Before He Came
(A memoir of a boy formally know as Ronnie)
My life was pretty good, not real great but bordering on it. I lived with my mother in a medium-sized town, my father having died in a train derailment on his way home from a business conference. Sad, yes, but I was just little. And while I have memories of him, they seem to be fading now. I do have some pictures. Him by himself or with my mother or the three of us on a day out to the beach. I don't really remember that, but I'm sure it was nice.
My name is Ronnie. Well, actually it is Ronald, but as far as I know I was never called by that name, except a few times at the beginning of the school term, then everyone just called me Ronnie. I'm 13 years, 5 months and 20 days old, when this story starts. Yes, I count them. I'm compulsive about it. Don't know why, I just do it. Until recently it was just something to occupy my time and to reassure myself that I was a growing boy in my teens. Now I do it to remind myself of how old I really am. I'm a nerd. Geek. Freak. Weirdo. Whatever word works for you nowadays. I'm skinny. I'm the smallest in my class. Most the girls are taller and bigger and even stronger. Yes, I get picked on. But they usually tire of it and for the most part just leave me alone. Every now and then they get a laugh in by pantsing me and admiring (as they call it) my little bits, but it is nothing ever really serious or terrible. Mostly just comments about my size and being just like a little boy. I am four feet, nine inches tall, when standing on tip toes. And I am lucky to weigh 95 pounds. And that's holding a wet towel. It's actually quite weird as both my parents were rather tall. An aunt once said, I hope in jest, that I was switched at the hospital and really belong to the wee folk. She's Irish and found that to be quite funny. Me? I worry a lot. I worry that perhaps I was switched. I'm small and bookish. Both my parents were big and not necessarily athletic but they worked out and such and they did have what I call a "proper body" You know. Big, trim, firm. Nice looking. Like from a fashion magazine. Oh, well. That's just the way it is for me, before he came.
To make matters worse. I have red hair. Not just red hair, but blazing red hair. Another prime target to tease about. Everyone loves to pick on gingers. And if it could be worse. I have freckles. Lots and lots of freckles. My wonderful aunt (may she rot in hell) loves to say that I shouldn't be so shy and sensitive about them, that they are angle kisses. (Laugh) Then after a pause, or are they kisses of the devil? (Even more hearty laugh as she downs some Irish whiskey). That always gets a big laugh from all gathered round. I also wear glasses. Not real stylish ones (my opinion), but nice sensible ones (my mother's opinion). My hair is longish but not real long. Not even to my shirt collar and just to my ears. Yes. I wear shirts with collars. I don't wear baggy jeans or t-shirts emblazoned with wild pictures or sayings. I wear button-up shirts with button down collars and slacks (as my mother calls them). Khaki colored ones are my favorite but I have some others. My mother says I look very smart. Everyone else says I look like a geek. That was my life, before he came.
I enjoyed school. I'm in eighth grade. I'm smart. Top of my class. Just what you would expect for a nerdy, geeky bookworm. I'm not into sex and that stuff. Didn't understand about it and didn't really care or worry about it. I liked looking at some of the girls that seem really pretty, but they seem so annoying with their giggling and carrying-on. I'm not interested in boys either. Yes, I look at them. Can't help it. We have to change clothes and shower for gym, so can't help but see them. They are all much more developed than I am and they are all proud to show it off, especially to me. All but two, me and another boy, have pubic hair, armpit hair and most are even growing hair on their legs and arms. Me and the other boy are often ranked out and stripped and compared together. It's what boys do. The coach even laughs. I am as smooth as a fresh sanded board. Not a hair in sight. Anywhere. And I look and hope every day to see if there is any sign of hair. But it hasn't happened yet. And they are much bigger than me, down there, you know. I don't know how big it was then, or even how big it should have been, as it never occurred to me to measure it. I didn't get erections like the other boys. At least from what I understood about them. The other boys always seemed to be talking about hard-ons and such and how they are always hard and waking up with boners and like to whack one off. I didn't even know about masturbation. I guess I was naive about things or just wasn't at the point in my life to where it mattered, like the other boys. That's how it was...before he came.
I am good at computers but don't do gaming. They seem to zap your brains, if you ask me. I love to read. Adventures. Mysteries. I daydream a lot. Being on some adventure in foreign lands or even in space. Being a world-class spy or a soldier of fortune. Working with famous detectives solving the most baffling of cases. Before you ask. No. I do not play sports. Pretty much spazz at that. I have to participate in gym. Coach says I have too. But no one holds much expectation. Whichever side is unlucky enough to get me, usually makes me the towel and water boy. I just go with it. Its not that bad. Pretty easy. I hate it when they spray the water on me that they had just taken. Or even worse when I have to stand naked at the showers giving out and taking up towels.
