Author Note: This is part 3 of a series. It can be read independently, but it will make a lot more sense if you read the episodes in order.

The characters presented in this story are entirely fictional and not intended to represent any members of a real life railroading or model railroading organization.

Background Info: The Scioto River runs through central Ohio, emptying into the Ohio River south of Columbus. Scioto (pronounced SY-OH-TOH) actually means "deer" in the Wyandot language spoken by the branch of the Huron Indian tribe that once inhabited central Ohio. Railroads formed an important part of the local economy throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries. Both the Norfolk & Western Railroad and the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad had branch lines running through the Scioto Valley. By the 1980s only a single line owned by the Norfolk Southern Railway was still in use. Many of the other railroad tracks in the valley were gone, having been torn out and replaced with hiking and biking trails that followed the meandering course of the river through the valley.

Local interest in railroading remained high, with a few small railroad and trolley museums located in some of the major towns along the old right of way. There was also the Scioto Valley Model Railroading Society, a group of men and boys who operated a large HO scale layout in the basement of a local church. The massive 24 foot by 32 foot layout modeled the local railroads as they existed circa 1950, when steam locomotives were still in use but diesel locomotives were being introduced. The members of the society dubbed their layout the Scioto Valley Railroad (SVRR).

In the summer of 1984 a car-load of members of the Scioto Valley Model Railroading Society went on a road trip...

Rob had wondered if Sam was actually gonna get a thrashing while at the car retrieving his shoes, but that did not appear to be the case. A few minutes later the two Ardens returned and Sam was able to walk, and more to the point, sit quite normally when they rejoined the group for lunch. The boys were allowed to order pizza and other junk food since they were told the group would be eating "real food" for dinner that night.

Rob and Casey split a medium pepperoni pizza and an order of fried mushrooms. They washed it down with lemonade. The rest of the group pigged out in a similar fashion. After lunch the men were able to obtain eight tickets for the next train, scheduled to depart at 1 PM.

"Okay, guys" said Donald, "we have about 20 minutes to go until departure. I checked and there are no bathrooms on the train. The trip takes about 45 minutes. So go now, or you have to hold it until we get back, at least an hour or so. Don't dawdle, boys, we don't want to miss the train."

Everyone took that warning seriously and all eight members of the group used the public men's room. Rob and Casey emerged from the bathroom and walked out on to the station platform just in time to see the train return from its last run. It turned out to be the same 2-10-0 steam locomotive they had seen pull a train past the Red Caboose Motel during dinner the previous evening. It wore #90 and it was pouring out loads of smoke, steam and noise as it came chugging back into the station. Rob took the opportunity to snap a few photos of the train's arrival and Casey followed suit.

"This is so much cooler than a diesel," said Casey as the big steam locomotive chugged past them, slowing towards a stop.

"You can say that again," said Rob, admiring the power and the complexity of the huge, ancient locomotive.

"This is so much cooler than a diesel," said Casey, smirking.

"Ha, ha, ha," said Rob, rolling his eyes. "You're such a great comedian. They should book you on the Johnny Carson show."

"Nah," said Casey. "I'm holding out to be 'Man of the Hour' on one of those Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts."

"Right," said Rob, snorting with dirision. "More like 'Boy of the Hour' in your case."

"Hey!" said Casey. "I'm more of a man than you are, pipsqueak."

"Oh yeah?" said Rob, reaching for the zipper of his shorts. "Drop 'em, Junior, and we'll see who the real man is here."

"Knock it off, you two!" said Donald as he came up behind them and placed a firm hand on the shoulder of each boy. "Can you boys at least try to act like you might grow up at some point before the next millenium?"

"Sorry, Dad."

"Sorry, Donald."

"Don't be sorry," said Donald. "Be more mature." He lowered his voice to a near whisper, "Besides, didn't anyone ever tell you guys? It's not the size of the sword that matters. What counts is the skill of the man wielding the sword."

"Interesting," said Casey, his eyes sparkling with mirth, obviouly trying to keep from laughing.

"Great," said Rob, desperately trying not to burst out laughing "Thanks, Dad."

"Glad to help," said Donald, patting each boy on the shoulder. "The conductor told me that once the people are all off the train from the last run we can get on. Here are your tickets." He handed each boy a ticket. "We're all getting on that coach..." He pointed towards one of the restored coaches that passengers were departing from. It was a red Strasburg coach, wore #62 and had the words 'Gobbler's Knob' painted in gold on the side.

"Gobbler's Knob?" said Casey, snickering.

"Hmm," said Rob, "Why does that sound familiar?"

"That's easy," said Donald, "It's the home of Punxsutawney Phil, the famous Spring-predicting groundhog from the Groundhog Day ceremonies."

"Oh yeah!" said Rob. "That's here in Pennsylvania, right?"

"Yes," said Donald. "Groundhog Day is a Pennsylvania Dutch tradition. So Punxsutawney is around here somewhere, but I'm not sure exactly how far."

"Cool," said Casey.

"Okay," said Donald. "You two stick together... and no more arguing... get on that coach before the train leaves. I'll see you aboard. Meanwhile I gotta go find Kenny before he gets into trouble."

"Okay, thanks, Dad!"

"Thanks, Donald!" said Casey. He waited until he thought the man was out of earshot. "What counts is the skill of the man wieldng the sword?"

Both boys burst out laughing at this quote. Eventually Rob said, "You know, it just might be true."

"Yeah, it probably is," said Casey. "But it's fuckin' hilarious that your dad told us that... here... while we're waiting to get on an old timey steam train."

Rob agreed with this assessment and both boys ignored the annoyed looks a few of the nearby parents were giving them after Casey used the 'mother of all swear words' in front of their young children.

A couple minutes later Old #90 went slowly chugging by on the far side of the coaches. Obviously the old locomotive had been uncoupled from the front of the train and was going around to hook up to the new front as the train prepared to depart for Paradise once again. The classic steam locomotive belched smoke and steam as it went past. The smell of burning coal was in the air. The bell clanged and the steam whistle shrieked.

Rob decided to take a picture of the coach in which they'd be riding. So did Casey, who said, "It's worth it just to have a train car with that name on film... Gobbler's Knob." He couldn't help snickering whenever he said the name.

"Let's go," said Casey, after the trickle of people getting off of Gobbler's Knob stopped. "We should both try to get window seats."

