Woody Clark


Woody Clark

by buck cooper

I tore open the envelope for my new class schedule. Awesome. Gym was my first class on Monday. An awesome way to start my first year of high school!

I loved gym. I loved sports. And I had the fourteen-year old body to prove it.

In middle school I'd catch the girls checking out my body. Guys too - not in a gay way - comparing themselves to me. Appreciating all my muscles in all the right places.

That summer before high school had been great too.

There was this high school chick down at the pool who had been checking me out. She approached as I was standing beside the pool with the other guys. I was in only a pair of board shorts that were wet and that clung to me. I was a bit embarrassed how she looked at me. She looked me up and down. Up and down and said to me, "You have a hot body. What`s your name?"

"Sam... Sam Clark." I don`t know why I said my last name; it was unnerving the way she was taking me in with her eyes. I guess I said "Clark" as a way to sound older. I wonder if she knew I was a virgin - and just out of middle school.

"Let's see what that body can do, Sam Clark." And that's how she invited me back to her house!

And when I was screwing her... when I had my dick inside a girl for the very first time, I was thinking: this is what a guy is for. To have his dick hard in a girl. A hard dick makes a guy proud. My cock really felt good inside her. She whispered in my ear, "Your ass is what made me want to fuck you." And I shot right then. The first time I shot my jizz inside a chick, she was talkin' about my ass!

And high school was so much cooler than middle school! My brother had gone to this same school. He's four years ahead of me and had graduated last Spring. It was neat to be finally old enough to be in the very gym where I had watched my brother play basketball for all those years.

In gym on that first day of school, we changed into our "uniforms" - jockstraps, shorts, tee and sneakers. We picked teams. I was "skins," so I chucked my tee on the bleachers as we headed outside.

The gym class was mixed grades. Today's event: maul-ball. The older grades explained to us frosh the rules of the game. My brother had told me about maul-ball. It was sort of like soccer - but with tackling. And no downs. There'd be a pile up, the ball snatched - and the game continued!

In no time my muscles were gleaming with sweat and covered with dirt. It was a thrill beating the hell out of the older guys - and some of the seniors were big as hell. They weren't liking it much being showed up by a frosh.

When I had control of the ball, one of the seniors tackled me, his massive body flattening me. He yanked my gym shorts up by the back of my waistband with such force that he was giving me a terrible wedgie. The material of my shorts didn't give and my fuckin' 'nads were gonna be ripped off! I had no option but to release hold of the ball!

But I got back at that asshole! The next time he had the ball... I de-pants him! His jockstrap had come down too... and the other Seniors howled with laughter. I stole the ball while he was standing there showing his goods to the world!

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the appreciative looks of the gym teachers as they watched me play. One coach particularly kept his eyes on me: Coach Bennett.

Coach Bennett was a tough guy. Young thirties, with curly blond hair all over - on his head, on his forearms, on his legs, and curling out from the front neckband of his tee. But the most noticeable thing about Coach Bennett - besides his physique - was that he had these massively strong hands. I couldn't help but think... you know what they say about guys with a big nose - or feet? With hands that size, you could only imagine the size of his dick! I bet he's had his share of pussy, right?

Coach Bennett was the coach of the varsity baseball team. And this was my dream. I wanted to be the "frosh sensation." And Coach Bennett had his eye on me!

The baseball team was awesomely good. It's been terrific ever since Coach Bennett came to the school. That was the same year that my brother started high school. My brother was an awesome baseball player - a shortstop - and was varsity as a freshman. He said the team was so good - because Coach Bennett was such a motherfucker!

But there was this weird story about Coach Bennett. It happened the first year that Coach Bennett came to the high school. It's a true story `cause my brother was there.

The team's star pitcher then was just a freshman like my brother. This pitcher was amazing. He pitched a no-loss season. But on the first game of the playoffs - the kid was somehow off. The team made their first loss. It's said that Coach Bennett took the kid after the game into his office. And get this! He pulled down the kid's uniform pants and jock, put the kid over his knee, and spanked the boy on his bare ass until the kid was a blubbering mess.

The rest of the team was silent as they changed for the showers. No one spoke a word as they listened to the sound of spank after spank after spank coming from the coach's office for what seemed like hours.

The kid came out of Coach's office, naked, sobbing - humiliated! In the showers, my brother said the kid stood under the spray of the water crying. And everyone couldn't help STARING at the kid's swollen, flaming ass. No one on the team could believe it. His ass was THAT red.

