If erotica is illegal where you are, then read no further. If you are underage, then read no further. If you confuse fiction with reality, then read no further. The following text contains no copyright. Feel free to share, copy and redistribute the text in any medium or format. Please attribute Emmetupdike@gmail.com if the text is adapted, changed or built upon for any commercial or non-commercial purpose.

Boisterious thirteen year-old Blake earns a spanking in front of girls.


Attitudinizing Blake


Three girls stood across from two boys in the center of the adolescent arena.

“You throw like a girl!” a slender boy hollered.

“Cause' I am a girl!” The tall girl twirled like a ballerina, winding up. She seemed undisturbed by the blaring rock anthem, the churning fans or the sweltering air. She let loose, caught a ball and blocked as if in a trance. Volleys of dodgeballs flew at the retreating boy, and a plastic thud reverberated. Cheering girls raced over cones.

The gym teacher blew his whistle and balls collected on the centerline to restart the game. “I got Shannon in the tits!” a boy said cheerfully to two friends. The graceful girl narrowed her eyes as the gym teacher paused with his whistle back in his mouth. “Jaclyn almost fell over when I got her in the head,” another boy said above the music.

A shrill of the whistle began a sprint before either side was ready. The tall girl sprinted to the center and halfway back in record time. “Come and get me,” Tabitha taunted as she jinked and launched a ball at a boy's knees.

Peter, Blake and Calvin regrouped, targeting the girls next to Tabitha. “Aim for their big butts,” Peter hollered as the sweating kids' legs moved in time to the music.

Girls passed balls to each other and took turns throwing as the boys grunted and caught slow balls.

“Uuu!” Calvin seemed to hump as a ball rocketed into his rear end. Tabitha smiled to herself as the boy limped to the cone dungeon. Blake and Peter threw ball after ball as Tabitha turned and weaved. Ten short minutes later the whistle blew and balls collected in mesh bags as the two teams began to enter their locker rooms.

“Hey Tabitha, good game,” Peter said wiping his forehead.

“Well you shouldn't aim like an animal,” Tabitha retorted.

“You pretty much won the long game, huh,” Peter seemed unfazed.

“Yeah, but when Livia got--”

Blake pinched at the back of the girl's bra as she froze. Tabitha's forearms automatically clenched against her young breasts as a breath choked in her throat. A stinging snap widened her eyes in surprise. She let out a long exhale before she could take deep breaths. Jaclyn rushed to her friend “oh my god, that was Blake,” Jaclyn stood by nonplussed. “Are you all right... want me to tell the coach?”

“Enough horseplay!”

Blake, Calvin and Peter escaped babblative into the boys locker room.

“I am not alright.” Tabitha brushed back her long hair and purposefully asked the coach to go to the office.

___Parent Meeting___

Tabitha sniffed and smelled her mother's jasmine perfume. She looked younger than 'forty-something', tall and slender like her daughter. A Hispanic 8th grader with a a mohawk looked her over more than once while they waited in the school's tiny reception area. Tabitha's mother worked out, and Tabitha usually kept pace. Blake sat on the other side of the room. A prim woman in a polo shirt entered. She fumbled with her sunglasses, pausing between the secretary and Blake.

“Um,” she turned to the desk and exhaled “I'm here to meet Vice Principal Lohengrin,” the new woman said nervously.

“Ms. Weber?” The secretary peered at her telephone.


“Should I let them in?” the secretary asked holding down a speakerphone button.

“Send them in.”

“Okay,” the secretary released her finger, “Ms. Weber, the Vice Principal will see you and Blake now. Ms. Moss, the Vice Principal will see you and Tabitha now.”

The flowing grace was still in the girl's steps as she followed her mother. The mothers sat front and center, with VP Lohengrin shuffling two manila folders and the school's manual. “Let me begin by saying that we take behavior issues very seriously at Carthage Middle School. I understand there was an altercation in the gym, recently, and I called both of you parents in to get to the bottom of it. This isn't a he-said she-said situation, hopefully” the man paused awkwardly.

“Well let me just say,” Ms. Moss smiled, I have no intention of suing the school or making demands. I just want a safe environment for my daughter.”