"Good idea!" said Rob as he followed his friend. They climbed up the narrow fixed stairs to the... now rear... platform of the restored coach.

They found a pair of window seats facing each other on the right hand side of the car... looking at it from the direction they would be leaving the station. They were sitting on the side of the car facing the station platform. Rob was facing the direction of travel for the outbound trip and Casey would be facing backward for that segment of the run. The opposite would be true on the way back to the station.

Rob looked around and the craftsmanship of the interior restoration of their coach was pretty impressive. Lots of wood scrollwork and the clerestory roof made the coach look very fancy... and old fashioned.

Casey had his head out the window watching the locomotive switching maneuvers. "They just about have the locomotive hooked up again. It will be running backwards - tender first - for the trip out."

"Yeah," said Rob. "That's how it was rigged when we saw it last night, too. How many coaches in the train?"

Casey leaned back out, looked both ways and counted. "Six, I think. We'll be the fourth coach back from the locomotive on the way out and third back on the way home."

"Cool," said Rob. He glanced at his watch, "five minutes to go until we leave." He looked around the interior of the coach for the other SVRR members. The Ardens and Mark Rhinehart were seated on the same side of the coach about two rows further forward. Kenny and Donald had facing window seats just like theirs, but further forward and on the other side of the coach. "Looks like everyone in our crew is aboard."

"Excellent!" said Casey. "We're ready to go."

At two minutes to go a conductor started making safety announcements on the Public Address system. "Wait a minute," said Casey. "Did they have PA systems back in 1910?"

"Not electronic ones like this," said Rob. "Well, it's probably some state safety law or something."

"Yeah, you're right," said Casey. "The government always messes up the fun."

Rob's laughter was interrupted by a disturbance up ahead.

"You better be kidding me, Sam!" said Thomas, standing and looking down at his eldest son.

"I'm not!" said Sam, looking more than a bit scared. "I hung it on a hook in the stall and then I forgot about it."

"Which stall?" said Thomas.

"The middle one," said Sam.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, sir!"

"What happened?" said Donald, who had gotten up and dashed back to stand next to Thomas.

"Oh, my genius son left his camera in the men's room!" said Thomas. "I'll be right back!" He practically sprinted down aisle towards the back door of the coach.

Rob and Casey both poked their heads out the window and watched the man leap off the narrow stairway to the platform and sprint into the station. Meanwhile Donald said, "I'll see if I can find a conductor."

Rob watched his father exit to the front platform of the coach, then checked his watch. Less than a minute until the train was supposed to leave. He poked his head out the window again. Unfortunately there were no more people getting on the train, and the only conductor he could see on the platform was at the back of the train and he was waving a lantern.

Casey said, "Does that lantern mean..."

"Yep," said Rob, and sure enough the whistle blew on Old #90 and they could hear the initial chugs as the locomotive began pulling away from the station. There was all manner of squeaking and banging down the line as one by one the coaches began to move forward in a chain reaction. They could hear raised voices, including that of Donald, coming from somewhere up ahead of their coach.

"He's not gonna make it!" said Casey as the train slowly picked up speed.

Rob was starting to think that Casey was right as the speed increased... and then Thomas reappeared on the station platform. He stopped for a moment, registered that the train was moving, then turned and began running next to it. Rob and Casey both waved frantically so that the man would know which coach was theirs. Thomas increased his running speed to an impressive level then he swerved and safely leapt up onto the narrow stairway leading to the rear platform of Gobbler's Knob. Okay, it wasn't exactly an Indiana Jones-level stunt, but it was still pretty damned impresive for a middle-aged electrician from central Ohio.

On an impulse Rob turned and saw Sam's head sticking out of his window further forward. The boy had just seen his father make that fairly impressive leap. But instead of happiness or excitement, Sam's face was white as a sheet and he was clearly... scared.

When Rob saw Thomas march down the aisle of the coach with the retrieved camera in hand, the look on the man's face made his blood run cold. As the angry man approached the seats where his sons and Mark were sitting, Rob could see poor Sam flinch like he was about to be hit. Instead, the man sat down next to his eldest son and handed him the camera.

After about 30 seconds of sitting there getting his breath back, Thomas leaned over and whispered something into Sam's ear. The boy turned even paler and nodded his head nervously.

At that point Donald re-entered Gobbler's Knob from the forward platform, accompanied by a conductor. The two men had a whispered conversation with Thomas that lasted a couple of minutes. Then the conductor collected the tickets from everyone in the coach and exited to the rear platform.

Rob tried to enjoy the train ride, but he kept looking forward at the forlorn Sam sitting next to his angry father. It looked like there might be another spanking at the Red Caboose Motel tonight. Why did Casey have to start again with his stupid signs?

About ten minutes into the trip Donald came down the aisle with his Nikon SLR camera and took some candid photos of Rob and Casey sitting on the train. Once they became aware of his actions they posed for a few more pictures.

The trip to Paradise was fun and too short, but Rob never remembered much about it. There was some kind of story about a ghost train, and that seemed to fascinate some of the younger kids in the families seated nearby. It was pretty obvious to Rob and Casey that the "ghost train whistle" was actually Old #90's whistle echoing off the hills across the valley. Of course they didn't say anything except to each other. The two teens were not the kind of guys who would deliberately tell little kids the truth about Santa Claus just to upset them.

'Paradise' turned out to be far different from the way Rob had imagined it. In this case Paradise was a railroad siding right next to the Pennsylvania Railroad/Amtrak Main Line running between Philadephia and Harrisburg. The two Amtrak tracks were fully electrified, so there was at least a chance that they might see a GG1 pulling a train, which would of course thrill Rob's father, Donald.

The Strasburg Railroad had a two-track siding in Paradise west of the Amtrak Main Line. Their train stopped on the western-most track of the siding and they sat there while Old #90 was uncoupled and chugged past them on the other siding track, the bell ringing and the engineer waving at the passengers in the six old restored coaches.

Across the Amtrak Main Line there were some industrial buildings of varying sizes. Just to the north a highway bridge passed over all four tracks and it looked like there was a suburban area north and east of the tracks and bridge. Meanwhile west of the Strasburg tracks it looked like farmland. It was almost like the Amtrak Main Line was a boundary of sorts between the bucolic Amish farmland and the modern world.

