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Message-ID: <29314asstr$984179401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: See.signature.line@lycosmail.com (Y. Lee Coyote)
Reply-To: YLeeCoyote@lycosmail.com
Subject: {ASSM} St: Farm boy Wesley Crusher (M/t, spank, paddle, strap, jo, SciFic, ST/TNG)
Date: Fri,  9 Mar 2001 18:10:01 -0500
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St: Farm boy Wesley Crusher
             (M/t, spank, paddle, strap, jo, SciFic, ST/TNG)

The following story is fiction.  It contain scenes of spanking.  If such
a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e.,
child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited
without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if
complete including the copyright notice.  The copyrighted characters and
scenes of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" are used under the parody and
fair use copyright rules and are not mine.

The author would appreciate your comments -- pro and con, including
constructive criticism, and suggestions. E-mail:
YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com

Farm Boy Wesley Crusher
By
Y. Lee Coyote

Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher was excited.  First, he had just finished
his assigned tours of duty and, second, it coincided with the weekend
break from school.  Well actually computer study since there were so few
juveniles on board the Star Ship Enterprise.  Third, he was one of the
few to know that there was now another hundred Holodeck adventure
programs in the system.  Occasionally, there are some nice perks to
being the officer to check in shipments.  He was pleased that he had
gotten Holodeck time for this evening.  He headed back to his quarters,
showered and changed his uniform.  He made a quick stop at the food
synthesizer for a high calorie, low volume quick drink meal.  His past
experience has taught him that a full stomach could be a problem but
that a Holodeck adventure required lots of real calories.

He stopped at the entrance panel and identified himself.  "How may I
help you, Mr. Crusher?" the computer asked.

He realized that he had not done his "homework" for he had not reviewed
the catalog of new adventure programs.  "Computer, suggest an
appropriate adventure program from today's delivery, please."

"Would you like the 'A Day's Adventures of a Boy in the American
Midwest, 1888'?"

"Make it so, Computer."  Wesley entered chamber of fantasies with great
expectations.

"You are a sixteen year old farm boy living with your parents.  Please
disrobe and get into bed and to sleep."  He did as the computer said and
he actually fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The next thing that Wesley knew was that his rump had just been slapped,
hard.  He was half asleep, still tired and there was only a little light
provided by a lantern with a real flame.  A man and woman were moving
around.  The woman spoke angrily: "Wesley, you're late.  Stop your
lollygagging and get your ass out of that bed, now.  The cows want
milking and you got to get to school."  He was confused.  He should have
asked the computer for more information before he started the program.
It was his own fault for not asking.  He could freeze the program and
ask but that would change his mood and the dynamics.  He decided to just
continue.

The man walked over.  "You sick, son?"

"No, pa."

"Then do as your ma tells ya."  He then yanked the blanket down and gave
Wesley five SPANKS on his bare rump.  The man was as strong as Worf, his
hands were hard with callouses and the spanks hurt.  "Or would you like
to visit the woodshed?"  Wesley jumped out of bed.  He was not sure what
would be in a woodshed beside wood but it did not sound a like pleasant
thing to visit. He also realized that was naked and they were not; that
meant there should be some clothes around.

"The woman turned to him.  "Your shirt and overalls are on the line.
Pick them up on your way back from the barn so you don't get them dirty
doing your chores."

His father smacked him on the rump again.  "Come on, boy.  There's work
awaiting."  Wesley followed feeling very strange naked.  There were four
cows and he copied how pa did the milking.  His fingers hurt but he
thought how like jerking off it was.  "Take them out to the back
pasture.  You won't have time after that except for breakfast and then
school.  Muck out the barn after school."

Wesley was almost back at the house, when the woman, no, his mother,
stepped out on the porch.  "Boy, wash off before you put on those clean
clothes and come in.  Hurry before your breakfast get cold.  He stopped
by the water pump and washed.  The water was cold.  The soap coarse.
The towel not very effective.  He selected a small shirt from the line
and put it on.  It was patched and stained.  The overalls were just as
bad.  This stuff was not like his Star Trek clothes.  There were not any
socks.  The baggy trousers were held up by suspenders.

