The Young Stepfather Part 1
by Tim Thomasson
timthommass@yahoo.com

copyright 2005 by Tim Thomasson, all rights reserved 

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  It contains
explicit  depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of  a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such  material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *

Dale was quiet, lost in thought as he was, etching his
youthful face with the smallest of frown lines. Which
in turn only accented how very young Dale truly was.
And Dale's quiet was scaring his oldest two stepsons,
Jerry and Steven, who had every reason to be nervous,
standing as they were, scarlet faced, pants and
underwear at their ankles, beside the chair of their
stepfather. A state of undress that seemingly occurred
weekly, yet one that always managed to bring the house
to a stand still. A state of undress that never failed
to make the first tear come to Steven's eyes. A tear
of embarrassed shame, sure. Yet a tear that now might
be, if one is to be truthful, born more of fear. As
Steven knew, even without looking into the burning
eyes of his siblings, that his brothers were as
familiar with his body as he was. Even his own Mom was
for that matter. A fact that always choked him up the
rare times that suppressed thought made it to his
consciousness. 

As for Dale, the reason he had gone quiet was known
only to him. He never explained himself to any member
of his family. Ever. And who knows what they might
have thought had they known that the reason he had
gone quiet was that he was thumbing through his
memories, remembering the past six years. Years
compressing into minutes as only the mind can do.
Slipping back to the beginning, six years ago, when he
first Linda. The mother to all his children, step and
now biological as well. 

Even then Linda had been a pretty girl, if one can
still be a girl at twenty four. A very pretty girl
actually, if one who was soon to homeless and without
hope. One who also carried, as she saw it, the baggage
of having three young boys. Not to mention that the
oldest was now eight. His age, in her mind, telling
the world that yes, she had been a whore and spread
her legs open at sixteen. The way Dale saw it, it was
more than an omen, it was fate. He had found them at
their most vulnerable, allowing him to impose his will
upon them, making him their undisputed king and them,
his serfs. Dale's timing also couldn't have been
better, from his point of view, as just a few months
earlier his own parents had passed away, leaving him
far from rich, yet comfortably middle class. Enabling
him to support a new family at his very, very young
age. You see, Dale was still a teenager when he met
Linda. His nineteenth birthday was still months away.

From the very start Dale had let his true colors show,
that he was a control freak, that he was a fanatic
believer that all children need constant, if not harsh
discipline. A mantra that had been seared into his
mind at early age by his own father. Linda and the
kids hadn't been at his house a full two days the
first time he found reason to take Jerry's pants down
and put him over his knee and soundly spank him. All
the while looking at Linda with an expression that
dared her to object. She didn't. Not even as the glee
of spanking a boys naked bottom, a boy just ten years
younger than himself, danced across his face. Not even
when after the spanking was though and Dale had made
Jerry go stand in the corner. His bright bottom on
naked display.

It was that very evening that the three events occurred
that would cemented their bond, and soon to be
marriage. The first was their talk. Where Dale
explained, vividly and passionately and in great detail
to Linda how the boys would be raised. With lots of
discipline and spankings, all of which would continue
until such time as they no longer were dependent upon
him. Be that after they had turned nineteen and
graduated high school, or for that matter twenty three
if they went on to college. (A fact he had every
intention of making come true.) The second was how
easily Linda agreed to all of his rantings. Book
learned she wasn't. Street smart, she was. And her
street smarts were telling her that here, finally, was
her ticket, as long as she agreed with him. Linda not
only agreed, she went so far as to make a few
suggestions herself. Suggestions that Dale still uses
to this day. The third event happened later in bed,
unbeknownst to Dale. It was that night that Linda
became pregnant, intentionally, with was what to be
the first of their three children.

Dale sensed more than actually saw his stepsons, their
small tremors of fear all but palatable to him. As if
their fear was an odor in the air he could sniff. Then
grinned to himself, secure in the knowledge that they
wouldn't budge, much less utter a sound, until spoken
to. Then let out with a small bark of a sound, one
that to him was a laugh. As with lips that were now
curling he revised his last thought. Not only would
they not speak unless spoken to, even then, they
wouldn't dare as much as mutter a sound, not even to
answer a question, unless and until he gave them
permission to speak. And that was always questionable.
At best. 