Anyway, like I said. I pretty much enjoyed my life. That is before he came. Who is he? He is Master Gunnery Sergeant Richard James Worthington, Jr., United States Marine Corps, Retired. He met my mother at some social function on the nearby Marine base. Needless to say, they hit it off straight away. Lucky them. Unlucky me. You could see the disappointment in his eyes the very moment we met. And it went down from there.
I remember the night they met. My mother had come home all giddy and giggly. You know how the girls at school are? They stand around and giggle a lot about who knows what. That's how she was. She must have spent two hours on the phone with her friends talking about... The Gunny. That's what she calls him, "The Gunny". Even now and they have been married for almost three years now. Jez, was it annoying. She'd hug me, kiss me and giggle and say he was coming over this weekend to meet me and then he was taking her out. TAKING HER OUT!!!! I was beyond confused. My mother has not been on a date with a man since my father was killed. Sure, she went out now and then with 'the girls' for a few drinks and maybe a movie or splendid dinner, but that was the limit. I was confused, my head was spinning. I didn't know if I should be as excited as she was, but I didn't want to disappoint her. I never disappoint her, or at least that is what she had always told her friends. However, now it seems like I am nothing more than just a big disappointment to her. I don't measure up to being a 'real man'. Actually that was 'The Gunny's' opinion of me. It appears that she shares that opinion now.
Let me describe The Gunny. Hmm. How to say it? He is like a brick wall on steroids. He is tall. Six feet, four and one-half inches tall. When I am next to him, it is like looking up at a very huge tree. You know the ones you saw when you were a kid? The ones that go straight to the sky and then some. This guy had muscles. Everywhere! His arms. His legs. His neck. (I think he had one. Sometimes it was hard to tell as his head just seemed to meld right into his body). He was fit to say the least and that is by far an understatement. It looks like even his jaws had muscles. He works out three times a day. I never exercised, before he came. He weighs 185 pounds. 185 pounds of pure muscles. Like I said, he is a brick wall. Only this wall had arms and legs and a big, loud booming voice that made me want to pee my pants every time he spoke in my direction. He has a unique hair cut. He was military after all. But he is still all Marine, as he says. High and tight as the Marines call it, but shaped flat on top.
The days leading up to "The Date", my mother was a wreck of nerves. The Gunny was all she talked about. What should she wear? Should she get her hair done? Maybe some fashion nails? It got to be annoying. Like I said, I was confused. To me, up till then, my mother was a tower of strength. She had gone from being a stay-at-home mom to running the business office of a large company. People came to her for opinions, guidance, direction. She never faltered. She was the rock and backbone of the company. No one ever doubted her resolve or opinion. No one questioned her abilities. And now she couldn't even pick out an outfit for dinner and a movie with a guy she had met just three days earlier. The Gunny had that power over people. He demeanor seems to command respect and obedience as I soon found out. The hard way. I would tease her saying that she didn't have to get all dolled up for McD's and movie. She would scowl at me and say he has more class than that. She tells me that he is taking her to the Sergeant's Mess on the base and she has to make a good impression. Now that I think back on it, I wonder if that is what she wanted or what he ordered. I didn't know what a Sergeant's Mess was, but guessed it had to be something magnificent.
The day arrives and I am sitting on my mother's bed watching her change her dress for the fifth time, or is it the sixth. I have often seen her changing clothes but never naked and she has seen me changing clothes or in my underwear, and even naked as I shower or am getting in or out. It was just the way it was. We lived alone together and it was just that way. She's a total wreck. No more giggling but actual worry and dread. Will she look right? Is this too much (or not enough)? Did her hair look right? Jez, what happened to my mother? The proud, strong woman I knew was a ball of loose string. The doorbell rings and she tells me to go answer it and to be polite and proper to The Gunny. Doomsday had finally arrived. Or is it Armageddon?
I open the door and the tallest, biggest, sturdiest, meanest looking man I have ever seen is standing there. He fills and over-shadows the doorway easily. I look up and he just keeps going and going. He is bulging out of a suit and tie, just like the Hulk looks like before his clothes rips and he become a green monster. I guess you could describe him as how the Hulk would look like as a real life man. The surprise (disappointment) on his face is obvious. His voice is deep and booms and echos in the house.
"I'm sorry. I must have the wrong address. I'm looking for Maisie Conners' house", he says disappointingly.
