Camp Torowa Falls 1964 - 04: Endowed By Their Creator

CP Fiction by Bobby Watson

Copyright © 2006 Bobby Watson, All Rights Reserved.

(Author Note: This is the fourth story in a series. The characters and situations were introduced in the episodes:
Camp Torowa Falls 1964 - 01: A Fair To Remember
Read that episode first!) Then read episodes 2 and 3 before reading this one.

(Warning! The following story contains some not-terribly-graphic descriptions of male genitalia in a wide range of ages, sizes and conditions. If this kind of thing turns you off, you are probably surfing the wrong website, but we won't get into that here. Suffice it to say that you have been warned.)

"....that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator..."

These weren't just words to Corey Lane. Well, yes, of course they were words - everything was words, when you came down to it. People think in words. The point was... it was hard to think of the point... actually... what with Charlie Lenhart yelling at them and waving that paddle around.

Corey looked around the locker room. He was standing in a group of thirteen boys. Lucky thirteen. Thirteen naked, dripping wet, miserable boys facing an awful decision. Thirteen extremely different boys. All men are created equal... yeah, right! Whoever believed that had never been in a men's - or boy's - locker room.

Corey sometimes thought that he'd spent half his life in rooms filled with naked boys. In fact the only time he was in a locker room with lots of grown men was in the changing rooms on the beach at the New Jersey shore. The Lane family often went on summer day trips down to the beach at Barnegat Lighthouse, or similar locations. Even if you were allowed to wear your swimsuit under your clothes on the way down there, there was no way you were gonna be allowed to wear a wet, sandy pair of swim trunks for the car trip home. So you used the public changing rooms.

Now Charlie was making them line up in order of size... height that is. "Line up by dick size," was the oft-whispered joke in Corey's junior high school gym classes. So many stupid jokes... so much adolescent sniggering... so much sweat... so much horseplay... so many stinky socks.... so many put downs... so much baloney... so much swingin' baloney. All right, it was more like swingin' cocktail franks - this was junior high school, after all. Give the poor kids a break, they're still growing boys. "Mighty oaks from tiny acorns grow", and all that jazz.

Corey glanced over at Jerry - damn! Jerry still had Corey outgunned, but not by much. And Corey was three months and three days younger than his best friend. Who knew which of them would win the race in the end? Would they even be showering together as adults?

Corey felt a sudden surge of shame overtake him, he could be so petty sometimes. Here they were, about to get their asses paddled again - they were completely innocent to boot - and all Corey could think about was who had the bigger dick. He could be such an incredible dickhead sometimes.

He was a sinner - Corey knew and accepted that. "Endowed by their Creator..." He truly believed that one...God had given Corey everything he had: his dick, his balls, his arms, his legs, his eyes, his ears, his muscles, and his brain. Corey just wished he could make better use of that last divine gift.

Oh, Corey knew he was a smart kid - his grades proved that. Even Mom and Dad had been pleased with his seventh grade report cards. But he still did incredibly stupid things, like comparing dick size with other boys as they were lined up waiting to have their wet, bare asses beaten to a pulp with a large wooden paddle.

It was right here, in this room, the Men's Locker Room of the Northampton Municipal Pool, where Corey had first seen other guys naked - apart from his Dad, of course. "Men's" Locker Room - that was a big joke in itself. The only grown men Corey had ever seen changing their clothes in here were the pool staff members, like Charlie Lenhart.

Charlie Lenhart was a big man in every possible sense of the word. Like Jeff Paulsen, their counselor last year at Camp Torowa Falls, Charlie was a college student working a summer job. And this summer Charlie just happened to be the attendant in the Men's Locker Room of the Northampton Municipal Pool.

While Corey was fairly certain that Charlie's official job description did not including the phrase, "beat the bare backsides of young boys with a paddle", Charlie was responsible for enforcing the rules of the Men's Locker Room, and the pool facility in general. Charlie was not a teacher, and therefore couldn't legally force misbehaving boys to bend over for his paddle. On the other hand, Charlie (and all the attendants who had served before him) could give a boy a terrible choice. "Bend over for my paddle, or I'll confiscate your season pool pass, plus call your parents and tell them what you did."

Corey had never seen any boy choose the latter option. How could they? Not only would the boy lose his swimming privileges for the rest of the summer, but he would probably get a worse punishment at home. Corey knew he would get it double for sure - his parents would be furious that he had wasted the money they had spent on his pool pass, on top of whatever he had done to get the pass confiscated.

