feeling, Randy?" Mr. Miller asked me. This was unexpected. I would have thought he would ask that of Mark, maybe. How was I feeling?

I wanted to say something profound, something meaningful. But I would learn over time though I knew at the beginning, that with David Miller, honesty was always going to be the best policy no matter the ardous circumstances of the moment. And that included feelings. I'd never been asked anything like that because I didn't have a dad. I expected it from my mom, but not from a male authority.

I swallowed hard, "I'm unsure what I feel ... um ... Dad ..."

OK, let's stop right there for a moment. After it was decided that David Miller and my mom, Patricia or Patty Williams would marry, I was given the choice of what to call Mr. Miller. I could call him most anything. Mr. Miller. Sir. Father. Step-father or Dad. Or just dad and Paul and Mark had even teased me that I should call Mr. Miller "daddy" even.

Naturally I thought that they were just teasing, pulling my leg of course, but then I heard them call my new step-dad, daddy, here and there and it was not a tease, but aside from teasing their dad with the word, at times they actually were begging him to buy something or whatever to their advantage. I would find out later that "daddy" could be used in another context as well, several more in fact. Anyway, I could make any choice of names other than David, of course.

It's complicated because I had badly wanted to have a dad having lost my biologic father. And I had weakly protested privately to my mother about her marrying David, but only after I found out that David Miller is a strict disciplinarian for his sons and that he still spanked them. And, most pointedly, even at their ages of 15 and 17, were not too old to be spanked and that meant that I was eligible now to be spanked as well.

I had heard of boys moving in with their step-parents. Very unhappy about it as well. And to protest they would refuse to call their step-father anything other than that or the more formal Mr. So-and-so. I always thought that was, well, understandable, but it also felt disrespectful even if legal so to speak.

Mom had sympathized with me about moving in with a male parent who spanked his sons and if I cross the line, I would also be getting spankings even though I had never been spanked before. I quickly dropped my protest, of course. My mom had endured hell being a single parent with a son who she knew for sure needed a father in the home, an ever-present male role model and not some other non-live-in male relative substitute. She deserved to have a husband who treated her as she deserved and not to run away from her or me like my biologic father, had. I love my mother so much, you have no idea.

And so for that reason I would never cause her any kind of worry or hurt should I choose to call David Miller anything other than father or dad. Even using the "step" version seemed as bad to me as the other weakly protested names that other boys had done for spite.

And to his credit, when I asked David Miller if I could call him dad and not use "step" he became quite emotional. I even got a hug from him that was totally unexpected and to tell the truth took me off guard for a moment. I'd never been hugged by a dad, certainly not my biologic father.

"Well, only if I can call you son, Randy. Is that OK?" He even gave me that choice. How can you not love a man who is trying his best to be a real father to me and to tell the truth I was thrilled. And, charmed. "I'd love that dad!" I said. Paul and Mark were standing right there and joined the hug. Four males in one family hugging happily for any reason at all? Well, needless to say I was always going to drink that Kool-aid to the last bitter drop, I was all in.

Dad nodded, "That's totally understandable, son. It's OK, I just wanted you to have a say because this is your first time and all." Dad then looked over at son Mark. Mark's bare red ass facing us all. He looked a long moment and then turned to Paul and I. "Randy, ordinarily corner time is to be spent alone, no talking. I would not mind if you and Paul stayed in the room with Mark. And ordinarily no talking with him back and forth ... but ... this one time I am going to allow for both you and Paul to sit or stand in the corner with Mark. And you can talk, about anything. But I'd prefer if Paul and Mark both kind of well ... talk about what you just witnessed Randy. Hear that Mark?" he called over.

"Yes daddy. Thank you daddy!" and that was one of the other instances of use for the "daddy" when ordinarily it would not be.  "OK boys, I'm out of here. Still 30 total minutes," and then dad left the room. Paul and I rushed over to Mark who still had to stand there with his red ass fully exposed to us. Paul winked at me, "How's your red butt, butt-head?" Paul teased. But how would Mark reply? Again me with another first experience and with boys my own age. "It hurts, stupid ... hey Randy. Bet you have more to say to us than to dad. But it was cool of him to ask you," Mark remarked.

"You don't have to say anything Randy, but I wouldn't mind knowing too," Paul reassured. I sighed. "Honestly, I don't know ..." I hesitated. "Dude, it's OK if you just felt like ... glad it wasn't me ... or like sometimes when Paul and I have seen other boys get spanked and not us, we're all like if he's carrying on too much, like what a pussy!" and I chuckled. "Yea and what a wuss. My dad spanks so much harder and we don't wuss out," Paul said.

"But what about crying? Is that wussing out? Or is that being a pussy?" I asked with a very brief panic. "No, not even. Dad's spankings always hurt bad and if you need to cry, you cry. No loss of respect, ever," Paul said. "He's right, Randy. Crying is OK," Mark confirmed and oh boy, now I can breathe again.

And then Paul looks at me like he's about to do something heinous. "OK Mark, we agreed, right?" and I look at both of them. "Yea, we did. Tell him," Mark said.  "Tell me what?" my curiosity maximal. "We decided that whoever got spanked first after you moved in, has to 1) let you feel on his spanked ass if you want. And 2) then let you land two hard spanks, one on each cheek of whoever is here in the corner," Paul advised.

"Wait ... what's the catch?" I grinned because there had to be one. Paul and Mark both chuckled, "Smart dude. Yup. The catch is that if you get spanked and have corner time you have to let both Paul and me both feel your red ass and then give you each two spanks, so four spanks in all."

"But what if dad finds out?" I quickly asked, because otherwise I liked the idea, and not a little. It felt bonding. It felt like that both of them were trying ways to make me a part of their family, from just their points of view. He won't, but what if he does? It will just mean that if he decides that it warrents spanking, we all will get spanked equally is all," Paul answered. "All at the same time, too?" I asked for confirmation. "Yup!" Mark took that one.

"OK man, batter up!" Mark smiled at me and even stuck his red ass out for me to target. So I did. Reaching slowly out this would be the very first time I actually would touch any guy's butt, spanked or not. I then gently let my palm seal softly onto the red tapestry. "OUCH GOD DAMN IT!" Mark shreiked! "Dude! No curse words!" Paul instantly chided.

"Sorry. OUCH MAN!" Mark giggled. "Sorry, Randy. Just kidding," but I finally caught up and then landed two very hard spanks, one on each side. "Yes, yes! That's it bro!" Paul grinned as Mark winced without faking it, too. "Too hard?" I asked Mark. Mark shook his head, "Dude, wait until I get to spank your red ass. I am SO looking forward to it," he winked and then we low-fived together. Instant 100% bro bonding right there. What do they call it now? Bromance? Yup, and in spades. 

I would soon find out that brothers are meant to be physical with each other. And yes, that includes spanks on bare butts if you don't get out of they way whenever the parents are not home or whenever, it's just a guy and bro thing that was eye-opening to say the least.

The 30 minutes finally expired. Dad opened the door, "Time's up guys. Be good Mark. Randy? Feel better?" he asked me. I thought and I was ready to say it, "Yes daddy, I am and thank you for asking," only I blushed hoping it didn't sound manipulative because it wasn't. 

"Welcome, son," he said and closed the door. I expected to be teased about the daddy thing and maybe I wanted to be teased because I knew I could handle it from either Mark or Paul or both together. "Dude, good call. I won, you owe me one dollar, Mark," Paul smirked. "OK, OK," and then pulling up his trousers with his undies, went over to the dresser.

"Why did you win something?" I asked Paul. "Because I had a bet with shit-for-brains over there. I said for sure you would call dad, daddy before the week was up. And you did," and that almost answered my question, but not quite. Mark then brought the one dollar bill over and handed it to Paul who pocketed it. "Sorry, Randy. I just was unsure that you had the nads to call dad, daddy. Because he loves it and we love to please him, especially when we want stuff," and we all three laughed, because it would be all too true.

"But seriously ..." Paul went on, "... See, our dad is a boy's dad. And we, Paul and I, we're daddy's boys, always have been. Our daddy's boys. And now so are you, too," and then we all three high-fived. Daddy's boy, who the hell knew? 

*  *  *  *  *

Much needless to say that I was floating on a cloud of a happiness that I never knew could exist for the next several days. I had spent time with David Miller, Mark and Paul of course with my mom and me before they got married. I watched enviously as David Miller horseplayed with his boys and that it was very physical. Paul and Mark even hopped up on Mr. Miller's back like little boys. I was so envious, so very envious as then just a bystander.

Mr. Miller would throw his hands up, "My fault! We have to stop now boys or I'll have to get both of you over my knees and add some spanks as well!" mostly said I thought for my benefit. He didn't do it that time but I sure wished he had because I could get into that kind of fatherly horseplay with boys he so obviously loved a ton.

The good thing now was that there was no school. The wedding had been planned to take into account the upcoming month of March spring break so that mom and I could move in with the Millers and then all of us start to get to know each other. And to new dad's credit he let us three get a bit carried away with boistrous physical play. And mom? She was basking in all of it. And dad was basking in her. And then they might wander off on their own and ... well, to be frank, do things behind their closed bedroom door.

"Come on guys, let's check this out," Paul said. "What? Check what out?" I asked incredulous. "The parents making hot sex, of course," Mark said flatly. "That's gross!" I remarked. "Sure it is, but dad has never had a good lay ... I mean ... he's never had a good woman to you know ..." Paul smirked. And now I did. And now I smiled, "Let's do it!" so we did. We softly padded down the hallway to the door and pressed ears. We heard giggling, and laughing and I had to lurch back. 

"What's wrong?" Paul aske me. I blushed. "I just ... I never heard my old dad and mom have any fun at all like that. I'm just so ..." I had to stop. "Dude, you're right. They deserve to be alone, come on. Last one to the X-box has to get the snacks and stuff!" Mark and Paul taking off, me dragging my ass behind, but even so I was grinning because mom and dad were "doing it" and both deserved to have their own alone time to do so.

Dad and mom held hands the entire time at the roller coaster park as just one part of our sping break activities. They fed each other pop-corn and cotton candy. They played arcade games together allowing us boys free reign including a nice litte bit of cash to buy stuff. Then at the ballpark the next day, something special happened. Dad had got us tickets between home plate and first base. I had never been to a ballgame much less with a dad, mom and my new brothers. I love baseball, love it.

The batter, a member of our home team, swung at the opposing pitcher's fast ball , fouling it up and over the big screen-net and ... right into dad's outstreached glove! Everyone around us cheered dad, most of all us boys! Oh, and yes. All us males including dad were wearing baseball mits, those big gloves, even me. Dad sat and was going to hand the ball to mom, but she whispered something to him. And he nodded, "Randy? This is yours, buddy," and he handed it to mom who handed it to me.

Silly me, I had to go and get emotional. I looked at the ball. I looked at the man who had just gifted it to me, speechless. Paul and Mark were all "Teacher's pet!" Mark laughed. "Yea, spoiled brat more like it," Paul teased.

I wanted to yell "Thank you daddy," so much, but you don't do that. But I did flash dad a big ol' cheesy grin. Dad sat back and whispered something to mom and then winked at me. And then? After the game?

Dad took us down to the first row of seats right above the dug-out and said something to a security officer who disappeared a moment and then out from the dug-out came the big guy who had fouled the ball off. Dad handed him my ball and he autographed it and handing it up to me said, "Not worth much, but I sure do appreciate you asking for it to be signed," so humble. "Thanks man!" I grinned, but had to suffer more accusations of favoritism from my "groupies" as I now thought of Mark and Paul. I clutched that mit with that ball in it all the way home.

We five did so much that week. Not all of it out and about. I helped doing outdoor landscape things. We all got into a dirt-clod fight pulling weeds including dad. We all of us including dad got lectured from mom about tracking dirt and grass stains into the house. "Oops, in the doghouse with mom!" dad looked sheepish. Mom just smirked, "I might have to deal with you ... later!" and we boys howled and cat-called as they hugged and even kissed in front of us. "Get a room you two!" Paul smirked. Know what they did? They both stuck their tongues out at us.

School started the next week. A new school for me which sucked because I knew nobody but Paul and Mark and obviously only Mark inside the school as we are in the same grade. Things went pretty well even then. And then ... two days later the idyullic honeymoon skidded to a halt. 

*  *  *  *  *

Mark and I were just returning from school, the silver lining to the new school for me was that it was now within walking distance instead of my mom having to drive me. The other silver-lining was that because it was so far advanced into the school year, beyond spring break now, that more or less I was already treated like a high school sophomore and not treated like a noobie freshman.

Mark had introduced me to no fewer than three of his close friends, all of them great guys who proceeded to give me shit over being Mark's new step-brother, "What's the matter Mark? Tired of Paul?" Or similar. Anyway, I had yet to be exposed to all of Mark's and Paul's friends which are numerous. Into the future there would be friends over from both sides of the hallway in various combinations, and there could be nothing negative about that.

So I was in a pretty jocular mood as we walked through the home's front door only to be met by a wall of angry voices coming from the front room, dad's and Paul's. So, reality in the form of Paul's 17 years of adolescence begging to be treated like an adult. No surprise. The angry voices were, however, a surprise.

Of course I was going to listen, but suddenly I felt my body pulled to the kitchen and right out the back door to the patio, then to be pushed down onto the ground to sit next to my alert fellow little brother. "Don't get freaked. Paul has been pushing back against dad for months now before you guys arrived. He wants to be an adult, nobody can blame him. Dad doesn't, but Paul isn't so convinced," Mark's opening statement.

I took a breath and sighed, "Makes sense. So what's going to happen next in there?" I asked, my heart finally starting to calm down from its heart attack level acceleration. "Dad is going to say something. Paul is going to say something. Emotions are going to start to lose a bit of control. Paul's going to shout at dad, dad is going to shout at Paul …" At which point I broke in because I already knew the ending to this movie, "… And then Paul is going to get sent to his room for a spanking," I tossed the dice into the craps table.

"Dude, very good. But I'm surprised that you did not include the usual warning to such matters," Mark observed. I shrugged, "Yeah, I forgot about that, but given the tone of their voices." Mark nodded. "Whether the spanking occurs is now 50/50. He could just be a cooling down for Paul. But lately, if I know Paul, he is just as likely to push dad's limits and get his ass torched, so be ready."

We stood. I looked at Mark, "Thanks man. I don't know what I would do without you and Paul too, but right now he is out of commission," I smiled. Mark grinned and we high-fived.

We walked back into the kitchen and dad was in there, arms folded and leaning up against the counter drinking a glass of water. He saw us and motioned us both over. "How was school?" He asked seeming none the worse for wear. Great, dad. I introduced Randy to the boys. They gave him so much shit, me too. Maybe a sleep-over this coming weekend at our house? Mark asked.

Dad nodded, "Good idea. In fact, plan on it. We'll barbecue for you guys … And about Paul. He wants to spend the next weekend with that idiot Lester again. I said no, he asked why not. Blah, blah, blah. I don't want him hanging out with that pot-head crowd anymore. You can explain it to Randy, I've got work to do … But stay on call you two. I don't know which way this is going to go. It's all up to Paul," and then he left the room.

So, the Miller males are human after all. "So, we leave Paul alone now?" I asked. "Actually, no. Let's go see if we can help, but you say nothing at first and follow my lead," so I did.

We got rid of our school stuff first and then with my heartbeat accelerating again, slowly approached Paul's closed bedroom door. I took notes. Mark gently knocked on the door, turned the knob and stuck just his head in as I watched. I heard voices, then Mark opened the door and we walked in, me closing it behind.

Paul was seated at his bedside, chin cradled into his cupped hands, elbows on his knees. Paul sat up and patted the seats next to him. This, to me anyway, is an excellent sign. I sat to my big brother's right, Mark to his left. Quite frankly I already knew that in most households Paul would've never let us enter much less invite us to commiserate with him. A+ to Paul at least in my book.

"Dad hates Lester and his guys," Paul stated flatly. "Of course he does. Dad hates weed. He even knows you don't smoke it with them, but he worries over the obvious," Mark said. Made sense to me, but I sensed that things were far more complex than that. "I can't seem to convince Dad that if I hang around them, maybe they'll stop or at least not do it around me."

I'm no sociologist, but even I saw through that flawed logic. Mark said nothing, his silence speaking his mind for him. "At some point I feel like I need to stand up to dad. Even if it means the bath brush," Paul said almost resigned. Now I knew that both I was totally out of Mark and Paul's higher league.

It was my turn to say something. "Whatever you decide big brother, we're with you," I said, emotions welling up. At that point Paul put us both into side head-locks. He gently kissed the top of each of our heads and then let go saying resignedly, "A guy has to do what a guy has to do."

"Meaning?" I asked. "I think I got this one," Mark said. I could not believe this conversation back and forth. This was so surreal as I listened: "You're going to put your foot down with dad. You're going to tell him that you're going to be with Lester this weekend. Dad will give you a choice of getting your ass blistered now or after the weekend, your choice."

Once again, I felt like I was bitch-slapped in the face or this was a dream or a nightmare? Paul looked at me, "Your turn," he said. I thought he was joking, sarcasm often fits nicely in at this point in most similar situations. "I'm serious, Randy. You are a very important part of this team and that includes dad. I need to know what you think, what you might do in my situation."

A team? Including the team's judge and executioner, dad? I never felt so much pressure in my life. I paused and gave it some thought and then spoke, I hoped from my heart. "I think dad fears you leaving the nest. He knows you have to, but a good dad like him dreads it." 

"Wash my mouth out with soap but dude, holy fuck!" Mark blurted. A small smile crept onto Paul's face, "And here my biggest fear when you came to the family, Randy, was that you would be a limp rag, kind of useless for six months. And you just leapt to the front of the class. You are exactly right, but how do I deal with that?"

I enjoyed my accolade for about ten seconds until he asked the second question. In stepped Mark, "If it were me, I would take my medicine now and bank it for the weekend. Then, say something happens. You cannot go with Lester and his guys. You kinda have some credit with dad, don't you?" Mark asked. Even I wanted to hear this one.

"In theory. But it's not that cut and dry. Still, Mark, I think I'll go with that. Randy?" Paul added me. I nodded, "I think I would do the same thing. Besides which I hate putting things off like that, make that I will hate putting things off like that."

About then, and knock on the door. It was dad. It was show time …

Dad did not poke his head in, he opened the door, came in and closed the door behind him. "Paul?" was all he said. Paul stood up, "Dad, I mean no disrespect. But I'm going to go with Lester this weekend. It's up to you, but I would prefer to take my punishment now instead of waiting."

In any other household, dad would've flown off the handle and threatened his elder son with corporal punishment mayhem and then ground him for what, a week? A month? For the rest of his life as long as he lived at home, kind of thing? Nope, not with the Miller men. The word that comes to mind is transactional.

Sort of like a business transaction that Is supposed to avoid personal emotions." Agreed. I just hope you know what you're doing. I assume you're ready?" Dad asked. Paul nodded. "Are you boys ready?" Dad asked us. "Need to pee or anything first?" Mark asked me. Pee? Impossible, at least right then. "No," I nodded.

"Randy, honey, go get me the bath brush. It's hanging on a hook on the other side of the bathroom door. You may have seen it?" And indeed I had. Honey? A term of endearment, and taken very seriously among the Miller males as well. I hopped up to standing, "Yes sir," I said curtly.

Dad stood aside as I passed him and turned right, but suddenly a palm on my shoulder stopping me. Dad closed the door first as I turned. "Does any of this freak you out?" He asked me, dad multi-tasking in the best possible way. "Actually, no. I totally understand your concerns, dad. For me, I wish Paul would not go, but I think he has to. I just feel badly that both of you have to go through this."

Dad smiled, "Good boy," is all he said and patted me on my rump sending me down the hallway to fetch the dreaded bath brush, but I paused to glory in that simply butt pat. To me it felt like David Miller not only liked his new step-son, but he loved me just the same as he did his blood related sons. I quickly retrieved the implement and as I walked down the hallway back to Paul's bedroom I felt a certain kind of, well, maturity. I was now an integral part of very difficult Miller male family decisions. It actually felt like an honor.

Upon returning, Paul was already standing a pace in front of the side of his bed, Mark already seated with his ass up against the far wall just as Paul had been when I witnessed my first parental corporal punishment for Mark. I quickly handed the bath brush to dad and then sat beside Mark, mistakenly feeling that I was prepared for what was to come. I most certainly would not be.

Oh, it started out nominally. Dad did not even bother to lecture his elder son. The issues were clear enough already. Dad spread his knees, Paul stepped to between. I knew that dad would now depants my big brother and did. 

I had already seen Paul's bare butt this way, obviously in a completely different context. Wordlessly, Paul lay himself face down across his father's lap. Jesus, a 17-year-old getting a spanking like this? Talk about my or Mark's future in this context. Anyway, I saw the look of determination on Paul's face. I thought I knew that Paul would bear up better than Mark had.

The hand-spanking started. Much harder than Mark's, Paul bore to dad's 30 swats on his ass fairly well I thought, except right at the end I saw him wince. That was not good. Paul's ass reflected the 30, but something wasn't right. Dad did swoop up the bath brush. I quickly reviewed in my mind the frequency and intensity of its use with Mark. That would be my baseline.

So, let's just say for the next odd five minutes, sort of like a bullish stock market, that simple bath brush turned into a ramping up blowtorch. I simply thought that dad was giving his elder, more resilient son, proportionally more blistering, harder brush licks then he had Mark.

I had never seen a 17-year-old cry, bawl and beg as Paul did during the onslaught. He even swooped his hands back to try and protect his, I was very sure, extremely sore bare and quickly crimson backside. "Please daddy no more! My hienie is on fire, please stop daddy, you win! I won't go this weekend!" as dad's strong other hand gripped down hard to prevent Paul's attempt at self-protection.

You win? Hienie? Oh GOD! Where had my already heroic big brother gone to? This was not him! Dad stopped and good thing too. I was about to stand up and walk out of the room, then out of the house and run away, never to return. I did flinch, at least enough that right then Mark took over as a stand-in big brother. "You will stay still Miller or I will personally give you an ass beating and don't think I won't!"

I had no words! I was stunned both by what dad was doing to turn Paul back, say 8 or 10 years right before my unbelieving eyes and ears. The room froze. Dead silence of a count of three. "Mark? Randy? Enough. Anymore from either of you and you both are going to get spankings. Am I clear?" Dad did not bellow, but his voice stern and determined. "Yes sir!" we both barked, I would thank Mark later. "As for you, son. I expect better," and then dad repostioned Paul to just one knee, his leading and then I cringed as dad jack-knifed Paul over his front knee, locking the back of Paul's knees with his. Paul was now, sorry about the next word, imprisoned.

Paul simply cried and cut loose freely as dad then bath brush hided his son to almost yet another count of 30 blows. The only mercy was that after, dad did not hand-spank Paul. "Get up. To the wall," is what dad said bypassing the hug. That one thing threatened to disappoint me about dad. Threatened to destroy the good family feelings I had so carefully nurtured for myself and them all for me. Paul limped to the corner, his face well, kind of angry and who could blame him. 

More tension instead of less. I wanted to scream, "ENOUGH! HUG YOU TWO RIGHT GOD DAMN NOW!" but I didn't. Dad stood, red-faced, tossed the bath brush down to me, actually, as if I was the temporary keeper-of-the-brush. I caught it. Him doing that disarmed me. Having reached the corner, Paul turned his head and they made eye contact. Dad wordlessly motioned his son back to him. Paul walked over, his hands clutching at his ravaged backside. 

I held my breath, Mark at my side, both of us now standing as father and elder son collided. I will never see a hug as fiece and meaningful as those two just then. "I'm so sorry daddy that I made you have to do that. But I'm not going to not go this weekend. I love you," Paul said with a fervor that I could feel even inside of my chest. When I glanced at Mark, he had red eyes and sniffled not looking at me, but his hand did come up and landed on my shoulder. I pressed my hand onto his. "Love you too Paul. I know you have to. And I'm sorry too," and that was that. 

Paul turned and marched back to his position in the corner. Dad turned and looked at Mark and me, sighed and said as he departed, "Go to him," dad said flatly and then left the room as if a dragon who had just torched the village and then fled the conflagration littered with the many dead and back to guarding his gold in his lair. Mark sighed, "Come on," he said sounding all done in as I felt then. I looked at the bath brush. Mark took it from me and tossed it to the bed top and then we crossed the battlefield to give succor to our wounded comrade.

I wasn't sure at all that this was the same at all as it had been with Mark's corner time. The stakes felt too high, emotions still on tender hooks. I let Mark take the lead, "Well, holy Christ bro. That was ..." but Paul cut him short, "Oh stuff it, Mark. I did and dad did what he had to do. I know I sounded like a battered little asshole. I had it coming. Dad took his pound of flesh. So how does it look back there? Do I even have an ass left to sit on?" he asked, a small smile crossing his face which remained red and then sniffled back some snot.

Mark went to feel Paul's red butt and did, but then pulled his hand back, "Ouch! Just like a red-hot stove top. Damn!" and then giggled a little. Then I boldly did the same, "Nope. I don't need my fingers to get scorched, I'll pass," I let a grin slip out. "No relief for you losers. I want my spanks and I want them now!" Paul's voice demanding. Good, now the old Paul is back in business. So Mark and I spanked him, hard! Twice each. Paul grimaced, "I can't even feel anything," the two not adding up, but who cared?