I must look like a deer in the headlights or a frightened bunny or both as it took some time for me to respond. Even after a couple of 'hellos?', it was hard to find my voice. I was that intimidated by the Gunny.
"No, Sir. You're at the right place. She's dressing", I say with my high trembling voice.
"I thought she had a boy, not a little princess", he says with a slight laugh and smirk as he puts out his hand. "I'm Master Gunnery Sergeant Worthington. My friends call me 'Butch', you may call me 'Sir' and 'Gunny'", he says gruffly as he takes my hand and squeezes. I immediately realize that he is not going to be my friend by any sense of the word.
I'm not sure if he meant to or not, but it really hurt as he grabbed my hand in that unbelievably big hand of his and he squeezed. He squeezed so hard, it made me buckle at the knees. I look up and see disappointment and and a sly, knowing grin.
As I am close to having my knees on the floor, my mother comes from her room. I would like to think she was there to rescue me, but all she saw was Gunny. "Gunny, hello. It's wonderful to see you again. You look fantastic", she gushes and blushes like a schoolgirl on her first date.
The Gunny stops squeezing but doesn't release my hand. "Ah, Maisie, you look radiant. Truly a sight", he says with a smile like the Grinch.
"Oh, let me introduce you. Gunny, this is my son, Ronnie", she says as if she is out of breath. "Ronnie, say hello to the Gunny".
"This is Ronnie?", he asks condescendingly. "I thought he was a little princess here to do the housework or something", he laughs. To which my mother appropriately joins in on the joke. My face is red as I blush at the not-so-hidden innuendo.
The Gunny releases my hand as he takes my mother into his arms and gives her a kiss on the cheek, once again saying how radiant she looks. She gushes and swoons. I massage my hand. The Gunny looks around as if he was doing a preliminary inspection. The first of many.
After a bit of small talk of the evening and what they will do, they head for the door. Just as my mother opens the door, the Gunny stops and looks around bewildered. My mother stops dead in her tracks and looks as if she had made some terrible faux pas or breach of protocol or some other unforgivable gaff as she looks just as bewildered. "Are we dropping the princess off at a sitters on the way or he is here and I just have not seen him?" he asks annoyed.
My mother, looking worried and oblivious to the third snide princess remark says, "Oh, no. Ronnie doesn't need a sitter. He is a very responsible and reliable boy. He has been staying on his own for over a year now".
A dark cloud covers the Gunny's face as he is clearly disappointed and not in agreement. "Nonsense! A little boy must be supervised at all times. Little boys are irresponsible and always up to some sort of mischief," he bellows. We both shake at the sound of his disappointment and loud, not-to-be ignored opinion.
"Oh, but he is not a little boy", my mothers tries to explain. "He's........."
The Gunny, raising his hand immediately commands silence. Just his mere presence commands obedience and respect. "Nonsense! We will take him to my quarters. Max can look after him while we go out. And we will most likely be late in returning, so he will need a change of clothes and pajamas for the night". It was a statement. An order. There was no room for question and absolutely no room for disobeying.
In the brief moment that it takes my mother to access the situation and make a split-second decision and loosing the countenance she always displayed, looks to me, "Ronnie, run get some clothes and hurry, we have to be on the way", she says with a lot of hurry and worry.
I start off to my room, my head spinning and my hand still aching. I am not halfway there before I realize the Gunny is right on my heels. "We need to be quick princess", he bellows. "I'll see that you get your things in a hurry. I don't want to be late and you are already putting me behind schedule", he says with a not-too-pleasant tone. I shudder and move faster to just a slight jog. It hasn't been said, but I know not to upset him further. Some things you just have an instinct about, you know.
As we enter my room, he pushes me aside and starts a slow, circular inspection of my room and its contents. I'm a very neat and tidy boy. My room, while perhaps not immaculate, is very neat and presentable, at least for a young teenage boy. However, by the expression on the Gunny's face, it seems that I have failed to meet his expectations for the second time that day. He rummages through my closet, obviously disappointed and then proceeds to inspect the contents of my dresser. Although it did not feel right that this strange man that I have only known for all of ten minutes was inspecting and going through all my things. It seemed that he presence commanded that authority and right. He was far from impressed. He pulled out my underwear. Boxers and some boxer-briefs and held them up with an air of disgust while throwing them to the side and finding the old, small cartoon briefs I used to wear when I was younger, holding them up and nodding his approval. He rifled through the other drawers and pulls out sleeping shorts and pants. I didn't actually wear pajamas but sleep shorts or pants with an t-shirt. Again, he was not impressed, all the while muttering "unacceptable" or "inappropriate". In disgust, he shoves them into a bag he got from the closet along with some more underwear and t-shirts and pulls a pair of slacks and a couple of shirts and turns to leave telling me to get going. Now, I know that you don't just shove your nice clothes into an overnight bag, but I dare not say a word and scurry out the door and almost run to the protection of my mother. I was that intimidated and afraid.