So when his turn came, Corey's only real choice would be to bend over the bench and take as many whacks of the paddle as Charlie chose to give him. All Corey could do was try to take his licks like a man. Oh, shit! Jerry had no idea what was coming their way. Too bad this had to happen the very first time Jerry visited the pool.

Corey couldn't believe it. Jerry hadn't even been in town for 24 hours, and already they were about to get their first shared dose of punishment. Corey fervently prayed that this didn't signal a pattern for the whole summer.

The day had been actually been going pretty well, all in all, up until a few minutes ago. They had gone to church, listened to the Lichtenwalner boys get strapped, received a stern lecture from Corey's parents about behavior and so forth, then checked out their boundaries around town so Jerry would know them. They had ice cream sodas at the M&N Luncheonette, then followed Jeff Moyer home and watched him get a rather serious public, pants-down thrashing for swearing.

They had arrived at the pool facility around 2 o'clock and gotten Jerry registered. Season pass holders had to read and sign a paper on their first visit acknowledging the rules of the pool and locker room. Jerry had been confused as to why everyone had to take a shower before donning their swimsuits and hitting the pool. Charlie had patiently explained that it was done to help keep the pool clean and therefore keep all the swimmers healthier. Jerry had seemed unconvinced by this spiel, but he already had enough of a military mindset that he was willing to follow officially printed orders, even ones he considered rather silly.

So Corey and Jerry had obediently stripped off and showered, accompanied by Clint Beers, Dave Detweiler, and two smaller boys who had shown up while Jerry was being registered. The two little'uns were 8-year-old Billy Kern and 9-year-old Bobby Knauss. Corey tried to remember what he had looked like in the shower the first time he had come to the pool alone.

Children under the age of 8 were not allowed in the pool without an adult chaperone, unless they were participating in an official swimming or water safety class. Since both of Corey's parents worked, he hadn't had a chance to visit the pool for fun swims until he had turned eight.

Corey remembered how nervous he was that first time, showering with older, bigger boys - kind of how Billy looked now, except that Billy had been coming to the pool for nearly a month now. Corey spotted Billy and Bobby checking out the older guys, comparing their "acorns" to the... well, maybe not mighty oaks, but certainly very respectable saplings - on Jerry and Corey, at any rate. Clint was sporting more of a twig, the boy was quite literally skinny all over. Dave wasn't showing much more than the little'uns - apparently he was a "grower" rather than a "shower". But it had to be said that Dave had balls. No, they weren't hairy yet, but they sure were nice sized.

Soon enough the six boys emerged from the showers and quickly climbed into their swim suits - there was no need to dry off after the pre-swimming shower. Then they headed out to introduce Jerry to the Northampton Municipal Pool.

Jerry was impressed with the pool itself, which was large and "L-shaped". There were about 60 children using the pool on this fine Sunday afternoon, including the six new arrivals. More than two-thirds of them were boys, which was a bit higher "sausage ratio" than on weekdays. Billy and Bobby immediately headed for the shallow (and wide) leg of the pool and joined the other little'uns splashing around, having great fun.

Clint didn't hesitate either, but quickly made for the diving boards located at the "top" of the deep (and narrow) leg of the pool. He started off with a cannonball, naturally, and was immediately horsing around with the other pre-teens in the deep end of the pool.

It wasn't as easy for for the teenagers - it never was, thought Corey sagely, drawing on his vast five months of experience as a member of that prestigious group. Still, there was no question that Dave, Jerry and Corey were much more self-conscious as they attempted to stride purposefully across the wide concrete deck surrounding the pool.

"Is everything in this town made of cement?" asked Jerry peevishly as he walked gingerly over the sun-heated concrete.

"Well, the pools are made of cement, yeah." said Corey. "And the roads... and the bank... and your head."

"Har dee har, har!" said Jerry, sarcastically.

"What, do they make pools out of stained glass up in New York?" said Dave.

"No, Dave." said Jerry, "They make them out of the bodies of stupid Pennsylvania Dutch boys who lip off to us New Yorkers."

"Oooo," said Dave, "I'm so scared!"

"You should be, Detweiler," said Steve Wetzel, the local town idiot and bully, who was laying on a lounge chair they were passing.

Dave ignored the taunt and kept going, but Corey had to grab Jerry by the arm to keep him moving, his friend looked ready to go for Steve. "He's not worth it," whispered Corey urgently as he moved Jerry away from the bully.