“That's good, agreed,” Lohengrin nodded. “Blake, why don't you start.”

“Uh...we were playing dodgeballs - I mean dodgeball. When that was over I walked over to her, like. An' snapped her bra.” Blake's mom gripped her chair. “An-I barely even touched her. She was fine, it wasn't like a punch...or hard,” Blake looked apologetically to his mother.

“Tabitha, was that what's happened,” the Vice Principal asked kindly.

“While I was distracted, Blake snick behind me and snapped me hard. It took my breath away and it hurt. I don't think he understands because he doesn't have a bra.”

“Alright, true,” the man nodded in agreement.“Well, Ms. Moss, Ms. Weber?”

“I'd like to move on to the next steps, if possible,” Ms. Moss said with the command of a businesswoman.

“Oh, I am really,” the pert woman leaned in, “so sorry, I'm Erica, Blake's mom.”

“I'm Rachel,” the women shook hands, “you're not to blame at all, dear. Tabitha is a strong girl.”

The man cleared his throat, as if to clear the tension in the air. “So we really have a couple options: we can have a disciplinary meeting with the school board, with the optional representation. Or, or, we could slide in detentions from now until school ends in late June.”

“Representation, I mean are lawyers really necessary?!” Blake's mom began hyperventilating. “We live like eight miles away. Are there even buses after detentions?”

“Not for some years now, sports needs, sorry” Vice Principal Lohengrin pretended to be deep in thought.

“I mean really, Blake!" The woman vented her fury through her teeth before apologizing. "Argh – sorry, sorry,” Erica took deep breaths as Blake looked away.

“I have a third option. It may not be politically correct,” Rachel Moss leaned slightly backwards. “I believe Blake should be spanked by his mother. Outside of school, resolved between us families without another meeting. We just put this all behind us.”

“Well, see the District doesn't allow corporal punishment, outside of school though that might work...Ms. Weber?”

“That, that would be worth a try.”

“That could work,” Tabitha Moss did an impression of VP Lohengrin's nod.

Blake looked to his mother like a deer in the headlights.

Rachel turned to hold Erica's clenching fingers. “We would be glad to have your family over for dinner on Sunday. A dinner and a meaningful apology can set this right.”

“Blake's not a bad boy, he's really not.” Erica looked around and talked down to her son. “You're going to apologize, and get spanked. That's all there is to it, Blakey.”

“It's settled then,” Ms. Moss stood. “I'll leave Tabitha a note on Monday explaining our resolution. We won't be meeting with the Board. We also won't trouble your staff with detentions.”

“Alrighty,” Lohengrin stood up, shaking hands politely “very nice to meet you Miss Moss.”

“You as well Vice Principal.”

“Misses Weber.” The man hastily shook Erica's hand and initialed slips of paper, “Tabitha, your pass,” Blunderer glanced as the mother and daughter walked out “Blake.”

Tabitha bid farewell to her mom and looked back to see the women outside of the reception area. Ms. Weber was more stressed out than a brand new teacher. She watched as her mother touched the woman's shoulder and offered something from her purse. Tabitha smiled to herself, secretly proud to have the least-embarrassing mother.


“I don't even care if it hurts”

“Good, because you're not getting out of this,” Ms. Erica Weber mustered what little parental authority she had and reminded herself of all the times Blake had called her a 'cunt', 'bitch' and 'whore'. “Maybe sending you to your room wasn't the best policy...would you look at the size of these homes.”

“Did she say how many?”


“Yeah but how did she say?”

“She said it would involve shaming.”

“Like naked?!”

“If you need to get spanked on your bare butt, you will be. You're big enough to handle it.”

“But mo-om, I'm thirteen!”

“Didn't you strip down to shower right around when you hurt Tabitha?”

“But those are other boys, and we don't take off our underwear. And we don't shower.”

“Well that's not hygienic.”


“I want you on your best behavior. You've been terrible at home, whenever you meet somebody I care about, disruptive at church, and now at school. You need attitud'in-izing.”

“That's not a real word.”

“Yes it is. It means an attitude change, and you need one. Now look for a lemon tree.”

Blake saw a faint reflection when they turned out of the sunlight. His upper lip flexed to examine his mustache fuzz.