Word got out to the entire school. And that became the kid's name: Red. For the rest of his four years of high school - that's what everyone called him: Red. Even the girls. My brother says no girl would date him after that. One thing was for sure - the baseball team never lost another game!

As we headed up to the gym after class, Coach Bennett put his hand on my shoulder.

"Before changing, I want you to stop in my office." I could tell the other guys in the class were as surprised as I was. I was nervous as hell.

Coach Bennett's office was in a room at the back of the locker room. The other guys started changing; they watched me as I knocked on Coach Bennett's door.

Coach Bennett was sitting at his desk. I went to sit in one of the hard-backed chairs that were in front of his desk, but the coach stopped me.

"Stand there. I want to take a good look at you as I talk to you." He eyed me up and down. It felt the same way as when the girl did that to me at the pool. "You're Sam Clark?"

"Yes..." and I quickly added "Sir." I don't know why.

And then - straight and simply - he said:

"I enjoyed watching you on the field today. You're quite an athlete. You've got the skill. And the strength. What you lack - is discipline."


The coach stared straight into my eyes. "I'm going to spank you, Sam."

I could feel the flush coming to my face. I'm sure it turned red. I wanted to run like hell.

The coach continued. "Not forcibly. Not against your will. I'm going to spank you when you ask for it. When you beg for it. In fact, you're gonna offer up your ass. You're gonna push out your naked ass-cheeks... begging for my hand. You need it that bad, son."

He looked at me dead in the eyes, then looked down at those hands of his. His hands were massive.

"I've picked you as my new boy. Think of this when you jerk-off your little dick tonight."

And that was it.

I exited his office and entered the locker room. The guys stood there - some shirtless - some in just their jockstraps - looking at me. I tried to act nonchalant. Had they heard? I pulled open my locker, pulled down my shorts and jockstrap. He picked me? To spank? What the hell was he talking about?

A freshman - one of my buddies - leaned in to me. His eyes were wide. He said softly, "What did the coach want?"


But as I said it, the most humiliating thing happened. My dick - got hard! Every fucking guy in the locker room saw my penis spring - straight up! Stiff!

And that night I did masturbate. I borrowed some of my brothers porn magazines. I found a shot of this blonde with really big tits.

Fuck the coach! Was he fucking crazy? Like I was fuckin' ever gonna let that bastard spank me! Who did that cocksucker think he was?

But there was this little nagging thought that I couldn't get out of my mind. For the rest of that day at school... at dinner... during my homework... and then there in my brother's room, I kept having this thought. It was like an mosquito bite - the kind that had to be scratched - the kind you have to scratch even though you know it'll bleed. The nagging thought kept returning - and each time it was like a punch to the gut.

Why did the coach - pick me?

I laid down on my brother's bed and rubbed my cock against his mattress. I looked at the blonde with the big tits and thought about laying on top of her. I thought about how it would feel with my hard cock pressed between us as we kissed. I rubbed my cock harder against the mattress and I could hear the words the blonde would whisper. It'd be like the chick from the pool. She'd say... "Oh, Sam, Sam... your ass is what made me want to fuck you."

And then it was like a jump-cut in a movie. I suddenly could hear the coach's words. When you beg for it. In fact, you're gonna offer up your ass.

And my prick got like goddamn steel! Fuck! And in my mind-movie, my dick suddenly wasn't pressed against the blonde with the big tits... it was pressed against the fabric of the Coach's shorts! My hips were bucking, rubbing against the coach's lap! And in my mind-movie, I was crying, my face pressed against the coach's shins, damping the hairs there. And my ass... Oh no! My ass was naked and defenseless! Oh, no, Sir! Please! Everyone's watching! I heard - and felt! - his hand coming down -


And I came. Pumping and pumping my fourteen-year-old load onto my brother's bedding.

And then I really did cry. No! I've never been spanked before! I can't be spanked in front of the guys! No! Not me!

But the cum was there. Pearly, puddled on my brother's bedspread.

In the next weeks, I became an anxious wreck. I was a mess in gym. And Coach Bennett never said another word to me. I could feel him watching me - though whenever I checked, he was turned away. But I constantly looked at him. And at his big hands.

Only once did Coach ever talk to me. It was exactly three weeks after the time in his office. Coach came up beside me as we were leaving the playing field. He spoke low - and with complicity:

"Let me know when you are ready."

I tried to jack off each night thinking of girls. I rifled through my brother's porn. I would imagine the feel of the girls' lips, their breasts, their pussies. But I could never cum. I couldn't cum into the mattress until... until... until I thought about the size of Coach's hand - and the SMACK it would make on my naked bottom.