"Enjoy the pool, girls!" Steve shouted after them.

Corey felt Jerry tense up in response, but he was able to keep his friend moving.

The three boys joined Walt Eckert, Doug Kleckner, and Mike Huijsa on the deck. Fortunately it was on the opposite side of the deep leg of the pool from where Steve was located. Jerry had not yet met Doug and Mike, so the introductions were made.

Doug Kleckner was 14-years-old, the other "old man" in Corey's circle of local friends. Pennsylvania Dutch through and through, Doug even had teesy bit of a Dutch (German) accent. He greeted Jerry warmly, clearly operating under the theory that any friend of Corey's was a friend of his.

Mike Huijsa was 13-years-old and an authentic low-land Dutchman - his ancestors had lived in Holland for centuries, not in Germany. Some actual Dutch people had come over on all those ships from Holland, after all. This made Mike Dutch, but not Pennsylvania Dutch. Jerry struggled a bit with this distinction.

"It's even more confusing than that," said Mike, "when you realize that the Dutch language and German language are related."

"No wonder the Englishmen were confused when you guys started showing up!" said Jerry. "Why don't I just call you all friends and leave it go at that?" That turned out to be good enough for Corey's friends.

The six friends dove in the pool and played, in and out of the water, for about 90 minutes. Corey was practicing some dives. He hadn't told anybody this yet, not even his parents - or Jerry. But Corey was seriously thinking of going out for the diving team when he got to college. Unfortuately the local high school had no indoor pool, and therefore no swimming or diving program. There were training programs available down in Allentown, but those cost money he knew his parents didn't have.

Eventually all six boys settled back on the deck to rest up and sun themselves. They tried girl watching, but the pickins were kind of slim that day. Most of the girls who were there were under twelve. By 4 o'clock Clint's pre-teen friends had left for the day, so he joined the six teens on the deck, and almost immediately brought up the tale of Jeff's punishment, and ultimate disgrace. It appeared the little twerp had been telling everybody he met.

Corey was glad to see that the opinions on how to treat Jeff were mixed. Walt and Doug joined with Corey and Jerry in opposing any taunts, but Mike sided with Clint and Dave that the little creep deserved to hear about it. "At least when he gets too big for his britches and needs to be taken down a peg or two," said Mike. The others all proved willing to agree to that idea and Corey and Jerry relented, but Corey vowed privately never to mention the incident to Jeff.

Jerry smoothly changed the subject by bringing up the interesting fact that when Jeff had given Mrs. Neff his family's phone number, he had only given four digits. Were all the phone numbers in Northampton just four digits?

"Yes, Jerry," said Clint, "we only need four digits because there are only 12 phones in the whole town."

"That's right!" said Doug. "We're not quite ready for the twentieth century here in Northampton. It's not like that advanced New York state you come from."

"Okay, very funny guys," said Jerry. "But what is the reason, really?"

Corey said, "the real reason we only say four digits is that the town is small enough that we need only one local phone exchange. So everybody knows the first three numbers, because they're the same for everybody!"

"And if the number is down in Allentown or someplace?" said Jerry.

"Then we say the whole number," said Dave. "And the area code too, if we're calling long distance."

"Fair enough," said Jerry. "This sounds like a simple place to live."

"Oh, yeah," said Doug, "everything is real simple around here." All the local boys laughed at that, and Jerry let it drop.

The friends rested quietly in the sun for a while. Soon there was talk of taking one last swim before getting showered and out of there for the day. Doug had learned that a class of 5-7 year old kids would be coming in at 5 o'clock, which would really make the place noisy and annoying.

Before anybody actually got up Jerry, who had clearly been stewing about something for a while, said, "Why do you guys take all that crap from that skinny punk, Steve? You guys look like pretty tough hombres, you could gang up on him and teach the big twit a lesson in manners."

"Well, Jerry," said Doug, "for one thing the pool authorities would confiscate our pool passes and our parents would string us up."

"I don't mean here, you dolt!" said Jerry, speaking urgently but quietly. "Why don't we bushwhack him someplace else? You guys must know a good place."

"That brings up the other problem," said Mike, "Gort."

"What's a Gort?" said Jerry.

"See that humungous creature sprawled across the lounger next to Steve?" said Corey. The guy was at least six feet tall, although he was only 16-years-old.