"Paul. I don't want you to go with Lester, but I know you have to," Mark said. "Yea, something like that," I settled for. "Randy? Did I scare you?" Paul asked. "Yes. But it's a good scared. And I volunteer to get you pillows to sit on at supper," I added. Mark grinned, "That used to be my job, but I'll gladly give it to you, bro."

The 30 mintues expired again with dad poking his head in. "Time's up. Supper in an hour. Paul? My shoulder hurts," Dad said. "Good!" Paul said as they eye-balled each other, I thought two titans facing off, rhetorically at least for one last time for now anyway. And  yes, I did put two pillows on Paul's seat. It made him look like six inches taller than usual, which was hilarious looking. "So, how is the weather up there, champ?" dad teased.
"Dad, us Gods up here in the clouds only put up with so much from you mere mortals. Watch your tongue or I might have to tell my two best assassins, Randy and Mark to seek you out later and put an end to your pathetic existence."

I tried not to laugh. Mark tried not to laugh. Dad and Paul tried to not laugh, and as we all then failed. Only mom did not laugh. "Juveniles, the lot of you," she muttered and then looked at dad, "Careful mortal or that thing that you like to do with me behind our closed bedroom door later is as easily canceled as scheduled." Oh, oh! Dad quickly cowered, "Yes dear," is all he said very sheepishly. Point to mom, the rest of us? Zero!

*  *  *  *  * 

Over the next week after Paul's self-crafted comuppance things at home and at school started out well enough. I felt I understood the whole Miller male thing or at least enough for now. I said I felt. Feeling is not really knowing, nor experiencing.

The closer we got to the weekend and the proposed sleep-over with Mark's and now my new friends, and, to Paul leaving the castle to be with knave, Lester, the more inconfident and worried I became. The issue? I knew my time with dad's bath brush was coming like a specter in the night. Like a death-eater in the Harry Potter books and movies. Like the living dead death-riders in the Lord of the Rings movies. 

My fear? Easy. Would I survive? Would I embarrass myself by some kind of unstoppable reaction that would make me look like a total loser. A complete useless sniffeling, snot-nosed poser worthy niether of respect from my brothers especially, and just "I give up on him" pity from my new father. Derision was in there somewhere. And worse, loss of self-respect. And worse yet? I held it in and said nothing. Yes, nothing. I fielded many "are you OKs" that I answered with "sure, why would I not be?" that I actually came to believe in.

School actually helped because my new friends, Trey, Alex, and Noah kept me busy, Mark too, but Mark knew something was wrong, but stopped pestering me, poor guy. Better yet, all three told me stories of their own spanking dads and that really was like a new drug. Divering my attention from my own fears with glorious stories of their own backside hidings. Stories complete with begging and falling tears. They even used that horribly humiliating term heinie, instead of ass. It was like snorting a white line of powder that took me out of reality.

And then Friday it hit me. Drug withdrawal. Trey, Alex and Noah would not be over until the middle of Saturday. And worse? Paul decided to not go with Lester and his friends. No happy about it, but at least he made a decisive decision. Still wound up about the whole thing, Paul did get Dad's permission to drive one of our vehicles to go visit his Uncle Jeff just to get some space for himself. It would be an overnight Friday until sometime late Saturday.

Dad totally agreed and was so relived, mom too. And then? AND THEN? That fell through as well which meant Paul might be kind of underfoot with his little bros, mine and Mark's sleepover with Trey, Alex and Noah. Not the worst fate but wow! Getting shot down twice? Within 24 hours?

And me still Mr. Stubborn. Harboring toxic waste. And so that night I got sick. For real. I threw up on the front room carpet and doubled over. Mom rushed to my side, Paul and Mark too. I hurt, my stomach hurt like hell to the point that I got hauled to the emergency room as if I might have appendicitis. That was mom and dad's fear, Paul's too, but he was too taken up with his own disasters. Mark was not. He was sullen, mirroring me. The doctor looked me over. Poked at my tummy. Said nothing and ordered a blood test or two. 

Then, when Mark got me alone in that examination cubicle he closed the curtain and came up to my head, I was laying supine, but propped up. 

"I've had about enough of you. Remember when I threatened you with a beating back when you freaked out during Paul's punishment?" He asked and I swear he sounded like dad just then. I tensed, the memory clear as if it had just happened. I simply nodded biting my lower lip not used to Mark being this way with me, not at all!

"Out with it. No more denials or I swear to God, Randy, I will haul your bare ass over my knee right now." Actually, I relaxed. I relaxed and was so grateful that Mark was hot on the trail of my misery. "Mark, I'm scared to death of when I'm punished because I will be. That bath brush may as well be a mortar, spilling my guts all over the battlefield and there's nothing I can do about it."

Mark grabbed hold of my hand and I held onto his as if for dear life. "I thought so. And I don't blame you for not bringing it up. So while we wait for your blood tests, all of that is going to be normal and you're going to be sent home. I'm going to tell you a story about me and Paul when I was thirteen. You just have to promise to not tell anyone else, ever, OK?" I nodded.

His story was not that complicated and fit my situation perfectly. Basically, Mark was 13 at the time, Paul 15. Paul had already been indoctrinated into his dad's cult of the bath brush from two years prior when Mark was 11. The initiation into the cult was at age 13.

Putting two and two together from that point, it was easy for me to understand that as Mark put it now, "I was so scared shitless that I almost ran away from home because I knew, just like you do now, that bath brush was going to be used the next time I screwed up."

Paul empathized maybe too much. In any case the two brothers decided that Paul should sneak the bath brush into the bedroom when dad was gone. Mark would bare his bottom and go over Paul's knee and then demonstrate to Mark the best he could, how it felt to get a bath brush hiding to take the fear of the unknown out of the equation.

And, it worked! Yes, they would not tell dad ever because talk about the unknown. What would their old man say or do if he found out? That all seemed pointless so they did not. In fact, they harbored that secret to the present time.

Right then, I completely understood the moral of the story. "Do you think Paul would do that for me?" The question of the hour. Mark slowly nodded, "Yes. He will if you ask him and I will help. Again, we can't tell mom or dad, agreed?"

It was agreed. And as soon as we decided that, I had no more stomachache if I actually had one in the first place. Mom and dad were relieved and said nothing more. And despite Paul being a bit despondent about his doubled-crashed weekend, when we approached him with the proposed cure for my "illness" he was all in with no questions asked.

But, we would not carry out our secret plans until early next week when we knew dad and mom would be absent from the house for a few hours at least. And that was fine with me. I felt so much better, I no longer felt dread of the unknown. Then anyway.

*  *  *  *  *

I went to bed Friday night feeling like a million dollars. I no longer had any expectation to avoid a very painful future bath-brushing because it was inevitable. And I made peace with that because of my brothers' willingness to at least help me understand what it was going to feel like ahead of time. And that it was secretive, no problem at all because that's what boys do with their parents sometimes. It was in other words, normal.

Only one problem. I couldn't sleep. I was not used to keeping things from parents, certainly not my mom. And I had now unwittingly tried to include my new dad in that and it wasn't working. The guilt meter started to spike and once that starts, there is no stopping it.

I awoke Saturday morning, or rather I sloshed out of bed. At the time I was still sleeping on the floor in Mark's bedroom. The plan was that Mark and I were going to move into the larger offspring bedroom, Paul's. He insisted on taking the smaller room for himself, dad would move a bed into Paul's former room so that Mark and I would occupy. A perfect plan that everyone was very excited about, me the most of course.

I felt horrible. I felt totally guilt ridden to hide what I wanted to do with my brothers from my new dad. How could he trust me if I started out my new life with him with the deception. Yes, not the worst thing in the world, but by then I wanted to kind of be perfect for him in an imperfect way.

So, here comes the part of, for my money, the totally best part of this whole damn story of me and my new family and dad's bath brush culture at least to date ...

The trio of Trey, Alex, and Noah was due by 3PM Saturday afternoon. By the time that lunch came, high noon, ironically just like those old western movies about gunfights on Main Street between the good guy and the bad guy, it was time for me to put on my six-shooters and face the bad ass bad guy, my own guilt.

And the only way I could do that? I needed to go visit the town doctor and get something fixed before I found myself with a bullet hole in the center of my forehead, my dumb-ass dead body buried in the town's small ancient cemetery.

And who was the town doctor? Yup, my dad. Saturdays are always very busy around the Miller home, and that Saturday especially so. Dad had promised Mark and I that he and mom would barbecue for our sleep-over. And right then it only made my task all the more cringing and difficult, but I had to do this.

"Dad? I need to talk," I took him aside. "Sure, champ. Let's go to the front room, what's up?" His tone happy. And I was about to take the happiness out of it, but I felt I had no choice and trusted him implicitly.

And the worst part of this was that I was now going to break the secrecy between myself and two beloved brothers. My stomach ached again, not as bad as before, but still. So, I told him the whole 9 yards.

I hated myself for it. I decided that if Mark and Paul were angry with me, I would have to live with that and with them and accept their judgments upon me. Dad seem unphased, then again he could afford to, or so I thought.

I waited like ten years for him to finally respond, but he did. "So, it seems that you have become a master spy, involved in all sorts of palace intrigue. The dangers of our webs of deception!" And then I looked at him. What the hell was this?

Dad chuckled, "So, let me add my own layer of secrecy to your journey. I need to trust you to not tell this to anyone, and certainly not to Mark and Paul. Do we have a deal?" Dad asked totally distracting me from what I thought was a very serious dad and son moment that could reverberate back upon me in very painful ways.

I nodded, I thought kind of stupidly if I were he looking at me. "I know all about that. Mark and Paul do not know that I know. I just got lucky and was standing at the doorway on accident. I heard the whole thing and I have to tell you, Randy, I was so proud of the both of them taking care of each other that way. I even got a little misty-eyed. I never said a thing to this day."

My mouth was gapped open so long and so wide that I could have hosted a hundred flying insects and not known about it. Dad chuckled, "Not what you were expecting, was it," stated and not a question. "No," I said, my adoration for my dad accelerating upwards at an enormous rate right then.

"So let's do this. Carry out your plan with Paul and Mark. Paul will be a very good spanker. Hell, Paul has been spanking Mark for years now, just for fun and not that hard. But if he gets a hold of that bath brush, Randy, it's going to be some serious pain for you, but the experience will be invaluable for when the real thing comes someday. How does that sound?" He asked.

No words needed, I launched myself into a hard hug with my dad, a fierce hug of thanks and gratitude. "I promise it will never come to light. Thanks daddy," I said softly and gained myself not only a soft kiss on my temple but a well-appreciated hair ruffle. Problem solved, no more stomach aches.

And the best part late that Saturday afternoon and early evening? Paul got over himself and the five of us quickly welcomed him into the sleepover where Paul would reign supreme. 

Paul even co-chefed with dad and even wore a dad-apron. And, oh yes. Throughout this tale I failed to mention that the family has their own swimming pool off the patio.

So that meant that Mark, me, Trey, Alex, and Noah splashed around like crazy trying to empty all the water out of the pool, or so it seemed. And when we tried to drown dad and Paul from the pool all the way to the barbecue, dad sent his attack-son to the poolside threatening us with yes, bare bottom spankings!

We, of course, thought the whole thing was a joke. That was until as Paul retreated, Mark actually got out of the pool, grabbed Paul by the arm and threw him back into the swimming pool. Oops!

Paul got out not looking really angry, just kind of aggravated as if he had had enough shit that week and he had. Dad came up to him and looked at all of us as we had all climbed out by now. Talk about sheepish. Dad and Paul could have taken us sheep, stripped us of a sheep's various meats and barbecued all of us and that would have been proper justice.

Only actually, that sort of happened. Dad nodded, "OK. Paul? Son? It's up to you, but if you want to take each of these idiots, one by one, take their swim trunks down and spank their bare bottoms, I will most certainly look the other way," turned and walked away with the biggest smile of satisfaction on his face.

Everyone looked at everyone else. Surprisingly to me, none of us, least of all me, said anything about it being a joke. Nor accused Paul of not seeing the humor in it. I certainly didn't. I think I needed to be spanked for real by Paul. And looking at Mark, so did he. The question was Trey, Alex, and Noah.

But Mark had chosen his friends wisely. In fact it was Trey who then said, "Maybe it's just me, but if I did that at home while others were trying to prepare me a nice barbecue, I would get barbecued. Whoever would upend my bare butt so fast and give he hell and rightly so! So I'm all in if you want to spank me, Paul."

And after that, the rest of us fell in line like collapsing human sheepish dominoes. But Paul was smarter than that. He told us that we had to eat supper first and then after supper, his dessert would be giving us all some very embarrassing, bare bottom over the knee spankings when he was good and ready.

And then, when it actually happened Paul pretended to really be ready to give all five of us the shellackings of our young lives, it was just a very effective and well-earned scare tactic. Spankings turned out to be very mild and more rhetorical than physical punishment of any kind. And all that did was to endear Paul to me even more than he was before.

The sleepover was a resounding success. Funny about that name, however. There was no sleep in the sleepover. The six of us, including Paul, stayed up virtually all Saturday night into Sunday. We watched movies. We competed on the Xbox. Wrestling matches. Bottoms swatted and spanked, sometimes bare, sometimes not.

I was invited over to each of Trey's, Alex's, and Noah's homes even one-on-one over time and though there is not time in this part of the tale, I'll tell you now that my dad was not the only dad in the territory that could roast two very deserving bared bottoms. But I digress. And we eventually all did nod off, like at 4AM.

Sunday should have been simply an afterglow, one that we all could use. Dad included. And it started out that way until the phone rang. Trey, Alex, and Noah had actually already gone home. Now it was just the Miller family. Me, dad, mom, and my intrepid brothers for life, Paul and Mark.

All of us but mom were standing there as dad answered the phone. Mom had actually excused herself to do some early Sunday shopping and was not present when a mushroom cloud exploded in the distance. Meaning, a nuclear weapon. Whether a test or for real, is immaterial. The rhetorical metaphor holds and then some.

Dad listened on the phone and quickly became pale and winced and then grimaced. His arm dropped. "Paul, son. It's for you," he said looking like somebody had just died.

Paul went over to the phone and listened. His jaw dropped as he did. "I understand. When are the funerals?"

Funerals! My jaw dropped. Mark's jaw dropped. About then dad's dad's arms started to gather his younger sons into himself. Paul finally hung up and just stood there looking like it was his funeral or something. Tears started to roll down his face. Dad pushed Mark and I towards him and the one turned into a hard hug of four.

Dad told us what happened. Lester with his car full of his dope-addicted friends ended up falling over the ledge of a deep canyon into an instant, fiery death. Because Paul had chosen to stay home, he was still alive. Paul was, of course, disconsolate, sobbing, his shoulders shaking like they might never stop.

I was sobbing without holding back. Mark was, if anything, crying louder than any of us. Somehow dad managed to keep it together and just held us and said nothing. Dad marshaled us into the kitchen and procured Kleenex or dish rags or whatever. We ended up in the family room gathered as a group onto the couch.

Dad sat in the middle, his arm around Paul next to him. Mark and I kneeled at their feet, the waterworks finally stopping. What do you say in a time like this when there are no words? So you don't. We all looked up at Paul including dad to be the first to say anything at all and he finally did.

"I already know what I'm going to do. I'm not going to any funerals. Lester always made his own choices, many of them bad. He forged his own fate. I'm just lucky enough to have a family, a dad who cares enough to both let me make my own decisions, but also has also been my role model. The only reason that I still live is because I finally have the good common sense to listen to you, dad. Thank you."

Dad nodded. "No, Paul. Thank you. Maybe I've had a small part to play in your maturity, but it is all you, son. I'm exhausted. I want to eat leftovers until I puke," and finally the damn burst and we all laughed. 

We stood up and streamed into the kitchen. And as we did Paul swatted Mark's and mine backsides and we just rubbed and smiled, so very thankful that Paul was still there with us to give us a bad time, and we, him.

*  *  *  *

So, the tale does not end quite yet. There's a bit more to tell  as there is still that thing about three bath brushes, so actually quite a bit. But let's stop for now and we'll see you next time ...

A Tale of Three Boys and Their Three Bath Brushes - Randy Williams Meets His New Family, © Copyright PJ Franklin, April 12, 2025. An original AO3 narrative.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: Three Daddy's Boys

Summary:

Randy, formerly Williams, Miller is building up to his main challenge with his new dad and brothers. Screwing up and surviving dad's strict traditional family ritual. A painful bare bottom hand spanking and worse, with dad's fearsome bath brush.

Oh God! Come on guys, I asked you a simple guy question and all you're doing is giving me shit, frustration started to mount at least a little bit. I was beginning to find out quickly that live-in brothers your own age or nearly are great for fraternal support and generally a great, fun time. But every pro has a con.

In this case, the con is their shit-giving ability. You know, balance in the universe and all that ... yes, shit. And me the low man on the experience totem pole living with other guys very close at hand. Oh Yeah? Paul and I have been doing it for years, Mark's smugish answer not helping me at all. Come on Mark, give him some time to get used to his new digs, rules and stuff. Randy has never had any live-in brothers in the first place, remember? big brother gallantly to the rescue.

All three of us were goofing around in Mark's and mine bedroom after school fending off the evil homework demons at least for now. Getting homework done was high priority in my new Miller family. Bottoms have apparently been bared and spanked over the old man's knee when homework is not completed on a nightly basis to dad's specs or so I'm told.

Fine ... and then Mark pretends to be counting on his fingers, backwards from 10, his voice getting louder until he sarcastically yells out, ZERO ... EHHHHH! (loud klaxon sound) Guess what sports fans? Time's up! Get used to it boyo and join in because maybe unlike our big bro here, I ain't never gonna stop! he stands up right in front of my bedside-seated ass next to Paul.

Mark now not only looks really smug, but then concludes his sink or swim little diatribe with his stiff middle finger, his arm uncessarily extended way too far for my liking towards my face including a flippant little: Savvy amigo? triumphantly lowering it as if he has won the battle. He has, but one battle does not win the war.

Besides, I am not inexperienced with flipping guys off or being flipped off. Mainly at school of course. But even there you have to be careful. Getting caught is the equivalent to begging to be sent to the principal's office for painful paddle licks. That's all well and fine, but most times guys are sent home with a notification to their parents. And with a lot of guys? That meant a very sore bottom over dad's knee to reinforce school-based discipline.

And me? Had I ever got school-based paddle licks for any micreant behavior? Nope. And that was because I was continuously scared shitless that no fucking way I wanted to ever present mom with a punishment slip, talk about fatal embarrasment.

But, my days with my non-spanking mom-ways are a thing of the almost now forgotten past. So if Mr. Been-There-Done-That wants me to sink or swim? Fine. I stood up and rather cooly raised my own Italian salate into Mark's face, Savvy this smart ass! to whit Mark giggled and slapped at my wrist down pretty hard. Oh boy here we go!

Hey! I slapped back with a grin on my mug and then we went at it, mano-y-mano. I LOVE wrestling like this with Mark or even Paul, although I have no chance against Paul's older and more experienced chiseled body. Mark is more my speed ... THUD! ... we end up on the floor rolling around slapping and pinching at each other like immature little rug rats as Paul shakes his head side-to-side. Oh great. Look at the girls having a pillow fight, Paul's arms folded looking more like dad than Paul just then.

Girls? Pillow-fight? Mark and I quickly got back up to our knees facing Paul. I looked at Mark and he back at me, our Spock-like mind-meld working just fine right then. We both flashed Paul one upright stiff middle finger, each. Yea baby! That's what I'm talking! Mark and I triumphantly high-fived in glorious solidarity. More like those rug-rats of a few moments ago trying to face down Godzilla, truth be told.

Fine, good, bla, bla, bla, whatever you two. Should we not get back to your question in the first place bro? Paul snorted a little towards me. Yea, OK, of course. Good for you Mark my bro? I asked. Good for me, my bro, Mark agreed. GOD I love having two brothers! 

 So OK, here's the thing. Dad hates to find anything with dried you-know-what on it. He finds that and you'll find yourself doing the laundry for the entire household all by yourself for a week. And that does not even factor in that your mom is now onboard. So trust us when we say that getting caught totally sucks donkey balls.

I snorted. When ever I have ever said sucks donkey balls it sounds stupid. But when Paul said it, it sounded cool. And the subject of my original question of my brothers that they had tried to rip to shreads seems pretty obvious.

I have jerked off plenty in my old life without a dad. Only because I never-ever wanted mom to find evidence I either used TP from the bathroom. Or Kleenex. And if I jerked off to visions of me making it to first, second and even third base with my high school's version of a gorgeous sleep-around teen female slut, in this case very large-breasted Cindy Thompson, and I used my undies or an old sock, I was paranoid to launder the damn thing myself.

But I was no longer flying solo in this endeavor and wanted to fit in with my fellow self-abusers, assuming they did. OK, check. But mind if I ask what do you guys use then? I asked. We were in my new bedroom, Paul had moved into Mark's old smaller bedroom, Mark and I into Paul's larger former bedroom and better, I had my own bed across from Mark's so that we could talk and throw things at each back and forth before sleep if we wanted, something I so now love.

So, check it out, Mark said and dove across his bed to the far corner of his mattress where the two walls come together. He reached down and pulled something out. An old tube sock. I used an old tube sock, big deal. But then Mark tried to wash my face with the disgusting looking thing. I stood back, slapping his wrist away. Jesus Mark, that's so gross, keep it away from me, I nervously giggled. Fine, Mark rolled his eyes and then went to the dresser and fetched out what was supposed to be an unsullied tube sock, I thought just to be a brotherly dick because I had my own tube socks of course.

Wait, it's probably too big for him, Mark. Don't you have something a lot smaller? Now Paul has re-engaged, honeymoon over as it were as he joined the fray challenging my manhood as boys will do. Mark of course guffawed and not unexpectedly they high-fived at my expense.

Two vs. one, huh. Fine. I cautiously look around over at the still closed bedroom door first and then face Paul and Mark together, Fuck you both! using two middle fingers, one each. Keep that up chuckles including the four letter word and eventually you'll find yourself getting brush paddled over dad's knee with soap in your mouth, Paul smirked.

Oh yea that. Mouth-soaping, something that I had never had to encounter in my old solo life. I already had been warned by my fellow inmates that the bathroom cabinet is fully stocked with bars of yukky soap lying there dormant like aromatic light green hand grenades with the pins already half-pulled out ready for dad to deploy.

That is when the freshly laundered unsullied tube sock hit my face. I clutched it into my fist off of my face, accepting the thing at face value because I had dozens of my own. That's yours. Don't you ever give it back to me even if it's laundered, he grinned. Yeah, whatever, I waved him off. So that's half the equation, what's protocol then? I asked to make sure I did not clash with my new housemates.  

Protocol? Listen to you. So you do your own thing of course, that is when nobody else is around. Unless you want company? Mark started in again. This was fresh. I needed to respond much better this time. Company? Do you mean a circle jerk? I smirked. Very good, Randy, Paul congratulated me and we even high-fived, Mark's turn to roll his eyes. Then I see Mark's wheels churning as he stares at me, That's nothing. We did that all the time at summer camp the last two years, Mark thought he had the last word.

Right. And what did you idiots circle jerk to, some worn-out copy of a girly mag? That's disgusting, Paul chided. Better than watching two dudes do it together like you and your guerrillas probably used to do, Mark then stood up and raced to the door ready to run if Paul took umbrage at the homo-tingued insult.

Right. And then two things happened simultaneously. Paul raised his stiff middle finger meant for Mark standing at the door and then at the same time the bedroom door opened and in poked dad's head, dad's visual cortex likely registering his elder son's highly forbidden lewd gesture a microsecond later. Paul! How many times ... an upset dad quickly paced across the room and grabbed Paul up by his ear to standing before he let go.

* * * * *

I had listened to and seen Mark get busted and punished from alarmly close range. Even ordered to do so by my new dad, talk about brand new experiences. I had witnessed and seen the same results with Paul, but both of those had not been that much different from before them. But this, now?

I no longer was a passive witness as I had been all my life to this point. This involved me directly. I was just as nabbed as Mark or Paul and it was Paul who dad had nabbed and not me and Mark. But when I glanced at Mark to try and figure out if what I felt was at all appropriate to the situation, I relaxed. Mark looked like sheepish shit just like I felt, so misery loves company as usual.

So this is what real father and son I'm in trouble with dad drama was really like on a pesonal level? Not like on those stupid old father and son T.V. programs whose censors forbade the S-word. Spanking that is. And apparently my mind's realization of trouble necessitated a cringy feeling of sheepish guilt over not only the sock I was tried to shield, but very much that even if it had been Paul that dad saw with the lewd gesture. That I had done the same even if not directly observed by dad. And maybe that just then made it all the worse feeling.

My first physical response? The same as Mark's, our tube-socks sullied and unsullied disappeard behind our backs as if dad would not notice. But he did, We need to have a talk about those things ... later, a lecture concerning the Miller version of the birds and bees (that is if birds and bees masturbate?) clearly scheduled, just not then.  