And Coach's words would come into my consciousness out of nowhere. When you beg for it. I could hear it everywhere... in English class... and in the cafeteria... and at home eating dinner with my parents... and just hanging out after school with the guys... You're gonna push out your naked ass-cheeks... begging for my hand. And always - it didn't matter where I was... my fucking dick would betray me. No matter where I was - or who I was with - just the thought of Coach and my dick would get like a metal pipe in my pants.

I could no longer wear a shirt tucked into my pants. I needed my shirts to hide my erections. I needed my shirts to hide the wet-dark circles of pre-cum that had bloomed on the front of my pants.

I had to talk to the coach! I couldn't go on like this! I had to tell him... Tell him... that ... that I don't want to be spanked! Tell him... tell him... Not me! You've made a mistake! Not Sam! Not Sam Clark!
It took all of my courage. It took all of the courage a fourteen-year-old boy could possibly muster. I knocked on the coach's door after our next gym class.

"Sir?" I entered the office and began to close the door.

"Leave the door open," he said. "There's nothing here that needs to be private."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't get any words out. The coach looked at me, put his hands out on the desktop.

The coach said simply:


And he smiled. And it again happened. Oh no! Please stop! But - too late! I could feel the blood flow into my cock, making it lengthen, making it hard, making it stiff! My cock fought against the constraint of my jockstrap, pushing out the fabric.

The coach saw this. It made him smile.

I tore out of his office. I raced into the locker room. All of the guys looked up. My face flushed because - they all saw my cock - tenting out my shorts!

I ran out of the gym... down the halls and right out of the school with some adult calling after me, "Sam...?"

I had my mom call the school and tell them I was sick.

My parents had me see a doctor. The doctor told them that I was fine... just normal adolescence.

My parents had me see a shrink. But, as persistent as he was, what could I say? My coach wants to spank me? And it makes me hard?

The shrink told my parents that I was fine... just normal adolescence.

And I masturbated and masturbated until my dick was sore. And at nights I cried myself to sleep... Please not me! Not me!

But it was me. My dick knew.

Sam Clark. Sam Clark with the most beautiful ass. Sam Clark who was going to get that ass spanked. Sam Clark who needed to get that ass spanked. Fourteen-year-old Sam Clark who was gonna pull down his pants and climb onto Coach Bennett's lap and get his bare bottom spanked. Sam Clark who was gonna pull down his pants and climb onto Coach Bennett's lap and get his bare bottom spanked - in front of all the guys! Sam Clark who was gonna have his ass spanked RED for all to see! For everyone to know! Even the girls! Sam Clark who was gonna be like that kid... like that kid...

Like that kid in my brother's class! Like that kid Red! Sam Clark was going to be the new Red!

And really, there was nothing to it. At the end of the next gym class, I would just knock on Coach's door. I would enter - and leave the door open.

And that's what I did. After the next gym class - I knocked. I entered. I left the door open.

And my dick was sticking up so hard in my gym shorts that you could see my pulse.

The coach came around from behind his desk and sat on one of the hard-backed chairs.

"Please, Sir?"

" `Please, Sir.' What."

"Please, Sir," I whispered. "Please spank me?"

"Speak louder."

"Please, Sir. Please spank me."

"Are you my boy?"

"Please, Sir. I NEED YOU TO SPANK ME!"

The locker room outside was totally silent. I pulled down my gym shorts. I pulled down my jock strap. The coach motioned with his hand. I climbed onto the his lap. And I knew what to do. I pushed my naked, defenseless ass upward.

Me. Sam Clark. Sam Clark with the most beautiful ass. Sam Clark the freshman sensation. Coach Bennett's boy. The boy the coach had chosen. The boy chosen during his first class on his very first day of high school. The boy chosen to have his ass spanked.

The boy who hoped he would please his coach.

I wanted to please him!

I could feel the cool air on my naked backside. Over the coach's lap like that, my bare bottom was the highest point of my body. I imagined what I must look like... The guys in the locker room must be imagining it too: Sam Clark with his ass obscenely exposed. Sam Clark with his ass up high like a little boy.

And the coach's words replayed in my mind: You're gonna push out your naked ass-cheeks... begging for my hand. You need it that bad, son.


And I did it - I pushed my naked ass higher - I even wiggled it - so my ass-cheeks would be - so tempting - so enticing - so beautiful that my coach would just HAVE to spank it! Me - Sam Clark - actually wiggled his pretty little bottom!