My mother was definitely surprised, but did not move from the front door. She obviously knew her place and to unquestionably obey Gunny as well. When he returned with the bag and a scowl on his face, you could see the questioningly look on her face and her hesitance in asking what the problem was. Reading her mind and expression, the Gunny said he did not believe I had appropriate attire for a little boy and said something to the effect that he would get it corrected as soon as possible. My mother, demurring to his obvious displeasure and superiority, just nodded and agreed. We were ushered out to his car. While I was ushered out with a slight shove making me trip and stumble, my mother was escorted arm in arm with Gunny, the giddy, giggling schoolgirl returning. I start to get in the back when a hand grabs me by the back of my collar and yanks me back. "I see you need to learn some proper manners, princess", he says gruffly in his loud booming voice. "You are to open the door for a lady and help her in, then you wait until your superiors and elders get in, then you get in. Is that understood?"
Hanging about a foot off the ground by the collar of my shirt, I feel like I am about to pee my pants, but manage to nod my head and squeak out a meek, "Yes Sir!" Releasing me, he dumps me to the ground landing on my butt with a thud almost knocking the breath out of me. Not wanting to experience any more of his wrath, I scamper to get up and open the door for my mother who is all agog with the exhibition before her.
After Gunny gets in, I open the rear door and slide into the seat, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible. The Gunny is staring me down from the rear-view window. He is not pleased and I haven't the slightest idea what it was I did wrong. Looking at me with a scowl, he says I will need a booster seat to make sure I don't slip out from under the seat belt. He asks, "Didn't I tell you that you are to address me as Gunny and Sir? I don't think I heard that just now, do you?"
The only thing I could think of is was that a rhetorical question or was he really expecting me to reply. Thinking that silence was not the response he wanted, I squeaked out, "Sorry, Gunny, Sir". Although it didn't really appease him, it was the only thing I could think of doing. I was nervous, scared, bewildered and had the feeling that I was again about to pee my pants as I looked down to the floor to avoid his gaze.
"I'll correct you later for your mistake". He says as we drive off. I had a good life...before he came.
During the short, but very quiet ride to his house, Gunny pulled out his cell phone and makes a call. Only hearing one side of the conversation, I am not put at ease any. He is telling the person on the other end that we will soon be there and that he will be looking after the princess, me, tonight and most the next day. Acknowledging that the other person had plans for both days, he is not happy and says he will do as told and to meet us at the door. All the while, Gunny is staring me down in the rear-view mirror, while my mother sits there somewhat contented but with a worried smile on her face.
As we pull up to the Gunny's house, a young boy is standing on the front steps in what appears to be a military style stance. I would soon learn that this position was called 'parade rest' and would learn to assume that stance in quick order. The boy is an exact, albeit smaller, version of the Gunny. Same build, haircut, posture, everything. Just a miniature of the Gunny wearing a very tight, white t-shirt that is tucked in to some very short and tight shorts. He has the same bulges. No fat anywhere, just all muscle. As we start to get out the boy snaps to attention then runs to the door, my mother's side, making it as obvious as possible that he knows the rules about women and superiors. He then runs around to the Gunny hugging his waist and blurting out welcomes and apologies. The Gunny pats his head and acknowledging his sacrifice for the next two days will be made up for, but that the tone the boy used with him will have to be addressed later. The boy politely says, yes sir and bows his head. They both look at me, The Gunny in disgust, the miniature gunny with a look that tells me I'm dead meat. As my mother makes her way around the boy is too quick to offer his hand in introduces himself as Max. My mother gushes again. I come around and am introduced as 'The Princess' as Max takes my hand to shake it, but squeezes the life out of it causing me to bend as if kneeling to a superior. And soon, that is just the way it would be. Oh, how I miss my life before he came.