Dad came over to the bedside and sat, arms folded with head a bit tilted and downcast as if in deeply considered judicial thought. While Paul, Mark and I gathered into a small also standing grouping, but our antsy twitching arm-folded posturing in front of him more like we're now in deep shit and about to get our cans blistered deep defendant thought.

Dad finally looked looked up, palms slapping onto his now spread knees and he looks at ... me. Randy my boy, sit on dad's knee, right here! he slaps the top of his left knee. Trigger feeling like 8 and not 15, I shuffled over blushing, fucking blushing, sure that I might catch crap from my brothers later over it. And yet as I sat, the same hand reached up and gently squeezed my shoulder. And it felt amazing. And I felt like a real son and not just a add-on just because mom had married this man.

So, first time in trouble not taken care of by your mom, right? he asked. Yes, sir, I said quietly because I was at least sure that less is more at a time like this. Scared? Afraid? Cool? What are you feeling right now? he persisted. Well, fuck. Mom never interrogated me like this. Was this a trick? A trap? Get the answers wrong and you get more punishment? Ace the test and get a free pass? Did I even want a Get Out Of Spanking card from the game board deck? 

I shrugged, A bit of all? Well, not cool. I just ... I don't know how to feel right now, um, dad, I managed thinking it weak and inadequate and was greeted by not only a fatherly hair ruffle but a quick peck on my temple, Well of course you don't know. How could you? Especially compared to tweedle-dee (Mark) and his brother tweedle-dumb(Paul), switching his look from tolerable to far more annoyed with Paul.

Paul ... and this after I really thought you had finally begun to turn the ADULT corner during that horrid tragic thing with Lester. A ways to go then? dad asked his eldest who sighed and did some not very adult sheepish foot shuffling just then. Paul thought and looked up, Seems that way, he sounded a bit down if not outright discouraged.

Seems that way ... OK let's see. Mr. David Miller. Have you or have you not paid your taxes this year? dad starts, sarcasm the tone of the moment of course.

Well, sir. Seems that way, and then dad turns his head as if the other guy again, Seems that way? Excuse me Mr. Miller? We're talking here about something that your government, the IRS, takes VERY seriously. Care to amend your dumb-ass seems? dad's play acting really quite good. I could not stop my snort just then. Mark too and because he was standing right by Paul, Mark earned for himself a hard elbow blow to his ribs, rocking him to the side a bit.

Look dad, it's not that big a deal. You just caught me is all ... but dad held up his hand meaning shut your damn pie hole. Paul did, Not that big a deal. Some role model you are young man. Mark, is that the kind of role model you want in your big brother? And Randy? Same question. And don't think I don't get it. You three are bonding and that's the way boys your age relate in and out of the family when they don't get caught.

Oh shit. I love my new dad, but this was a side of him that I have to admit I knew would eventually come and I dreaded it. I'm waiting! Mark? dad said, me still perched on dad's knee. Go stand over with your fellow felons, son, dad said. I slipped off and joined my fellows on the bow of the Titanic. 

Well, but dad, he was just ... up came the big shut pie hole paw once again. Wrong! Randy? he gave me my chance. Now what? And for the first time being put on the spot by a real father instead of just a father figure I froze. Trapped. I had to put my foot down and take the consequences. I was NOT going to throw Paul under the bus. Sorry dad. I'm not fit to judge Paul ... and then figured a better way out knowing it would definitely cost me, ... not after I did the same thing before you walked in. I just didn't get caught. Oh the room seemed to get very cold and quiet just then.

Come back here to me young man, he said. I thought of course that he was going to spank first and ask questions later. But no. He raised my arm, Winner and new champion, Randy! glaring at Paul. Great. So my stradegy failed, badly in the face of superior experience. Shit. Not only that, but dad rounded on me, I am not asking you to judge your big brother. ANSWER ... the question please. Yes or no, dad forced the issue.

I gave up, No, I said, head down. Paul? Say something to your little brother, please, dad on an incredible run that for certain would be talked about and books written and a movie made years from now. Randy, look at me, Paul said. I did. I fu ... I F'd up. I want to be a good role model for you and for shit-for-brains here, but I lost track and didn't do a very good job, he said so I could breath again.

Dad sighed. First, before I forget, I had better not have mom tell me that she is finding the laundry basket filling with evidence of what I know all three of you have or will be doing on your own when others are not looking. Randy, I'll leave your brothers tell you those possible consequences. Secondly, and especially you, Paul. Sure, flash all the lewd gestures you want at each other but for God's sake don't let me see it? Hell, I can't even remember why I stuck my head in here in the first place.

Dad? Mark raised his hand. Dad nodded, I started it, not Paul. I mean the finger thing. And, of course, I was obligated to follow and did, And I did as well before Paul did later when you caught him, I added and actually felt this funny sensation of being one with my brothers. And it felt wonderful even if it led to scorched bare bottoms, mine for the first time.

Ah, bonding. I like that. Feels good, Randy? dad asked. I nodded. Excellent, but what am I going to do now? And I was glad he was deciding things and not me, but I had forgotten about dad's main quarry in this after-school TV show. Oh, I know. Paul, son, let's pretend you are the father. You have three wonderful sons to look after but then this annoyance comes up. Tell me, son, how would you handle it? What are you going to do now? I just gawked at dad, more evidence of his superiority compared to us mere mortals.

Well, if you want to dance with the big dogs, you have to take big dog responsibility. Paul sighed, Sorry about this guys but if I were dad, I would kind of take advantage of the situation. Randy? You've got to watch Mark and I get our behinds punished and for good cause. May I ask you, how does it feel to be left out of what it's like to get into trouble your new father so far? Happy with that? And don't over think. Please, just be honest with me.

Well, if the shine had been off of me looking up to Paul, the shine was totally back on. This was going to sound stupid to most guys, then again my new brothers are not most guys. I don't want to be left out. I did the same as you. If that means you decide that we need to get spankings, I don't want to be left out. And it's more than being unfair to you guys, it would teach me nothing and risk my new brothers especially thinking that I'm a wuss or worse. I looked over at dad. He just gave me a very quiet and confirming wordless nod.

I knew you would say that. You're right dad. How can you trust me with adult things if I act like these two bozos. If it were me, I would be asking one of us to fetch the bath brush and get busy.

Dad slowly nodded his approval. Mark, he gave one of his signature begrudging shrugs of agreement. Me? I was glowing with admiration for my new big brother because he was turning out to be much more than even I could've hoped for.

Dad suddenly snapped his fingers, Oh, I remember now. Mom gave me a shopping list for supper tonight. I was going to ask you guys if you wanted to go with. Oh, and yes. You guys explain to Randy that there are no locks on the bedroom doors. Mom and me are free to stick our heads in no matter what. And yes, that means we might find any one of you doing that thing involving socks, just so you know! Great, just great.

Dad? Can we take our punishments before we go to the store? Mark asked. I could say yes to that. Paul? dad asked our big brother. Nope. Shopping and get stuff to mom first, Paul's head in the right space compared to Mark's and mine.

Dad nodded looking a bit more positive towards his elder son. That's not how it's done and you know that Mark, but nice try, dad said. That meant that we all had to accept the delay, but like I said. If I wanted to dance with the big Miller dogs and be like them, I had to start sometime and man up.

And in the end I was glad I had because all the way to the store in the back of the car, Paul driving by the way and dad riding shot gun, I got to listen to Mark offering me not that quiet taunts the entire way. Taunts about him wanting to watch me get my ass tanned for the first time and such, the kind that I would have died to have had not that long ago and I gave them back to him as well.

And dad? He could hear them and let us. And after we arrived at the store and piled out of the car, dad let Mark and Paul preceed dad and I. Dad sidled up to me, How's it feel to be one of the gang, son? he asked, giving me a never-to-be-turned down paternal head ruffle, his big arm sliding across my back, his big paw squeezing a little on my shoulder.

I let my hand squeeze on my dad's hand, a bit of emotions swirling about, Feels great. Thank you daddy, I said quietly and hardly left his side the entire time in the store. And on the way out Mark sidled up next to me, Daddy's boy much? he said. What? I asked. Was this some kind of new taunt? Daddy's boy. I'm a daddy's boy. Paul is most definitely a daddy's boy. And now you, he grinned and now I got it. And now we high-fived.

* * * * *

At first I wanted to get my first time punishment with dad over with, that's the usual natural reaction for any boy in any punitive circumstance with his dad I think. But that was not possible, so I used the time riding in the car riding in the backseat next to Mark some coming, but mostly returning home as well as after we got home to do some thinking and in doing so realized something kind of startling.

We all had our various homework situations to at least start on, though concentrating on something like that knowing that your ass is about to get annihilated is not that easy. And then the call for supper, mom's cooking I think was one of the reasons that if I were David, I would want to marry her. She is always been a wonderful cook down through the years.

We had my favorite apparently my brothers as well for dessert, chocolate cake in layers thick dark fudge frosting with vanilla ice cream side-cars. Mark had seconds, good choice! But halfway through trying to inhale chocolate into my bloodstream, it finally hit me. What had been bothering me since dad had stuck his head inside the door intercepting Paul's lewd gesture.

I waited till after supper and dessert was done and we kids piled into the kitchen carrying dishes to be done, washed, dried and put away as was our task as mom and dad went out to the patio to sit, talk by the pool or whatever else they were doing.

We were told to head to whichever bedroom afterwards, dad would catch up and start to teach his sons that what we had done was unacceptable. We got inside and because dad was going to remove our clothing however what order of business, we had time.

This is my first time, I said the obvious start things off. Duh, your point? Mark quickly answered. My point is this is my first. This is both of yours' what, 2000^th, I exaggerated to make my point clearer.

Paul was seated at the bedside, actually my bed as we were in our new larger bedroom. He had been face-palming a bit, why was not important. Suddenly he started a sarcastic golf-clap. Mark looked at him as if he was nuts. I knew he was not.

Correction, 2017^th, need to be accurate here, his grin knowing. But then he looked at me, OK Einstein, say it, Paul shook his head. Say what? Who cares what number is? Mark look annoyed. Shut up, Mark, Paul scowled a little and then looked back at me.

How is it after all so many years you've lived with your father, you're still screwing up. Especially you Paul. You can't tell me he has not caught you doing the same thing with the same results, your bare butt getting hammered. Why?

Mark chuckles, Yeah, Paul. Why do we do that? His tone suggesting that he already knows of course. Now Paul looks annoyed, OK smart ass, your turn.

Randy, you're not going to like the answer. Paul and I have talked about this since when Paul? He asked. Paul shrugged, Since that one time when you were ten and I was twelve and you asked the same thing. Remember what I said? Paul seemed to enjoy the recollection.

Mark slowly nodded, Because, is all you said. Because? Paul nodded, It's just what some guys do and when you're brothers and find yourself, make that yourselves, putting your old man up on a pedestal for you to admire and love as much as we do our dad, you have a strange feeling of never wanting it, things to be any other way. And with that, you're free to be yourselves growing up knowing he won't get angry. He will punish you but will never stop loving you no matter. And if a scorched can is the worst that can happen? Then you're just down plain lucky.

Suddenly Mark's daddy's boy remarks made even better sense to me only none of that answered for me how Paul makes the transition into adulthood the way that he and especially dad wants if he keeps getting caught, daddy's boy or not. But then I changed my mind. Maybe Paul never wants to leave the nest or delay because just what was the downside to just being a kid with a loving dad? At least for a few more years. 

Mark slowly nodded and not sarcastically either. Just then the door open and in walked dad when all I wanted to do was think on Paul's amazing response confirming that mom marrying David was in Paul's words, I was just down plain lucky.

We stood up to face him, all eyes especially mine focused on what dad was holding. The bath brush. I twitched and bit my lower lip knowing that this time that bath brush was meant for my skinny ass as much as for theirs.

Paul? Mark? This is Randy's first time. What would you suggest before I ask Randy what postion he wants in the line-up? Dad asked. Mark shrugged, He gets to choose. First, second or third.

All eyes on Paul. Maybe so, Paul looked at me. Or maybe he should have no choice and goes last. Because maybe his brothers have something to do to him after dad is finished with us, Paul looked at Mark, both of them in obvious cahoots. 

I quickly looked at dad who just smiled, knowingly again. It's up to you, Randy. I have nothing to do with what goes on after I am done. Your decision, dad extricated himself nicely. Well, shit. Who am I to deprive my brothers of a little fun, painful though I knew it was likely to be. I'm game, I said flapping my arms out of morbid curiosity if nothing else.

I was very quickly to learn that when Paul and Mark are punished together that corner time, that boring thirty minute thing, was done together and it sounded kind of cool actually. Suffer together, recover together. But what now with me in the mix?

Only once again and as usual I over thought the thing. Dad made it very clear. Having a third boy to punish simply added me to the thirty minute mix. During which if Mark and Paul had something sinister up their sleeves after dad departed the scene, it would have to wait, more tortuous curiosity time for me I suppose.

At least things are far more familiar so that I could pay attention to smaller details. Mark's last punishment was the first one I had ever witnessed, my heart had pounded so fast and hard that it was hard to concentrate on anything but just getting through it.

Paul's punishment later was similarly befuddling a bit because it was Paul and the way that Paul had got himself into that particular mess with dad.

Paul and I sat together up against the wall as before, knees drawn up. But this was so much different. And just like last time Paul slung his arm across my back and firmly gripped my far shoulder, only this time it was in solidarity. A totally different feeling.

Nothing else was changed up on the bedside, dad pantsing Mark. Only now I consciously noted that whoever was getting spanked was allowed or had to wear at least a T-shirt so that dad could move the hem up exposing his son's bare ass. Come to think on it, that added to the humiliation and punishment.

The warm-up hand spanking after the short lecture was no surprise. What was a surprise was that we are not supposed to be talking to each other while watching. But Paul still leaned over and whispered very quietly, Oh boy, I'm going to get to see you get your little fanny spanked by daddy, Paul's somewhat cruel tease suddenly striking me as very juvenile.

I almost wanted to reply, Not very adult, Paul, but I did not and instead focused that maybe Paul's needing to be a daddysboy with our father was more serious than I thought.

And, of course, the bath brush blasted its way over Mark's spanked bottom sending him to tears. Both Paul and I simply watched although Paul never removed his arm, which I liked a lot.

Mark was sent to the corner, Paul stood and went over to his dad. To me, talk about humiliation a boy his age having to have his father's hands pants him to his bare ass. You would think that alone would motivate Paul to be more adult, but the dude simply was not ready, now even I knew that.

Paul's hand spanking was much harder than Mark's reflecting their age, our age differences. Paul made it through that, but once again dad jackknifed Paul over his lead knee which he had not done with Mark. It was a the bigger they are the harder they fall thing I was sure.

Dad loosened some tears from Paul who otherwise was stoic and I loved him for that, both his stoicism and his tears because I had no pretense and hoped I did not die of dehydration from crying alone.

Finally though, Paul was sent to the corner to join Mark. My life, my fifteen years with my ass never having been truly spanked much less for very good cause had expired. Maybe I was not ready to be an adult, but this was going to be my initiation, my hazing if you will into the world of Miller family adolescence. Was I ready? How the hell can you know?

I strode over and stood between my dad's knees. He looked up at me, Worried? He asked me. I nodded. Good. Only a fool would feel anything else, reached out and then I watched with the very first time as my dad's hands manipulated my clothing and then, my ass was bare, the room's cool air hitting it. I felt more like what age? I didn't know. I had no reference because I'd never been spanked when I was younger. Maybe that had not been as good a thing as I had always thought. 

Dad then guided me across both knees as he had Mark. All I know is that as my head lurched down towards the floor, my palms pressed onto the surface, I only hoped that ... Well shit, I have no idea what to hope for.

That is until dad's palm started to slap my sorry ass into reality. And it wasn't that hard or how do I know if it is or isn't? It just plainly hurt, stung and burned. I started to wincing-grimacing and wanted it to stop and this was just a god damn warm-up spanking! And then I really got worried and concerned, shit!

The hand spanking stopped. I closed my eyes and waited, pretty sure that I was going to fuck this up in some humiliating way. Bath brush, son. Just do the best you can, were his last words. And when the brush finally blasted onto my ass, my mouth flew open and I could not even utter a decent yelp. And then again and again and I heard this whimper from my throat.

Paul and Mark did not whimper or I thought they had not or I didn't know if they had, but I did! Way to go Randy! But then mounting pain with each terrible lick took over. Dad, please! And I couldn't help myself and flew my hands back.

Dad expertly captured me and fastened my wrists to my lower back. Now I was in danger of panic and had to do something, say something! Daddy please! I won't do that again, I said.

Dad leaned over, See that you don't, his voice very cautionary. Dad let go and I turned my hands into fists and pounded the floor with some self-talk, Keep your god damn hands away you fool! and instantly I no longer felt the need to resist. I relaxed and then let the awful pain take me, challenge me. Make me worthy in not only my dad's eyes and my brothers' as they listened to my blather, but in my own. And it worked! 

But none of that stopped the flurry of bath brush licks to continue to come raining down which turned me into a bawling, sobbing and crying mess, wishing that I had not flipped anyone the middle finger in the first place.

Somebody get a fire extinguisher. Call out two fire engine companies to put out the blaze. Jesus dad can whip boy butt or what?

But finally it was over. Dad leaned over, Very proud of you, Randy, son. Let me help you up, and he did. I was sore stiff and sore all over as if I had run a proving ground or guantlet. And yet, I had done it! I wanted to shout and fist-pump the air just then, but I didn't.

I also did not want to touch my ass or look at it, not yet fearing what I might see. And that likely was going to be my butt looking like a really bad B-grade horror movie, me the unfortunate victim of some kind of serial killer from Hell. Besides which dad offered me the same thing that he had offered Mark and Paul in turn, a big affectionate hug.

As he hugged me, my breathing further calmed. As bad as you thought it might be? He asked me. I had to chuckle a little, Dad, I had no way of knowing. But yes, pretty bad. I might want to rethink inviting that sort of mayhem on my backside.

Dad chuckled as well, Good. Now go join your fellow idiots. And, welcome to the family, the irony of his obvious attempt at dark humor pretty OK. Dad grabbed up the bath brush and before he left said as I walked over to my brothers, Thirty minutes! Only because it's Randy's first time, you may talk with each other.

* * * * *

As I slowly, purposefully waddle, limp a little towards the room's corner were my two previously very soundly punished brothers stand side-by-side, I am pretty sure that they are going to give me all sorts of shit over my boyish behavior over dad's knee. Hell, if they didn't I think I would be very disappointed.

So, there is nothing that I can do about them, nor do I want to. Instead I smiled as I look at their for still very red-glowing and somewhat swollen bottom cheeks. Whatever they might do to me now, because apparently they have some sort of conjured up hazing plan for my ass, I wonder to myself that when they do that that sometime, someday I will be able to do something similar to them.

They were standing elbow-to-elbow is I strode forward, now they both looked back at me with suspicious wicked little smiles and then took a quarter step, Mark to his right, Paul to his left form in the space between them.

Here goes nothing! I muttered to myself and then stepped into their lair. Recalling that after my witnessing my first of each of Mark's and Paul's bath brush punishments of not that long before, I had participated with each boy in spanking the other in the corner.

Dad had granted us permission to chat and talk about the experience. But now here I stood vulnerable to anything they wanted to do including that simple ritual. Ass on fire still? Mark asked. I nodded, It feels numb back there, I made the mistake of saying.

Suddenly two spanks from each boy launched out onto each cheek reigniting some of dad's flames, Holy fuck that hurts! Wincing a bit because I used one of the forbidden four letter words, but dad was not in the room to hear. My hands flew back and lightly rubbed, which never does any good anyway.

Yeah, that numb thing is stupid. You think it's numb, but it's not, Mark said. OK, cut the crap. Randy? You did great. Especially for first time, you were awesome, he praised me. Yeah, Paul's right. But, our first times were so long ago than we can remember. So, tell us, what were you feeling? Mark asked me a very un-Mark question.

Helpless, yet safe. Very vulnerable and yet protected. It was really weird. I never felt the dad was ever angry with me, just determined to teach me a lesson that I really needed ... And wanted. The pain was something else again. Probably best avoid that as long as I can into the future.

Nice, little bro, very nice. Dad never gets angry when he has to punish us. He's told us that he doesn't like doing it, but feels he must, Paul said. Yeah, what he said, Mark is not exactly into deep explanations for anything, and I usually am not.

So, they had both already given me the usual standard post-beating spanks in the corner. What's next? I asked brightly verging on foolishly. Well, after dad sticks his head in to announce the expiration of our corner time, all hell is going to break loose. But ... Hell for each other. Mark and I are going to spank the devil out of you in tandem, and then you are going to spank us.

My eyebrows shot up. Having somebody spank you is all I was used to. I'd never spanked anyone except for those spanks to Mark and Paul already mentioned. But that was not really a spanking per se. But there's a twist, Mark grinned.

I looked at his smug expression waiting. When you spank us, you will have to spank us until your hand, your palm is totally worn out and nearly as sore as our asses. And you can only use one palm, not two, Mark said the proviso.

And yet, it sounded really logical. OK, I can do that, once again not having any experience or idea if I was talking smack to myself or not. Didn't matter, I was going to do it.

Our little trio continued to chat idly about anything other than why we were standing there and finally dad stuck his head in the door, Time's up. Have fun boys! And just like that he was gone. I think the fun comment was just a rhetorical having nothing to do with what we had planned.

Living with my two brothers meant that we saw each other totally or nearly naked quite a lot. So it was no surprise that we finally turned and walked back to the bedside, not bothering to slip anything on besides which even a garment covering or rubbing up against our sore behinds might not feel so good.

OK bro. Mark and I are going to sit and you are going to bend over in the middle. We are going to plaster you with ten hard spanks to each cheek. You can count if you want, or not. We are not going to hold back because we know you are not going to hold back because you should not.

A new experience. Getting spanked by dad is like on a completely different planet now we've moved to yet a different planet in our little solar system family. Mark and Paul sat angling their inner knees together to form sort of a makeshift lap.

I looked from one to the other, their faces surprisingly inscrutable. Nobody was grinning, but neither was anybody frowning or looking solemn. I guess I could call it they had their game-faces on. So I carefully lay face down on top of the joined knees in the middle girding my loins as they say to not come off to my bros like any kind of a wuss. So yes, stoic was the word just then.

I chose to be up on my elbows as I did. Ready? Paul asked me. I nodded, As much as I'll ever be, fire away guys! And ... They fired. Oh yes they fired.

Each terribly hard palm swat lit me up. Shit it hurt from the very first volleys. They counted together like this was some kind of warped game show: ONE! ... the count would go for ten of the longest, most painful pains on my ass, dad's prior beating key in making it lots more painful than it should have been.

I heard myself grunt, mutter bad words under my breath all the while their out-loud counting sounding like fun to them, even joyous or triumphant. We'll I am going to show these bastards ... after they finish having their ways with me. Finally, TEN! and I collapsed my chest to the bed top letting my fists pound the bed top.

Not bad, Mark teased. Shut up Mark, it's his turn now you idiot! Paul chastised. And I blew out my cheeks as they helped me to standing. I looked, what a fucking mess my ass is. Thanks guys. Really nice having two brothers like you guys. What did I ever do without you two assholes? I sighed, pretending I was pissed.

Glad to oblige, Mark smirked as Paul rolled his eyes at his unwise natural brother. OK, how do you want us? Paul asked. How did I want them? How the hell did I know? Suddenly it occurred to me that it's easy when somebody else's directing your ass's traffic. Somebody else in charge. In all of my so far fifteen years, I had never been in charge of another person, especially not a guy. Especially not a guy Mark's and Paul's ages for God sake!

So, I guessed that I may as well just make it up as I go, copying the example of others, chiefly dad of course. But with that thought the world of being the spanker instead of the spankee started to open up to me. How dad did it with Mark and Paul. A full lap with Mark, but then that humiliating lead-knee jackknife thing that dad made Paul do. OK, I was not going to do that to Paul or Mark because payback would eventually be a total bitch. So, there are limits.

It boiled down to positioning. I needed their four cheeks available with ease. May I suggest something, Randy? Paul saved my ass just then. I nodded, Yes, please, I smiled. Since we were in the larger room with two beds, we had two bed pillows available. Paul got them both and laid them side-by-side at the bedside. That had the advantage of elevating both of their backsides up so that I did not have to bend over so far putting a strain on my lower back.

They put themselves into position also up onto their elbows, both of them sporting strange sort of shit-eating grins on their faces. I think they were enjoying this way too much, why was none of my business. And yet, I liked what I was seeing, in so far as my ease of pummeling them until, as Paul told me, my palm was ready to peel off of the rest of my hand. Mark and Paul had a little bit of an advantage only because they had more time to cool off from dad's hidings than I had. But I could do nothing about that.

Ready guys? I asked them. Fire away! Mark said for them both. So I started to spank. I had only spanked both of them in total four swats each in those prior two sessions and those were separated by several days. I managed four spanks, one to each cheek in turn now in about ten seconds so now I was blazing new ground for myself and my novice spanking palm.

And as I spanked I had to slow down and suddenly realized that I had been totally punked. I had marched into this with open, but ignorant eyes. I had completely forgotten or had not yet learned that after a good hard tanning from dad, human skin kind of grows a bit immune to future blows unless you use something really nasty like a paddle or and wood or leather implement, certainly dad's bath brush would easily qualify.