The "hmmm", Dale let out under his breath occurred as
he was remembering a particular spanking of Steven's,
one that had happened three years ago, or when the boy
was ten. It wasn't memorable in it's harshness, just a
typical spanking of a ten year old. A totally naked
boy over his knee being soundly spanked. No. It was
the way he was crying out "Daddy" that had struck a
chord in Dale. Who had found himself immersed in
though as he listen to Steven's plentiful wails.
Again enjoying the feeling of power, one that was all
but lustful in it's intensity, as new thoughts of
control raced through his head. It was that day that
brought forth a new rule that has never been, nor ever
will be, altered. That rule states that once it is
obvious that the boy is to be punished, he will
address Linda and Dale not as Mom or Dad. Instead they
will be address as Mommy or Daddy. Oh how Dale had
loved their tearful submission to that rule when the
boys were ten and eleven. Now that they were young
teenagers - it was delicious. Be it listening to the
now deep, almost masculine voice of Jerry as he
croaked out these most childish of words, or the rise
and fall in Steven's voice. The rise and fall that
occurs naturally due to puberty, now accented to a
pitch that brought a look of horror to his face. Dale
knew then that tonight he would give the boys
permission to speak. The tightening of his stomach was
demanding he do that.

Jerry. The stoic boy. That is how Dale still thought
of him. Remembering the boy who had fought so hard
against being punished until he had learned, the hard
way, all that did was increase their severity. Not to
mention their frequency. Once he understood that to be
a fact, he too gave in, surrendering, in total, to
Dale's will. Better yet, Dale could remember the exact
night that happened. Two years ago when a then twelve
year old Jerry, in the first throes of a hormonal rush
that changes a boy into a teenager, suddenly tried to
assert his will. Boldly telling his parents that it
was too early, or he was too old, for such an early
bath time. Ahh yes, Dale had greatly enjoyed putting
the boy through the hoops that night. Having a boy
strip down in front of the family is always a thrill.
Watching as Jerry bravely fought to keep from crying
as his first pubic hairs went on display. Now that was
a once in a lifetime event. One that Dale played for
all it was worth. 

The first thing Dale did was to tease Jerry. Asking, 
him if he thought that sprouting a few hairs now made
him a man. It was a very red faced boy who meekly 
answered, "No Daddy." Warming up to this task Dale had
next ordered all the boys over to Jerry, until they
were all in a close semi-circle. Next he had Jerry
place his hands on top of his head. Now Dale was ready
to start his own home biology lesson. With Jerry as
the star. Dale started at Jerry's arm pits, running
his hands over them, explaining to his boys how soon
Jerry would have hair there. Then pointed to Jerry's
legs, saying, and then there. As uncomfortable as
Jerry was, and Steven and even Kevin, the ten nine
old, were, that's how curious and open the younger
boys were. It was with pride that Dale found himself
noticing that those with his blood in them were the
bolder of the boys. 

Another time, another night, and maybe, just maybe,
Dale would have considered spanking Jerry at this
point. Not this time. Dale's dather was up. No way he
was going to allow any boy under his roof, and most
importantly, his control, to question him. Telling
himself that tonight? Tonight was a night Jerry was
going to remember for years, decades. Next Dale had
Jerry spread his legs, leering as Jerry's growing sac
hung looser from his body than it had just a few weeks
before. Before pointing that fact out to the family.
Making sure that one and all understood this meant
Jerry was now able to make cum. A fact that when
spoken out loud caused Jerry to hang his head in
unspoken agreement. "Boy!" Dale demanded, "Have you
been playing with yourself?" For once, Dale didn't
expect an answer. Nor did he get one. Verbally anyway.


Seeing defeat in Jerry's eyes, a tell tale sign Dale
was forever on the look out for, Dale next had the
boy bend over and grab his ankles, leaving Jerry's
tight little hole to spread open, wide, then close,
then open wide again, as he fought nerves and gravity
to stay in place. As great as that scene was in Dale's
mind nothing could have topped Bradley's reaction as
the five year old suddenly piped up in his squeaky
voice, exclaiming, "Look Daddy! Jerry is winking at
me!" Even Linda laughed. And laughed even harder as
Bradley stated to one and all, "From now on I am going
to call Jerry, Winky!" A nick name that is still used
to this day. From time to time. One that draws the
same response from Jerry today as it did then. Dale
next ran his finger across Jerry's opening, while
stating to the boys, "And someday, Jerry, or that
matter all of you, will have hair there. And even when
that day comes, you will not disobey me. You will
not to be too old for me to spank. Is that
understood?" The boys all answered so quickly, such
was the tone in Dale's voice when asking that
question, that it sounded practiced. That's how in
unison they were.