Breakfast was greasy fried eggs with fried potatoes and half of a
tomato.  That was good but he had to share it with a worm.  The treat
was real fresh milk still warm.  "You better git going boy.  Mr. Jones
has already spoken of your tardiness."  His mother handed him his books
and lunch pail.

"I'll pick you up after school.  Wait for me at the general store.  Do
your homework while you wait."

"Yes, pa."  Wesley started out the door.  Just like with the cows he did
not know where he was heading but he knew that the computer would keep
him on course.

After about a half hour her saw some other kids headed in the same
direction.  His feet hurt.  Why did not he have shoes.  Then he heard a
bell and saw the other kids running but they were at least 300 meters
ahead of him.  They went into a small building.  Then there was another
bell.  It was at least five minutes before he entered the building for
he had a long way to go to the bridge over the creek.

The other kids, from seven to seventeen, were already at their desks
with their books open.  "Nice of you to join us, Master Crusher.  What
did I promise you last time you were tardy?"   There was some gigging in
the class.  They all knew.  Wesley knew as soon as Mr. Jones turned
around.  He was holding a thing about 60 cm long, 10 cm wide and almost
2 cm thick.  He was slapping it against his palm.  It seamed to be made
of wood.  "Cat got your tongue, Crusher?  Can't you say 'a paddling'?"
The class laughed.  "Get your butt here fast and drop your trousers."

"But...."

"The only butt I'm interested in now is yours.  We all know you ain't
hung like a horse for a fact."

The class laughed.  In the back of the class was a loud whisper, "More
like a goat."  More laughter.

A different voiced whispered: "A little kid."

Wesley walked to the front of the class, slowly.  Since you have so much
time, you have time for a couple of extra for procrastination.  Now move
it."  Wesley got to the front of the room.  Mr. Jones yanked his
suspenders off his shoulder and his trousers fell to the floor.  He bent
over the teacher's desk.  "Don't move."  Mr. Jones took careful aim and
brought the paddle down hard on Wesley's bare butt.

WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!
WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!  WHACK!!

There were a couple of results of this assault.  His butt was now red
hot and hurting and he had a major hard-on.  "Back to your seat and do
problems 1 to 5 of chapter 14 from your arithmetic book."

Wesley stood up and turned.  He took a step and fell on his face having
forgotten his trousers were about his ankles.  "He loves mounting that
desk." cracked Oscar.  Red faced as well as red butted, Wesley got up
and pulled up his trousers over his now dropping hard-on.  At least he
could manage arithmetic in a one-room school house he thought.

He thought wrong.

The first problem was. << Farmer Smith has a 40 acre square field along
side of his brook.  How many 10 foot sections of fence does he need to
enclose it. >>  He looked in the back of the book and found the
conversion factor: 1 acre = 43,560 square feet.  OK.  Multiply by 40 and
get 1,742,400 square feet.  How to get the square root?  There were no
calculators back in 1888 earth.  If he had known how to calculate a
square root he could have done it in half a minute.  But he did not and
used an iterative method not even hinted at in this book which took five
minutes.  There was not enough room on the small slate chalk board.  He
was slow doing the arithmetic that he always counted on his calculator
doing.  (Incidentally, if he had looked at the previous line in the
conversion table, he could have done the problem in his head in a
minute.)

The second problem was a bit better.  << Grocer Lincoln has 40 pounds of
coffee beans that he sells for 8 cents a pound.  He has a large supply
of coffee beans that sell for 14 cents but is a slow seller.  How many
pounds of the 14 cents coffee should he mix with it to get a coffee mix
he can sell for 10 cents a pound for the same profit.  Repeat for 12
cents a pound mix. >>

At this point, Mr. Jones looked over his shoulder.  He saw all the
scribing on the chalk board.  "You haven't done your studying again,
Crusher."  With that he grabbed Wesley by the ear and dragged him to the
front of the room.  He handed him a dunce hat and pointed to the stool
in the corner.  Wesley, most ashamed, sat staring at the floor.  Mr.
Jones handed him the book and said to study.