That my human teenage palm was not used to this sort of barrage at all. I stopped and looked at them, That all you got, bitch? Mark taunted me. Paul just shook his head and rolled his eyes because he knew then, as I knew now that someday I was going to pay Mark back for that admittedly challenging remark and with interest.

I tried to spank hard and especially on Mark's ass, but that was self-defeating. I think I managed a total of fifteen smacks on each proffered cheek for a total of 60, but each smack progressively getting harder to do, my palm really starting to hurt, my wrist as well.

I finally gave up and contented myself with wincing. holding my wrist and flexing my fingers painfully open and shut. OK, I'm done. Thanks for the fun! I grimaced, the thanks with a nice sarcastic frown.

Good thing Randy didn't have dad's bath brush, that could've hurt really bad, Mark remarked. You don't know when to stop. Someday he might have dad's bath brush you stupid jerk. Think Randy's going to forget your asshole remarks? Paul then reached out and spanked Mark's red ass kind of hard. I chuckled, my big brother is awesome. My little brother is well, a little brother like me and prone to ignorant stupid jerk remarks.

Mark winced and jumped back covering his ass with his hands. I scrambled about to cover myself up slipping on something light and not too harsh on my battered behind. I'm going to the kitchen, I need to run cold water on my hand or ice or something, I said and did not wait.

Mom and dad were in the kitchen as I entered holding my wrist. Something wrong, honey? Mom asked me. Dad rolled his eyes, He's fine, dear. Just some brotherly shenanigans I think. Right Randy? Dad winked at me. Yeah, something like that. We got ice or something? I asked.

Well, let me look at it first honey, mom suggested. Mom? Please, just let me, I said I thought fairly controlled. I agree with Randy, he'll be fine. Hey, why don't you go show me what we're going to do with the drapes in the front room. This place needs a woman's touch and makeover! Her new husband already having found out what gets mom's decorating motor running. They left the kitchen.

I scrounged  around the freezer looking for ice. It was stuck, buried in the back. Shit. Paul and Mark swept into the kitchen also wearing loose soccer shorts. Paul came over to me, reached into the freezer and muscled the bag of ice out easily. Let me, he said mothering me just as I wanted mom to not do. It was fine with me, once again big brother to the rescue just like I had always wanted in life.

The subsequent ice bath in the sink was a hand-saver. Wow, that really helped. Thanks bro, I sighed. Welcome. Well, I'm off to sit on a pillow, nurse my wounds and do homework, Paul started to excuse himself, but before he disappeared he said: Nite you two daddy's boys, winked and disappeared. 

Yea, better get to it, hey fellow daddy's boy. Coming with? Mark asked. Yup fellow daddy's boy, I said enjoying how easily we now used that strange, but also wonderful designation. I did wonder how much I was going to get done given the events of the last few hours.

Well, it turns out that I did not need a pillow, and neither did Mark use one. We slaved away getting mundane school work done, my backside actually pretty good in recovery about ninety minutes later. It was bedtime and I was wrung totally out.

Mark gave me first dibs on taking a shower. When I did it was apparent that Paul had preceded me. Finally, alone and enjoying the solitude for once in my life. Recalling all that had happened to this point. I only winced a little when the hot shower water washed over my spanked bottom. Hey dude, that's the price you pay now ... daddy's boy's ass! I chortled to myself and then realized that I had not even a little laughed to myself in ages or maybe never and not have it some kind of unpleasant or sarcastic regret.

It felt good, real good. Besides the price of now having a sore ass was very low compared to the vast wealth of having a dad and two brothers of my own.

I also uttered a silent thanks to my mom who had made this all happen for me and for her. I chuckled a little at dad's manipulating mom out to the front room when he knew I needed to take care of my sore palm alone without her help. Dad is awesome, what else can I say? My ass would disagree, but my ass can go stand in the corner if it wants without me.

By the time my head hit the pillow that night, I already wished that I could sleep in the next morning, but it was a school night. Still, before I closed my eyes I uttered a very small little prayer and I'm not one to pray. I thanked God for my mom, my new dad and brothers and simply that I had plenty to be happy about and felt for once, content. 

A Tale of Three Boys and Their Three Bath Brushes – Chapter 2 – Three Daddy's Boys, © Copyright PJ Franklin, April 16, 2025.

Chapter 3: Growing Pains

Summary:

Things in the Miller family get very real.

From Chapter 2:

By the time my head hit the pillow that night, I already wished that I could sleep-in the next morning, but it was a school night. Still, before I closed my eyes I uttered a very small little prayer and I'm not one to pray. I thanked God for my mom, my new dad and brothers and simply that I had plenty to be happy about and felt for once, content.

* * * * *

I swear that for the next several weeks my head was in a cloud of happiness. I had a new dad and two new brothers, how could life get any better? But it did. Me, Mark, Trey, Alex and Noah were thick as thieves at school and sometimes after school.

I got teased a ton by everyone, even by mom and dad. Despite the fact that Mark and I are the same 15 years old each, I still got labeled the unofficial official little brother. Mark would complain that now he was the middle child, chirping that I was going to be the spoiled brat and that Paul was being treated as an adult leaving mark in the middle, how did he say it? Oh yes, holding my dick.

Mark and I were in the same bedroom of course and bedtime at least for a few days became an exercise of tomfoolery. We were being careful to make sure our homeworks were finished before bedtime. Crossing that line was a golden invitation for dad to activate the bath brush, something to be avoided for as long as possible.

We engaged in illicit pillow fights after lights out. We would throw things across the gap at each other. Mainly sneakers and other discarded clothing as well. Every once in a while we would get carried away and there would be a knock on our door. Dad would poke his head in, Get to sleep boys, I won't warn you again tonight, the next time I will spank the both of you! and then shut the door.

Yea, stop it Randy or it will be your fault, Mark would snort. No, you stop it Mark. You're always trying to get me in trouble, just kidding of course. Had I known then ...

Bedtime also meant tuck-ins. Childish you say? Think again. Mom would come in to tuck us into bed. I was used to her, but Mark was not. Dad did it too, and I was not used to being tucked in by a dad, only my mom. We sheepishly did not talk about that.

Once though Paul came in to tuck you shit-for-brains brothers in as he put it. Mark countered with go F-yourself, Paul and tuck your own F-ing self in. I countered with tuck this in, Paul, jutting my groin up and grabbing at myself. Paul rolled his eyes and disappeared. We could not help ourselves, launched out of bed and high-fived, Nice one bro! I drew praise from Mark.

The three of us were still sneaking up to our parents' bedroom door at night sometimes and listen to all manner of fun sounds, giggling and us trying not to be heard. Once we got carried away. Dad stuck his head only out, You three are headed for the woodshed if you don't stop! but that did finally stop us.

Paul's bedtime by the way is 11 PM and oh boy did he lord that over us, but it was all in good fun and I was exhilarated to be among them, an equal partner if you will. Occasionally mom and dad would be out in the evening on school nights. Bedtimes would not change and dad actually gave Paul charge to make sure that Mark and I were in bed at the proper time 30 minutes earlier.

Paul might ask dad for permission to spank Mark and I if we screwed-up. We could complain of course, so dad might say, I might just do that! to us or to Paul, I'll get back to you on that, keep your new adult nose clean for a while big boy.

One night, a Wednesday, mom and dad had gone to a small dinner party, actually with the parents of Trey, Alex, and Noah. All the moms and dads in our group knew each other, of course. My mom, she loved this! Now she had girlfriends. And I was so glad for her, so very proud of her.

I even asked Paul and Mark how it was to have a mother again. I thought that I had judiciously waited until while mom and dad were out of sight and ear of course. We were in Paul's room at the time when I asked. I could tell that the question bothered, they looked so uncomfortable, actually mostly Mark.

I'm sorry, I should not ask that, I said feeling cringy. Why are you sorry? Your mom ... I mean our new mother is wonderful. She makes a ton of difference. Dad is delighted with her. Never saw him so happy, Paul said. Then we both looked at Mark.

Mark shrugged, Yeah, she's been great for dad. I like her, but there was something about how he said it that sounded a bit strange and muted. But I thought nothing of it ... but should have. We all went to bed that evening, Paul to his own room, Mark and I, to ours.

Mark was very quiet, laying on his side away from me. It worried me, he worried me. Mark? Is there something wrong? You didn't seem very excited about having my mother around, I was up front. It's fine, go to sleep. We're not supposed to be talking, his tone, terse.

I decided it was nothing, but I took the extra precaution the next day to talk to dad about Mark. I found him in the family room for some alone time with my new old man. It felt odd, but very exciting. Hey buddy, what's going on? Dad asked me.

Dad, it's probably nothing, but something is going on with Mark. It happened after I asked Paul and Mark if they were happy with mom in their lives. Paul was very positive and excited sounding. Mark kind of shrugged it off and later just at bedtime I asked him if there was something wrong. He refused to talk to me about it.

Dad moved himself over to the couch and patted the seat next to him. I rushed over and sat close to him on his left. Dad's arm came across my shoulders and squeezed a bit. Mom and I have noticed. We think Mark is experiencing a bit of withdrawal from having Paul all to himself. Mark loves you, never doubt that. But ... Dad stopped and did not elucidate.

I think I understood, Well, maybe I should take Paul's room alone so that Mark and Paul can be together again, I thought out loud. Dad chuckled, You try to take Paul's room from him now, Randy. I think you will be met with quite a bit of resistance. I think he enjoys being alone now. But, that does not help you with Mark, does it, He said. I shrugged my agreement.

Want me to talk to Mark or Mark with you? He asked. I cringed, That would be great and all but I think I should try to work this out with Mark on my own. Is that OK? I asked. I agree. But if there continues to be problems I will insist.

I got a big bear hug from dad and felt so much better. The next evening at the dining table things seemed great. A mom, dad and three boys. That's a family and I was a part of it, mom was a part of it. Everybody but Mark was animated. He ate his supper silently and then asked to be excused to go do homework.

Randy? Mark seemed to engage a bit with all of us here at the dinner table, but not you. David? Is there a problem? Mom asked dad. Dad sighed and explained to her with Paul listening about what he had talked with me the prior night.

Mom nodded, I see your point. Well, things will work out in time. Everybody has adjustments to make, mom reasoned. Paul? Are you enjoying your room alone? Mom asked Paul.

Paul grinned, Sure am! ... But I agree with dad about Mark with Randy. I can see where Mark maybe feels a bit like Randy has inadvertently taken me from him. He'll never admit it, but Mark has been a bit sullen lately. Would you like me to talk to him with or without you present? Paul offered me the same as dad.

I smiled, Dad offered the same big brother. But I think it would be better if Mark and I worked it out on our own, and that seem to make everyone remaining at the table, happy.

But nothing improved that evening at bedtime with Mark. He didn't seem upset or even annoyed. But he did ignore me or only talked to me when it was necessary. My stomach started to hurt a little. We had just finished a ton of homework and were headed right to bed after.

Mark? Can we talk? I pushed my chair back. He stared down at his homework book and closed it, but he didn't slam it. About what? His reply was definitely resistant. Well, you seem unhappy with me, I was honest.

Why should I be unhappy? He asked, but his tone was suddenly very tense. Um ... never mind. Let's just go to bed, and I stood up and started to move about the room while he just sat there staring at me, and boy did I feel like shit just then.

Answer the question, Randy. Why should I be unhappy? He asked only slightly less tense. I decided to go for it on my own just like dad and Paul had agreed. You used to have Paul all to yourself. I move in and now you're with me and not with Paul. Sounds to me like a ... he cut me off.

You don't know anything about me. It's fine that Paul a has room to himself. He seems to be much happier than when he was with me. Just shut up and go to bed! He snapped at me and then stomped about the room to make ready for his own bedtime.

I felt, in a word, devastated. Or at least nervous that I might feel devastated. Hell, I don't know? I never had to live with brothers. How the hell do I know how to act or what to think? It wasn't my decision to have Paul be by himself.

I bit my lower lip and started to stomp around the room just like Mark getting ready for bed. What's your problem? You got a new dad. Your mom has my dad for new husband. My dad has a new wife that he really likes. Paul has a room by himself, he's overjoyed!

But he didn't say what I thought he should've added, but didn't. Should I say it? I had to, That's it. You blame me for taking Paul away from you, aren't you! Mark clenched his fists and stomped up to within 1 inch of my face, Blame you? You're not that powerful, Randy. And I resent you trying to analyze everything for me. Go to bed! He shouted at me from a short distance, turned and quickly got into his bed facing the wall. The tuck-ins that night happened, but the joy in them was not there for me.

This was a school night. I could ill afford all of this drama. Suddenly mom having a new husband and me new brothers was not feeling very good at all. It had upset Mark, and I loved Mark and wanted him to be happy that he had a new mom and me suddenly realizing that Mark really never needed me and maybe not mom either.

I stared at Mark in the bed across from me. I sat up and face-palming, stood and quietly left the room, but did not seek out mom or dad, I sought out Paul. I gently knocked on his bedroom door, Paul? It's me, Randy. I need to talk, I said. Paul quickly let me into the room and sat me next to him at his bedside.

I told him about what happened just a few moments ago with Mark. Paul sighed. OK, enough of this. I'm going to talk to Mark right now, and stood up. I stood up with him, terrified. No! Please don't, Paul. It will just agitate Mark and then it will be worse between us, I know it!

Well, dad had wanted Paul to behave more adult and now he was and what was I going to do about it? I watched Paul leave the room then I followed. He turned and looked at me, No, you go back to my room and wait, sounding just like dad.

I did what he told me and got behind the door and couldn't stand being there. I had to know what they were talking about. They are going to talk about me. Mark was going to complain and tell Paul that he hates me.

I cannot control my emotions and left the room against Paul's instruction and made my way to the closed bedroom door. At first I heard nothing and then, I heard loud voices and then louder voices. Get out of here, Paul. You have no right to talk to me about Randy. You have your own room, now go back to it now please! Amazingly without using any four letter words. That in itself was progress or was it?

Oh hell! I turned to quickly go down the hallway back to the bedroom, but Paul caught me. He glared at me from down the other end of the hallway. Shit, shit, shit! I pursed my lips and entered the bedroom and waited for him, my heart pounding.

But he didn't come right away. Turns out that he went to talk to mom and dad first. Well, that stirred things up let me tell you. Why had I disobeyed Paul when he was trying to help me? I am so dumb. I don't deserve to have a new dad. I don't deserve to have new brothers! My presence was upsetting everything!

And by the time that Paul, with dad, came into the bedroom I was sitting at the bedside with red and wet eyes. Both males quickly came to either side of me and sat. It's all my fault. Mark hates me now. And I disobeyed you, Paul. You were trying to help just like dad wants you to and (almost said fucked it up, but didn't) now I feel like a petulant, needy little boy and not a responsible teenage young man.

Randy, son. He doesn't hate you. Mark is frustrated. This is not about you, it's about him, dad said to me quietly. That's right, Randy. It's just the way Mark is. Randy? You want to sleep in my room tonight? Paul asked.

I nodded. It was not a long-term solution, but certainly was short-term. We stood and dad gave me a big bear hug and it was hard not to blub a little anyway into his shoulder, but I didn't. Good night boys.

Great. Now I was alone with Paul. I would sleep on the floor, usually that would be great but not after I had disobeyed him and I hated myself for it after all that Paul had tried to do to make me welcome into his family.

Paul fetched some bedding and padding for the floor next to his bed. I watched him. Even then he was trying to take care of me. There. This will be great, right? He smiled. I looked at him, But I disobeyed you, Paul, I said arms folded and head down.

Yeah, you did. If I was really dad you might be getting a very sore bottom right about now, but I could tell it was a tease. Maybe you should, I kind of pouted. Yeah, well that's not happening. Come on, get to bed. I did, but I slept like shit that night.

&&

Mom drove Mark and I to school the next morning, Mark said nothing to me through breakfast, in the car or after we got out. He quickly walked away from me. There was nothing I could do, I had done too much already.

The saving grace? Trey Whitten. We have English class together, and essays were due. Only our instructor required us to collaborate-write to together with a partner. Naturally, Trey and I hooked up right away. I like Trey. His father is just as strict with him as mine is with me.

Trey invited me over to his home that evening to start the project. I got to meet Mr. Whitten for the first time. He of course knows my dad very well. Trey had told me about the multiple family camping trips, fishing expeditions. The four families spend a lot of time together and I was really looking forward to that.

Trey and I tried to get as much done as we could, but he kept giggling and jostling me. I kept doing the same to him. At one point we got has boisterous together as Mark and I used to, but didn't any longer at least at present.

Trey's bedroom door opens and in pokes Mr. Whitten's head, I don't hear a lot of work getting done in here you guys. Step to it! And he closed the door. Trey looked sheepish, We better obey. Dad only gives one warning and then out comes the belt.

But I'm here, what then if we screw up together? I asked. Trey chuckled, Oh, nobody's told you? If you're over here in my house or at Alex's, or at Noah's or we're at yours? Both of us can get our bare butts paddled or belted and then the one dad calls the other. And then you still can get it from your own father later. Sucks majorly!

I rolled my eyes, We've had so much to get used to at our place that got left out of the training session, I snorted. Yeah, well now you know. And believe me, you don't want my dad blistering your ass at the end of my bed. And I don't want to be across your dad's knees getting that damn bath brush. You had that yet? He asked.

Yup! It's worth trying to avoid, I shook my head. Then we heard footfall and froze. But the footfall passed and we got back to work very quickly, let me tell you. Before I left Trey and his family that night, Trey suggested that we should do a sleep over together, just him and I sometime soon.

I for sure loved that idea. Now I had friends outside of my own family that I never used to have much less invited for a sleepover. Gosh I felt good as I waited at the curb. Mom picked me up and I gave her the good news. She was so happy for me. Mom? Have you seen or talked to Mark tonight? I asked anxiously.

Mom has always worn her emotions out on her sleeve. She grew quiet a moment, Yes. He still seems upset, a little anyway, but I'm sure everything will work out. Don't worry.

* * * * *

I decided it would be smart just to give Mark space. So I said nothing to him that evening. We did homework only speaking about school or an assignment or something besides the elephant in the room. We went to bed. We got our tuck-ins, but I didn't talk to him after, nor he, me.

The next day at school Trey and I got together in English class as usual. When we had a small break he asked me, Hey Randy, why don't you sleep over Friday night? Only 48 short hours away. I grinned, You bet!

I made sure to get permission from dad first, but he celebrated with me, my first non-Miller event as it were. He told me that the Whitten family was fantastic and I would have a good time, but that I needed to mind my Ps and Qs as far as behavior. I told him about Trey's information along those lines. Dad nodded.

That night Mark seemed like his old self, mostly. We didn't do any shenanigans at bedtime, but I was willing to give that up if Mark seemed happier about things.

Thursday passed into Friday and I was so excited. I was 15 but I felt like I was 12 or 10 or whatever age guys are supposed to be having sleepovers with other guys and not too old to do it. I didn't care and apparently neither did Trey.

Trey has an older sister, Marla, and two younger sisters, Layla and little Kelly. The little ones fawned over me until Trey started to get pissy. Marla guided them gently away from us, winking at me. Pretty girl, only she's Paul's age.

Trey and I started out to work some on our English project which was due the following week at first. But then he finally said, I saw you looking at my big sister. Hands off! Besides, she's kinda hot on your big brother, he winked. I grinned from ear-to-ere, now that was useful information I'll tell you.

The sleepover was actually going to be Friday night and Saturday. Trey and I played Xbox for the rest of that night trying to beat the crap out of each other. At one point we started to arm wrestle our controllers away from each other. We got to laughing and giggling and rolling around on the floor a bit.

Nothing came of that of course. And just before bedtime dressed in sweats, barefoot and T-shirts, we gathered with the rest of the family to watch a family-style movie. Lelah and little Kelly insisted on surrounding me.

At one point I had Kelly in my lap. A real little sister that I never had. Marla kept looking at me and her and finally she came over and took Kelly from me. Kelly complained and then Mrs. Whitten looked over, No more of that young lady. I think you should go to bed now, and then Kelly really complained and kind of threw a fit.

Mrs. Whitten took over leaned over and pointed at her daughter, Does somebody need a spanking? She threatened. That stopped Kelly in her tracks, No mommy, I be good, and then little Kelly kissed and hugged all of us good night. Lelah soon followed, and the rest of the family retired leaving Trey and I alone in front of the TV.

Bedtimes are very loose at the Whitten's on Friday nights. And to be fair, the same back at my home. Trey and I spent until almost 1AM beating the crap out of each other with Xbox games. Then we went to bed. I was sleeping on the floor next to Trey of course, like I did with Paul. But even going to bed I missed Mark. I wondered how he was doing, probably happier with me not there.

Saturday came and the Whitten clan took us all to the zoo, the pizza parlor and game arcades. I knew that I would be doing these things with my new family, but it sure was special to do them with another family and I loved that the two families know each other so well. Well, having multiple dads to watch out for against punishments was not so good, but neither was it bad.

Later that Saturday afternoon I listened as Trey asked his father if he and I could go over to Noah's house for the evening. Mr. Whitten rolled his eyes, Trey? Aren't you forgetting something? Did you not tell Randy that you are grounded from anywhere but our house? He had not.

Talk about sheepish. Dad! Randy's here. Please! Can't I do more grounding next weekend? Mr. Whitten looked at his son like dad might look at me. Trey, we're going to aunt Mary's next weekend. So, no! And that was that or I thought it was.

Mr. and Mrs. Whitten put Marla in charge because they were going out that evening. No problem, I had no difficulty with Marla in the house, I was glad she might be hooking up with Paul. Stop looking at her like that! Trey would giggle.

And, in retrospect, that's when things started to fall apart. Apparently, Marla is not beyond her own older teenagers shenanigans. In fact, I forgot to mention that Layla and Kelly were doing their own sleepovers. I think Marla got tasked with staying home because Trey was grounded.

Oh, and I gave Trey a ton of shit over not telling me. He just shrugged, I would've done the same. But then Marla found us, Hey you guys. Can I trust you to stay at home? I'm going to sneak out for a couple hours and go visit a friend.

We, of course, gave her shit that the so-called friend was Paul. She denied it, we thought we knew better, but it didn't matter. Of course we agreed. And all of a sudden there we are, Trey and me alone.

I'm so fucking sick and tired of this grounding shit. Come on, let's sneak out. I looked at Trey as if he were completely crazy. Sneak out? Have you gone insane? What if we get caught? I complained to Trey. Marla will never say anything, dad and mom will be out until midnight. We won't stay out that long, that's for sure! Come on Randy, live a little!

Live a little, he said. But my consciences conjured up die a little, and stupid me paid no attention. I so wanted to not say yes to Trey, so I did just that. And by the time we got to the small arcade and met up with two girls from school, I forgot all about how we had decided to violate Trey's grounding.

I never had a girlfriend before the Miller's, that is I didn't date. I went out in groups of guys and girls, just never alone. But tonight? I met Elise, dark black hair Elise. And she was with brunette Elena. Each very hot in my eyes anyway. And the four of us hung out at the arcade until the girls had to go and so did we.

We got back home we were sure ahead of Marla. But guess who met us at the door? There you guys are! Where did you go? Why did you go anywhere? You're grounded Trey, didn't you tell Randy? Marla was very unhappy with us.

Yes he did Marla. I agreed to break his grounding, I said feeling like a total dumb fool. How did you know? Trey asked her sounding helpless. Never mind. I did. Get to your bedroom, now! Marla boomed.

I'll tell dad that I forced you to go, that I gave you no choice, Trey paced back and forth in the bedroom. That's total bullshit, Trey. I had a choice. God dammit! Frustration set in. Frustration about Trey and still over Mark as well.

Mr. and Mrs. Whitten came home earlier than expected. We heard footfall, heavy footfall. Here comes dad, he said and we both stood. Mr. Whitten came into the room not very happy at all. He looked at Trey, Why? And especially with Randy here? Do you call that friendship, son? He asked.

Head down Trey shook his head before he looked up, No daddy. Randy? I'm sorry. This is all my fault, still trying to take all the blame. No, I had a choice and I chose to go with you. I have the same blame, I defended what was right come what may.

I warned you Trey. You break grounding, you're going to get the belt as well as extended grounding. Randy? I'm sure Trey told you that if you're at a sleep over with another father, the other father will punish you as well as his own son.

Finally, some good sense that even I could understand. Only ... Mr. Whitten started to speak, and I knew disappointment was up to bat. ... not this time. I'm going to call your dad, Randy. I would punish you as well, but you're too new to this and I think my son took advantage of you, Mr. Whitten glared at Trey and Trey just shrunk and sat on the bed, head down.

There was nothing I could do. Ten minutes later dad was in his car at the curb. As I left the bedroom Mr. Whitten went back inside and closed the door. Trey was going to get his ass whipped.

I would rather get my ass whipped with the bath brush and the belt instead of getting inside dad's car with him just then. Awful doubt started to creep in as I opened the door, sat and put my seatbelt on looking down. Feeling shame and, well, what did I expect when you take too many risks.

Tough night at the arcade I understand, dad said, the motor still running. I nodded, I should've said no, but I didn't want to say no. I really like Trey and I guess I just wanted to please him, I said.