Suddenly a distant air horn could be heard. Rob looked north and sure enough he saw the headlights of an oncoming locomotive on the Amtrak Main Line. Rob got his father's attention and waved him over. Kenny and Donald were sitting on the wrong side of the coach to get a good view of the modern high speed train. His brother and father arrived just in time to see the high speed silver Amtrak passenger train zoom past. A few sparks came off the connection between the pantograph on the electric locomotive and the catenary wire that ran overhead of the tracks. The Amtrak engineer blew the air horn on his locomotive in salute to the Strasburg train, a salute that was returned by the Strasburg engineer with a long blast of the steam whistle on Old #90.

The gleaming silver Amtrak locomotive was boxy in form. "It's not a GG1," said Rob, disappointed for his father.

"Nope," said Donald wistfully. "Most of the GG1's have been retired."

"Is that a GE E60?" said Casey.

"No," said Donald. "It looks more like an EMD AEM-7. They don't have the art deco styling of the GG1, but they can sure move fast. That one was going at least 90 miles an hour."

"A lot faster than this old bucket," said Casey.

"True," said Donald. "But those modern passenger cars are all plastic and prefab inside. They sure don't look anything like this."

The boys all agreed with this assessment. Then Donald said, "Listen guys, remember that picnic area we saw on the way out here?" They all indicated that they remembered it. "It's called Groff's Grove, and we are all getting off the train there on the way back."

"We're gonna have a picnic?" said Kenny.

"No," said Donald, "we just ate lunch. But Tom wants to have a serious talk with Sam, and he thinks we have a better chance of getting some privacy there than back at the station in Strasburg."

Rob was starting to get that tingly feeling all over his body again. "We aren't gonna be involved with this 'talk', Dad. So why do we all have to get off the train?"

"Two reasons," said Donald. "First, we don't want to split up the group. If we miss the train when it leaves Groff's Grove, we will have to wait an hour for the next one to come along. Second, I think it would do you three boys some good to see an example made of Sam. You've seen his outrageous behavior all day. Heck, you've seen it for as long as you've known him. Maybe if you see him suffer the consequences it will make you guys think twice before behaving that way towards people."

"Sam's gonna get a lickin', isn't he?" said Kenny, a very serious look on his face.

"I'm afraid so," said Donald. "But he deserves it, the way he'e been acting."

The three boys were silent, but nodded their heads in agreement. "Okay," said Donald, "Kenny, let's get back to our seats. You two, remember we're getting off at Groff's Grove."

Groff's Grove station was on the north side of the Strasburg Railroad tracks about half way between Strasburg and Paradise. That particular section of the line was double-tracked. It was the only place on the line where trains could pass one another, apart from the sidings at either end of the line. Groff's Grove station was not a proper enclosed building like the main station back in Strasburg. It was constructed of well-weathered wood and looked like a large bus stop shelter. There was a roof and the ends were enclosed. But the long sides, one facing the tracks and one facing the grove itself, were open to the elements. There were two benches under the roof.

The train stopped at the station and all eight members of their group got off of Gobbler's Knob. A family group with two adults and three children got off another coach named 'Walnut Hollow'. A group of four people who were waiting at the station boarded the train to return to Strasburg.

Groff's Grove turned out to be a lovely grove of tall trees with about twenty picnic tables arranged in a row under the first line of trees closest to the tracks. Most of the grove was grass covered except for right around and under the picnic tables and certain areas where the shade was too strong for grass to grow. There was a built-in black steel barbeque grill set on top of a thin concrete slab. Apparently people could actually bring charcoal along to make a real picnic of it. Rob guessed the concrete slab was there to prevent any dropped burning charcoal from setting the grass or dry leaves on fire. There were also a few wooden playground elements such as a swingset and small push merry-go-round.

There were even a couple of classic vehicles from the 1920s or 30s parked on the grass near the east end of the grove. One of them looked like a Ford Model A. Rob wasn't sure what the other one was. The intended effect was to make it look like the grove actually existed in the 1930s and two families might have driven to the grove in their "late model" cars. The only truly modern touches in the entire grove were the trash cans, which had plastic dome lids with self-closing swing doors.

The family of five that had gotten off of Walnut Hollow had brought along box lunches and occupied a picnic table about half way between the station and the east end of the grove. There was only one other group already there, a family of six, and they were all the way down at one of the last tables at the east end of the grove by the classic cars. Nobody was using the barbeque that afternoon.

"Looks like you're in luck, Samuel," said Thomas. "After all the storms this morning there aren't a lot of people here to see or hear you get your thrashing."

"Yes, sir," said Sam, who still looked white as a sheet, a haunted look in his eyes.

"What about the people on the train?" said Mark.

The train was nearly two-thirds full, or at least their coach was, so lots of people were looking out the windows of the coaches at the grove and the people there. In fact there were quite a few kids looking out the windows of Gobbler's Knob and paying close attention to their little group. Rob was forced to wonder if someone had overheard their conversations and was aware that one of the boys in their group was about to "get it". If such information had been passed around the other passengers it could explain the keen interest they were currently drawing from certain people on that coach.

"We're gonna wait for the train to leave," said Thomas. "I don't think Samuel is in any hurry. Are you, son?"

"No, sir."

Rob was glad to hear this. He exchanged looks with Casey, and it was obvious that his friend agreed with him. Sam deserved a severe ass whipping, there was no question of that. He had been quite deliberately pushing his father's buttons all day, which was kind of suicidal when you consider how angry Thomas could get. Even so, there was no need to make the poor kid's suffering a spectacle for hundreds of people on the train.

Thomas had his hand firmly on Sam's shoulder and guided the boy as they slowly began walking west of the station towards the unoccupied portion of the grove. Donald signalled the other boys to follow along behind them. His father didn't have to tell Rob twice. He wouldn't have missed the upcoming thrashing for all the tea in China.

A couple minutes later the whistle blew on Old #90 and the train chugged away from the station headed back towards Strasburg. The breeze was blowing the locomotive smoke in their direction and the cinders stung Rob's face. He quickly brushed them off. A few others in the group were similarly affected.

As the last coach passed them headed back home Thomas stopped near the west end of the grove and said, "Samuel, do you have your pocket knife with you... or did you forget that, too?"

"Yes, sir," said Sam. "Umm, I mean no, sir, I didn't forget my knife." In fact he retrived the knife from his pocket and held it up to show his father.