"Yeah," said Jerry.

"That's Gort, Steve's muscle," said Corey.

"That names sounds strangely familiar," said Jerry.

"It would," said Dave, "if you've ever seen The Day the Earth Stood Still. That was the name of the huge robot."

"I get it," said Jerry, "you call that guy Gort because he's huge like the robot from that movie."

"Well, yeah," said Corey. "But mostly because he's just like Gort. Otto - his real name is Otto Guth - is very robotic. He'll just stand there, or actually sit there in Otto's case, and ignore everybody until his controller - unfortunately Steve the Idiot in this case - gives him the command to kill or destroy."

"You guys are pullin' my leg," said Jerry.

"Fine, Jerry," said Walt. "You go ahead and pop Steve a good one while he's sitting there next to Gort. It's your funeral."

"Maybe I should," said Jerry, eyeing the huge teenager speculatively.

Corey prepared to jump up and stop Jerry if he made a move, but didn't think it would be necessary. He was right.

"Okay," said Jerry, relaxing. "We'll leave it alone for now. But we'll have to come up with something eventually."

The seven friends went in for a final dip in the pool, then headed for the locker room around quarter to five. "See ya soon, girls," said Steve as they passed by his lounger again. Jerry took a good look at Gort as they went by, but the huge boy completely ignored him and his friends.

The first bad sign was when Steve and Gort entered the locker room as the friends were getting ready to shower.

On second thought, Corey realized that when you find yourself sharing a locker room with Steve and Gort, you didn't need any other bad signs. Trouble with a capital "T" was already there.

After they got in the showers things went downhill so fast that Corey still wasn't clear on how it had started. All he remembered was that suddenly Steve and Gort were shoving some of the younger kids around in the shower, including little Billy Kern and Bobby Knauss. Jerry moved to intervene, and Corey had no choice but to go with him.

The whole thing quickly degenerated into a general melee inside the shower that only ended when Charlie intervened. All attempts to explain the situation fell on deaf ears. Rule #1 for the Pool and Locker Room was no fighting.

So now all thirteen boys who had been inside the shower when Charlie got there were lined up in order by height. Two were guilty bullies and eleven were innocent victims and/or bystanders, but all would be given the same horrible choice. Surrender your pool pass and get reported to your parents or bend over for the paddle.

Corey noticed that he was eighth in line, with the slightly shorter Mike Huijsa to his left and the slightly taller Jerry to his right. Assuming nobody pussied out and surrendered his pool pass, Corey would get to watch seven boys ranging from little Billy Kern to his friend Mike get their asses blistered before he would have to step forward and offer up his own backside for another round of undeserved punishment.

Steve and Gort were the tallest offenders, and therefore would be the last to suffer the effects of Charlie's paddle. Corey hoped that the big bullies would get more fear than pleasure out of watching the eleven smaller kids getting it before them.

It seemed like forever since Charlie ordered them to line up by height. First there was the usual jostling. Corey usually only had to do this silly drill in gym class at school, and those boys all knew where to go after figuring out their relative heights in September. But for this random group of boys caught fighting in the pool shower, this all had to be worked out on the fly - while under the impatient eye of their paddle-wielding judge and executioner.

Once they were lined up, the lecture began. The older boys had all heard this spiel before, with the obvious exception of Jerry, and knew what their choices would be. Even the ones who had never actually been paddled in this room before had heard about - or more likely seen - other boys get it through the years.

This was Corey's sixth summer coming to the pool regularly, and he had witnessed a dozen or more paddlings during that time. About half of these incidents were solo paddlings, a single boy getting his butt blistered for breaking the rules. Boys were always required to shower before their paddling, but not allowed to dry themselves. Corey wasn't certain about why this was required, but suspected that having a wet backside made the paddle hurt more. Even if it didn't, Corey would have been willing to bet that the attendants thought it did.

The rest of the paddlings Corey had witnessed in that room were of groups of two or more boys. In fact Corey had "co-starred" in one of those incidents the summer he was ten. Corey and two other boys, Walt and some other kid who moved away later and whose name was long forgotten, had been paddled for "horsing around" in the locker room, in other words flicking each other's hind ends with wet towels. Their hind ends each recieved four solid swats with the paddle for their trouble, and the trio of 10-year-olds was left doing the spanked boy dance for the entertainment of their audience, an appreciative group of 12 and 13-year-olds. That had happened just a week before Corey left for Camp Torowa Falls for the first time.

