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The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
Other Nifty stories by PJ Franklin in the gay, authoritarian section:
Jesse: Nebraska Rancher's Son: nebraska-ranchers-son/
Twenty Minutes To Midnight: twenty-minutes-to-midnight/
Dog Star: dog-star/
My Sarg, His Son, The Lieutenant and Me: my-sarge-his-son-the-lieutenant-and-me.html
A Foresmark New Boy: foresmark-newboy.html
Go All The Way: go-all-the-way.html
Busted is when the initial innocent excitement of planning to skip school today, starts to feel like a discomforting stunt.
Busted is the unfamiliar ruse of actually using your parents' busy schedules to your advantage, to play one against the other.
Busted is the awkward manipulation to wait until Dad leaves for his office and Mom is in a hurry to get out the door to her job.
Busted is the tainted thrill you get from putting that hot washcloth on your forehead and face to make your cheeks flush.
Busted is the feeling of ill ease of helping Mom's decision along, by running the thermometer under the hot water.
Busted is your ridiculous small voice when you then tell your Mom that you feel sick and need to stay home from school.
Busted are your sheepish eyes when she reads the thermometer, "PJs on, get to bed!" and kisses your forehead like Moms do.
Busted is the inept elation you feel when it worked and you prance about the house, feeling like you got away with murder.
Busted is the disappointed let-down you feel after you are alone for awhile, but are in too deep to change things.
Busted is the fear and dread you have when the phone rings and you're not sure you should answer it, but then you do.
Busted is your dry throated voice when it's Dad on the other end, calling because Mom called him, worried about you.
Busted is the love you feel from Mom for having thought about you being "sick" at home during her busy day at work.
Busted is your heart pounding hard because you're to "stay put," because Dad is coming home to check you.
Busted is the reassuring security you feel from a Dad who instantly sees right through your deception, he knows you that well.
Busted is the wince you make when the words "Get to your room now!" reaches your ears.
Busted is the urge to smile as you hold your seat on the way, maybe a bottle of sunscreen might be needed.
Busted is the feeling of a swarm of manic butterflies that fills your stomach as you wait for Dad to come visit you.
Busted is the stark reality of Dad standing in the doorway, thermometer and Vaseline in one hand, the belt in the other.
Busted is the humble feeling you get of being fifteen, but standing between your Dad's knees, like you are really ten.
Busted is the horrible dread of waiting for Dad to lower your PJ bottoms and white briefs without your help like you are six.
Busted is the helplessness of being put across your Dad's knees, your bare teen bottom up high, like for a shot at the doctors.
Busted is the easy way your bottom hole accepts the Vaseline greased thermometer with no protest whatsoever.
Busted is the embarrassment you don't feel right then, knowing that your Dad changed your diapers from day one.
Busted is the natural way his hand patiently secures the thermometer against your naked bottom skin for two short minutes.
Busted is the stomach cramping that builds as he slips the thermometer out and reads the normal temperature.
Busted is your platinum promise to yourself to take your punishment like the man your Dad knows you are.
Busted is the cringe you make at the harsh sound of snapping leather when he doubles up the belt to test its mettle.
Busted is resisting the aching need to throw your hands back to somehow stop the relentless stinging pain, but you don't.
Busted is the pride of not moving your bare throbbing bottom cheeks even one inch to avoid any of Dad's solid, hard licks.
Busted is that feeling of eternal gratitude that it's finally all over and you're standing up now, him next to you.
Busted is the chagrin of two tears, one from each eye, not from pain, but from the fear that you've lost his trust and respect.
Busted is the sigh that accompanies two more tears because his reassuring arm across your shoulders says you're OK with him.
Busted is Dad who then smiles a little and says, "Get dressed, I'll play hooky with you the rest of the day."
Busted is Dad and his Son next to him in the family car, fishing poles and tackle in the back seat on the way to the lake.
Busted is the Son who squirms and grins, "My butt itches Dad!" and Dad nudges back with a smirk, "Shut up and sit still!"
Busted is the Son who giggles a little, feeling like fifteen going on ten, because his Dad still knows what it's like to grow up.
Busted is a Dad who when Mom asks later about her Son says, "He had a small temperature, I kept him home."
Busted is the Son who winks at his Dad from across the room, back in his PJs and doing some homework Dad snuck in.
Busted is the grown up way you feel after you promise Dad never to do that again when he tucks you in that night.
Busted is the amazing comfort of knowing that if you broke your promise, your Dad is too smart to ever let you get away with it.
Yes, well and truly busted.
© Copyright PJ Franklin May 16, 2009
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Last updated: May 16, 2009