"Good," said Thomas. "Go cut two switches off those younger trees back there." He indicated an area further away from the tracks, at the base of the hill that rose up out of the woods less than 100 feet north of the tracks.

"Tw..two switches?" said Sam, his voice cracking under the strain.

"Yes, two," said Thomas. "Make them sturdy, but nice and whippy. We want them to make a real impression on your naughty backside."

Sam gulped and said, "Yes, sir." He turned and trod most unwillingly towards the trees that held his soon-to-be instruments of correction.

Rob was fascinated. He had never seen anyone whipped with a switch before. Well not in real life anyway. He had seen it in Tom Sawyer movies and so forth, but this was gonna be a real switching of a real boy that he actually knew! He could tell that Casey was interested too. Excitement was written all over his friend's face... and the sudden bulge in the front of Casey's denim cutoffs indicated that someone else was interested, too!

Uh, oh! Rob looked down to confirm what he had already felt. His own 'little friend' wanted to come out and play, too! This could get awkward very quickly. How could he hide the signs of his boner? His thin jade green cargo shorts were no help whatsoever in that department. They did nothing but highlight the growing tent his eager boner was pitching. Terrific.

He noticed that Casey's bulge was growing too, though his friend's denim cutoffs did a slightly better job of, well, not really concealing it, but also not highlighting it. The only good news for the two aroused teens was that they were not going to be the focal point of the coming operation, so with any luck they should be able to stay in the background as innocent...

"Robert!" said Donald, "Come over here!"

Oh, swell! Just what he needed. Rob walked very slowly towards his father, trying to will his boner to go down, but to no avail. Finally he decided to try humor as a distraction. He stopped in front of his father, stood as stiffly straight and tall as he could and said, in his best Lurch voice, "You rang?"

His father gave him a wry smile and said, "Believe it or not, that impression is strangely appropriate for this situation."

"Huh?" said Rob, suddenly confused.

"Tom needs your help," said Donald, pointing towards Thomas.

Rob turned his attention to Thomas, who said, "I need your help holding Sam for his whipping."

"Holding him?" said Rob. "He can't stay in position by himself?"

"Not for the whipping I intend to give him, no."

Rob was profoundly glad that he was not the target of the anger he could see on the man's face. Thomas was really steamed. What the fuck had Sam been thinking? "Sure, I can help hold him."

"Thank you," said Thomas.

"No problem," said Rob. He had never held anyone down for a whipping before, this should be interesting. He had actually been wondering how close he would be allowed to get during Sam's punishment. Clearly the answer to that one was, 'very close'!

Sam obviously couldn't afford to anger his father any further by taking too long to cut the switches that were gonna be applied to his backside. But Rob was certain that Sam wasn't in any hurry to complete his assigned task. Rob sure wouldn't have been if he was in Sam's shoes, or shorts. Eventually the doomed boy returned holding two very sturdy looking switches. They looked to be about 3 feet long, give or take a couple inches. Diameter was tough to estimate, maybe 1/4 inch or so for one of them, somewhat thicker for the other. Sam handed the switches to his father, who slashed them through the air experimentally. Thomas said, "Yes, these should do nicely."

Meanwhile Donald had called Jeff and Kenny to come over to where they were standing. "Sam, hand your camera to Jeff. Rob, hand your camera to Kenny."

Rob had a protective plastic case for his Minolta camera with a long strap that he hung around his neck. He lifted the strap over his head and looped it over Kenny's head. Hopefully it would be safe hanging around his little brother's neck. "Please don't drop it, Kenny."

"I won't!" said Kenny. "I'm not that clumsy."

"Alright, let's get started," said Thomas. "I think Sam has waited long enough for his thrashing."

Rob had been expecting the group to approach one of the empty picnic tables at the west end of the grove. It seemed most likely that Sam would have to kneel or lie down on one of the picnic benches for his thrashing. He was not expecting what actually happened.

Thomas gently but firmly guided Rob by the shoulder until he was standing on the grass facing the woods and facing away from the tracks. "You will act as the horse for Sam during his whipping."

"The horse?" said Rob.

"Yes, Sam will put his hands over your shoulders and you will grab his wrists and hold them. Then you bend forward until Sam is laying across your back with his feet off the ground. This will present his backside nicely for the switch. Got it?"

"Got it," said Rob. He wasn't really sure he got it, but he was confident that he could figure it out.

"Okay, Samuel," said Thomas. "Stand behind Rob. Now, drop 'em. Shorts and undies, right down to your ankles."

Wow! Sam was gonna get the switch on his bare bottom... and Rob suddenly realzed to his horror that he wasn't gonna get to see it! Shit!

"Okay, Samuel, put your hands on Rob's shoulders."

Suddenly he felt Sam's hands on his shoulders. Rob reached back and grabbed the smaller boy's wrists. They seemed a bit sweaty, which wasn't all that surprising come to think of it.

"Okay, Rob," said Thomas. "Now bend over and pull his wrists forward, which will pull him further up your back."

Rob complied, and soon he was bearing all of Sam's weight as well as his own. He wouldn't want to carry the kid around all day, but standing there holding him for a few minutes should pose no problem. Hmmm. Something feels weird back there. When he pulled Sam further up his back his tee shirt rode up with his new passenger. So the bottom of Rob's back was now bare. So what was he feeling back there...? Oh, yuck! Sam's penis was now pinned between his own body and the small of Rob's back. Well at least Sam didn't have a boner. Thank God for small favors. Frankly, it felt like God had given Sam a very small favor. Poor little guy.

"Okay," said Thomas, "Rob, are you okay? Any problems holding him like that?"

"No, sir," said Rob. "No problems here." Except that I'm not actually gonna be able to see the thrashing! Damn it!

"Good. How about you, Samuel? Your wrists and arms are okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then," said Thomas. "Samuel, you can howl and cry all you want, but no cursing, and no kicking. At least no kicking forward, or you'll kick Rob."

"Yes, sir." Sam was a bit breathless, and it was obvious that his head was almost directly behind Rob's. In fact Rob thought that Sam's chin might be resting almost on the back of his neck. This might get noisy if the kid starts howling.

Then Rob heard a "Thwick" sound and Sam grunted into his ear. Showtime!

It was a very weird experience for Rob. He couldn't see the switch hitting Sam's backside, but he could hear the boy's reaction, at very close range, and could also feel it.. or at least feel the effects as each successive "thwick" hit home.