The most boys Corey had ever personally seen paddled at once in the pool locker room was five - a group including Doug Kleckner - a couple years ago. Corey had heard of maybe six or seven boys getting it at once - everybody who was in the showers or a particular section of the locker room during a fight. But never anything close to thirteen boys at once. This was probably some kind of record. Great! Another headline for Corey's personal scrapbook.

The lecture Charlie gave the group was entirely new - and bad news - for the smallest victims of this farce, Billy Kern and Bobby Knauss. Corey couldn't really see Billy at all from his spot near the middle of the line. From what Corey could see of Bobby, the poor kid was a little wild-eyed, like a trapped wild animal looking for escape.

Charlie was standing down at the left end of the line now, waiting expectantly. Apparently he had asked Billy the $64,000 question, and was now waiting for the lad's response. Charlie must have received an answer, because he stepped down the line and asked Bobby the question. Then it was the turn of 11-year-old Hank Apple, then 11-year-old Tom Clymer, then Walt, and then Clint.

Charlie stepped in front of Mike Huijsa, the paddle clutched firmly in his left hand. "Paddle or pool pass, Mike?" he asked.

Corey saw Mike's eyes flick down towards the paddle, an unpainted wooden board about 16 inches long and 3 inches wide. "Paddle," said Mike.

Charlie took another step and was standing right in front of Corey. "Paddle or pool pass, Corey?"

"Paddle," said Corey, without hesitation.

Corey watched Charlie step in front of Jerry. He had no doubt what Jerry's answer would be to such a question. "Paddle or pool pass, Jerry?"

"Paddle," said Jerry, also without hesitation.

Dave Detweiler and Doug Kleckner both answered "Paddle", of course.

Finally it was the turn of the two bullies. "Paddle or pool pass, Steve?"


"Paddle or pool pass, Otto?"

"What was the middle one?"

"Very funny, smartass. Paddle or pool pass?"


"All right, you idiots," said Charlie, as he walked down the line. "Let me tell you how this is gonna go. All thirteen of you chose the paddle, of course. Now I don't intend to spend the rest of my day paddling you guys." As the big man spoke, he was pulling two benches out from the far wall.

"We're gonna set up an assembly line here," said Charlie, taking a stack of towels and piling at least four folded towels in the middle of each bench. Corey didn't understand what was happening. Previous attendants had simply had the doomed boys grab their ankles, or bend over the nearest convenient bench. Corey hadn't seen Charlie whack anybody yet - the guy must have his own way of doing these things.

"Okay," said Charlie, standing behind the lefthand bench and turning to face the row of miscreants. "The line starts here with Billy, and goes all the way back to Otto. Billy, come up here."

Billy Kern stepped into view from the left end of the line and walked slowly - and most reluctantly - up to stand in front of the bench. "Lie down on the bench, lad," said Charlie, indicating the left hand bench. As Billy moved to comply, Charlie said, "Head up this way, facing left, and lower your hips over the towels."

Billy climbed on the bench facing the proper direction, and lowered his hips as instructed. Corey had to admit that this left Billy's trembling little bottom raised up nice and high - admirably exposed for the paddle. But Corey failed to see how taking so much time to position each boy for his paddling would save any time.

Charlie, meanwhile, had moved to the righthand bench. "Okay, Bobby, get your little butt up here and over these towels, just like Billy." Bobby marched most unwillingly up to the righthand bench and was soon positioned ideally for his spanking.

"Now I'll give Billy his whacks, and when I'm done I'll move right over and give Bobby his whacks," said Charlie. "While I'm whacking Bobby, Billy will hop up off the bench and get out of the way so the next boy in line, Hank, can trot up here and get himself in position for the paddle."

"When I'm done with Bobby, I'll go paddle Hank while Bobby gets off his bench and Tom gets on it. When I get done whacking a boy and move over to the other bench, the next boy in line better be on that bench with his butt in position for the paddle. If he isn't, he gets extra whacks! Everybody got that?"

Corey nodded his head, and so did Mike and Jerry. The others must have satisfied Charlie with their responses, because he said, "Okay, let's get this show on the road. I expect to be done inside of two minutes."

And with that Charlie strode over to Billy's bench, raised the paddle high above his head with his left hand - he was a southpaw - and Craackk! "Oww!" yelled Billy in response. Three more solid Craackks of the paddle were followed by three increasingly desperate howls from the suffering 8-year-old.