Dad's hand came over to my shoulder and squeezed gently, it's OK Randy. You should want to please yourself too. I know you meant no harm. Trey is going to get a very hard spanking and probably will be grounded against any more sleepovers for a while.

I looked at my dad, Are you going to punish me? You have to punish me to just like Trey. Only why am I telling you what to do. I can't get anything right tonight! I've been screwing up for several days with Mark, I don't know what to do! wishing the ground to swallow me up, feeling.

Calm down, son. Yes, you screwed up with Trey tonight. But you're so new at this whole ... And then I was going to say the wrong thing including interrupting dad. A no-no, but I had to.

No dad. Please don't let me off. I don't want to be treated differently. Mark already thinks that I get special treatment and he got the shaft! I blurted and then winced. How about dad just puts a big old piece of duct tape across my mouth for a week and stop me from saying the wrong thing!

Dad sighed, pulled away from the curb and we didn't talk all the way home. It was quite late and I was totally awake. We got into the house. Paul was already in his room alone. I supposed that Mark was as well, though I really didn't care about him right then.

Mom greeted us, she and dad quietly talk together. Mom came over hugged and kissed me, It'll be all right, honey. I'm going to go to bed now, she kissed me again and disappeared. I stood there alone with dad in the front room.

I talked to Hiram. He told me everything. Somebody found out that you guys were at the arcade and I think called Marla, but I'm not sure about that. Doesn't matter. The truth is out and I'd rather have the truth that a bunch of rumors, lies and presumptions. What do you want to do Randy? He asked me I knew trying to be measured and kind and all that good dad-stuff that I was still not used to.

Something snapped in me. Would dad ask Mark or Paul in this situation what they wanted to do? No, he would not.

What do I want to do? I want my dad to decide. You're not the one that screwed up, I did. Trey is getting the belt. I at least deserve the bath brush! And then I turned and face-palmed. When was I going to stop talking and making a fool out of myself and disrespecting everyone around me including myself!

I just wanted to hide in a room all by myself. Then dad hugged me from behind, Bath brush it is. I think Mark is in his bed. I'll talk to Paul and he can wait outside and I will punish you there.

Great, just great. I had talked myself into a bath brush blistering. Way to go Randy. How about just shutting up and stop making things worse for yourself! I stomped to the bedroom. I didn't wait, I stripped down to my underwear. At least I got to do that much on my own and got it right!

And then I waited. I suddenly realized that another first time was about to occur. I have been punished with Mark and Paul, the three of us. This would be my first solo with dad alone.

Gosh, I sort of felt like one of those pilots from decades ago that piloted their propeller aircraft by themselves across the country or over the Atlantic. The loneliness they must have endured, but I was not alone. I was with my dad.

Dad came into the room toting the brush and said nothing about my state of dress. He sat at the bedside and I strode forward right to between spread knees. I even put my hands on my head and looked down at him.

His face was quieted. He looked up at me, For what it's worth, son, I am proud that you didn't try to deny anything and even demanded that you be punished as Trey will be. I understand why you did what you did with Trey. I have to say I'm very unhappy with him over this, but he won't be sitting for a while if I know Hiram.

And when dad went to signal for me to lay across his lap, I asked one more thing. Daddy? Can you punish me over one knee like you do Paul? Because for some reason I wanted to associate my punishment with Paul and not with Mark. He nodded.

And as soon as he locked the back of my knees with me hyper-flexed over his lead knee, I knew this was a mistake. I finally gave up the fact that for some reason I was on a horrible role. One mistake after another, after another and when would it all stop?

That would be a question for later because dad had me in tears in nothing flat. Tears and trying to protect my own ass from that damn brush blasting away at my ass at a rate and coverage that, well, let's just say that I wished I had not said yes to Trey.

Dad easily secured my wrists to my lower back and then really went after my sit-spots and thigh-tops. I just started to sob and cry and went limp and took the pain and then some. There was no hand-spanking after it, quite a nice silver-lining among the dark thunderous clouds otherwise.

When he stood me up I glanced at my ass and winced, World War III is quite alive and well, at least on my butt. Dad carefully hugged me, Clean slate, kiddo. I kind of think you will not be visiting Trey save for school for a while, though, he said. I know, I sighed.

Because of the lateness of the hour, dad did not make me do corner time. But he did allow me to sleep in Paul's room instead of going to be with Mark, I don't think I could've handled that right then.

Paul waited a short while before he came into the room. I couldn't even look at him, the horrid punishment had helped get rid of most of my guilt. But I still felt so unworthy of him, and didn't try to hide it.

Paul said at the bedside but he did not pat the space, Probably don't want to sit right now. Marla and dad told me what happened. I hope you don't think you're the only guy or guys who have done what you did. I got caught with a high school friend three years ago trying that trick. We got our asses beat black and blue by our dads at the same time over that one, He chuckled. All that did was to enforce in me the notion that I would not have minded at all to share a belt whipping with Trey at his house from his dad.

I finally decided to sit next to Paul, though very carefully. Arm across the shoulder. I was getting used to that from Paul and was grateful for it. How's Mark? I asked. Actually, I don't know. But I think you're right. Or all of us are right. I think Mark is having problems that I didn't realize and should have. I'll talk to him ... And don't go telling me I should not unless you want me to swat your ass a few more times! And he was not teasing that time.

&&

Everything seemed fine on Sunday. I even showed the bruises that the bath brush caused to both Paul and Mark. They made the usual teasing remarks, nothing unusual about that. We three then kind of celebrated that I had done this alone with dad, even Mark thought that that was cool in his own Mark way.

We actually as a whole family went to a baseball game that Sunday, a doubleheader! We ate glorious baseball park food. Hot dogs, popcorn and disgustingly sweet sugary anything. Dad even hoisted back a beer. Mom didn't, mom is not a drinker but she enjoyed that her husband enjoyed his.

Paul, Mark and I played Xbox Sunday night before it was time for bed. And when Mark and I finally got into the bedroom alone we sat at our bedside across from each other. Hey, I'm sorry I've been a shit to you. I'm over it. Paul talked to me and he's right. I miss him, but it's OK now. Friends again? Mark asked.

I'd never heard anything so good in my life. Friends again. Brothers and friends. We went to bed including very enjoyable tuck-ins that night in good spirits together so I thought this was all over and we could now move on.

Boy, was I wrong!

* * * * *

Everything was going great at school until lunchtime on Monday, that is almost. I'd not seen Trey Whitten since Saturday night. I did see him around school, but he seemed to want to be alone away from me. I couldn't blame him. That was OK. He and I would be fine, and I respected that he needed space for whatever reason.

I would've eaten lunch with him, but I was alone at the table until I was not. Elise sat next to me setting her tray down. I smiled. I really like Elise. Hey! I smiled and admired her dark black hair once again. And a few other things about her, but we won't talk about that right now.

She looked at me, not smiling. I found out about you and Trey from Saturday, just yesterday. Are you OK? She asked. I tilted my head, how the hell did she know what happened to Trey and I?

I thought I was, what are you talking about? I started to nervously probe. I should not be telling you this but I really like you, Randy. You and Trey would've been fine except you didn't know that Mark and another girl saw you at the arcade. Somehow they knew that Trey was already grounded and that your presence with him at the arcade was 100% against Trey's dad's wishes. Apparently they called Marla. In fact I was told that Mark called Marla himself and ratted you guys out.

An elephant's huge foot punching me in the gut just then would have felt better. I blushed. I could not believe it. Not for one moment. No way he would do that, right? No, not right.

Are you sure? Because if you're not, Elise. If you're just guessing ... And she looks at me. It's a good thing I don't know you as well as I would like to or I would slap your face. I am not guessing Randy Miller! Got up and left the table in a huff and I didn't blame her.

I sat there. Just then who walks up to me with a tray, but Mark! Hey bro! He grins and is about to sit. I whip my hand out and flick the tray out of his hand, spilling everything onto the floor. Everyone around us freezes, gasps and gawks!

What the hell did you do that for? Mark was pissed, of course he was. Only I was more pissed. You were the one that ratted us out to Marla, why Mark? and then for good measure I threw my uneaten tray of food at Mark and them stomped out of the cafeteria, almost in tears, but too angry to quite let the waterworks run!

The further I got from the cafeteria and Mark and more my stomach ached. I ended up in the boy's room and vomited into a toilet bowl. Dry heaves. It's happened before under severe duress and right then a heart attack would have been half the duress that I felt just then.

A couple of guys came over and asked me what was wrong. but when they saw my pale face, my brow sweating, they hustled me to the nurse's office. The lady called mom. Mom came and picked me up from school. She got me into the car, Honey? What happened?

What happened? What happened?? I wish you never married David. I wish ... and I started to sob and then cut loose into her shoulder. She drove us home and I just sat there wanting to run away very far from all of it.

Somehow or other both Paul and dad were home. I didn't know where Mark was. I didn't care about Mark just then, rather I did. I just wanted my say before he came in there and denied everything.

Dad was right there, Paul at his side. Dad spoke, his voice slightly tense. Randy, honey. Mark already told us everything including at school today. I sent him to his room, already.

I sighed, at least I didn't have to talk about any of how things got to this moment in time. I shrugged, I don't know what to do. Obviously Mark hates me ... and then I did it. I cut loose: AND DON'T TELL ME THAT HE LOVES ME. THAT'S BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT! I screamed. And then I looked over, Mark was standing there in the entry way, his face red and sad.

Mark, I told you to stay ... But then dad stopped himself. ... get your ass over here, dad said in a much sterner tone.

Mark sighed, hands in his back pocket and slowly walked over to right in front of me. I'll hand him this much, he didn't act like he was innocent. He did not flinch. I could have reached out and punched him in the face and broken his nose and I think he would've took it without complaint.

Nobody said a thing for a long moment. My nostrils were flaring, Mark was having a hard time keeping eye contact, Why couldn't you just talk to me and tell me that you missed Paul. You could've told me that you resented me. That I took him away from you. I could have handled that, Mark!

I stopped and nobody else said anything so I continued, Yes, I was wrong to go out with Trey against his grounding. Yes, I deserved dad's bath brush paddling. I still have the bruises to prove it. And you know what? I'm very proud of them because I took it from dad. I even did it like Paul, jackknifed over dad's knee. Have you ever had the balls to do that because you love your big brother more than you love your own dumb ass? I let him have it. Mom, Paul, and dad just stood there and let me.

Mark pursed and chewed on his lips. His head bounced up and then down again. His eyes reddened and he had to wipe them a bit and he nodded, You forgot the part that the girl I was with begged me not to call Marla. In fact, she outright told me that I was a poor excuse for a brother for you and stomped out on me in the arcade. Told me to go F-myself even.  

I said nothing, but I actually admired that Mark confessed his friend's appropriate reaction. I just looked at him. He sniffled. And actually I did not think these were crocodile tears. I finally sighed and put my hands up on his shoulders, Mark, I think you and I are so far away from being an adult like dad is and Paul is getting there. Acting like idiots. I should've said no to Trey. Only a stupid immature teenager would say yes. You did what you did, same reasons, same result. In fact you are so far from being an adult you may never be one, I finally smiled a little. The corner of Mark's mouth turned up.

Um ... I think I'd rather have Mark grow up and get out of this house and live here as not an adult for the rest of his life, dad pitched in. We all chuckled, just a little. Randy, I don't want you sleeping in Paul's room any more. You belong with me in our room. Besides, I think Paul appreciates the alone time so that he can, you know ...

And of course that little hint caused everybody to shout out various versions of too much information. All but Paul who was enjoying himself way too much.

Mark and I hugged hard, very hard. When the hug ended, Mark turned to look at his father, Bath brush? Is all he said. Dad nodded, March! Dad pointed to the hallway.

I looked at Paul, Sorry big bro. I don't want you inside of the room. I want to be there alone with dad and Mark. I hope you understand.

Paul looks at me, I don't have time to be in that room while you guys do that thing. Because, like Mark says, I have some very personal things to attend to, the kind where you need a sock! Cue another round of too much information including mom swatting Paul on his ass and scowling at him as only mom can.

Dad sent Mark and I ahead of him. Paul shouted after us, Good luck, Mark! If it were me I would let Randy spank you too! That usually should've provoked a middle finger, but of course it did not.

The Miller corporal punishment routine started. I sat on the wall by myself and watched. Mark had to hold hands on head as his dad denuded him of his clothing below the waist. He took his son across his knees and gave him the still arduous warm-up hand-spanking making me wince, but I was never going to look away because I know he deserved it, every bit of it.

The bath brush was of course, next. But then Mark said something that was either foolish or very wise, probably a bit of both. Dad? Can you give me the brush like you do to Paul and I guess Randy too now? Jackknife over one knee please?

Before dad could answer, I did. You're stupider than I thought, bro. I assure you that is a BIG ass mistake, but whatever! I grinned. Mark shook his head and then nodded, Yep, at least as stupid as you and Trey.

If I'd gotten World War III, then Mark got world war IV on his ass for the next five long minutes. And unlike the last time I watched him get torched, I just sat there unmoved. Mark kicked, cried, bawled and begged for it to stop but it did not stop.

Doing shit on yourself is one thing. Betraying a family member, quite another. Mark was limp, wrung out and crying freely at the end. I averted my gaze from his ass. It would only remind me too much of my own travails of the prior week.

I did smile and stand up as my dad and brother hugged. And then when dad released his hug he looked at me, Say, Randy. I think there is room on his backside for you to spank Mark if you want. I'll stand here and supervise in fact, dad said with a straight face.

We both looked at him knowing he was not serious. OK. Come on over Randy. You're going to give me a spanking as dad watches and then I can kick and cry and carry-on for you, Mark called his bluff. I stifled a chortle.

Dad rolled his eyes and chuckled, Now that was good, Mark. Thirty minutes! Dad pointed to the corner, winked at me and then carried himself with his deadly force out of the room closing the door.

I followed Mark over to the corner and leaned back against the adjacent wall it as he faced in. Your ass is a mess, I said. Yeah, but you're still going to spank me. Just like we do. Go ahead, he turned his head a bit.

I think I'll wait. I think I'll let things cool down and then I'm going to light you up when I want to, not you. He started to laugh a little and then stopped, I deserve that. My God, you're starting to sound just like Paul and dad.

Dad did not specifically tell us that we could not talk, so we did. I asked him about the girl who stomped out on him from the arcade and he just shrugged, She'll get over it. I'll tell her I got punished that you watched and all that and that'll make her happy.

Mark actually let me swat his ass ten times after the time expired. He gritted his teeth, rose up and down on his tiptoes and told me that he felt sorry in advance for any sons that I might have after marriage and had reason to spank them.

That night, Mark and I were back to bedtime shenanigans. Throwing things back and forth in the dark. Giggling and carrying on for far too long. Finally the door opened and dad stuck his head in, You two don't know when to cut your losses, and marched inside!

He went to my bed first, grabbed my ear and pulled me out of bed. He pulled me over to Mark's bed, grabbed his ear and stood him up next to me. We were only wearing our underwear. Hands up on the wall, he said not so much sternly as kind of paternally amused, with a little bit of stern.

He didn't have the bath brush, but our father does not need a bath brush to make his point. He yanked the backs of our underwears down baring out bottoms. And then he planted no less than twenty hard spanks on each of us.

We just winced and grimaced rising up and down on our toes the entire time and we even stuck our tongues out at each other. Dad said nothing as he swatted freely away. Dad then yanked our underwear back up and swatted us one more time each. Now get to bed, both of you. No more talking and messing about!

Mark and I flew to our beds as if leaping away from a flowing river of deadly lava and onto a safe rock. Dad then came over to me, leaned over and kissed my forehead, I love you very much, Randy. But please stop being such a bad influence on your brother.

Then he went over to Mark and kissed him on the forehead, I love you very much, Mark. But please stop being such a bad influence on your brother, stifling his own little giggling thing. He walked out of the room, shutting the door.

It was dark in the room as we turned and looked to each other. Oh, what the hell, Mark. I think I'm going to continue to be a bad influence on you. That way I get to see you cry like a little baby and you get your backside blistered like you deserve. And what the fuck, bro? Asking to be jack-knifed like Paul?

I earned a middle finger for that one. Good, because I never had any plans to not be a bad influence on you and I get to see you cry like a little baby all jackknifed over dad's knee just like Paul. What the hell were you thinking anyway? I didn't want to do that! See? You are such a bad influence, he pretended to be irate.

We continued to stare each other and then started to giggle and chortle. Then I don't know why, or how this happened but we got out of bed at the same time and met in the middle of the room. We hugged, hard. Hey, I love you man. Never stop being you, Mark said and then swatted by ass.

I smiled, I love you too and don't stop being you. But I think we're both destined together to spend way too long getting the bath brush, jack-knifed like fools ... but maybe together next time, OK? And then I swatted his ass. Ouch! You spank hard, he winked. I just rolled my eyes. We went to bed. I would sleep very well that night.

*  *  *  *  *

Ooops! I don't know what happened. I didn't count three bath brushes in this chapter, only one. Do you guys know where the other two are? I'll try and find out what the hell happened. Until then, see you next episode.

A Tale of Three Boys and Their Three Bath Brushes – Chapter 3 – Growing Pains, © Copyright PJ Franklin, April 27, 2025.

Chapter 4: Big Bro Takes Charge

Summary:

Chapter 4 could also be named "more growing pains" as Randy Miller learns more about navigating the shark-infested waters of both his new family and his new family's extended friends.

 

Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it. –  Charles Swindoll

&&

I really thought that I had put the trouble and consequences for what Trey and I did and got into this past weekend behind me. I made a wrong choice in letting Trey drag me to the arcade especially knowing that he was already grounded. I take responsibility for that.

Then again what's the big deal? It's not like we went out and robbed a bank or even tried to drink a beer, smoke cigarettes or worse, do weed. So actually I got into trouble because of Trey's prior grounding and the more I thought about it, I wasn't so sure I was cool with that. But, I thought I let that go too.

And I really did think that Mr. Whitten's decision to call my dad and not punish me with Trey which would be usual, was a break. That is until I ran into both Noah and Alex the following Monday at school. They knew what had happened in principle anyway.

So, hear you and Trey got your asses busted this weekend together. Way to go Miller! Noah grinned offering high-fives all around which we did. Made me feel good just being a part of the group and all until I realized it was not together.

No, it wasn't together, I said. Trey's dad refused to punish me with Trey and called my dad to pick me up. I got punished separately from him, I should not have said, but did. Oh, hey Alex, we have a special child here. Too good to get punished with your pal? Daddy's little pet son? Noah and Alex high-fived without me.

Daddy's little pet son? I saw a red just then. Mr. Whitten made that decision, not me. I'm nobody's pet anything, so fuck off both of you, I glared and then winced and looked around, but there was nobody else to hear my cursing, especially school staff.

Lighten up for fuck's sake, Miller. So, you caught a break, not your fault, blah blah blah, Noah rolled his eyes. Suddenly the so-called lucky break had just turned into not so lucky. I've got to go, I said and then abruptly left the two bozos in my wake.

I had two more classes to go and then Trey and I had to work on our English essay project together in our English room by ourselves. I was not going to go over his house again, because he was double-grounded. It just didn't feel right to do so. Trey actually agreed. But as soon as we got together that afternoon, things did not feel right at all.

Heard you got your dad's bath brush. That must suck. I got the belt. Not good. But, you're lucky you didn't get my dad's belt. It's a good thing this came up towards the end of our session. The essay was essentially done and we each were going to edit a copy and then turn it in to English class the next day.

Lucky? Have you ever had the bath brush blistering your butt? I asked Trey. No, I just happen to think my dad's belting hurts more than your dad's bath brush and ... bath brushes sound like a kid's punishment. The belt is an older guy's punishment.

I looked at Trey. He did look like he was kidding and I should let it go, but not after the older and younger guy's insult like I was being molly-coddled.

I glared at Trey, picked up my copy of the essay and made to put distance between me and him. Hey where you going? he asked. I turned. I did avoid flipping him off. Good for me, but I probably should have instead of saying: Stay away from me, Whitten, turned and though I regretted saying that to him, it was too late and I was not going to take it back.

I could have let that incident go and even apologize to Trey later, but that night at home during bedtime with Mark, he started to give me the business in the room's light's out darkness. Heard you got into it with Alex and Noah.

And my comeback? Mind your own business, Mark. Go to sleep, I turned my back to him. What? It's no big deal, man. All of us get into trouble with other guys. What gives? OK, he wants to know? I turned back, Because they thought I got special treatment. They called me dad's special little pet or something.

Well, aren't you? Mark giggled. And I did not take that so well. But instead of flipping him off and getting into a bad habit with forbidden curse words and gestures, I hopped out of bed, grabbed up my bedding and headed out the door.

Hey, Randy! Where are you going? Mark asked behind me, not chuckling. Good. As far away from you as I can, slamming the door behind me.

Great, just great! I stood in the hallway feeling like a complete idiot and worse, isolated. First Noah and Alex and now Mark. I felt like a wuss. A pussy. And angry with myself if not the three of them. I headed right for Paul's room.

I knocked softly and then opened the door and stuck my head in. I needed to talk to my big brother, only he was ... Jesus, he seemed to be jacking off under his covers so I made a fast strategic and very quiet retreat and then stood once again isolated and alone in the hallway.

I really wanted to talk to dad, but he and mom were asleep and my silly stupid adolescent concerns should not disturb them. Fuck! I took me and my bedding to the family room and cuddled up on the couch. But trying to sleep with all the shit going around in my mind and me thinking that I was just being a wuss helped nothing much less aid me to sleep.

But I guess I slept a bit because the next thing I knew dad woke me up. It was very early, dad rises early, always has apparently. Hey buddy, why are you sleeping alone you're in the family room? Was Mark snoring? He sometimes does that.

Snoring. I wish that was so and I almost said yes, but I didn't. We had a verbal fight last night, and I was going to sleep with Paul but he was busy, I said and then winced as if I had just outed my big brother against you know what.

An argument? May I ask about what? dad asked. Sometimes you get on rolls. There are good rolls and bad rolls. This was clearly the latter. It's nothing dad. Just guy stuff, I clearly low-balled that one for better or worse.

I'll handle it with Mark, but thank you for asking, I said even then thinking that maybe I should've told dad everything, but then thought that was just being dad's special little wussy pet. I was polite at the breakfast table later, especially to Mark.

Mom took me aside after breakfast and asked me that she thought there might be something wrong. I definitely told mom there was not and that she was imagining things at least in so many words. She was not of course. Another missed opportunity, as I said, a bad roll.

I completely ignored Trey that day and managed to turn in my edited essay at the same time, but avoided any eye contact with him and left the classroom not even saying hello.

Over lunch, Noah and Alex captured me sitting down next to me with their lunch trays. Hey Miller. Why don't you come over or maybe even sleep over with Noah and I starting tonight. Trey has to go with his family to visit his aunt, he's grounded from sleepovers anyway. What do you say?

I pursed my lips. I should accept the offer. But I'm so used to feeling sorry for myself before the Miller's and easily slipped back into old habits. Thank you for asking, but us daddy's pets are too special to do that, stood up and walked away from them depositing my lunch tray into the garbage having not eaten a bite because I had lost my appetite and somehow it felt good for about 10 seconds.

That evening things seem to look up. Mark took me aside and apologized and I quickly and gladly accepted. We had supper and then dad asked to speak with me alone. I didn't mind that at all, but did wonder what it was about? We isolated into the family room together.

He patted the seat next to him on the couch. I sat. He drew his arm across my shoulders and lightly gripped. So I relaxed, dad would not do that I thought if I was in real trouble. Randy, I got a phone call from Hiram (Trey's father.) Apparently Hiram has talked to Robert and Richard (Noah and Alex's dads.) It seems that Noah and Alex told them that you and them kind of had a bad day at school among yourselves.

It was not a question, which made it all the worse for me because it was now my to expand or not. I chose as half-way. Yeah, they were just talking smack, but it got to me and I stomped away from them. I should not have done that, sorry dad.

Well, it sounded a bit more serious than that. Both Alex and Noah told their fathers they want to apologize to you. And that you turned down offering to do a sleep over at Noah's home this weekend. Is that true? He asked.

I nodded, Yes. After what happened with Mr. Whitten, especially him refusing to punish me with Trey, I just figured to play it safe. I don't want any more trouble. That, and they teased me about being your so-called special boy. Daddy's pet, no, daddy's special pet.

I cannot tell you the collective burden of all of the stupid little stuff that had come my way lifting off of my shoulders. It felt so ridiculously good, too.

Dad sighed, Yes, I know all about that. Both Noah and Alex feel bad about that. They still want you to do the sleep over by the way. I wish you would reconsider, dad said. Once again, bad habits from years of not having the advantage that Paul, Mark and the others have with working through the usual adolescent bullshit of life with a full family, or at least that is how I saw and felt about it.

No, dad. I can't. It's my decision is in it? I asked. Dad nodded, Yes, it is Randy. And I get where you're coming from only I think you're overreacting. And I get that too, son. OK, then. Maybe we'll barbecue this weekend with some my friends and their kids from work.

Only the barbecue was canceled the next day after school. It would just be our family by ourselves which was OK with me. I had successfully avoided Trey, Noah, and Alex feeling that I had fucked up in not accepting the sleep over offer right away, and that just doubled-down on my compounded miseries.