Each time the switch hit Sam's bare lower cheeks the force was transmitted into his body, and a small amount of that force made it all the way through him to Rob, in the form of the smaller boy's body being compressed into his back before relaxing again. In fact as the thrashing went on Sam's willy was getting stiffer and rubbing into Rob's bare back. Meanwhile the grunts and gasps were soon replaced with yelps and then howls of pain.

The strange combination of sensations he was feeling did nothing for Rob's own boner problem. He was as hard as could ever remember being. If he couldn't find a way to make it go away he would be presenting a really obvious tent in his jade green shorts for all to see when he stood up. Unfortunately at this point the only apparent solution was even more unthinkable. He would die of embarrassment if he shot a load in his pants while horsing Sam for this thrashing. Better a dry tent up front than a big wet spot on his crotch.

As the switch continued to work over Sam's rump Rob was not able to see the stripes he knew must be forming back there, but he could tell that Sam was hurting more and more. Not only was the boy gasping, howling and pleading in his ear - though it should be noted that not a single curse word escaped Sam's lips - but the little guy was soon struggling to get free. Sam's hands were clenching and unclenching and he was shifting his weight around as best he could, apparently desperate to get Rob to drop him so he could escape the awful pain being transmitted to his backside.

"Owwwww!" Rob yelped in pain and surprise as he was kicked in the back of his left knee. His knee almost unlocked and collapsed, but he managed to stay standing.

Thomas stopped the thrashing. "Rob, are you okay?"

"Yes, sir," said Rob. "He caught my knee but it's okay."

"Hmm," said Thomas. "In point of fact it's not okay. Sam, didn't I order you not to kick Rob?"

"I'm sorry, Dad!" Sam gasped out his response between sobs, "I couldn't help it!"

"You better help it, boy," said Thomas. "If you kick Sam again you will get a special punishment added on to the end of the thrashing you're already getting. You won't like it... at all. Do you read me, mister?"

"Yes, sir!" gasped Sam.

"Good," said Thomas, "let's get this over with."

Rob was able to replant his feet slightly to stabilize himself while Thomas and Sam conversed. He felt confident that he could stay in balance despite Sam's best efforts to unbalance him provided he didn't get kicked again.

The thrashing recommenced and Sam immediately started struggling again. Keeping in balance and holding Sam posed no problem as he had expected. Unfortunately there was another situation that Rob was not in a position to do anything about. Sam's little boner was being rubbed against Rob's bare back by the movement of the younger boy as he struggled to get free. Eventually Rob felt some dampness back there. He sure hoped that was sweat. The little brat better not be peeing on his back!

Eventually Rob realized that it might be precum oozing from the little boner rubbing against his back. Sure enough as the switching and the struggles continued, Sam suddenly grunted loudly and his hands splayed out widely and flexed in an almost rhythmic manner, meanwhile the boy's hips surged forwards jamming his boner against Rob's bare back for all he was worth over and over again as his body spasmed. With each thrust of Sam's boner against Rob's back he could feel it getting wetter and wetter back there. As disgusting as the idea was, Rob found himself praying that it was semen he was feeling back there and not piss. Wait a second, was it over?

"First switch broke," said Thomas. "Time for the second switch."

"NOOOOOooooooo!" Sam screamed in panic. His begging and protests were cut off as the new switch went to work on his already tender buttocks. Sam increased the volume of his howls and redoubled his struggles to get loose, but Rob was easily able to keep the desperately squirming boy under control and himself in balance. That was good because Rob needed all his concentration to avoid going over the edge himself and firing off a huge load in his pants.

"Owwwch!!" yelped Rob as another sturdy kick hit him, this time in the back of the right knee. Once again, he came close to collapsing, but managed to stay standing.

"Are you okay, Rob?" said Thomas. "Should I ask Casey to horse him instead?"

"No sir," said Rob. "I'll be okay as long as he doesn't kick me again."

"Oh, he won't be kicking you again," said Thomas, with an fierce-sounding chuckle that sent a shiver down Rob's spine. "I can guarantee you that."

"I'm sorry, Dad!" Sam gasped piteously, "I really couldn't help it."

"Well I can help it, son," said Thomas, "and you will be a whole lot sorrier by the time I get through with you."

Rob felt Sam shudder at this pronouncement, then he felt something warm and wet running down his lower back. Fuck! It felt like Sam's now soft little pecker had squirted some pee... not that he could really blame the poor kid. Rob would probably be pissing himself if his dad was ever as mad at him as Thomas was at Sam just now. But what if the little brat really lost it and emptied his entire bladder down the back of Rob's shorts? That would stink, in more ways than one. Rob was 14, he sure wasn't gonna stand there and let some little 12-year-old brat piss his pants. "Thomas?"

"Yes, Rob?" said Thomas. "Problem?"

"Yeah, Sam just... well, I think he just peed on my back."

"Oh for Christ sake, Sam!" said Thomas. "You're just bound and determined to make everybody's day miserable, aren't you?"

Sam reacted to this with another shudder, "I'm sorry Dad, I couldn't help it!"

"May I put put him down?" said Rob, who could feel another squirt of warm pee running down his lower back and into the waistband of his briefs, soiling them. "He just did it again."

"Yes, drop him!" said Thomas.

Rob immediately dropped Sam back to his feet and then stepped away from in front of him to make room for the stream he was sure was coming right up. Rob stepped to the right, turned and looked back... Sam was just standing there sobbing and gently rubbing his thrashed backside. The kid's boyish little penis was only half erect at best and looked wet, but there was no pee coming out.

"Well?" said Thomas, "We're waiting!"

"I'm sorry," gasped Sam. "I can't pee while everyone is watching."

"Sam, I am fed up with you today," said Thomas, his voice sounding very dangerous. "Do you want to go cut a couple more switches?"

"No! Please!" squawked Sam. His body shuddered again in fear, when the shudder hit his little pecker it bobbed once and then squirted some more pee, which landed harmlessly on the grass.

"That's better," said Thomas, "keep it comin'! Oh, and hands on your head, Sam. You're not supposed to be rubbing back there yet. Your thrashing is far from over."

This news brought on another shudder, bob of the little penis and squirt of pee as Sam very reluctantly stopped rubbing his aching bottom and put his hands behind his head, interlacing his fingers.