Wesley was in shock.  He had been in charge of a Star Ship.  He had lead
men more than twice his age on strange planets.  Now he was in disgrace
in a little school house because he could not do a farm boy's arithmetic
assignment.  Then there was being paddled in front of the entire school
and everyone seeing the erection that he had gotten from it.

Lunch time was a disaster.  Typical was the comment from a twelve year
old girl.  "You got such a cute red bottom, Wesley."  He ate alone.

The afternoon was also a misadventure.  There was a geography class for
the twelve pluses.  Wesley was again completely lost.  He barely knew
east from west on the maps.  How, he wondered, did he do celestial
navigation.

At long last the school day was over and he went to wait for his pa at
the general store for the ride back to the farmstead.  After helping his
pa load the wagon, they started back home.  They met Mr. Jones walking
home from the school and he waved them down.  "Good day, Mr. Jones.  How
is Mrs. Jones?"

"Good day, Mr. Crusher.  Quite well, thank you.  I think that you need
to have a talk with your son.  He was most unprepared today.  He could
not do simple arithmetic problems and did not know France from England
nor Europe from America."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones.  I will have a discussion with the boy this
evening in the woodshed.  Thank you so much for telling me.  See you
Sunday in church."

They rode home in silence.  Once there, Wesley was put to work mucking
out the barn while his father unloaded the wagon and fetched the cows.
After milking them came the day's payoff in the woodshed.

"You heard Mr. Jones, boy.  Is it true.

"Yes, sir."  Wesley had never known academic failure before.

"Strip and get into position."  Wesley removed his two garments and
leaned over the wooden horse.  His pa took the strap from the wall.
Although old it was thick, heavy and still supple.  It was now serving
as well in its second role as it had previously between plow and horse.
He doubled it over and stepped to Wesley's side.

The strap crashed down on Wesley's butt with great force.  He yelled.
The strap struck again.  And again.  Wesley's butt was flaming hot.  His
cock was rock hard.  He was over whelmed.  He came.  The strap continued
a little longer.  He cried.  He knew real pain.

Dad hung up the strap.  "When you stop blubbering come up to the house
for dinner and to do your school work."

As soon as his pa left he grabbed his cock and milked it.  He quickly
shot again.  Wesley pulled himself together.  The sun was setting.  He
decided that he had enough.  "Computer stop program."

"Program is non-stoppable until the end of the cycle."

Wesley walked slowly up to the house, stopping to wash at the pump.
"Wesley, your dinner is in the oven.  Start your studying while you
eat." stated his mother totally ignoring his nakedness and crimson
behind.  He did as he was told.  He did not want another trip to the
woodshed.

He went to bed at ten, exhausted.  He dreaded another day in this world.
He sleep fitfully and frequently tried to rub the pain out of his
bottom.

He was woken up again with a slap to his butt.  He jumped out of bed
before he was hit again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The lights level rose.  The farm house faded.  The computer announced:
"Cycle complete.  Program terminated."

Wesley sighed with relief.  He dressed appreciating the smoothness of
the fabric in a way he had never before.  He returned to his quarters
and took a hot and then a cold shower and went to bed.  He decided
against going to sick bay for two reasons.  The new Holodeck program
were terrific and that would destroy the experience.  Second, it may be
ok for a sixteen year old farm boy to be naked in front of his mother
but not a sixteen year old Acting Ensign on a Federation Star Ship
explaining why he has been spanked.

Shortly he realized that there was a third reason.  He was horny
thinking about the paddling and strapping.  After he finished jerking
off, he decided that he would have to try that program again.

The End

(C) Copyright A.I.L., March 9, 2001

Y.

Valid return address is <YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com>
(Posting address is for the spammers)

See my stories at: 
http://www.geocities.com/yleecoyote1938/
See Goldilocks stories at:
http://www.geocities.com/goldilocks1938/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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