“I'm too old for shaming,” Blake sulked.

The boy stayed sitting in the back seat for a minute after the car parked. Reluctantly he got out and carried a glass salad bowl thrust against his thinly muscled arms.

“This rice pilaf is delicious,” Erica began delicately after prayers concluded. “And it's so early, still not even five o'clock.”

Fifteen year-old Victoria Moss took a sip of iced tea, “yeah, thanks, I did the rice.” She was black-haired and gorgeous with nearly semicircular breasts and a white summer dress. “The trick is Ms. Dash and adding the pasta at just the right time.” Victoria's sock brushed intentionally against his khaki pants. The boy silently cursed himself for not waking up earlier before church. His tense thighs squeezed together beneath the table.

“The salad and the dressing is good too. May I dip some bread?” Tabitha politely smiled at Erica Weber.

“Yes, you may. Thank you for asking.” The dinner proceeded to the humming of slow overhead fans. It was ninety degrees outside and the shades were partly drawn to let in slivers of bright afternoon light. Erica wore a yellow silken summer dress and Rachel work a fulgent rose-red dress.

“So,” Victoria smiled brightly, “do you go by Blakey or Blake?”

“Just Blake.”

“Okay.” Blake looked bashfully to his meal. His fresh narrow face and brown flattop earned him some attention, but only within his grade. “Blake, do you play basketball and other sports, or just basketball?”

“Just-basketball.” Blake said quickly.

“Not to be rude, but what do you do for a living,” Erica asked Rachel.

“I am a Financial Officer for an import-export advisory group. Oranges, tomatoes and melons aren't entirely predictable, so I do the math.”

“So doing well in school does pay off, doesn't it.”

“I get all A's,” Tabitha piped in.

“Good for you sweetie,” Erica complimented. Victoria winked at Blake.

“Yes, yes it does, and this is what's left after the divorce.” Rachel looked longingly at some pictures on the wall.

“Oh, don't get me started,” Erica interrupted.

“And so where do you work?”

“I'm at Target part-time, like my shirt said when I rushed to school. Fingers crossed,” Erica shrugged modestly.

“I'm done. May I be excused?” Blake asked.

“Yes you may, to sit on the couch” Rachel Moss consented. “You can leave your plate and we'll wrap it.”

“Thank you,” Blake stood and walked away with his back turned.

“I've never heard him ask,” Erica whispered excitedly, “not even at Thanksgiving.”


Victoria put down her book. “You've been very quiet. So you're a birdwatcher?”

“Not just the birds, your whole backyard looks really nice,” Blake admired.

“You know, sometimes Mom hires a Mexican to clean the pool and pull the weeds. I'm surprised she doesn't make us all swim later.”

“I didn't bring my swimming trunks.”

“I know,” the sister said with a smirk. “If you'll excuse me, I'm going to trade in my contacts for my glasses,” Victoria sauntered out.

She was probably already already having sex, he thought to himself. Blake watched her swaying body leave, sighing aloud.

Blake Weber, chauvenistic teenager, followed his mother into an oversized tile bathroom. A large gray rug and a plastic-covered ottoman were in the center of the brightly lit room. A clear bag of plastic sat nearby on the sink with coiled tubing attached.

“Mom, I just showered before we left.”

“I know that,” Erica squinted as she held up the sloshing enema bag.

Blake kept standing near the door. “Should I shut the door?”

“Yeah, then take your church clothes off.”


“Because I said so.”

“Mom...did you tell her?” Blake looked out the bathroom door to the empty hallway, before staring blankly at the rug's diamond pattern.

“No, I didn't tell her you were complaining. If you don't get undressed now, the water will get cold. This bag here is so you don't have any – accidents.”

“I'll be careful. Honest.”

Erica slammed the enema bag onto the sink top and quick-stepped to the door. She swung the door closed and locked it. “Now!”

Blake's hands jolted to his shirt buttons. He undid the cuff buttons and shrugged out of his white collared shirt. Then he started to pull off his undershirt, then stopped to kneel. He slowly untied his shoes and pulled of his socks. His hands slowed to a stop with his belt loosened. Blake looked at himself in the mirror as he picked a pimple near his right shoulder.

“Pants, Blake.”