"Well?" said Thomas, after about 30 seconds passed with no more water being passed.

"I can't, Dad. Not with everyone watching. Please?"

"Star peeing now, Sam. Unless you want me to start whipping the backs of your thighs with the switch, and it wont count towards your main whipping. Remember you already have an extra punishment coming for kicking Rob."

Shudder, bob, squirt. "Please Dad," said Sam. "I'm afraid some of the pee will go in my pants."

"Well why not?" said Thomas. "You've already peed in Rob's pants. Why not pee in your own pants and complete the set? I should actually pull up your pants and make you finish peeing right in them."

Shudder, bob, squirt.

"Of course that would cruel to the rest of us, not to mention everyone else in our coach. We'd all have to smell your stinky britches all the way back to Strasburg."

Shudder, bob, squirt. Rob had to suppress a laugh. He suddenly remembered a travel show he had seen about some European city where they had a fountain with a famous statue of a little boy peeing.

"Are you done yet, Sam?"

"Yes, sir," said Sam. "I'm done."

"Well you better be telling me the truth, boy."

"It's true, Dad. I'm finished."

"Good. If you pee on Rob's back anymore I will take the skin off your backside slowly... inch by inch."

Shudder, bob, squirt. The Groff's Grove peeing boy fountain was back in business.

"Damn it, Sam!" said Thomas, his anger rising. "Do you want to go cut more switches?"

Shudder, bob, squirt. It was a longer squirt this time, a yellow arch that briefly appeared to connect the little pecker to the grass, and Sam started bawling.

The furious Thomas sent Casey and Mark to each cut another switch for Sam. He told them to make them bigger than the orignal switches. Meanwhile he had Rob take off Sam's shoes, socks and shorts, leaving the boy with only the briefs around his ankles. Rob was careful to avoid the "fountain zone" in front, but Sam didn't squirt anymore pee while he was being undressed. Well partially undressed. In fact Thomas ordered Rob to pull Sam's briefs back up.

Rob wondered if the thrashing was over. He kind of wished it was, but also that it wasn't. In any case while rearranging Sam's clothing Rob took the opportunity to examine the damage to the boy's hindquarters at point blank range.

Wow! What an impressively marked up backside it was! Sam's twin cheeks were decorated with a random crosshatched pattern of vivid red welts. The pattern of interlaced red stripes ran all the way from just below the crest of the buttocks down to the top 2 or 3 inches of the thighs and looked incredibly painful. The twin globes looked like two small steaks that had been recently seared on a grill... in fact they looked like a bit of smoke should still be coming off the surfaces. Thomas hadn't been making idle threats. It didn't look like Sam was gonna be able to sit down for meals, or anything else, for at least a week. And the thrashing might well not be over yet!

The level of pain the owner of those gaudily-striped cheeks was experiencing was confirmed when Sam moaned and minced in place as Rob slid the boy's white Hanes briefs back up over the damaged globes and pulled them up tight. "Not so hard, Rob!" complained Sam. He stamped his feet in frustration as new levels of pain washed over him, caused by simple contact of the damaged area with a thin layer of soft cotton. Rob had noticed a fresh brown skidmark inside the back of the boy's briefs. Apparently Sam had been in too much of a hurry to do several important things in that middle stall of the Strasburg Railroad station public men's room. The sobbing kid had been lucky so far in this one thing. The skidmark was not yet visible on the outside of his briefs.

Thomas ordered Sam to follow him, and Rob tagged along behind carrying the clothing he had removed from the sobbing boy. By the time the two extra switches had been retrieved Thomas had located an old tree stump near the back of the grove furthest from the tracks and made Sam stand next to it, hands still interlaced on top of his head as he sobbed softly.

Casey and Mark handed the new switches to Thomas. These switches were both longer and thicker than the original switches that Sam had cut for himself. Thomas examined them appraisingly and then slashed each of them through the air experiementally. The sound the new switches made cutting through the air was frightening to Rob, and it wasn't his hind cheeks they were going to be used on.

Sam watched his father test the new instruments of punishment he was about to experience with a hopeless look on his face. Clearly the sights and sounds terrified the youngster. His entire body shuddered again... a drawn out shudder that looked like an attack of violent shivering. Sam burst into new gales of sobbing and the soft sound of running water could be heard as the crotch of his white briefs was suddenly stained yellow and a flood of warm pee could be seen running down the insides of both his legs.

Rob was really glad he had called Sam on those initial bursts of peeing the boy did while horsed on his back. He suddenly remembered the two large cups of lemonade that Sam had guzzled during lunch. The boy's kidneys must be working overtime. If Rob hadn't reported those initial squirts all the pee the crazy kid had released in the past few minutes would be running down his legs now! That was a close call and it made Rob a bit angry. Could people be right about Sam after all? Was the kid some kind of twisted evil genius who loved annoying people to such an extent that he would deliberately put himself into this kind of position just so he could piss all over the back of another boy? Nah, it still didn't seem likely. But Rob was left facing the fact that Sam had deliberately acted in a way guaranteed to infuriate his father and provoke a violent response. He wondered if Sam was getting more than he bargained for.

After the shudder/shivering stopped and the flood of pee slowed to a trickle that was probably just excess urine from the soaked cotton crotch of the briefs, Thomas said, "Well, are you finally empty?"

Sam was unable to answer verbally, but he nodded his head vigorously. The boy was ordered to lie facedown across the top of the stump with his midsection, clad only in the soiled white briefs and a black t-shirt, centered over the stump itself. Mark was ordered to hold Sam's hands and Casey was ordered to hold the boy's legs. Rob, who apparently had become Sam's official clothing caddy, was ordered to pull the shirt up and clear of the action zone. Then he was ordered to pull down the boy's briefs in the back only, baring his bottom for the remainder of his punishment. The vividly striped cheeks clenched helplessly as they were once again exposed for the express purpose of being soundly thrashed.

With Sam effectively immobilized over the stump the thrashing started up again and the thrashed boy howled and struggled for all he was worth. But no matter how much noise he made or how much he struggled, the big new switch kept slashing into his cringing backside. This was more like it, Rob had a birdseye view of the end of Sam's thrashing.