That night I was called to the phone. If it was Trey, Alex, or Noah, I was not going to talk to them. But it wasn't. It was Paul's girlfriend, Trey's big sister, Marla Whitten. I hesitated because she had been the one to start all of this stuff, thought not her fault. She was rightfully responsible. So I talked to her.

Randy, I want to apologize to you. I should've helped you to not get into trouble with Trey last weekend. Yes, I did the right thing but I'm here to tell you that doing the right thing sometimes is the wrong thing. Anyway, I understand you turned down Alex and Noah's sleep over offer. I wish you would reconsider. They're good guys and I know they gave you some shit at school. They want to make amends.

If nothing else, my respect for Marla and especially that Paul and she are an item elevated considerably. It was really nice of her to call me because she didn't have to. I'll, I'll think about it Marla. And you need not apologize, you did the right thing.

Did Marla call you? Paul asked me hardly fifteen minutes later. This did not surprise me, in fact it pleased me because now I didn't have to explain anything to Paul. Yes. You better keep her, Paul. Because if you don't I'll grow up and get her for myself. She's a nice person, a nice woman, avoiding calling her a girl because a mere girl in my estimation would never have done something so mature in apologizing to me as she had.

Paul smiled, Oh, I'm going to marry here someday Randy, only don't tell anyone, OK? Especially not mom or dad, I'll just get shit about it, he winked. Hell, for all I knew he and they had already talked about it, but I surely did appreciate my big brother for making it seem like just a secret between us.

And then he tilted his head, his smile leaving. Look, going to be honest with you. You need to go on that sleep over at Noah's house this weekend. Oh Jesus fuck, not Paul too? Did dad put you up to this? I asked thinking that I was a part of some sort of bizarre half-assed family intervention and I was not going to put up with that.

Paul's whole being tensed, his eyes narrowed. Now you listen to me you little shit. I've been watching you. You're feeling all put-upon. Poor Randy. Getting called stupid little ridiculous and harmless names like dad's special little pet. Being kidded and jostled about by guys who really like you. Yes, I agree with you. I think it was a huge mistake for Trey's dad not to punish you with his belt right next to Trey. And let me tell you, I got into it with dad about that. I bitched him out that it was the wrong choice that he and Hiram made!

Paul talked back to dad? No way! Fine! I didn't bitch him out exactly, but I did have words, he did back off although my fantasy was that he had really hammered dad's ears. Wish I would've heard it. There's nothing to do about it now, Paul. Thank you for trying, I slumped a little.

You are going to that sleepover, Paul kept it in my face. Now what? And suddenly I saw the difference between dad and Paul. Dad was never going to force me, but dad is not my big brother. Different super being with differing super powers.

And what if I don't want to, Paul? It still my choice! I felt much better pushing back at Paul then dad. He got right into my grill just then. Why are you being so stubborn? He poked my chest with his fingertip.

I don't know why I did this, I would never do with dad. But I physically pushed Paul back a half-step with my hands on his chest and instantly regretted it. You're not my dad! I compounded my unwise effort. And just then who should walk into the room? Yes, dad.

Yes, that's quite true. But I feel like I'm missing something here? A problem boys? Dad asked unawares. I of course looked like the inventor of sheepishness. Not Paul. Randy refuses to do that sleepover. I told him he has to do it, Paul maintained his big-brotherly authority, earned or not.

Dad looked at me, What about it, son? He asked. Well, what the fuck now? I have to choose between Paul and dad? I clearly want to wake up from this nightmarish situation.

OK. I go to the sleepover. Noah and Alex get it into their fool-heads to try to provoke me into doing something to get me into trouble again, probably with them. Then what happens? Noah's dad punishes us. Probably together. Oh, that's really nice. Now he thinks that I'm a bad influence on their sons. No, I'm not doing this. I'm low man on the totem pole and they're just taking advantage and I'm sick and tired of it. I'm sick and tired of all of it!

I took off for the bedroom slamming the door behind me and collapsing into bed pounding the bed top. I was not crying or anything close to it. But I was maximally frustrated.

* * * * *

I wouldn't even say that everybody tiptoed around me for the rest of the week. Even Noah and Alex seem to have forgotten about it. Noah did not even ask me about the sleepover again, and I have to say that left me a little empty feeling totally second guessing myself.

Right away I wanted to change my mind and tell Noah I changed my mind, but too God damn late. Losing face when you're an adult is one thing, me losing face in front of teenage guys like myself? Forget it!

Trey and I made up kind of just by assumption without verbally apologizing like guys often do. I did kid him about having to go visit his aunt this coming weekend. He told me it would suck and that he wished that he was doing a sleep over with Noah because he knew about that. I thought wisely to say nothing at all about that, so I didn't.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do Friday night, something with my family of course. It didn't have to be anything much or special. I was in my room at the time when Paul walked in, the door was open. OK buddy, time to pack up some stuff for you. Get you over to Noah's for your sleepover weekend with Noah and Alex.

I rolled my eyes. Paul was just teasing, I was sure of it. Very funny big bro. Say, what are we all going to do this weekend? I asked thinking he would give up his attempted, but failed ruse. Something, but not you. You are going to Noah's house for the sleepover. I already told you that a few days ago.

I rolled my eyes at him again and then just watched him. Jesus, he looked serious. Paul! Dad said I didn't have to go, so what's this all about? I asked him. Randy! Dad said it was up to me. And you, but I have the final say. And I say you go, his jaw firmed.

Hmm. I better be careful. I was still new to dad's ways and given how seriously he was taking Paul's ascension into adult things that maybe Paul was not teasing at all. But why not probe a little?

You're just saying that. Dad told you no such thing, I challenged. He looks at me like I just walked into his trap, Fine. Let's go find dad, the look on his face very paternal! OK, he's not joking nor teasing, so now what? OK, how's this?

OK, fine. So, what are you going to do, kidnap me over to Noah's? I'll just call mom or somebody to bring me back home, thinking I had Paul defeated. No, I will not be kidnapping you. You'll be begging me to go, he looked at me, lips pursed. Not smiling. I detected no teaser joke. I was starting to get worried. Begging? Have you lost your mind big brother?

No, I have not. I'll say it again. You'll be begging for the spanking I'm going to give you if you keep up your little fit and do as your told, so don't test me, little brother, Paul's face getting a bit stern now.

Spanking? No way! And yet my concerns about Paul becoming more adult and taking on much more adult responsibilities is starting to take shape. Still, Paul spanking me? Had Paul ever spanked Mark? I didn't think he had. Well, in for a penny ...

Nice try Paul. Dad did not give you permission to spank me if I refused. He would not do that, I said with no confidence at all. Let's go find dad. And if we do and he says yes. You are so going to get it at least twice as long and hard. Ready to risk that? As it is, I plan on driving your very sore red ass to Noah's and then telling them what I had to do to get you there. Fine with me!

My trying to call my big brother's bluff is finally defeated causing my jaw to drop down so far that I thought I would need emergency surgery to reattach it. But was I going to give up? No, not after this fucked up week. Besides, what was there more to lose? Face? Another sore red ass?

Did I even care about either of them any more? Or was it something both deeper down inside and at the same time right there on the surface that even a stupid daddy's pet like me could see it with closed eyes?

But before I could reply, we all heard a knock on the home's front door. You stay here and I mean it! Paul barked at me. I shrugged and watched him disappear. Less than 30 seconds later, things go from strange to just plain weird.

Hey, is all Trey said to me, him max-sheepish looking. Marla Whitten was standing in the open doorway winking at Paul and he winked back with a small smile until his gaze shifted to Trey and me, his expression darkening.

Hey, I returned tit-for-tat. OK, listen up Randy ... Paul focused on me and frankly I was now sheepish boy #2 in the room, Trey still maintaining #1 status. Marla and I decided that that little bath brush vs. belt jibe was not going to be the thing that keeps you two apart.

It's not Marla! Trey complained to Marla right off sparing me squaring off against Paul. Now you listen to me Trey Whitten. You're the culprit here, dragging somebody unused to how you and your fellow idiots Alex and Noah conduct business for years now hanging Randy out to dry. And I admit and so does dad, that was the wrong call to send Randy home, but then you go and double-down on your shit anyway.

Trey shuffled his feet, Yes ma'am he said very respectfully. And all of a sudden I felt my rift with Trey healed, completely. I quickly stepped right to his side and put my hand up onto his shoulder. He nudged me.

Accordingly, the reason I and Marla have Trey over little brother is that I am going to discipline both of you. Trey is getting the bath brush. You are getting the belt. And then things will be even, understand? Paul said firmly.

Painful, but just and fair. Yes sir! I said brightly. Yes sir! Trey right after me. You should have seen the look on Marla's face. It was not a get a room you two look at Paul. It was more like, He is going to be such a good dad to our future children look.

Good, well. Punishment is men's work, so I'm going to keep busy elsewhere until the firing squad is done cutting you two dimwits down, turned and left the room. Hands on head the both of you. Noses to the wall. I'm going to get belt and bath brush. You may talk, Paul sounded just like dad.

Paul left the room. Trey did not hesitate and beat me to the wall. My tummy was doing flip-flops of all kinds now, my emotions swirling. Dude, Alex and Noah are going to demand to see our red asses after we get to Noah's, without looking at me.

Yea. But I guess that's what happens when you're out-dueled by experts, I said still feeling the good vibes restored between me and Trey. He snorted, Marla, she's an OK big sis, but she would never spank me. You on the other hand with Paul? Dude! Spare me! So, I take it that there's history of Paul with your dad that lets him spank you, I mean us? he asked.

But before I can answer the door opens. My automatic response is that dad is coming inside to punish Trey and I. But it's Paul and for some reason I just feel this increased bond and connection with him because it is him and not dad. And, he's toting the bath brush as well as holding a belt.

He comes up behind us, Hands down and turn around, his voice calm, again dad-like. Is this belt good enough for you, Trey? He asked Trey. Trey noted, Yes. It's just like what dad uses.

Good. For the record especially for you Randy, I'm not trying to be dad. I'm being me. I'm still getting used to living up to dad's example however. If you think I'm going to go easy on either of you, forget it. I'm going to punish Randy first with the belt. And then you, Trey, are going to help me decide if you're satisfied that I did enough just like your dad does, understand?

Yes sir, Trey said a bit glumly. Randy? I'm going to ask you nothing. I know what to do with this bath brush with Trey. And I expect you to watch and be respectful, understand? Paul said. Yes sir, I answered the same as Trey and all of a sudden I felt sorry for him.

Paul first determined how Trey takes belting from his dad, the position. Trey demonstrated the end-of-the bed face-down position up on the pillow. God, makes a guy look so damn helpless I suppose as intended.

I'm not going to necessarily do what Trey's dad does, Randy. Just get your ass naked from the waist down and get over that pillow. Go up on your elbows if you want to, but do not move or try to protect yourself. That will earn you extra whipping that you don't want!

Paul motioned for Trey to sit up against the far wall to watch. He quickly did. I was shaking like a leaf. I don't know, I felt ten times as nervous with Paul in charge of my punishment as I might with dad. And, I kind of already felt sorry for Paul and Marla's sons into their future.

I got myself bare-ass from the waist down and went over the pillow up on my elbows. But I did turn my head to my left where Trey was sitting. He gave me a small nod and a thumbs up. I gave him a small nod and decided I would keep eye contact with him come what may.

Saying nothing more, Paul put one knee up on the corner of the bedside and then my big brother lit ... me ... UP! Oh God it hurt like a fiery inferno from the get-go. I kept looking at Trey however. Trey winced, mirroring my teeth-gritting frown. Legs straight out and palms on the floor at first, now folded his arms tightly into himself as well as brought his knees up to his chest and kept eye contact with me.

Lick after fiery lick landed all up and down my ass clear to my thighs making me yelp and hiss loudly! Tears started to run and I almost looked away from Trey but didn't. And you know what? Even Trey was rubbing moisture from his eyes and biting his lips as he watched me crumble into a heap of miserable limpness.

When Paul finally stopped, I felt the mattress lift up a little when he stood back on the floor, that belt thankfully disarmed at his side. Go to the wall, Randy but turn and watch Trey get the bath brush, Paul indeed was making this his own rather than dad's ways.

I limped over glancing at my ass and winced because it was Paul's version of World War III on my throbbing backside. I turned and watched and wondered if Paul was going to do to Trey what dad has done with him and that I foolishly volunteered for a while back.

Oh! Please, no Paul, not like this! Trey's voice whining as yes, Paul jackknifed poor Trey over his lead knee, pinning down the back of Trey's knees just like Paul had done with dad and me with dad as well. The only problem was that Trey and I could not make eye contact now as Paul used that awful thing on Trey's bare ass and did not hold back.

Paul easily had Trey sobbing and crying loudly, trying to get out of the bath brush's line of fire to no avail. I finally had to look away at my friend's torched behind. I figured that it took fewer bath brush licks to send Trey into hysterics than the belt had, me. But I did not care about that. I actually wanted Paul to stop but dare not say anything.

Finally though, when Paul released Trey, he jumped up holding his scorched backside and jumped around in a spanking dance muttering hissing somethings that almost made me snort and giggle, but I did not.

Paul motioned me over to stand by Trey. Thank you for punishing me, Paul, Trey sniffled and offered his hand. Paul shook it. Yes, big brother. Thank you for my whipping, I followed but Paul did not take my hand. Instead, my big brother hugged me, I'm sorry I had to do that, Randy. But I will again if needed, and then Paul stepped back from us.

Twenty minutes corner time for both of you. Instruct Trey on what is allowed. You may talk as well but stay put, Paul instructed and then left us alone. That is to say he left us the gigantic elephant in the room.

I was never going to say a thing about our little spat about the brush versus the belt. I was wrong. That bath brush is ... it hurts like hell. So does the belt, it's just they're both different. I smiled, I don't know, the way Paul uses that belt, feels the same to me.

And what are we allowed? Trey asked. This was going to be fun. I didn't tell Trey ahead of time, I just hauled off and hand swatted his sore ass three times to each cheek so fast he could not avoid any of it.

OUUU! Why the fuck did you do that? Trey glared. Shut up shit-for-brains and give me my six, I giggled a little. But I wasn't giggling when Trey did, it fucking hurt! We are in so much trouble with the guys tonight, he snorted.

I didn't ask him what such trouble might be, because now I didn't care. I just wanted to be there. And if they wanted to haze us, or just me? I was so all in.

Paul released us from the corner time and told me to gather my things because he and Marla were going to drive us over to Noah's place. Trey and I got a little feisty as we did. We got to giggling and laughing and it was just like being with Mark, who by the way was on his own sleep over with a guy I didn't know.

Marla giggled at us in the back seat as we squirmed on our sore asses. Other than that, her hand was always on Paul's thigh as they drive. Trey leaned over and whispered in my ear, I shouldn't say this, but I love that Marla is with Paul. He's the right guy for my big sis.

I wasn't going to say it, but I did, She is such a fox! I whispered. Trey hauled off and smacked my arm with his fist so hard that I winced and grimaced! Is there a problem back there? Paul having glanced up to the rearview mirror. And we answered in tandem, No sir!

A Tale of Three Boys and Their Three Bath Brushes – Chapter 4 – Big Bro Takes Charge , © Copyright PJ Franklin, May 2, 2025.

Chapter 5: Ethan

Notes:

Author's Note: In chapter 5, mention of the console game, System Chaos, is patterned after the now 11 year old massively multiplayer online role-playing game (MMORPG or just MMOG) first-person outer space shooter, DESTINY (1 and now 2

All I ever wanted as a boy was to be just one of the gang. I never sought to be the center of attention. Never wanted to be singled out for special treatment (a.k.a. daddy's special pet) natively sensing that to be so would attract negative attention as I had from Noah and Alex.

I remember feeling envious when I was anywhere from 7 or 8 all the way to age 13 of guys getting together on weekends for sleep overs at each other homes. Staying up all night playing console games, eating junk food until you couldn't drink one more sugary soda, eat one more handful of popcorn and then parry for the last delicious chocolatey brownie ... or so I imagined.

Constantly teasing each other verbally and physically. Facing off in fake wrestling matches to make the other guy or guys say uncle. You know just harmless horseplay guy stuff that guys do. Finally nodding off to sleep at 4 AM in the family room on make-shift beds on a family room floor. And then being roughly awakened the next morning, one or more guys pounding their pillows on your head and body giggling and laughing ... or so I imagined.

Mom had suggested to invite guys my age over to my home when I was 10. But I disrespectfully turned her down and why? Because it was mom who offered it and not a dad that I didn't have then.

Worse, she let me get away with many of my shitty attitudes because of her own guilt that I did not have a dad like the other boys. I should have been spanked for that. Knew I should have, but didn't want to be spanked by mom, why? Because that was a dad's job, not a mom's ... or so I imagined.

To my credit I did apologize to her later. She accepted my apology, but even that made me feel horrible because I knew that it was guilt driven. Talk about feeling helpless and worse, a bad ungrateful son for a mom who could never be faulted for courageously ending a bad marriage and protect me from a toxic adult male whose fathering skills were zero or worse.

Thankfully all of that was now in my past. I had a dad now. A real dad! A step-dad who had punished my sorry naked ass, alone and with my new step-brothers, Paul and Mark. And better? There was never a hint that I should even think that I was a step-anything. It was as if David Miller was my real dad. That I had real brothers, fuck the biology of the thing.

And I finally had my first sleep over, albeit at my home hosted by me, Paul, and Mark with Trey, Noah, and Alex as the sleeping over dudes. I finally even had the freedom to kind of priggishly demote that sleep over at my home into a step-sleepover status. Not a real sleep over until I did so at somebody's home other than my own. I know, that's a completely immature notion, no imagination needed there.

But finally I was on the brink of a real first away from home sleep over as Paul had just parked in the Johnson driveway, Noah's home. Trey and I quickly piled out of the back seat, Paul and Marla following.

I paused next to Trey as hand-in-hand Paul and Marla swept passed us. I hate this fucking itchy ass of mine! I complained quietly to Trey grabbing at my prickly-heated freshly spanked ass.

Me too, Jesus Randy, your dad sure knows how to beat ass just like mine, Trey's shared praise of my father making me feeling, you know, like just one of the gang, at least until Paul turned his head.

That's what happens to naughty children, Paul smirked I think mainly at me. He's right you know! Marla cast us both a small haughty scowl before they breached the home's front door, Marla looking oh so lovey-dovey at her big badass boyfriend. Well, I had wanted to be one of the gang, didn't I?

Just think about it Randy. Some day you and me might be related by their marriage, Trey stopped itching at his own annoyed backside as we started to walk forward following them.

I took a chance, Me related to your sorry ass? Now that is truly fucked up, not entertaining any unconfident wincing regret, in and of itself another small victory of social integration for moi.

Trey snorted, Hey! That's rude! driving his near shoulder into mine really hard and then racing ahead of me, turned and flashed me a self-satisfied gotcha look that made me pout just a little as I rubbed at the sudden sharp deltoid muscle pain.

I quickly prepared my fist to safely fire back an unseen raised middle finger towards Trey. And wouldn't you know it? Right on cue as if a true déjà vu Paul stuck his head out the home's front door just in time to glare at my obvious intent.

Naughty, naughty little bro! I would not if I were you. Or would you like to start out your sleep over with all the guys watching me pants you and spank your bare butt? and then disappeared sporting a huge smug-coated smirk.

I had not even breached the sleep-over home's front door and already I was not only still nursing my prickly-heated sore ass as well as the last remnants of Trey's admittedly superbly-timed shoulder attack. But now I even blushed of embarrassment right in front of Trey.

What is it with me anyway? My timing just plainly sucks. I can't get away with anything lately. I sighed and resignedly moved to Trey's side mentally prepared to be mercilessly teased in private or if Trey wanted, indoors in public.

Trey tilted his head, reached back and slammed the front door shut. OK, give it your best shot, Trey pointed to his left deltoid. What? Trey rolled his eyes, Sometime before tomorrow, please? His sarcasm pretty cool actually.

I finally came to my senses, bunched my fist up and nailed him pretty solid. Jesus fuck, Randy! Why did you have to do it so hard? he hissed and made out mortally wounded rubbing the spot vigorously. I was about to profusely apologize and then he pointed at me, Gotcha! But it does hurt pretty good, nice shot buddy.

I didn't even have much time to enjoy the moment with Trey as inside the foyer I was well distracted with many others, some I knew, most not. You must be Randy, Marla told me all about you. I'm Olivia, Noah's worst sister nightmare, right Noah? I recognized the smug big sis tone similar to Marla's.

Yeah, whatever, sis. Randy, ignore her. You know, just like you do Jason! Noah smirking to Marla at the same time pointing his finger at Olivia's 18-year-old boyfriend, Jason Olson. Jason put a finger to his lips, Noah, put a sock in it. You're just trying to get me in trouble with she who must be obeyed, Jason winked. Even I could tell he was head over heels for Olivia just like Paul with Marla.

OK guys, we're out of here, Paul said next, come to find out that he with Jason and their girlfriends, Olivia and Marla were headed out for an evening of older young adult entertainment whatever that was.

I got a brief but very eye-opening introduction to Noah's same-aged younger sister, Emily. Hubba-hubba-worthy if you know what I mean. Noah sidled up to me a moment later, Stop undressing my sis with your eyes you pervert, he hissed with obvious faux-displeasure and then quickly followed up with: Hey, want me to hook you up? a truly first eye-rolling moment between us. And you call me a pervert? sharing a truly first time eye-rolling moment between us, Noah snorting his approval.

Turns out that curvaceous dark-haired Emily was headed out for her own girl pajama party just down the street somewhere not too far away. And just then a naughty little fantasy popped into my glandular influenced boy brain. Something about four guys sneaking out later to stealthily spy on that girl PJ party, me paying especial surveillance on Emily. Hey! I never said I was not a pervert, did I?

That left us sleep over members with Noah's little brother, 13-year-old Ethan. Ethan seemed to be his own man allowing introduction and then after rolling his eyes with boredom totally disappeared at least for then.

Noah told me and Trey shortly after that Ethan was supposed to be on his own sleepover elsewhere, but had gotten himself spanked and grounded by his dad earlier in the week. I looked at Trey and we shrugged because we knew all about spankings and groundings.

Finally though, Robert Johnson, Noah's dad introduced himself and Noah's mom, his wife, Karen to me. Welcome to the madness Randy, extending his hand. I shook it and self-humiliated myself by imagining what that strong palm could do to my backside if I screwed up this weekend ... or so I imagined.

Where is Ethan? Mr. Johnson asked of his youngest. He's off sulking somewhere of course, dad, Noah was all too willing to turn state's evidence. I told him that isolating was not an option this weekend. Noah? Go get him please, Mr. Johnson looked at his son.

Ah come on dad, he's just going to act like a ... (I was sure he was going to say ass or worse and wisely decided against it) ... a jerk because you won't let him go over Mike's house this weekend, Noah whined.

I never heard Noah whine like that, usually a pretty mature guy or so I had assumed. But then I remembered how Mark and Paul sometimes kind of whined at their dad, I mean our dad. It's a kind of dad and son freedom of expression thing that's just weird and impossible to explain.

So, remember that little self-humiliating fantasy shaking Mr. Johnson's hand hardly half-a-minute ago? That palm lashed out and swatted his son's ass just one pop and I mean hard! Daddy! That hurt! Noah winced and vigorously rubbed. Note to self, avoid Mr. Johnson's spanking palm ... no imagination needed!

Noah slumped off to find Ethan, dragging Alex with him. Trey? Randy? A word? Mr. Johnson smiled. We followed him actually into the kitchen that was not yet populated.

Randy, this is mostly for you. I talked to Hiram, Trey's dad earlier today. He'll probably say something when he finally sees you again, but wanted me to let you know that he already discussed it with David and apologizes for having sent you home instead of punishing you with Trey. We know that it caused some unintended consequences. Trust me when I say that won't be happening again.

Just about then, Noah and Alex with a disgruntled-looking Ethan in tow was right there. What he's really trying to tell you Randy is that if you get into trouble this weekend, my dad will not be sending you home to suffer, he will beat your ass black and blue right here to conveniently suffer with the rest of us!

I never saw a dad move so fast, Mr. Johnson grabbed Noah chest-to-chest and landed yet another hard swift pop to Noah's seat! Ouuuie-daddie! Noah giggled his whine.

Who here votes for Noah here to get beat black and blue? Mr. Johnson's smirky tease. Oh hell yes! Ethan chirped his hand up, Alex and my hands flying shamelessly up with him.

Thanks for nothing you turn-coats! Noah said, his dad's sudden tickle attack sending Noah to the kitchen floor in giggling hysterics, Dad, stop! Daddy! but finally escaping. I hate tickle-attacks from anyone, but please don't tell anyone!

OK, time's up. Anyone still in here in ten seconds is going to help me start grilling supper, Karen Johnson announced. And who was the first one out? Yea, her husband. Robert! You get your ass back in here mister, but failing just looked at us boys. You boys go play, I'll be fine.

All I could think of right then was my mom being alone for all those years having to do everything especially in the kitchen with little help from me. I'll stay and help, Mrs. Johnson, I said and I was totally sincere.

