Too clever by half …

Al sat at home reading. Would the heatwave never end? Perspiration glistened on his gym-honed naked torso. All he wore were the tiniest tennis shorts, but still he could not get cool.

He had just got back from the mall with magazines and cigarettes. In that heat even a short journey had taken it out of the nineteen year old. A rivulet of sweat trickled between his abs forming a puddle on his flat tight stomach.

Suddenly his elder bother Joe, the marine on leave, burst into the room. Joe liked everyone to know he was a marine and always wore a camouflaged tee-shirt and green shorts to prove it. He was full of himself.

“Hey did you just use dad’s car?”


“I said did you just use dad’s car?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You know dad left me in charge while he’s away.”

“So what?”

“He said you weren’t to use his car.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. I’ve just seen it. The engine’s still warm.”

“So what? So I went to the mall.”

“You know you’re not supposed to take dad’s car. You know that.”

“I only went to the mall. It’s no big deal.”

Joe’s already sweaty face turned puce. His kid brother was hankering for a spankering. “It is a big deal. You remember what he did to me that time?”

Al sighed. “What time?”

“When I took his car without permission.”

Al knew where this conversation was going; but he would go along for the ride. “What happened?”

“He blistered my bare butt with that heavy bath brush. I couldn’t sit down for a week.”

“Oh, yeah,” Al’s grin showed his brilliantly white even teeth that contrasted against his deep suntanned face. “So what?”

“So what!” Joe didn’t like his kid brother’s attitude one little bit. “So what is that I’m going to go right now and fetch that brush and do the same to you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. Just watch me.” Joe darted from the room and Al returned to his magazine. Seconds later his irate brother returned brandishing a huge heavy wooden-backed bath brush.

“Here. See.” He waved the brush in Al’s face so close the teenager could smell the stale sweat soaking his brother’s clothes. Al shrugged his shoulders and Joe stood unsure of what to do next.

“So get up then.”


“Get up. Come over here, I’m going to spank you.”

Al flashed that grin again. “No you’re not.”

Joe wasn’t the smartest kid on the block. He was the kind of young man who communicated best through grunts; so that’s what he did; he grunted.

“What was that?” Al was beginning to enjoy himself. He was a bright college kid and would do well in life. He despised his brother. What a moron, he thought, he only went into the marines because he couldn’t get a job anywhere else. No way was he going to let the brute spank him.

Joe tried again. “Get up. You have to go across my knee and I spank your sweet little ass.”

“No you don’t. Now, will you please be quiet I’m trying to read my magazine.”

Joe stood puzzled, the bath brush still in his hand. He was beginning to feel very foolish indeed. He looked across at his sexy younger brother. He didn’t get it; something was not quite right. Why couldn’t he understand?

“Hey, Al,” he almost whimpered, “This isn’t how it’s supposed it be.”

“What isn’t?”

“The story.”

“What story?”

“The story we’re in; this isn’t how it’s meant to be.”

“So, how is it meant to be?”

“Well, I come in and catch you smoking cigarettes in the house which is against the rules. Then I know that you’ve taken dad’s car without permission. Then I say I’m in charge while dad’s away.”

Al snorted as if to say, “Yeah, right.”

Joe continued, “Then I tell you about the time I took dad’s car and the butt blistering I got then.”

Al nodded. Yeah, that sounded like a typical Charles Hamilton II plot to him. “What happens next?”

“Well I say I’ll tell dad and he’ll give you such a whipping when he gets back and then you kinda plead, ‘Oh, no please don’t tell dad’ and I say, ‘Alright, I’ll spank you myself.’”

Al wriggled a little in his chair, already he could feel the heavy swats of the brush pounding into his tight buttocks.

“I think I can guess the rest,” he said. “Then you take me across your knee and whack me on my tiny tennis shorts with the brush. But I don’t feel it enough, so you make me take down my shorts and underwear and I get it on the bare.”

Joe was cheering up. “Yeah, that’s it. Then there’s lots of description about how the brush crashes into your butt and the bruises and everything.”

Al smiled that smile again. “And then it’s over and I’m jumping up and down with tears and snot all over my face.”

Joe joined in, “Then you say how sorry you are and you’ll never take dad’s car again.”

“Yeah,” Al agreed, “And the story ends with the line: ‘And he meant it too … until the next time he wanted to go to the mall.’”

Joe was mightily relived. It looked like they were back on track again.

“So,” he brandished the brush in Al’s face, “Let’s get on with it shall we?”

“Nah,” Al returned to his magazine, “Leave me alone, I want to read.”

“B-b-but…” Joe felt tears at the back of his eyes, “But, the story?”

Al flashed those infuriating teeth once more. “Don’t worry; let’s just say this is the twist in the tale.”

With that he flicked over the page of his magazine while Joe, fearful that he would never be asked to feature in a story again, dejectedly returned the brush to the bathroom.

For an alternate version of this story click on next story


More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

Charles Hamilton the Second

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