Okay, Rob did feel sort of bad for the kid. Any sane person probably would, particularly if that sane person was a minor himself who was still living at home and subject to parental discipline and school discipline at any time. We might take secret pleasure in the pains experienced by members of our own tribe, but most of us are going to start getting uncomfortable about it when the pain goes beyond a certain point. There are limits to the agonies we might wish on even our worst enemies. Well, usually.

Soon the last vestiges of resistance had been thrashed out of Sam and the boy stopped struggling. He merely lay there across the stump absorbing each new stroke of the switch and bawling. Just after the spectacle began getting really uncomfortable for Rob, it ended.

The mask of implacable anger was even gone from Thomas's face, replaced with fatherly concern for his eldest son. The man said, "Well, Sam? Have you learned your lesson?"

"Ye..yes, sir!" gasped out Sam, between frantic sobs.

"I promised you extra punishment for kicking Rob." said Thomas. "I told you it would be very severe."

Sam shuddered again and sobbed in anquish. His kidneys were clearly still processing lemonade at a staggering rate because Rob could see a narrow stream of liquid falling straight down and vanishing into the grass next to the stump. He guessed that Sam's briefs were still soaked, which meant that any new output from his bladder was immediately released to the forces of gravity.

"I'm going to suspend that punishment, at least for now," said Thomas. This news caused Sam to slump slightly over the stump, his tensed up muscles relaxing. The boy immediately stopped watering the grass next to the stump. "Provided that Rob doesn't object."

Suddenly all eyes were firmly fixed on Rob. Even Sam had turned his head and was looking at Rob through tear-stained eyes, a pleading look on his face. Rob swallowed then and said, "I have no objection to that. I think Sam's had enough."

The tension that was released in everyone at that point was enormous. Sam looked at him with a look of sheer relief on his face and mouthed the words, 'Thank you.' Rob waved at him lightly and mouthed the words 'You're welcome.'

Sam was released by the boys holding his limbs, but he couldn't bring himself to move for a while. Rob took the opportunity to view the final state of Sam's well-thrashed hindquarters. The red stripes crisscrossing his lower cheeks had been vivid before, but after the ministrations of the larger switch they were absolutely incandescent. There were stripes layered on top of stripes.

Strikingly, there did not appear to be any actual cuts in the skin or signs of blood except the blood under the skin that was coloring those glowing stripes. Sam must have a tremendously tough hide. Rob suddenly wondered if Sam had been switched like this before. You wouldn't think so with the terrified way the kid had been reacting, helplessly pissing himself at each new threat from his father. On the other hand Rob did remember one of the Ardens mentioning the fact that they lived in a semi-rural area on a property that bordered woodlands. That would allow for a ready supply of switches for the naughty bottoms of Sam and Jeff Arden.

Rob had never been thrashed with switches, or beaten as badly as he had just seen Sam beaten... and he was quite happy about that. His father's leather strap was no picnic, that's for sure. It had reduced Rob to a bawling mess every time it had been applied to his bare bottom... ditto for Kenny. But those switches just seemed so nasty. Of course part of it was probably the extreme anger Thomas displayed through the whole affair.

Rob's father had never beem anywhere near that angry with him, and probably had never been quite that angry with Kenny either, although like Sam, Kenny specialized in pushing people's buttons in a way calculated to infuriate them. Why did those crazy kids do these things? Did Sam actually enjoy getting his ass severely beaten by his father, whom he had goaded into a towering rage? Did Kenny? Rob had a hard time believing it, though available evidence suggested that it was at least a possibility. He would have to discuss it with Casey sometime where they were alone.

Rob felt sympathy for Sam on several levels. Apparently poor Sam had a smaller penis than his little brother Jeff, who was three years younger than Sam was. That had to be really humiliating for the guy. Could that explain his bizarre behavior patterns? Tough to tell, but Rob sure felt bad for the guy. More stuff to discuss with Casey when he got a chance.

Eventually Casey said, in a stage whisper, "Heads up, people! We got company comin'!"

Rob followed Casey's line of sight and... sure enough, two kids from one of the other parties in the grove were walking west towards them, apparently attracted by the noise made during Sam's thrashing.

"I got it," said Donald. He started walking over to intercept the kids before they could get too close.

Thomas said, "You might want to pull up your briefs in the back, Sam. Looks like we've attracted some attention."

"Yes, sir," said Sam. He laboriously and stiffly climbed off the stump and got to his feet. Then he slowly and very gingerly pulled the back of the briefs up over his garishly striped rump, grimacing and gasping as the process clearly increased the pain radiating from his scorched backside. Sam quite gently massaged his wounded rear through the seat of his briefs. Frankly Rob was surprised that he could stand any contact back there at the moment. The boy either didn't think of the fact that he was wearing obviously piss-soaked briefs, or he didn't care. Rob could see small trickles of liquid running down the insides of Sam's legs as the excess pee was released by the yellow soaked crotch of his tighty-former-whiteys.

Thomas handed Sam the two unbroken switches that had been used on him. "Get rid of those, Sam."

"Yes, sir." Sam snapped the switches into little pieces and threw them away with an angry gesture. "Dad, I'm sorry that I was acting so bad that you had to use those on me."

"I'm sorry it was necessary too, son." Thomas walked up to Sam and gathered his eldest offspring into a hug. "You're a good boy, Sam. I know you'll be a fine man someday. But you can't keep making other people's lives miserable and, well, peeing on them just because you're bored."

"Yes, sir. I'll do better," said Sam. He certainly looked sincere. Rob hoped the lesson would stick.

"Good," said Thomas. "Come on, let's see if we can find a place for you to serve your corner time." Thomas took Sam's clothing back from Rob, then he led Sam over towards the picnic tables. Kenny and Jeff trailed along behind them, apparently curious as to how that was gonna work.

Rob was curious about that, too. But he was still faced with the more immediate problem of what to do about his boner. Through all the ups and downs of the past few minutes his boner had remained rock solid. He had been using Sam's clothing to hide his boner but now he was left with nothing to hide his tent behind. It turned out he was not alone. A brief look around showed that Casey and Mark were both sporting tents in the front of their shorts. He was thinking of how to broach the subject when Donald returned.

"Well, I got those kids to leave," said Donald. "They said it sounded like we were murdering someone down here."

"Of course," said Casey. "That's why the adults stayed down there and sent their kids up here."

"Yeah, that thought had occurred to me," said Donald. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe they don't like their kids," said Mark.