And the first SMACK was just as I imagined it. Just as I had imagined it each time I masturbated.

The sound of the WHACK - and its instantaneous sear of pain.

And the WHACKS came and came. They came and came as I cried out from the pain. They came and came as I thrashed about, never knowing how fast, how hard or on what cheek the next blow would fall. The WHACKS came and came as I sobbed like a little boy.

The WHACKS came and came with me knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop them. The WHACKS came and came until my ass was BURNING with pain. The WHACKS came and came until my ass was bucking uncontrollably - my humiliation pouring out of me like my tears. The WHACKS came and came until the curly hair on my coach's calves became thoroughly soaked with my tears.

The WHACKS came and came until - until I was one with the pain. The WHACKS came and came - until my entire existence was just the throbbing of my poor bottom and my submission to his hand. The WHACKS came and came until I could barely get any sound out, "please stop, please stop, ooooooooohhh, Sir, pleeeeeeease stop..."

The WHACKS came and came until the pain and submission swept so completely through me - that I knew - down to the very center of me - that I would always be his boy. That my ass was his. To control. To own. That I no longer had a choice. That the searing pain and humiliation was his gift to his boy. And I wanted always to make him happy.

My coach pulled me up and made me stand before him.

My tortured bottom throbbed with pain. My poor ass-cheeks had to be twice their normal size.

He held my limp body by my shoulders. "You're my good boy," was all he said. He pushed my wet hair from my eyes. He smiled at the tears streaked on my face.

What was I now? The guys in the locker room had heard me beg to be spanked. The guys heard the WHACK after WHACK after WHACK after WHACK. They heard the coach say, "You're my good boy."

As I entered the locker room, my face burned; tears of pain and humiliation began to flow again. My ass was burning red for all of them to see.

And then it happened. The guys in the locker room looked at me. They looked at me standing in front of them: naked, humiliated, my ass on fire. And for all the guys to see - my goddamn, fucking dick started to betray me once more. Oh my God! Don't get hard! Not now! They're all looking at me! They're looking at my bottom - and it's spanked so red! And please, God! No! They're staring at my hot red bottom - and their staring - it's giving me - a boner! Oh, stop, please! It's starting to stick straight up! It's starting - to point right at them! Oh God, No!! This can't be happening to me!!!

"Wow, look!" one of the guys shouted. "The spanking. Sam must've liked it!"

He pointed at me... to my crimson butt... and to my fourteen-year-old cock - sticking straight up like a quivering little arrow.

"Look guys! Getting spanked gives Sam - a little woody!!"

And laughter filled the room. Laughter that wouldn't stop. I could here Coach Bennett's laugh most of all. And I just stood there, frozen in front of the guys: tears running down my face, may ass swollen and on fire - and my dick - stiff. At attention like a good little soldier.

I made the varsity baseball team. All four years of high school I was the star pitcher. All four years of high school I cried into those curly hairs on Coach's calves. Framed in the white straps of my jockstrap, my ass was a constant red. I never had another girl. I never lost a game.

And in all four years of high school the guys in the locker-room never seemed to lose their enjoyment. For four years the guys would roar with laughter at the sight of their teammate - the one with his bottom on fire - the one crying - the one with his little boy-cock so embarrassingly stiff.

The one they all knew would race home and hump his little stiffie against his mattress... rub his little erection against the bedding while he reaches back with his hands to feel the humiliating, fiery heat of his bare bottom.

Both the coach and my boy-dick knew from the beginning. Even the girl at the pool knew. A guy usually thinks the world of his cock. But my best feature... is my beautiful ass. An ass just made to be spanked. An ass made for pain, for tears, for submission, for humiliation.

Yes, they all knew I was the boy - the boy who needs his ass red and blisteringly sore. The boy - who whenever he displays his well-spanked bottom - always springs wood.

No one (except my parents) ever calls me Sam anymore. I'm 22 now - and the contract I've just signed makes me one of the highest paid athletes in major league baseball. I still keep in close contact with Coach; such close contact that right now my bottom's on fire as I sit to write this.

And every TV sports reporter always asks the same question. And every time I'm asked - I always blush - and my penis gets embarrassingly stiff like a toy pistol in my pants -

"If your name is Sam, how come everyone calls you Woody?"

Did you like this story? I would LOVE to hear from you: spankbuckred@yahoo.com <mailto:spankbuckred@yahoo.com>