The boy bent over to slide off his khaki pants with the belt still inside them. He stepped his bare feet out of the pant legs. Reaching overhead he pulled off his wifebeater.

“Bend on over and pull'em down.”

The boy saw an opportunity to hide his crotch and knelt down. He lowered the back of his waistband a couple inches to show his crack. Erica gripped her son's hips and hooked her fingers inside his underwear. Blake locked his knees and feet together as she pulled them down beneath his cheeks.

“Reach back and spread'em,” Erica watched her son turn his head to look backwards in disbelief.

*Slap* Erica surprised herself, looking at the palm of her hand before she cautioned “that one doesn't count.”

Blake's shoulders sunk down and his arms reached backwards. He parted his buttocks with both hands, his pinkish rosette on display. Erica pinched the end of the tubing, hesitating as she aimed the plastic tail. She fed it in like a straw through a drink lid, her son's hips leaning forward into the cushion. She let the water flow from the bag.

“Oooo,” he yelped softly as the wetness gushed inside him. He clenched his lips to keep from oohing and ahhing. He clenched his sphincter to keep from leaking. He still held gripped his butt wide as the water seeped gently down.

“Hands away,” his mother ordered.

Erica Weber began to feel her son on his bare thighs. “You need to do better in school. Maybe spankings for bad grades will work. Not in the last quarter because you'd forget a spanking over summer break, but you get the idea.”

Blake tried to ignore an uncomfortable stiffening. Water laved past his small prostate to his small intestine.

She massaged his back with her hot hands. “If you're expelled, you'd go to Sommerset fifteen miles away. Or I'd have to find another job just to drive you to detentions. I can't be your personal taxi driver, and besides do you know how much gas would be?”

“Uh, Mom I have to go.”

“You have to wait about ten minutes, there there.” Blake's mouth hung open as he began to fidget. “Relax,” Erica kept massaging his young back.

He lay bent over wordless, dread from the past days sitting heavy in his stomach. The bag was empty but the water churned in his gut.

“Okay,” his mother's hands withdrew from his neck muscles, “you can go now.”

The boy lifted his upper body up and shielded his privates. Like a sprinter who had to waddle, he rose up and lifted the padded toilet seat cover before squatting. Blake let out a low groan as he made splashes in the toilet bowl.

“Go Mom,” he squeaked. His right hand pressed between his thighs as he tried to raise his underwear with his left hand.

“No, I'm staying until you're empty and you wipe,” Erica began to pick up and fold the boy's clothes.

A trickle of water pattered into the toilet. “Mom, you don't have to watch me, you can go,” Blake whined.

“Stop being so rude. I taught you how to poop, remember?”

“No,” Blake hunched forward.

Blake flushed while seated, then turned away and indignantly wiped his butt dry. He pulled up his underwear. He then washed his hands as he was told. He was led by the ear out of the bathroom.


Blake grappled with the grip on his ear as they entered the living room and dove for a pillow cushion. Rachel made a little chapel with her fingers as Victoria and Tabitha sat grinning on the couch. The boy held the square plush pillow in front of his underwear with both unsteady hands.

“Come on now,” Erica held her half-naked blushing boy's shoulders, “sorry, he promised to be on his best behavior.”

“Blake, you do realize how silly you're being.” Ms. Moss made small gestures with her hands. “Boys wear Speeds all the time at the beach. In most of the world, boys wear underwear when it gets this hot. Clinging to your privacy only like this only adds embarrassment.”

“Yeah, Blake,” Tabitha added smugly, “you pulled my underwear, so fair's fair.”

“And it's really unattractive,” Victoria smiled to keep from giggling.

Erica Weber pulled the pillow away, revealing tight white underpants over a flaccid package. Mortified, he layered his hands over his crotch. Victoria, now bespectacled, was looking over his legs with a naughty look on her face. Tabitha had a shit-eating smile on her pretty face. Ms. Moss's fingertips thoughtfully touched at her chin as she looked with interest to the coffee table. Blake followed her eyes to the half-folded college-ruled paper laying before them.

“We worked on this, Blake, go ahead.” With a nudge from his mother, the boy picked up the paper and held it up high to almost block their gazing eye contact. He stood awkwardly with one foot over the other, his pale knees shaking.