"Yeah, I suppose that's possible," said Donald, laughing. Then he glanced meaningfully at the tented pants of the three boys. "I see you guys need to 'relieve yourselves'... why don't you go to that denser area over there, out of sight of the tracks, and pee or whatever you need to do? We have about 40 minutes or so until the train comes back, so don't take too long."

This idea was greeted with enthusiasm by the three desperately horny boys, who waded into the thicker part of the wooded area at the west end of the grove and had soon taken their boner problems 'in hand'.

"Rob," said Mark as he vigorously massaged his 12-year-old tween boner, "Does your dad really know what we're doing over here?"

Rob laughed as he tugged on his own rock hard erection, "Sure he does. He actually walked in on me whackin' it a few months back. I was mortified, of course, but he just smiled and asked me if I had any questions about sex."

"Is your dad a psychologist, or something?" said Mark.

"No, he's an architect," said Rob.

"Oh, wow!" said Mark. "He designs airports and museums, buildings like that?"

"Nah," said Rob. "That's the kind of thing he wanted to design, I guess. He calls them 'Great Public Works'. But he mostly gets to design and build strip malls."

"Do those pay well?" said Casey.

"Oh yeah," said Rob, "strip malls pay very well."

"Then who cares?" said Casey.

"Yep," said Rob. He elected to change the subject. "Mark, your dad's a pilot, right?"

"Yes!" said Mark, proudly. "My dad used to fly B-52s for the Air Force, now he flies Boeing 747s for TWA."

"Cool!" said Casey. "Do you get to fly on TWA for free?"

"Not free, no," said Mark. "My dad can fly for free, but he has to pay for the rest of the family. I think it's about half price."

"Still not too bad," said Casey.

"Nope," said Mark. Then the 12-year-old grunted and spurted out a watery-looking emission as he orgasmed.

The two 14-year-olds soon added their own decorations to the local flora. Casey grunted as he hosed down the nearby plants with his boy juice.

As he heard his friends grunt out their passion, Rob looked at a nearby young tree and imagined having to cut two switches off of it that would all too soon be used to thrash his own bare bottom while he struggled over the back of another boy. His desperate struggles would cause his rampant boner to rub against the bare back of the boy horsing him. No matter how much he screamed and howled, the switch would continue slicing through the air rhythmically, causing the flaming agony to increase with every slash of the sturdy switch into his throbbing backside. Despite his best efforts to retain control he would eventually squirt his goo all over the back of the boy who held him in place for his thrashing. This final thought sent Rob over the edge and he grunted loudly as he fired off at least five volleys in a mind blowing orgasm. Thin ropes of sticky white semen were left hanging from the leaves of a nearby shrub, looking like some bizarre holiday decoration.

Rob stood there for a minute as he got his breath back after the orgasm. He absorbed the sights, sounds and smells of Groff's Grove, filing the information away for later reminiscence. Acting as the horse for Sam's thrashing had been a bizarre experience, but Rob knew the memories of the place and the event would provide him with lots of intense pleasure over the coming days and weeks. Perhaps years.

After the three young men had finished fertilizing the local plants they tucked themselves back into their briefs, fastened and zipped up their shorts and then slowly walked back towards the group who were seated at one of the picnic tables. Well, Sam was actually standing nearby doing his "corner time".

Sam stood with his nose up against the trunk of the nearest tree. His hands were behind his head, his fingers interlaced. His black tee shirt had been rolled up to just under his armpits so that it wouldn't interfere with the view of his piss-soaked and now obviously skidmarked briefs. The collection of vivid red stripes painted on his lower buttock cheeks and thighs by the switches showed off nicely against the brown streaked white cotton seat of his briefs. Sam's situation was unmistakable. A pubescent boy with poor personal hygiene who had been soundly thrashed and was now doing his "corner time" to think about what he had done to earn those obviously painful and throbbing crimson stripes.

As they approached the picnic table the sound of a steam whistle could be heard echoing from the distant hills. Either there really was a ghost train haunting Lancaster County, or Old #90 was headed their way on the eastbound leg from Strasburg to Paradise. They had maybe 30 minutes until the westbound train would stop at Groff's Grove station to pick them up for the return trip to Strasburg. Rob wondered whether Sam was gonna have to make the trip back to Straburg in his skidmarked and piss-soaked briefs. He hoped not. The kid deserved his punishment, but enough was enough. Rob didn't have the nerve to say anything to Thomas about it, because he knew that his own father would definitely not approve of that.

"Well, that's it," said Casey, that crooked smile back on his face. "Three down, three to go."

"Shut up, Casey!" said Rob and Mark in unison.

Rob noticed that a very worried-looking Mark unconsiously rubbed his backside through the seat of his shorts before he sat down. Rob refused to play that game, or to worry about Casey's stupid signs. He would not get spanked on this trip, and that was that.

Personal Note from the Author: The final triggering event in this episode is actually based on an incident from my childhood. At the age of eleven I left my new camera hanging on the hook inside a men's room stall in the station of a steam excursion railway (not the Strasburg Railroad). I realized this right before the train was about to leave and my father dashed inside to retrieve my camera. By the time he emerged from the station with my camera the train was pulling out. My dad ran until he reached our coach and leapt on to the stairway to the rear platform. My father was not a timid man, but on the flip side he wasn't a daredevil, either. That was the closest I ever saw him come to doing a Hollywood-style stunt. It really was quite impressive for a middle-aged construction worker from rural Pennsylvania.

Before anyone asks, I did not get a spanking as a direct result of the real life incident I just described. For one thing I was very impressed with my father's action of leaping onto the moving train and expressed my admiration for him in no uncertain terms. My parents settled for taking turns reading me the riot act. I think my mom was quite irritated with my dad for performing that stunt, especially in view of my extremely positive reaction to it. My mother was a world class worry wart, so I'm sure dad got an earful about setting a bad example for me later on in private. In any event I'm certain that the next time I received one of those "You've been asking for this for a long time, come here!" spankings a few of those whacks were payment for the camera incident.

Dedication: I spent many happy hours of my childhood engaged in railfan and model railroading activities with my father. This series is dedicated to the memory of my dad, who was a wonderful man and a great father.

The author welcomes comments from readers. You can contact Bobby Watson by e-mail at: mrbwatson (at) gmail.com
Please be patient - Bobby doesn't always check his e-mail every day.