That's very sweet of you, Randy. No, this is a sleep over for you, go have fun with the guys, excusing me. The five of us shot out of there like scatter out of a shotgun barrel.

The first order of business? Change into swim-wear for some swimming pool shenanigans. Me, Noah, Alex and Trey changed in Noah's room, but not Ethan. He's too shy yet, he's in the bathroom changing, Noah said. I could understand that. I was all about body modesty at his age.

Wow, you guys got it good! Noah said, Alex nodded as of necessity changing from street clothes to swim wear, Trey and I show off our still red-spanked bare backsides. But then Noah and Alex just stared at me and Trey, and not at our butts.

What? ... Trey asked, but then, ... Oh fuck. I forgot. Sorry Randy, but it's a stupid little hazing tradition. If somebody flashes their spanked butts like in the school locker-room during P.E. dress down, you have to let two or three other guys slap your punished butt.

Oh, that. Me, Mark and Paul have already done that or the equivalent after our spankings and bath brushings. No big deal on the one hand, but on the other now was my chance at my own gotcha moment.

I'm not falling for that obvious bullshit, I said. No, it's not bullshit. We really do that, have for years, Alex affixed his fists to his hips ready to defend group protocol. Then Trey snorted towards Alex, Dude, he's just jerking your chain, right Randy?

I grinned, Gotcha, Alex! turned, leaned over and alongside my fellow spankee presented our bare red ass for hazing from Alex and Noah. Alex got me first, Gotcha this Miller! he swatted both of my cheeks once each and really hard. It did smart, You swat like a granny, my comment a bit unwise.

But I don't! Noah blasted his twin slaps and yes, Ou! I chirped involuntarily, Noah having taken advantage of Alex's warm up slaps. But as I slipped my trunks back up, it had been well worth it, notching another one of the gang moments in my belt.

&&

Ethan had beaten us out to the swimming pool and seeing our approach let us get close enough so that he could not be heard by any indoors adults, About time, what were you guys doing? Sucking each other's cocks?

Guys our ages taunting other guys our ages with gay-themed taunts is nothing new. Just don't get caught especially at school. But for some reason two years younger Ethan using one seemed, well, just lame. I counted to five expecting his big brother to respond. I only reached three.

Oh, we're way beyond sucking cock Ethan or hadn't you heard? We're butt fucking each other, have been for months, Noah said straight-faced. And eating each other's butt holes, that's my favorite, isn't it yours, Alex? Trey piled on. Oh for sure! Yum-yum!

Yum-yum? I snorted, that was great! But what happened next was a perfect example that in my family as well as within the new families that I was meeting for the first time, adult parental eyes and ears more vigilant than a CIA or NSA hidden electronic listening device.

Fuck ... you ... ALL! Ethan glowered giving the three of us double-barreled middle fingers. Cue the ETHAN JOHNSON! Get out of the pool this instant! mom shouted from the open patio door a short moment later. She ... was ... pissed!

What's going on honey? Mr. Johnson was right there next to Mrs. Johnson who instantly got mister up to speed. Dark storm clouds instantly gathered over the back-yard. Inside young man, go to your room. Get out of your swim gear and into PJ bottoms only!

It did not take me to be any genius at all to translate PJ bottoms only into Miller-speak, the Johnson family spanking uniform.

But! Ethan's weak come-back was just that. Weak and one-worded. Ethan complied head-down, tail-tucked as they say and disappeared into the house. So what happened? Mr. Johnson asked mainly Noah.

The usual dad. Ethan talked some smack to us. We talked it back. He didn't like it and mom saw and heard his displeasure, but probably not ours. Displeasure, that was an understatement.

What kind of smack? Mr. Johnson asked actually no one in particular. Didn't she tell him? Oh ... shit. Here we go. Noah looked at Trey who looked at Alex and all three at me. I had not talked smack, especially not gay-themed smack because I knew better.

But suddenly my newly acquired just one of the gang status was in jeopardy of damage. You sure you want to know Mr. Johnson? I gained some shocked faces, adult and teen.

Say, I think I smell something burning in the kitchen, and Noah's mom wisely disappeared. Smart mom, just like my mom.

Mr. Johnson looked at me, Trey and then at his son and Alex. Actually ... maybe not, at least this time, Mr. Johnson cast a glance back towards the kitchen. So I'm only going to say this once. Keep your mouths clean of the wrong kind of trash-talk guys. I've plenty of bars of soap if needed. And that goes for you as well, Randy Miller, Mr. Johnson give me the slightest of slight winks before he turned and disappeared back into the house.

How the hell could I feel elated one second because Mr. Johnson was treating me just like my own dad would, and then the next that awful threat of mouth-soaping steel it away? But it did!

Yea, that goes for you, you foulmouthed badass, Randy Miller! Alex taunted me as we all four cannon-balled into the swim pool. You ever get mouth-soaped? Noah asked me as we gathered into the shallows.

No, I said needing no imagination whatsoever to want to avoid that awful fate. Yea, well. It sucks donkey balls, Noah cautioned and then we started a water fight trying to empty the pool.

* * * * *

I was quickly discovering that the universe makes damn sure that nothing really worth-while in life comes for free. There is always cost:

1) I now had a dad, a really great dad who really cares and loves me, there for me through thick and thin (thanks mom!). Fantastic!

Oops! My new caring dad doubles as a super-strict disciplinarian who delivers tear-pulling spankings on my bare sorry ass should I stray. Yikes!

2) I now had not only two real brothers in Mark and Paul at home, but extra brothers in Alex, Noah, and Trey along with their families. Awesome!

Oops! Five (actually make that six including Ethan, a kind of extra real little brother) brothers to help me blunder into punishment spankings via not only from my own dad but from theirs too! Damn!

Sorry guys, we need to get out of the pool. Dad won't deal with Ethan until we're all there to witness, Noah shook his head. I was used to the witness thing so no big deal, right? Um ... remember the cost factor?

Yea, Alex and Trey agreed as did I of course, so we reluctantly exited the pool to go inside and change into dry comfy clothes so that we could gather to witness Ethan's painful comeuppance.

What's with the PJ bottom thing, anyway? I asked without thinking. Noah, Alex, and Trey looked at me like I'm really ignorant.

Dude, dad used to make me do that. Hated it! Noah cringed. OK, YOU put on PJ bottoms for a public spanking and see how it makes you feel, Trey augmented. Yea, no shit, Sherlock, Alex joined.

Yea, so what? I dug myself deeper. Jesus Miller, are you serious? OK, here, and then watched Noah go to his dresser, open the bottom drawer and pulled out an old pair of his punishment PJ bottoms and threw them towards me. Go ahead, get your ass naked and put these on.

What? I was still in a fog. Just do it Miller! Alex said a bit aggressively. OK, whatever, I rolled my ignorant eyes. I didn't mind at all getting ass-naked in front of them, not at all, just like at home with Mark and Paul. No big deal, right? ... enter the cost.

As I did, my three teachers got themselves into T-shirts and sweats, mine already to go as well. But instead I slipped on Noah's old PJ bottoms. And just then it occurred to me that I never wore PJs. Why? PJs are for little kids, not older mature teenagers like me and my brothers.

And then I stood there in front of them and suddenly felt small, very small. Embarrassingly small! Hell, I even blushed! And them? They just stood there arms folded, staring at me like the three wise men.

Come on, how does it make you feel? Noah asked. Like I'm a sorry ass little kid, I confessed. And just then Noah and Alex threw my sweats and T-shirt at me, me catching them. I never disrobed from anything so fast in my life and cast the PJs away like they were prison chains. And, now I totally understood.

But my lessons for the night were not nearly over. I smell trouble, Noah said next as we walked out of the bedroom in our not-PJ-sweats. What? Follow me, Noah said leading the way into Ethan's bedroom where he was waiting to be summonsed for his public spanking.

Ethan was sitting with knees drawn up at his bedside. And yes, the first thing I saw was Ethan wearing those damn punishment PJ bottoms. I cringed and shivered a little. He looked up and stood, Noah! You gotta help me convince dad to give me the belt.

What the ... F? Ethan, dad already told you from before no belt before you turn 14 just like with me. Oh Jesus, was this a version of me and Trey and the stupid belt versus bath brush drama?

Please Noah. I already have to wear these stupid PJ bottoms, he pouted as he looked down at the PJs and then at us.

Fuck, he was feeling just like I had a few moments ago with Noah's! I could just picture my dad making us wear PJ bottoms at home instead of conventional older teen underwear and batted that awful picture out of mind double-time.

Oh come on, Ethan. If you, I, piss dad off with the request he might just use the hairbrush on you. You want that? Noah warned. Hairbrush? That did not sound good at all. Ethan thought about it, I'll risk it, OK? Please Noah! He begged.

Fine. But don't come whining to me when it backfires, promise? Noah stared at Ethan. Ethan quickly nodded, Promise! And then just like my dad had not that long before, Mr. Johnson opened the door and walked in to fetch his youngest son for his spanking.

Ethan, boys, it's time, Mr. Johnson said flatly. Um ... Dad? Ethan is asking if you can use the belt on him instead of hand spanking, Noah asked his dad. Mr. Johnson's face drew up into an unhappy half-scowl. I think he was about to give in, but instead, Ethan kind of stuck his foot in his mouth.

And, daddy? Do I have to wear these PJ bottoms still? He asked. And when he did he gave me just a slight glance. That was when I was beginning to think that my presence was provoking Ethan's embarrassment. He was not used to me witnessing.

But none of our dads miss anything. Mr. Johnson looked at me for a moment and then looked at Ethan. OK, I'm going to allow it. Your birthday is not for a few months, so here's an early birthday present Ethan. You can put on regular underwear. I will use the belt. I hope you know what you're doing, turned and walked out.

There was this long, very uncomfortable pause. Did I just fuck up? Ethan said. Yes, you did you idiot. This is on you, Ethan! And Noah stomped out of the room, pissed! Alex and Trey just shook their heads and followed leaving me alone with Ethan.

I couldn't stand it, I had to know. Ethan, this is all because I am here to watch? I put it out there. Ethan sighed, No ... maybe ... I don't know! ... OK, maybe yes?

This was too much. And totally unfair. Before I said something I would regret, I turned and started to stomp out of the room as well. Randy! He called behind me but I ignored him, the little selfish shit!

Do I have to watch? I asked angrily of Noah. What's wrong? Noah asked me, Trey and Alex looking concerned. Now what? I'm supposed to tattle on Ethan? Suddenly I no longer wanted to be at the sleep over.

I feel sick, I'm going to call home to come pick me up. Sorry guys, I resorted to a very old and bad habit feeling sorry for myself.

You don't have to be a genius to know that I only got halfway to the phone before Mr. Johnson intercepted me. Hey buddy, not feeling well? He asked me. Great, so now I was going to lie to Mr. Johnson? This was getting unreal.

Noah, Trey and Alex were standing right there with me. I shuffled my feet, sheepish. Ethan doesn't like that I'm here to witness his punishment in the PJs and with your hand, Mr. Johnson. That's what made him beg for the belt and to not wear the PJs, I put it all out there.

Of course he doesn't like it, Randy. He's not used to you being there. Too bad for him and he knows it. I hate to say this, but Ethan just manipulated you, he said. I looked at Noah who just shook his head, Sorry dude, that needed to come from dad and not me.

Great, just great. Manipulated. Well, to be honest it's what guys sometimes do with each other. Once again the cost of having multiple brothers who you love but who can cause you a lot of unexpected shit. In essence, even at 13, Ethan was just like Mark at 15.

Shortly ... Please daddy, please! No more belt, I'm so sorry! Ethan's plaintive wracking sobs and tear-strewn begging reaching my uncaring ears around the 10th belt lick. I had wanted Mark to suffer and he did. And now Mr. Johnson was teaching his youngest that there can be painful consequences to unwise manipulation.

Suffer you little shit, I mumbled. Noah nudged me trying to suppress a grin from one side, I'm with you Miller, Trey on the other side not suppressing any of his glee.

Mr. Johnson's belting finally stopped at lick 21 or was it 25, I lost count. Ethan just lay across his dad's knees limp with the last sobs, but still sniffling. Still happy with playing up with the big boys, Ethan? Get up, He asked his son, his words a bit chopped.

Ethan stood and winced hard when he cast a look at his basically hamburgered backside. No sir, Ethan was honest. I actually liked him for that. Too bad son. There's no turning back, keep that in mind. Now, I think you know what you have to do over in the corner. Twenty minutes, Mr. Johnson prescribed the usual corner time just like I do with my dad.

Don't you dare let him off the hook, Noah said in low tones to me. I understood. We watched Ethan waddle uncomfortably over to the corner still wearing nothing but his T-shirt. I wondered then that like we do in my home, the non-spanked brother or brothers get to haze the punished ones.

Noah let me take his place right next to Ethan's left as he faced the wall. Noah stayed next to me, Alex and Trey to Ethan's right. Ethan hesitated just a little, Randy ... I apologize for ... you know, he said kind of curtly.

No Ethan I don't know. Why don't you tell me? Annoyed. Sorry. Actually, you being here for the first time messed me up a little. I felt humiliated with the PJs and the hand spanking dad was going to give me and that you were going to witness ... His voice trailed off at the end.

Actually, he said that better than Mark ever would have. Well, OK. I still want whack your ass like we do in my home, and it turns out Noah and Ethan do the same thing, all the guys do in any home when there are witnesses.

But what was more fun than that, Noah, Trey and Alex donated their two smacks each to me, giving me eight shots at Ethan. And I made sure that Ethan felt every single one up to his tippy toes. He winced, grimaced and raised up his right knee even.

Fuck ... me, I'm hamburger back there, Ethan grimaced very softly. Yea, pretty much! we all agreed. So, know what I did? You'll live, I actually gave him a hair ruffle suddenly realizing that Ethan was an actual kind of little brother for me as well as for Noah.

I expected him to complain or seem embarrassed, but he didn't. Does that mean you'll play System Chaos with me later? Ethan laid his next trap or so I was to find out, because there would always be the next trap.

I had always wanted to play the wildly successful MMOG, System Chaos. But it's super expensive software, equipment and other needed costs (at least back when mom was the sole bread winner.)

And I should've paid more attention at the strange knowing looks on Alex, Trey's, and Noah's faces. But I didn't. Sure! I've always wanted to play it, I way too easily agreed, stupidly not asking why it wasn't Noah or one of the other guys that wanted to play as well. They just let me, just one of the gang you know!

Boys? Supper is ready out on the patio. Ethan? Dad has let you off the rest of your corner time because of supper. I don't think I should have to tell you that you're on very thin ice young man, and then disappeared.

But I could use some even thin ice right about now, Ethan winced his quite clever remark. OK, come on. Let's fix you up with a pillow to sit and you can ice off and on if you like, I thought Noah was just trying to be a really good big brother.

Naw, that's OK. I'm tough, Ethan smirked and even I knew Ethan was trying to adjust to his awkward and near-disastrous leap into his premature advanced adolescence. Well, Noah to the rescue and being an actual good big brother because he didn't call Ethan's bullshit and still enforced making Ethan utilize an ice pack.

I ended up helping Noah to make the ice pack, Alex and Trey scrounged up a pillow. Hey Noah, you're great with him, I baited Noah. Cut the crap Miller, he didn't buy what I tried to sell him.

But ... we've been here before. Despite tonight he still won't learn for a while yet. Took me forever to get out of my first teen year. I must have melted a hundred ice packs and worn out three pillows along the way.

You mean? I asked. Yup, I begged for the damn belt when I was 13 with nobody to warn me, certainly not dad! Noah confessed. I like your mom and your dad. How are they getting along? Noah deflected as the ice pack was now ready. I knew what he had done and would have done the same.

I grinned, Sometimes we sneak down and hall and really hear how they're getting along, I hinted. OK, TMI! he chortled, as did I.

The pillow plus the thick ice pack had rather still kind-of-short, picnic table seated Ethan seeming six foot two as he with the rest of us gobbled down the wonderful patio barbecued meal. But he did it and in good humor.

Ethan even quipped, Hey mom, me and the guys say my butt looks like hamburger, so if you need more to grill ... and even she laughed a little, so did Mr. Johnson. The rest of us guys just shook our heads and rolled our eyes.

A Tale of Three Boys and Their Three Bath Brushes – Chapter 5 – Ethan , © Copyright PJ Franklin, May 2, 2025.

Chapter 6: The Johnson Sleepover

It was like being one of five experienced treasure-craving adventurers huddling at the mouth of a dungeon cave inside of which are entombed riches beyond avarice. Millions in gold bullion to be purloined for the group.

But to acquire such life-changing booty and steal away the gilded chests you not only have to defeat the final boss, a monster of enormous size and strength that barely gives you a 10% chance to defeat it, but it has to be a one-on-one battle. Just one from your group while the others safely wait outside of the monster's lair.

Win, beat the boss and you are now a wealthy champion to be lauded by your comrades for the rest of your lives. Lose, and the monster's deadly poison-tipped eight inch razor sharp fangs will rip your fleshy life-pumping cardium clean out of your split-open chest. And just like that ... you are its mangled meal, game over.

&&

It's up to you, buddy. Nobody is forcing you, Trey shrugged. It's a tough ask and to be quite frank, your funeral more times than not, Alex cautioned. Finally, Ethan's big brother said, You're completely nuts. You have no idea what he can do to you, Noah rolled his eyes.

I'm not taking the bait. You guys are just being assholes, I smirked with what little confidence remained as I left their sides in the home's front room and strode forward down the hallway towards the final boss' lair, Ethan's bedroom to join his console game battlefield, his complex System Chaos (SC) set-up.

I knew that I was not going to defeat Ethan's massive experience and skill one-on-one, that was so not the point. I just wanted to 1) play SC at least once with somebody who knows what they're doing come what may, but also 2) Ethan, who is two years junior to myself as well as to Mark back home, already fascinates me to no end.

The balls on the kid to defy his father and get his ass punished so much and yet it doesn't seem to affect him like it would have me at his age. I just wanted to get him alone and ask a few questions is all, so this was the one-on-one price I knew that I had to pay to accomplish my goal.

As I pushed the already cracked-open door partially open, I heard from behind me, Trey's final shout, Don't say we didn't warn you, fool! all three of them chuckling with smug satisfaction.

Opening the door all the way now I stepped inside and then stopped. This was not a boy's gaming room, this had to be the nerve center of some CIA safe house manned by one of their top agents.

Bet they gave you an earful of crap? Ethan asked slipping off his headphones. I nodded, Pretty much, I said as my eyes drank in multiple clustered LCD flat-panel displays, cables running everywhere.

Can't blame the envious fuckers. Only Noah comes close to being decent competition and he gets tired of losing to me, Ethan sighed.

Not one but three gaming consoles, connected? Obviously Ethan can or has hosted several buddies besides himself. Small cubicle sound speakers dotted here and there. Several keyboards, all with multi-colored back-lighted keys shimmering against the room's darkness.

So, you invited me to be your latest conquest? I smirked following up on the other guys' taunts. He looks at me, Not really. Plant it here, Ethan pats the gamer's chair next to him. Not really? OK, now I am truly intrigued if I wasn't before.

While I try to figure out his motivation I continue to take in the room's content. Two other gaming chairs on top of each other in the far corner. Somewhere in the middle almost as an afterthought is evidence of a boy's bedroom with a bed and a dresser.

Window on the far wall, plain flimsy curtains. Two old floor lamps, light bulbs off. Posters of sports cars on the walls. Clothes closet door open, inside looking to be in disarray. Laundry basket nearly full. Even one of those nice small cubicle in-room refrigerators that I would never want to look inside only to find moldy half-eaten burritos.

I sat, the chair remarkably comfortable. Ethan, how can you afford all this? I swiveled the chair to once again take it all in. He snorted, Almost all of it belongs to other clan members, they like to come over to play because my dad lets me host them. A lot of theirs won't.

A lot of theirs won't? Mr. Johnson truly is like my dad. Strict, but generous, the commonality no longer surprising to me. Sorry, but this place is a mess, Ethan. Don't you get into trouble for it? I ask the visual obvious.

Oh yea. I get to sit on pillows now and again over it, he explains about what I would expect. It then strikes me that most dads, or at least I think most dads will stop spanking their sons if the behavior repeats meaning that spanking is no longer effective.

Well guess what? Pretty sure my dad won't stop spanking me and my brothers. Nor apparently Ethan's dad, and the same for the other dads in the group. Do the crime, pay the fine over and over and over because City Hall always craves the money.

Actually more like paying a toll to use the highway, a highway where you can screw up as much as you like. Elect to pay and pay and pay again to drive and drive and drive some more over the spank-mined highway to your heart's content.

So, how's your ass? You got it good, I say without looking at Ethan as I watch him boot up the beautiful game as well as still scoping out many more of the gaming set-up details.

I'm fine. Don't get me wrong, it hurt like hell. I should not have asked for the belt, either. BIG ass mistake. I'm impressed. I would not have thought Ethan so easy to cop to failure on that front.

Too late now to go back? I ask suspecting that it is. Ethan shakes his head, WAY too late. Nope. I wanted to play with you big boys, dad let me. And now I just have to grow into it, his acceptance of his fate kind of mature for 13 I figure. OK Miller, let's get started, referring to System Chaos.

And for the next hour or so Ethan escorts me through the game's awesome visual and sound experience via co-op missions vs. the software's NPCs (Non Player Characters) as a team before we finally break.

Well? he asks smiling knowing I loved it and I most assuredly did. Unbelievably good, Ethan. I loved our buddy missions, but what's a clan you spoke of earlier? I ask remembering that it was other of Ethan's gamer friends who had brought in most of the gaming equipment in the room.

Ethan instantly slumps into his chair and looks very bummed. I'm sorry, what did I say wrong? I quickly want to know. Nothing Randy. You said nothing wrong, and then goes on to explain.

A clan is a group of gamers who do things together in groups of up to six under our clan name and banner. The best fights are teams of six vs. the game's super-mega Chaos bosses. It's called a raid. A raid takes hours to complete. So much fun. Guys fill this room, it's like a fucking alive bee hive of activity. It's ... it's heaven, and then he looks down, saddened once again.

I can easily feel both Ethan's passion for his clan and his loss, but why? And then I figured it out. Oh shit. You were grounded. Violated it. Your dad didn't let you host a raid this weekend and that's why you're alone with us?

Ethan nodded, Worse. I fucked up my turn hosting a system wide tournament held every six months. It was this weekend in this room. For mega-prizes. Equipment, software. In-game script (money). We're talking my clan, The Dark Vipers, versus like 2000 or more other clans. A battle royale. So much fun! he even seemed to shiver before he grew glum once again.

Now I felt horrible for him. And you knew this and still ... I started ... fucked up, he finished. Yea, that's me, Ethan Johnson. Pushing the envelope playing Chaos. My clan nickname is CB, Crazy Bastard. Pushing the game's envelope. And pushing it with dad. He calls me his wild child, but seems to smile proudly when he says it. Wild child. Fits.

I'm sorry you missed it, Ethan, I say. He just shrugs, I'll survive, but then his vibe totally shifts. So, never mind me. At least I'm not crushing on my sis Emily like you are, he looks at me and now the real reason that he wrangled me in to play with him spills out.

What makes you say that? I try and be cool and unaffected, but know that I'm screwed already because even as I played Chaos with Ethan next to me, I was of two minds. The one between my ears playing the game as well as the one between my thighs wandering to hot, sexy Emily and what she and her friends are doing at that girls PJ party down the street.

Dude! The way you were looking at her before she left for the pajama party. You were already licking her clit in your dirty little mind, right? even making a lurid gesture with his tongue tip licking up and down from his lips!

How the hell did he know! Licking her ... Ethan! No, I was not! And stop that! I half-whined, half-barked out in protest even as my cock, stirring off and on during our gaming now was half-hard in my jeans with his disgusting words and gestures.

You were squirming so much as you played, boned up good now are you? Ethan grinned next. No! And I wasn't squirming, I folded my arms defensively knowing that I really had been.

Don't worry about it. I catch Noah beating off all the time. Everyone does it, including me, Ethan rolled his eyes. So, want to play another mission? with a stunning Dr. Jeckell and Mr. Hyde nonchalance that just made me shake my head.

Thank God Ethan refocused so I could do so as well. Only there's one problem. Whenever you try and not think about something? You end up thinking about it all the damn time and that is what happened to me.

I tried to get back into the game with Ethan, but my boner started to ache for release and I could not take it any more. Gaming takes a lot of energy, only my energy was no longer for gaming. Hey, thanks Ethan, but I'm all done in. Hungry too, I lied, slipped off the headphones, stood and as I strode to the door and out into the hallway, behind me, Ethan:

Hey Miller. Make sure the bathroom door is closed, the latch is tricky. No lock. And double make sure you clean up your jizz if you miss the bowl.

I pause, tense, say nothing and do not look back as I pull the door shut, his cackling behind me, infuriating! So, did I go to the bathroom and jerk off right then? Of course not, but it kept bugging me the rest of the night.

&&

Mid-night skinny dipping in the lighted Johnson swimming pool turns out to be, 1) something achieved that I never thought I would ever experience. Group nakedness with a bunch of guys my own age and nobody gives a damn.

But more importantly, 2) helps me to fend of naughty thoughts about Emily from my horny mind, mostly that is. And even the mostly gets wiped out when the five of us go ape-shit in the pool on each other.