Dale's anger still wasn't sedated, in fact the more he
thought about it, the greater his anger grew that
Jerry would dare to question his authority. It was
with that overriding emotion that Dale next had Jerry
stand up, hands on his head, almost smiling as he
heard the gasping intake of breath from his stepson.
Dale had just told the boys that they were to now feel
Jerry's hair. To see how it was no different than the
hair on his head, and therefore changed nothing. How
it changed nothing now, nor would it in the future
when Jerry, or they, had hair everywhere. Steven and
Kevin were almost shy when touching their brother,
smooth gentle touches that felt like nothing if not a
caress. Not so the younger ones, as all three of them
took their time, and noticing the permission written
across their father's face: explored. Going so far as
to let their hands stroke Jerry's penis. Giggling as
only little boys can as Jerry's dick seemingly throbbed
too and fro under their touch. Laughing out loud in
childish delight as their brother would, without
warning, let out with a gasp or a groan and suddenly
lift onto his toes as their little fingers suddenly
came in contact with his sensitive tip. Leaving Jerry,
by the time they were done, in a state of excitement.
A nice way of saying that twelve or not, Jerry's young
dick was hard. Erect.

Amazingly Dale didn't comment on his stepson's
condition. Or use this moment to ask him about his
night time habits under the covers. Instead Dale went
quiet, although there was a look in his eyes that said
plenty. Somehow Dale knew that nothing he could say
would embarrass Jerry as much as the self visuals he
was now seeing in his own mind. Not to mention that
the zillion and one questions that were being asked by
the younger boys had to be more cutting than anything
he could ask in an adult voice. No matter how he
altered his tone. The next ten minutes, as Jerry stood
there, his young manhood now throbbing, tears in eyes,
harshly breathing in and out as his youngest brothers
continued to stare on, from mere inches away, as they
bombarded Linda and him verbally, looking for answers,
those ten minutes might have been the best ten minutes
of that year. In Dale's opinion. 

How sweet it felt to Dale when he finally led Jerry
over his knee. No way to explain the emotions Dale
felt as Jerry's young manhood dug into his thigh. Or
the great high Dale received when he finally perceived
the increased weight of his stepson, yet another
statement that he was leaving his boyhood behind.
Dale's mind was now yelling in joy. He would now have
the best of all possible worlds. Boy's to spank.
Teenagers to punish. Later that night Dale would open
a bottle of wine and silently salute this fact. For
the moment though Dale was happy let Jerry settle in,
sink into his lap, his pulsing manhood moving in time
with his trembling body, thinking to himself, "Now if
this isn't a sign of submission, I don't know what
is." Before chortling out, "Well boy. I think it's
time you gave us a show." Then paused before letting
out with what Dale considered the punch line, "Don't
you...Winky?'

Jerry's spanking that night, Dale remembers little of
it. Oh he knows it was harsh and he has some vague
memory of it being an especially long spanking, but
the truth be told the spanking was secondary to rest
of the night. For as enjoyable as the pre-spanking was,
as much fun as Dale had exposing the now developing
boy, the post spanking was to be better. Better in
that it was a gift from his wife, the way Dale saw it.
Proof that Linda now saw the need for discipline, and
wanted to join in. In Dale's mind this was the
culmination of all his dreams. Boy's of his own and a
wife who wanted to help discipline them. To Dale this
was bliss. Bliss born two nights before when Linda had
snuggled up next to him in bed and quietly stated her
views in the form of a question. The light she saw in
her husbands eyes at that moment not only quieted her
fears, such as being left again, it was enough to make
her consider yet another pregnancy.