"Get up, Billy!" said Charlie, and he moved over to the other bench in three long strides as Billy started to scramble painfully off his bench.

And then the paddle was flying through the air again - Craackk! "Yoww!" said Bobby, a shocked look on his anguished face as the pain registered in his bottom. As three more sharp whacks found their mark on Bobby's shivering bottom and the boy filled the air with his howls of discomfort, Billy had dismounted from his bench and staggered away, furiously rubbing his flaming backside as he bawled lustily.

Hank Apple, a chubby 11-year-old, just managed to get in position in time for the arrival of his first whack. He managed to stay quiet for the first two, but the third through fifth whacks brought increasing vocalizations from the lad as his chubby bottom turned bright red.

Tom Clymer, a skinny 11-year-old, climbed on Bobby's bench next and said "Eww, Bobby!" just as the first whack of Charlie's paddle hit home. Tom wasn't as stoic as Hank and yelped right from the start to the finish of his five whacks.

Corey was amazed at how well Charlie's plan was working. With the big man moving back and forth behind the two benches and the boys climbing on and off the benches on the other side, it was very efficient. Corey knew his Dad would appreciate something this clever. Too bad he could never tell him about it. Now Corey knew that older boys were getting more whacks. He suddenly wondered how many he and Mike and Jerry would be getting.

Walt Eckert replaced Hank Apple on the left bench and received six solid whacks. Walt didn't yell during his paddling, but his eyes were watering pretty good as he dismounted, rubbing his bottom and displaying a stiffy out in front.

Corey knew they would be getting at least six whacks now. Mike Huijsa had just departed from the front of the line to replace Walt, leaving Corey next in line. Corey looked over at Jerry, who was staring intently at the skinny bottom of Clint Beers, who had replaced Tom Clymer on the right bench and who would be replaced by Corey in turn. Jerry had a boner already. Corey just hoped that Steve and Gort weren't getting off on this.

Clint was receiving his dose of whacks, yelping after the fourth. After delivering the sixth searing whack to Clint's narrow fanny, causing the boy to throw back his head and Yowl loudly, Charlie said, "Get up, Clint!" and strode away to the other bench.

Corey started to move immediately. He got to the bench just as Clint got out of the way. Corey barely managed to register the few tears in Clint's eyes or the skinny boy's furious bottom rubbing. Corey needed to get into position in a hurry. As hard as Charlie was swinging that paddle, Corey could not afford extra whacks for being late. Mike Huijsa's backside had just received its third whack of the paddle and Corey's own bottom was just seconds away from its fate.

Corey managed to settle his hips into place and look up just in time to see the paddle Craack into Mike's seriously red posterior for the sixth and...yes! Final time. Corey hoped he would only get six, too. As Charlie strode back to the bench where Corey's bottom lay waiting for his paddle, Corey's senses relayed two other interesting facts to his brain. A small gaggle of other kids - four or five - had entered the locker room and were being entertained by the paddlings in progress. Also, the towels his hips were resting on were wet. Great! Somebody had...

Craacck! Wow! That was intense.

Craacck! Okay, that one was no fun at all.

Craacck! Nor that one. Hang on!

Craacck! Two to go, don't make a sound. He could see Jerry getting into position in front of him.

Craacck! "Uhhh!" That one forced a grunt from his lips. Sweet Jesus, this guy hits hard!

Craacck! "Aaahh!" That stung! Please, God, let that one be the last.

"Get up, Corey!" said Charlie. At that moment, it was the sweetest sound that Corey had ever heard.

As Corey got up, he realized he had popped a boner while getting whacked. Well, at least he hadn't peed on the towels like somebody before him had. As he limped away he watched Jerry get the last two whacks of his six whack allotment. As he rubbed his bottom cheeks - try as he might he couldn't help himself - Corey looked back to the bench he had just vacated and saw Dave Detweiler in position as Charlie began his paddling.

This really was going quickly, Corey had to hand it to Charlie. Doug Kleckner was already climbing on the bench just vacated by the vigorously rubbing Jerry. Only Steve and Otto were left in line. Corey was happy to see that Steve looked scared, and was hanging limp down below. At least he wasn't getting off on this. Gort, on the other hand, looked like he had a length of steel pipe jutting from his nest of dark pubic hair.