“Let me begin by saying I am very,” he began to mumble.

“-Louder, start again,” his mother's stressed voice encouraged.

Between concentrating to read, earning his mother's approval and being watched like a hawk, Blake managed to begin again. “Let me begin by saying I am very, very sorry. On May 7th, I was playing dodgeballs-dodgeball,” he stammered, pausing nervously to take a deep breath, “and was un-sportsman-like in behavior. On a dare, I made the bad decision to snap Tabitha Moss's bra. I vio-lated her personal space, touched her inapp-app-ropriately, and harmed her.”

“Tabitha,” he glanced over the paper to his intently listening classmate, “I genuine-ely regret what I did not because I was caught, but because it was the wrong thing to do. I will never try to hurt a girl like I hurt you, again.”

“I would further...would further like, to apologize to the Moss Family for all the trouble and hurt I have caused. I am choosing to be punished with a spanking.” Blake glanced left to his mother as she sat on the edge of the loveseat. “I hope that my spanking will improve my behavior and respect, for females. In con-exclusion, I sincere-ely apologize to Miss Moss, Tabitha, the Moss Family, my Mom and my school...for making a bad choice and not being as, respectful,” his voice squeaked high-pitched, “as respectful as I can be. I am very sorry and will now be spanked by my Mom.”

Blake had stopped trembling. He hid his red face bashfully behind the thin paper. His chest had a warm hue down from his neck, his bare flesh watched closely by the females. Victoria began to make golf claps *clap* *clap*

“Well now I'm embarrassed,” Victoria remarked with thick sarcasm when her mother gave her a stern look.

“We accept your apology Blake,” Ms. Moss gave a nod to proceed.


Humiliated, he gingerly lay the paper down, adjusted, it, then took the short steps to stand next to his mother. Blake let his mother guide his waist closer. With her hands on his hips, Ms. Weber held the sides of his waistband and tugged the underpants down around his knees.

Victoria chortled and Tabitha let out a string of giggles. The view of his flaccid, uncircumcised penis was apparently what they had been waiting for. The sudden exposure left smiles on the girls faces that were slow to fade.

Blake panicked at his sudden exposure, reaching down quickly to bring up his underpants. Instead, his mom guided his back lower with his stomach over her wide lap. Unused to the position, he flailed forward to find his hands on the carpet. To his horror, his shoulders were pressed lower and his ass raised higher. Looking upside-down he saw his mother stepping on a cushion to raise one leg.

“-Ah-”, Blake was hit with how much a spank hurt.

“Ah,” he breathed, the slap hot on his young, clean cheeks.


“Ah-ow!” He yelped, breathing fast.

“Ah-,” he sniffled and soon began to whimper.

The audience watch as the boy struggled not to cry. The bare thighs and pelvis pushed into the soft yellow of his mom's lap after each spank.

“Oh-uu-uu,” Blake wailed softly as the swats kept coming. He looked away from the bottom of the loveseat to see Ms.Moss. She looked down at him as if he'd just insulted her, with a steady platitudinous gaze. Tabitha had her neck craning to see his backside, she noticed his pitiful look and smiled down at him toothily. Blake turned away from Victoria's legs, ashamed.

“Uuu,” his voice shook.

“Oooh, uuh,” he cooed, “ooo, oo, oo, oo.”

“Oh hu-hu, uuuu,” he sniffled loudly, “uu-uuu—uu!”

“Eleven more,” Rachel Moss dictated.

Head blushing red, the boy bemoaned the next spank. He blubbered and sobbed quietly, gulping back saliva. He wiped his nose, breathing deep breaths as he panted.

*Slap**Slap* Blake lost count as breath caught in his throat, his butt felt as hot as an oven.


He could feel his mother losing her strength, his legs and body had given up on swaying forward to soften the blows.


*Slap*...*Slap* The boy wailed softly, sobbing with effort.


*Slap* Blake waited, bravery forgotten. The girls had got to see him cry like a baby.


“Up Blake,” Erica Weber gently nudged her son's shoulder. He was nearly hyperventilating with sad blubbering sounds.