The rubbing and dancing slowed down. The giant tears
became a trickle. All telling Jerry it was time to
take up his place, facing his stepfather, before he
was told, "Front and center. Boy." Standing at parade
rest Jerry could see some unknown light dancing in
his stepfather's eyes, causing Jerry to shudder and to
start yet again with his frantic rubbing, as if this
was a charm that might ward off any evil to come. It
didn't. Dale had thought this through before hand and
knew exactly how he was going to present this. Slowly,
almost gently Dale spoke, using short sentences, ones
emphasized by long and dramatic pauses. All designed
to let the tension build. As if a verbal form of water
torture. A word here and the boy's eyes grew even
wider. A soft sentence there and the boy was leaning
forward, as if he couldn't comprehend what he was
hearing. And the changing expression upon Jerry's face
was, to Dale, priceless. An expression that by the end
left the boy looking like he was trapped on railroad
tracks, the dawning realization slowly spreading
across his face that he couldn't avoid the oncoming
train. Too bad Jerry doesn't understand that it is
moments like this that Dale lives for. Savoring
control and a boy's discomfort the way another might
savor an especially fine port after dinner. Savoring
now, with undisguised pleasure, Jerry's fear.

Linda, as time passed, had been surprised to find that
she actually enjoyed motherhood, or had until
recently when Jerry started trying to assert his own
identity and independence. In her mind all of her sons
were her babies, or if not babies, they were still her
boys, and always would be, and should therefore act
accordingly. Jerry's attitude suddenly no longer fit
her ideal of how a boy should behave. Much less
towards his own Mother. Bad enough this. What was
worse was the fact that Jerry's growing maturity was
stamping the undeniable features of his father upon
his face. A constant reminder to Linda of the man who
had first deflowered her, then left her the moment she
had become pregnant. And on some level, if we are to
be truthful, Linda still burned for revenge. And if
she couldn't avenge her wrongs upon the father, well,
the son would take his place. It was with these
undercurrents, if unspoken as such to herself, that
she snuggled into her husbands arms that night and
whispered, in the form of a question, her thoughts.
The glow in Dale's eyes, the hushed whisper as he
spoke out loud, told her she had made the right choice.
Replaying in her mind, time and time again, the love
in Dale's voice as he softly intoned, "Yes. Yes! Act
like a little boy and you shall be treated like a
little boy." Those words, combined Dale's look,
secured Linda's coming place as co-disciplinarian in
the family. Dale and Linda were now, after six years
of marriage, no longer to be just man and wife, but a
team.

Dale's words were like ice water being dripped into
Jerry's viens. Leaving the boy chilled to the bone. 
Shivering. Jerry went to open his mouth in protest.
Then closed it. A trained responce from years of
experience. Catching the eerie calmness written on his
mother's face Jerry sobbed in protest. Seeing the one
place he could occassionally seek refuge, if not
intervention, was closed. Finally his inner voice, the
one he worked so hard to keep quiet, demanded to be
heard, and in a breaking voice, one that was fighting
through Jerry's layers of self defense, the boy tried
to speak up for himself, in protest. As would any
twelve year old boy who had just informed that his
mother was going to give him his bath tonight. 

Dale was in his glory. Again. The boys were in a state
of near panic at his last sentance. He had just
informed them of the new rule. That from this day
forward should they act like little boys not only
would they be spanked, they would have forfited their
right to bathe themselves as well. Instead, their
mother would do so for them. Even Kevin, all of just
nine years of age, found this an intolerable
developement. One that left all three boys in a state
of duress. If silent duress. Dale found himself
wondering if Linda was as lost in her own thoughts as
he was in his at this moment. Then smiled, in hope,
that she was. For his thoughts were truly wonderfull.
In his mind Dale was seeing Jerry standing next to his
Mommy. Shaking as his Mommy cooed at the water,
waiting for it to reach that perfect tepid temperature.
Dale could all but feel Jerry's shame, as bright as
any light, slowly working it's way towards his neck as
his Mommy gently scolded him, telling him to stop
being so silly, of course she had to take his
underwear off. Not caring that her 'little boy' now
had his first pubic hairs. Much less care that her
'little boy' was now capable of a full sized adult
erection. Dale found himself shivering as he
envisioned Jerry's reaction tonight, when for the
first time in six years Jerry's 'Mommy' lathered up
the washcloth, before telling him to spread his legs.
'Mommy' needs to clean you there also.

Dale could have stayed lost in his thoughts for hours
had it not been for Jerry's persistent protesting.
Protesting that seemed to border on open defiance to
Dale's way of thinking. Even if it only had been the
one very quiet plea. But in Dale's mind, that was one
too many. Then, with a grin that showed nothing but
teeth, Dale knew exactly how he was going to punish
the boy for daring to voice his own opinion.

  
TYS_1_The_Young_Stepfather_part_1