Water fights, aborted attempts at trying to drown each other. Pinching any flesh that you can get close to including bare butts and if you dare, each other's flopping genitals. A good way to get your face or anything else for that matter slapped or punched away, Pervert! the verbal taunt of choice for all of us.

Trey and Alex chase each other up on the wet deck and then quickly jump back in and then do it again a few moments later. It was then that Mr. Johnson stuck his head out the back patio sliding door, Do that again guys and every one of you will go to bed with very sore backsides, I'm not warning any of you again! he yelled over.

Sorry Mr. Johnson! Trey and Alex both chirp standing in the shallows next to me, Noah and Ethan.

Is he serious? All of us? I stupidly ask. No, he's just kidding Miller. Of course he's serious! Noah smirks and then stares daggers at Ethan.

Don't even think about it Ethan. If you do it and we all get spanked, you'll get it again from all of us later and it won't be pretty! big brother cautions and I believe him.

Good call on Noah's part because even I could sense Ethan would risk his own ass getting spanked again if he could get us all into trouble. You're such a whiny chicken shit Noah! Ethan sasses back and then realizing his mistake, Oh shit! started for the pool edge!

Grab him! Noah barked. Dad! Noah's being a dick to me! but it was too late. Alex and Trey secured a squirming, giggling Ethan, Let go! but they held him. Spank him Randy, four pops ought to do it! Noah, Trey and Alex held a squirming, kicking Noah so that his bare wet ass is exposed up from the water.

I did not hesitate and slapped his chubby little ass not four, but six times, hard! And you know what? I enjoyed not being guy lowest on the totem pole this time and especially after his lewd dick-stirring comments to me while we played Chaos.

Hey! Noah said four, not six! Ethan rounded on me, both palms rubbing on his butt. You know why you got the other pair, I smirked at him. Ethan became sheepish and said nothing. OK, what did he do now? Noah asked.

The look on Ethan's face was a definite, Please don't rat me out, Randy! look. He beat me up pretty bad playing Chaos is all, I lied giving Ethan a now we're even look. Only while you played Chaos? Why you letting him off easy? Alex challenged me. I just shrugged and everyone left things well enough alone at least for then.

A shortly-after-midnight snack time followed in the kitchen all of us in attendance including Mr. Johnson who sidled up to me, Are you having fun so far, Randy? He asked. I nodded, A lot, thank you Mr. Johnson! I said. He nodded and trundled out.

Thank you daddy, I'm having fun daddy! Alex taunted. I threw a handful of popcorn at Alex and got the same in return. I'm not having fun daddy and what are you going to do about it? Trey's sarcasm was next and that started the overall popcorn throwing fight.

Mr. Johnson stuck his head shortly after and seeing the mess just shook his head, Just make sure you clean up, and then disappeared. Once again, what usual parent would see the mess and become tweaked if not outright angry and incensed? Not our dads!

We all snorted and immediately started to clean it all up of course. A great distraction for me against you-know-what, but distractions don't last including the newest.

We all went to the family room to finish up the early morning hours watching a movie. One by one my compatriots excused themselves to sleep kind of wherever.

I felt kind of bad about refusing Ethan's offer for me to sleep in his room with him on the floor or the bed, my choice. But that he even offered after the swimming pool incident means he either seeks further revenge or I have no clue. Fearing the former, I declined.

Noah, me, Trey and Alex ended up in Noah's bedroom, me on the floor next to Alex. We made fun of Noah and Trey up on Noah's bed accusing them of lewd behavior of course. But they went with it and pretended to be having some sort of fake sexual tryst up there which only dissolved into laughter.

I, of course, was wide awake. Emily came back into my mind as soon as there was silence around me. I needed to get off something bad now. I waited and waited and then very carefully standing, slowly made my way out of the darkened room into the darkened hallway and into the bathroom.

I carefully closed the door making sure the latch caught because of Ethan's caution. I didn't even turn the light on and sidling up to the sink I looked at myself in the mirror suddenly realizing what I was going to do and not in my own home. Miller you horny shit, you are nuts! I grinned.

Now committed, I quickly lowered the front of my commando soccer shorts unleashing my boner and my mind quickly saw myself with Emily, both of us naked.

Her naked legs spread wide for me, Emily begs, Please Randy, please lick it like a lollipop! Make me squirt like a ... like a little water gun!

I'm not only licking over Emily's quivering love button in my dirty mind, but my hands are feeling up her breast melons, my fingertips gently drawing up the fleshy fullness of her tits. My tongue next wanting to lick and flick on her dark nipple buds even as a freshly spit-moist fingertip takes over trying to finger quivering, trembling girl pussy!

Oh yes, sweet, sweet sexy Emily! Randy, use your tongue, make me come, please! she begs ...

And I'm pulling on my hard meat, getting very close! I was already so edged I barely touch my dick forgetting about containing what would happen next by design ... I orgasmed!

Oh shit! I screech as my balls unload but too late I realize that I had forgotten to raise the toilet seat cover causing about half of my come to spatter everywhere but where it was supposed to in the toilet bowl water!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I make a bunched-up wad of toilet paper and clean it all up, flushing it all down. I put myself back together and started for the door, but it opens before I get to it!

And who should be standing there? Ethan of course. He just looks at me, I won't say a thing, he smirks as he passes me by and closes the door. I just stand there shaking my head at myself, Way to go, Miller, I hiss and then quickly pad back to Noah's bedroom. I know that he knows what I had done, but by golly I did it! I high-five myself and slip back down onto the floor's bed covers for sleep.

* * * * *

I awaken the next morning, Saturday, feeling both very happy with what I had done the prior evening and that despite Ethan's apparent knowledge. When I see him next he says, Morning Randy, all bright and cheery without smirking.

Hey, back at ya, I say expecting it a trick. But when not even one partially taunting gesture is returned back I then feel a little renewed guilt from having refused to sleep in his room the prior night, but accept his vibe at face value.

The morning continues on with a wonderful outdoors pool-side picnic-table breakfast of pancakes and waffles including bacon, eggs and breakfast sausages with juice. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson even let us guys drink coffee with he and the Mrs. and this includes Paul and Marla, Olivia and Jason apparently elsewhere for the rest of the weekend.

When I openly say Thank you ma'am as she pours me some of the hot steaming black adult beverage she looks at me: Oh, Randy. Just call me mom, call Robert dad as well. All of the families do it.

And that shared family-oriented sentiment will provoke a deeply felt warmth and gladness for when I hear my extended brothers call my mom also their mom into the future. Paul even catches my eye and flashes me a smiling wink of what I know is a big brotherly gesture of shared joy.

Dad and Mrs. Johnson, I mean mom, then organize a two car caravan for the nine of us all with Paul and Marla driving the other car to transport us all to a nearby state park reserve. There we will hike for hours, in the middle of which will be a picnic lunch.

The several hours long hike into the meadow nearing lunchtime, Paul and Marla hold hands like they're married next to mom and dad, the Johnsons. Trey nudges me and grins at Paul and Marla. I grin and nudge back because he's silently reminding me about our maybe future together as actual in-laws should they actually marry. And that possibility makes me feel really good inside.

The twisting trail hike winding through the dense, lush foliage of trees, both tall and short as well as dense bushes with a few harmless rocky outcroppings has no real dangers, so horseplay is both alive as well as dad-approved.

Even daddy Johnson gets involved when us T-shirted, khaki shorts-clad guys decide to play switch-tag using a tree limb as a switch. Instead of just tagging the other guy with your hand, you whack him across the backs of his naked exposed thighs with the limb, the switch provoking loud yelps and promises of revenge.

Even dad wears khaki shorts and joins in the merry-making game making mom chortle with peals of laughter as his bare thighs get whacked more than us younger guys and all in good shared dad-with-sons fun.

But the best was when Marla grabbed the switch and went after Paul. Now it was the seven of us belly-aching with near tear-provoking laughter as they tussled, Paul ending up giving his beau a few stripes for which she pouted for a while after. Not to worry, openly kissing and hugging in front of us all apparently cures all such hurts.

A nest of yellow-jackets tried to ruin our lunch in the meadow, pesky things and sometimes dangerous in their own right as well. Dad whips out a can of some kind of bug killer and starts to spray at them.

Robert! Stop that! mom berates dad. And then us boys including me are awestruck when dad blushes and stops. Just trying to help, dear, only gaining for himself a begrudged mom-smirk, Yes well, don't do it again. None of us said a thing about it after to dad let me tell you!

&&

The day of hiking and shared mirth ends deep into the afternoon, early evening actually when we caravan home. Supper is light, more snack-like than not and Ethan even invites us all into his bedroom suspending any Chaos system console gaming for something easier for all of us to successfully play.

He never does this or rarely, Noah sidles next to me as Alex, Trey and Ethan are playing something called Turbo-ball Arena (think the 2015 to present time multi-player console game, Rocket League. Essentially soccer with cars.)

It's because of me, I quickly reply. Yea, maybe. Was he weird to you today? Noah asks. No, and that worries me some, I smile as if I'm really insightful or something. Dude! You're finally catching on, and we high-five out of the sight of the others, but me still harboring naughty thoughts about Noah's sister which he would definitely not approve.

It's around 10 PM when the group-wide gaming ends, Noah, Trey, and Alex wander off. I start to go with them, but get a tap on my shoulder from Ethan. How about some more System Chaos? And I quickly agree and the two of us huddle back into his room by ourselves and settle in for another round of co-op missions or so I am led to believe. 

We do accomplish one mission and I expect the next. So like, Randy. I apologize for taunting you about Emily. But ... Opportunity #1 to bail, but I didn't ... ... Want to sneak out and spy on their pajama party? It's only four houses down. The house next to theirs closest to us is unoccupied, up for lease or something. We can sneak into the backyard and spy.

My cock started to stir, opportunity #2 to bail squandered. What do you think they're doing? I should not have asked. The home has a swimming pool, so my bet is that the girls are mostly naked in the pool! He grins, licking his lips and making that lewd gesture again about licking love buttons.

Yes, Mark and I have shared dirty thoughts about girls back and forth, it's what guys do naturally speaking. But Ethan is two years younger. Opportunity #3 to bail his next squandered as I allow my previously stated fascination with Ethan to be renewed all too easily. 

So, is there a girl there you might be hot on? I should not have asked. Ethan grins, Jessica! he growls. But how do we not get caught? I do ask. Ethan stands, walks over to the window and demonstrates that he can part the curtains and remove the window screen. An escape route appears and along with it disappears my good, common sense.

I so want to see Emily scantily clad that I let my dick do all of my thinking from that point on. Ethan foists an extra layer of false confidence saying it won't take long and we will be back in my bedroom in just a little while, nobody else the wiser.

Not only that, Ethan volunteers to see what everyone else is doing inside the home. I did not go with him, us figuring to make his solitary reconnaissance less obvious. Also, I unwisely trust the little shit.

He returned saying mom and dad have actually already slipped into their bedroom. The other guys are apparently half-asleep in the family room watching a boring movie. Now's our chance! becomes the motto of the moment.

Once we both climb out of the now screen-absent window it only takes like three minutes to make it down the block, hop over the fence of the unoccupied house next door. We sneak to the neighboring fence which has enough holes directly into the adjacent backyard where the girl's pajama party generously provides a whole slew of scantily clad girls having a great time in the swimming pool/

And there wearing a very skimpy two-piece pink bikini is the love of my cock's life, Emily Johnson. Ethan whispers and points out his Jessica, similarly scantily clad. Oh yea baby, show me that girl pussy Jessica! Ethan whispers, making that lewd tongue gesture again and I unwisely join him.

Emily, I want to give you orgasms, I say. Ethan giggles and we silently high-give, my boner aching once again and by the looks of his pawing at himself, Ethan is just as dick-enamored for Jessica.

But after a few minutes the girls seem to disperse into the home on their own, probably to do something else indoors or so we think. Party's over, Ethan says and we quickly run back to where we entered the property.

It will only take us those same three minutes of swift retracing to get back to his home and climb back into Ethan's open window undetected to gloat over our secret girl-perving mission. Only that care-free three minute dash to the open window ... never happens!

* * * * *

I now have only two remaining precious though weak perks to claim as uniquely my own ...

1) Dad (Mr. Johnson) has already promised that he will not be calling my dad to report his son's egregiously naughty behavior this night. It will be up to me to freely confess my sin to dad on Sunday on my own knowing that it could repeat my already promised bare ass punishment.

2) Mr. Johnson gave me honest praise and credit that I at least tried to take full responsibility for the whole dumb idea in a gallant but futile attempt to spare Ethan of our promised tandemly suffered painful fate.

I appreciate that Randy, but do you Ethan? dad asked a bit grimly now all eyes on him. Yes, daddy I do. Thank you Randy, you didn't have to do that but you did anyway, even as he cast a brief glance over at his frowning big brother, Noah who simply sighed and shrugged brotherly support. And no, my plea on Ethan's behalf otherwise was rejected by our dad.

It had been Mrs. Cooper, Jessica's mom and the party's female chaperone who had apprehended me and Ethan before we could flee. How she did would not be revealed until much later.

What in the world are you two doing trespassing on this property at this time of night much less peeking inappropriately through the adjoining fence Ethan Johnson? And who are you? she asked me in her next breath, her obvious ire with us causing me more fright in one moment than in the last month!

Ra ... Randy ... um ... Miller, ma'am ... David Miller's son, I stammered. Sleep over, Ethan added. She nodded and then suddenly her face softened. Ah. Good folk, the Millers. Did David re-marry? she asked and I tried to take advantage.

Yes, ma'am. My mom, Patty. Dad adopted me as his own, I said humbly. She nodded, I think I see what's going on. This was your idea Ethan, you should not have listened to him, Randy. But what's done is done ... march! she pointed back up the street to the location of our now impending doom, my association with dad unhelpful to nobody's surprise.

To Ethan's room, both of you now! dad boomed at us in the entrance foyer when we told him what we had done, Mrs. Cooper standing right there. Sorry about this Alice. These two will be soundly spanked shortly, he announced as Ethan and I walk like condemned prisoners past our three smug nodding brothers, especially Noah, Way to go Ethan. Told you so, Randy! his smirk well-earned.

Ethan glumly plopped on his bed side, me beside him. I'm sorry, Ethan said. It's OK Ethan. I loved doing it, I smiled. You did? he perked up. I nodded and continued.

And for the record Ethan. I do not think it was, how did you put it? Oh yea. A big ass mistake to get punished on the bare with the belt. Up with the big boys you said. A little nuts, but mostly being a stud. Wish I could say that about myself at your age, but I was a pussy back then.

Thanks, he said. The door opened. It was Noah, Get into the family room, now. Dad has the belt all ready to punish your sorry asses! he smirked. We stood and brushed past him, Ethan first. Noah stopped me, Ethan now out of earshot.

What you tried to do for Ethan was really nice, thank you Randy, and then let me walk to my doom, his gesture helping even if a little.

Everyone was gathered in the penitentiary's viewing room outside of the prison's gas chamber ... I mean, gathered around the two chairs set up in the middle of the family room to host Ethan and I side-by-side. Even Paul with Marla.

Strangely, my mind strayed to Emily upon the order to strip from the waists down, baring our asses and shriveled genitals having been allowed to disrobe ourselves. What if she had been allowed with her girlfriends to watch me strip and get a humiliating whipping and spanking? I shivered uncomfortably at the very thought of it.

Mom, Mrs. Johnson, was there as well, but later found out it was only because I was getting my first Johnson-Miller cross-family punishment and she was wanted to make sure I would be alright on this first go.

You and everyone else knows why you are here. Now bend over the chair backs boys and hold on tight. Do not let go! dad announced. Two big sighs later and in position, Ethan and I looked over at each other, Ethan already biting his lips. His second whipping inside of hardly 24 hours, poor guy.

I pursed my lips and tried to mouth, You'll be fine, when dad's length of punishment leather took my full attention lighting me up with just the first belt lick! I grimaced realizing that nothing was going to be fine for either of us any time soon!

As soon as I saw the look of utter misery already mirrored in Ethan's grimace and yelp of pain I hated that I had let him talk us into it, talk about water already passed under the bridge. Dad alternated the following relentlessly hard stinging-burning belt licks between us, but the pause between was miniscule and to say the least, helped nothing.

Again and again, up and down my bare bottom the licks scorched and gave rise to my own pleas for mercy, Please dad, it hurts a lot! much less poor Ethan, Please daddy, please no more daddy! he wailed, but five and then ten licks apiece was only the start followed by another ten before he finally stopped. I was openly crying and sobbing fearing the belt to have turned my bottom to ash!

And Ethan, he was sobbing, coughing and beside himself no longer able to keep eye contact with me. To our credit and especially Ethan's neither of us had moved an inch, a small triumph really. I glanced at everyone else. No smiles. No smirks. Even Noah looked sorry for us. Paul's face emotionless, Marla's looking kindly at us for our miseries.

Dad knelt between us at our heads, Look at me Randy, he said. I did. You erred badly son, but you took your whipping well. I'm proud of you. And you Ethan? he looked at his son fixing his red, wet face still sniffling tears. I am also proud of you Ethan. You may be 13, but you're a strong boy even if very unwise in some of your choices.

He stood, Get up the both of you, no touching your behinds, and we did. You both are due hand spankings to finish ... however, Randy, you earlier offered to take some of Ethan's punishment. I will offer that you can take Ethan's hand spanking as well as your own sparing Ethan. Do you wish to make that offer stick? he asked me.

No Randy don't! Ethan spoke out of turn. Dad immediately hugged his boy into him, You are not to speak! and planted two hard hand swats to Ethan's already ravaged backside, OUUUIE Daddy! Ethan sobbed. Dad released Ethan and looked at me.

Yes dad. I want to take Ethan's hand spanking, I said thinking myself either a hero or a big fool. Very well, dad sat in my chair and took me face down across his knees. Dad even allowed Ethan to kneel at my head.

Well, I was now the boy of any age sobbing disconsolately as Daddy Johnson blister-tanned my already torched bare bottom with a hand spanking that I could not tell to be any less intense than the belt had been. The first round mercifully ended sooner than I expected. That was yours, Randy, he said.

Ye ... yess ... daddy! I coughed, sniffled and closed my eyes tightly no longer bothering to wipe my face clear of tears. Now, this spanking is for Ethan, and I steeled myself, any semblance of dignity long gone by now.

I waited and waited and then peeking to my left I saw dad's big paw descend, gritting my teeth! But the palm came within one inch of my ass ... and stopped ... never striking me.

And that is a one-time reprieve young man to honor your big brotherly offering to Ethan. You may get up. And I did and right into Dad's arms for the hardest hug I had yet given any dad to date. I was rewarded with, I am even a little envious that David has you for a son, Randy. But be warned!

Thank you daddy! I sobbed one last time gaining a very well needed head-ruffle, his last offering making my soul soar with respect and love for Daddy Johnson.

On our way over to the room's corner for the always mandatory bare ass out corner time even Paul sidled into me, I'm very proud of you little brother you idiot! but he smiled nonetheless. And yes, Noah, Trey, and Alex were approved of standing with us as dad, mom, Paul and Marla departed.

I knew what was next, the traditional brotherly hazing, giving both Ethan and I two hard hand spanks each and I felt ready for them. Noah swatted me twice, then Alex and lastly Trey. I guess it's my turn now, Ethan pouted.

Excuse me, you guess? After what Randy did for you? No spanks for you, Ethan Johnson, I forbid it! Noah was pissed! I've never seen Ethan Johnson gawk in surprise, not even when Mrs. Cooper pounced on us back on the trespassed property. But he did now.

But ... I want the spanks, please Noah! Ethan's turnabout as shocking as his gawk. Then ask nicely and with humble pride you moron, Noah chided. I had to stifle a grin as well as a chortle and did.

I am a moron. Please Noah, guys. Please spank me, hard! Please! he begged. Noah nodded, but I could easily tell that after six more spanks that he knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but he took them wincing hard.

Now you Randy, please. Two spanks too, please? he asked me. Only if you give me two as well, I smiled. Thank you! he said. I swatted Ethan's poor torn up bottom twice and he me twice.

I even jumped up and down pretending that I was mortally wounded. Everyone but Ethan cracked up until he frolled his eyes, Good one Miller, he finally smiled. After the 20 minutes of corner time elapsed, Ethan and I stripped naked as we tried not to run too fast into the backyard swimming pool to cool off our blasted backsides, our brothers joining us moments later for another skinny dipping free-for-all.

* * * * *

The great thing for us boys when any of us get spanking punishment with any of the dads is that afterwards it's nearly as if they had never happened. After some needed snacks and beverage, daddy Johnson insisted that all us boys join him to play his favorite board and card games which of course were now our favorite board and card games.

Uno, Sorry were the favorites. Noah thrashed dad in checkers, dad shaking his head, How do you always beat my ass so easily? I faced off with dad playing Battleship, Gee dad, I just sunk your battleship! making dad roar with laughter. Yes you did Randy, yes you did, he smiled, reached over and ruffled my hair, me grinning from ear-to-ear.

It was now bedtime. I took Noah aside, Hey, do you think it's OK for me to offer to sleep in Ethan's room tonight if he'll have me or would that seem too geeky?

Noah chuckled, It is geeky ... but yea. Offer. If he says no, you're off the hook, he smiled. Ethan had wandered back into his room by himself and had just sat down in his gamer's chair for one last game of Chaos probably thinking it would be alone.

I knocked and walked in. He put his controller down and looked at me pretty softly actually. Hey, I thought it was bedtime, I said. It is, but dad always lets me play just one more before bed. I closed the door and walked to sit in the other chair next to him. May I join you? I asked.

He brightened up, Sure, smiling humbly. And, can I sleep in your room with you tonight? I asked. The big wide grin decorated his face, That would be awesome! And then we got down to play one more mission together before Ethan turn the system off.

Ethan helped me to get some bedding down on the floor, I'll sleep on the floor, you take my bed, Ethan offered and I accepted. He turned the lights out and then headed down to my left. I actually scooted to my left to be a bit closer to him.

Good night Randy, he said. Good night Ethan, I said. I turned away from him and a few moments later heard him stir, walk to his dresser and retrieved something. I paid no attention until one of those somethings landed right in front of my face.

And why did you throw a sock at me? I asked. Just in case, he said. Just in case of what? And all he did was giggle a little.

And then I heard him, Oh yeah Jessica, spread those legs. Show me that juicy pussy so I can lick it and flick my tongue at your hot little love button! Causing me to abruptly turn over. His eyes were closed, and laying on his back he was jerking on his dick underneath the bed sheet!

I quickly turned to my back. I closed my eyes and pictured Emily in that hot little skimpy bikini bathing suit that got me into trouble that evening. My dick was so hard, I sheathed it with the sock that Ethan had given me and did my own thing.

Spread those legs wide Emily, you'll never have a better orgasm than now, and then I started to make lewd slurping sounds with my tongue and down on the floor Ethan cracked up, Yeah, Randy. Go for it, let's race to the finish with Jessica and Emily and lick at their sweet girl pussies!

Getting off together with Ethan was fast easy, and satisfying. I finally turned away from Ethan, Thanks Ethan, missions accomplished!

&&

Sunday morning came all too early. Daddy Miller was coming in early with mom and Mark to pick me up so that we could go shopping for things that I and my brothers needed clothing-wise and a few other things. The breakfast was less diverse that Saturday morning, but still very satisfying.

Emily returned just after breakfast, looking as pretty and yes, as hot as ever in my eyes. She said nothing to me at first and by then dad and mom arrived with Mark and the area became populated with members of both families.

I was going to confess what happened with me this weekend to dad, but later. But before the goodbyes were said, Emily winked at me as she stood alone at the hallway entrance. She then motioned for me to come over to her, I did.

So, got into trouble last night, huh? She asked with the cutest little smirky grin. I blushed like crazy and started to shuffle my sheepish feet. Yeah, I kept it short. Did you see something you liked? she then asked. I looked at her, Emily! I helplessly sqeaked, my blush deepening.

Randy? Son? It's time to go! Dad said across the space. Talk about saving the day. Sorry Emily. I have to go, and partially turned when suddenly I felt a small kiss on my cheek and then? Emily reached out and squeezed on my ass, Have a good day Randy Miller, turned and walked off.

I walked in a daze to dad's car and got in the backseat with Mark. Paul had driven home already on his own. Mom was in the front seat. Daddy, I got into trouble this weekend. I'll tell you when I get home, I said, Mark rolling his eyes and shaking his head just like I knew he would. 

Yes, a little birdie told me, but not Robert. No hurry, we'll get together after shopping, dad seemed unconcerned. Mark tried to cajole what had happened out of me, but I did not give him anything then, maybe later I would. Still, he pouted all the way home after that.

Later on I finally got alone time with dad. Daddy, I have two things to tell and ask you, I said. The floor's all yours, son, dad said. First I did an autopsy on my misbehavior with Ethan as well as the consequences at the Johnsons. Dad shrugged, Happens to the best of them, so what do you think of the Johnsons? Dad happened to stumble into my next concern.

They're great! But ... um ... dad ... I need some advice about ... well ... girls.

A Tale of Three Boys and Their Three Bath Brushes – Chapter 6, © Copyright PJ Franklin, June 8, 2025.