“Hun, may I?” Rachel asked the unsure mother. “It's best to let raw bottoms air-dry after a spanking. We have a cool down spot in the corner,” Rachel offered.

“Alright,” Erica agreed, holding her wrist and looking away from her son's nakedness.

“Here you are, child,” Rachel bent over the spanked boy and lifted him up by the armpits. Staggering dizzily, the boy sniffled softly as he was made to stand.

The woman's grip held his arms close to his deeply blushing ears. The boy leaned backwards unsteadily, then leaned forward to keep his bruised backside off of her dress.

Blake had never been so humiliated as his torso shivered with dwindling sobs. Victoria's and Tabitha’s fleers at his private parts were enough to make him wince in embarrassment.

Victoria adjusted her glasses, relaxing as if entertained. Tabitha concentrated on his genitals, not even looking up at Blake's pained expression. The boy's flaccid wiener wiggled under their voyeuristic looks as he took baby steps.

Bare naked with his underwear rolled down above his ankles, he was led across the carpet by Ms. Moss. He put one foot next to the other, helpless in her grip. She knelt him down in front of a class bookcase, easing his knees low. She then held his wrists together behind his neck, holding them in place before letting go.

___Time Out___

Blake heard the girls and women leave their seats as he looked into the bookcase glass. He kept his hands behind his head and his knees together on the carpet as he began to wait.

Victoria's faint reflection loomed like a shadow over Blake. The familiar click of a camera made him swivel his head to glimpse around his right forearm.

“Blakey,” Victoria craned her cellphone close to the bookcase. The boy could see down to his thighs and up to his surprised expression reflected on the small bright rectangle. A split-second later the boy blinked at a flash of light and the cell phone lifted away.

Blake lowered his ass close to his feet and lowered his hands protectively. Squinting, the boy clutched at his photographed private parts. “Don't ever touch my little sister again,” she threatened. Victoria's shadow retreated, a few steps led away then stopped. The boy turned to his right to look straight into a final flash of light.

Victoria smiled back before slipping the cell phone up the leg of her dress. The boy looked around at the empty room. Staying on his knees he listened for his mother to return with his clothes. He tried not to think about the indignity of the photography.

“...well I think you're a great mother,” Tabitha beamed sweetly at Ms. Weber outside the bathroom.

“Oh, thank you dearie. Y'know sometimes I just don't know if he respects me as much as his father.”

“I bet he does now,” Tabitha's eyebrows flexed as she kept smiling.

The woman clutched folded formal clothes as she allowed herself a small giggle. “Well I'm glad you're feeling alright about things. I mean when I found out-”

“No apology necessary,” Tabitha's eyes darted to Victoria winking from down the hallway. “It's all behind us,” she joked.

Ms. Weber giggled more loudly, “you just are too much,” she sighed happily. Tabitha casually stepped away from the center of the hallway.


“I want to go,” Blake said as he buttoned half of his white long-sleeved shirt.

tern mother. “Say it like you mean it. Or we'll stay for desert.”

Rachel Moss called out to the house, “Victoria! Tabitha darlings!” The boy slid on his socks and shoes, ready to escape.

He still followed close to his mother as she apologized that they had to head home. His mother swiveled his shoulders around to stand him facing the Mosses.

“Bye Miss Moss. Sorry Mi-,” Blake muttered.

“Take these for your mother, won't you?” Ms. Moss burdened the boy with a Ziploc bag of unfinished dinner, a cling-wrapped pie, and a dry enema bag.

“-sorry Ms. Moss, again,” Blake said with arms carrying away the food and unsightly enema bag.

“Sorry Victoria,” Blake said bitterly.

“Don't be a stranger,” Victoria said in a low seductive tone.

“Sorry Tabitha,” Blake said softly.

“Bye Blake, see you at school,” Tabitha said.

The teenager impatiently stood close to his mother, looking downwards as she chatted on to say her thanks.

He rushed to the car when they finished, emptying his arms and into the back seat of the car. He sat down quickly, then jumped at how sensitive his butt felt. He massaged the sore flesh before he sat back down, glancing suspiciously up to the house's closed door. “Can we just go already,” he whined with red, humiliated eyes.

“Buckle up...young man,” his mother smiled with empowerment into the rearview mirror.