That guy was hung almost as well as Charlie, who Corey had seen in the shower one day last week when he was the last guest out at closing time. To the startled Corey, it looked at first like Charlie had pulled an anaconda out of his pants as he undressed for the shower.

In no time at all Steve was replacing Dave, who was trying to tearfully rub away the effects of seven really hard whacks from Charlie's paddle. Doug got his dose, also seven whacks. As the monsterous Gort replaced Doug on the left bench, Corey was rooting for ten whacks for the instigators of this mess.

Corey was disappointed that Steve only got eight whacks, although he did have to admit that they sounded louder than any of the ones that had come before - at least the ones that hadn't connected with Corey own bottom. The good news is that Steve actually yelped on the eighth one, which may have surprised him, and there were definite tears in the skinny bully's eyes as he enthusiastically rubbed his stinging bottom after getting off the bench.

On the other hand, nothing seemed to faze Gort. The huge idiot just lay there silently motionless while Charlie duly planted eight really hard whacks on his muscular backside. The backside turned red, but Gort didn't even bother to rub at all as he walked back to his locker. Corey started to wonder if the guy really was a robot.

As the echo of the last paddle whack reverberated around the locker room, twelve naked boys ranging in age from eight to sixteen were still rubbing their damaged bottoms. Corey thought it might have taken only about two minutes from the first whack to Billy's tender little backside to the last full blooded crack to Gort's muscular posterior.

Billy and Bobby were still sobbing as they rubbed, and there were tears in the eyes of a few older boys as well. Soon the sore kids milled about drying themselves as they waited for the agony to subside to a level where they could put their underpants back on. Only Gort was able to dress himself immediately, and he stood near Steve impassively waiting for his friend to recover.

While the boys recovered from their ordeal and began to dress themselves, Charlie removed the towels from the lefthand bench and used those apparently dry towels to wrap the soaked towels from the righthand bench. Charlie didn't say anything about the accident to Bobby, whom Corey suspected of being the leaker. It didn't really matter, did it?

Charlie remained in the locker room until the boys had dressed and cleared out. He obviously wanted to keep a lid on things until the combatants were out of his jurisdiction.

Outside the bath house the seven friends clustered around Corey and Jerry, and their bikes. Most of them seemed impressed that Corey's Dad owned a Schwinn Black Phantom, no matter how old it was. They were even more impressed that he had lent it to Jerry for the summer.

The friends stood and chatted for at least twenty minutes. Corey's bottom still stung quite a bit and he wasn't in a hurry to sit on the seat of his bike, which he found quite comfortable under normal circumstances. He rubbed the seat of his shorts occasionally, and noticed the others periodically reaching behind themselves, still rubbing the sting out as well.

Soon it was time for everyone to return home for Sunday dinner. Corey grunted as his bicycle seat contacted his own seat through his clothes. At least the pain should have mostly subsided by dinnertime. It was vital that his parents didn't out about this, or they were in big trouble.

As they slowly rode south on Laubach Avenue, Jerry said, "Well, at least the bullies got the worst whacking. That Charlie guy seems alright. He did his duty with us, but made damn sure the big dummies got it worst."

"I guess," said Corey. "Of course, he gave the older kids more whacks, all the way along the line. The two big dummies were just the oldest."

"Hmm," said Jerry. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"You know, of course," said Corey, "that we can't tell anyone at home about this, right?"

"Hey!" said Jerry. "Do I look like a tattletale? I wouldn't embarrass you in front of your family like that."

"Embarrass me?" said Corey. "I'm trying to avoid double dips, here!"

"What the hell does ice cream have to do with this?" said Jerry.

Corey sighed. "Double dips are an old Hoffman family tradition - you know, my Mom's family?"

"Yeah," said Jerry. "What kind of tradition?"

"The kind of tradition that says when Hoffman parents find out that their kids got spanked at school, in scouts, at a relative's or neighbor's house - basically anywhere outside the home - they reinforce the lesson with double dips - another spanking at home."

"Whoa," said Jerry, braking his bike to a stop. "You're telling me that if your parents find out about this paddling, we'll get it again at home?"

"You got it," said Corey. "At least if Mom finds out. Dad doesn't always go for double dips. It depends on what I did and who did the original punishment."

"Wow!" said Jerry. "I'm glad you told me about that."

"And of course we can't tell Becky," said Corey. "Because she is a little tattletale. I just pray she doesn't find out about it from someone else. Cause if she does, both of our butts are in the meatgrinder!"

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by: Bobby Watson
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