While small chat and pleasantries were given, I was well aware that I was an un-welcomed visitor. The glares from both 'men' were causing me to be shy and intimidated as I just stared at my feet while everyone else talked amicably about things. The Gunny told Max that he and my mother were going to the Sergeant's Mess for dinner and then probably to a movie and would not return until very late. He made it quite clear to my mother and me, that Max, even though he was almost two years younger than me, was a most extraordinarily mature boy for his age and was most reliable and would be in charge of looking out for me. Max had an evil smile that made me cringe. The Gunny kept referring to me as 'The Princess' and to Max as 'little man'. My mother made no attempt to correct him. The Gunny gave orders, and they were definitely implied as orders, as to the course of events of the night. Max was in charge. He told Max I was to have a bath at 2000 and be in bed at 2030. As I started to say something, I was shut down by a disapproving stare by the Gunny. My mother was admiring the house and avoiding my looks of despair. He told Max that as he was in charge he could stay up later but was to be in bed by 2130, to which Max immediately snaps to attention yelling, "eye' eye, sir." The Gunny said I didn't have any proper attire for the night and that Max was to find something for me to wear. With an evil smile, Max assured the Gunny that he would. He was to brief me on the proper behavior expected of me and that if any trouble, Max was authorized and obligated to handle it as he felt best. The 'little man' looked as if he was going to pop out of his T-shirt his chest swelled so much. I got smaller and smaller. As I said good-bye and good night to my mother, I asked if I could go home and that I was more than able to look after myself. My mother just smiled and said it would be OK and to be a good little boy and do as told. As I was about to object to be called a little boy in front of a younger boy, the Gunny snatches me up by my shirt collar and says he almost forgot. He takes me in the house and to the couch and quicker than a rabbit has me over his knees and is spanking me with hands that are as big as frying pans. My mother looks bewildered while Max gazes on in complete approval. I am crying and sniffling after the second smack. After 10 well placed smacks I am unceremoniously dropped to the floor and told that is for forgetting to do as I was told and if I don't want more, I will start behaving like a proper little boy and do as I am told. He remarked that that was just a taste and any more trouble or backtalk from me would result in a more severe punishment. As I stand and rub my sore bottom, I could not think of how it could be more severe. I have never been spanked up to that point. As they walk out the door, the Gunny yells back to have a pleasant evening and I am sealed to my fate of being babysat by the younger boy. Oh, how I miss the days, before he came.....
As I continue to rub, Max approaches me and says I am lucky. That usually a spanking is bare bottom and much more longer and severe. He's smiling as he tells me this so I do not know if he is just trying to scare me or what. However, he did succeed in scaring me. He puts his arm around my shoulder and directs me toward the back of the house stropping to pick up my bag telling me he will show me around and what a sweet little princess I am. I started to object but the pressure he puts on me made me stop. You know that point on the top of your shoulder that is tender? Max knew where it was and just how much pressure was needed to make me bend and follow him.
We get to Max's room, if you call it that. It looks more like a miniature barracks. It has two simple metal frame beds. One was made with very white sheets that are stretched as tight as possible. There is an open-faced square locker at the foot of the beds, with things folded neatly and organized just so in the one at Max's bed. The other was empty. Nothing is out of place. There is no dresser like I had with drawers that my things were shoved into. The walls have Marine recruiting posters and other war-like images. The window has a plain set of Venetian blinds that are open, no curtains. Max's room would make a Drill Sergeant proud and I guess it does.
Max throws my stuff at the foot of the empty bed and tells me he will show me how to stow my gear and make my bed later, but now it is workout time and I was to join him. I start to say I didn't want to work out and he holds up his hand, just like a miniature Gunny and asks if I have any workout clothes to which I reply no. He looks carefully at his cabinet then goes to the closet where another identical cabinet sits. He carefully inspects the contents then takes a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from this cabinet and tells me to put them on. I hesitate as I did not want to change clothes in front of this boy I just met and with a quick slap to my already sore bottom, he says to get moving. So I start to fumble with taking my clothes off. I am wearing boxers and he scoffs at me and asks if I have anything else. I look at my bag and he grabs it and opens it and rifling through it, he finds the old cartoon briefs that the Gunny packed. He holds them up and giggles at the Toy Story briefs and says these will do and tosses them at my feet. I pick them up and ask where the bathroom is so I can change and he looks at me with an amusing and disapproving look saying I can change there. Another slap to my butt convinces me to change so I step out of my underwear to the amusement of Max. Even though I change clothes almost daily at school, I did not want to undress in front of this boy. If the Gunny was intimidating, Max, being 11, was more-so. Needless to say, I was extremely embarrassed as he checked out my immature body. I cover myself with my hands and he immediately slaps them away telling me not to hide my "little boy dickie". He smiles and laughs to a private joke, then mentions that I am uncut and that 'pops' is not going to like that and will probably have me clipped. I did not know that that meant, but I cringed anyway as I start to miss the day before he came.
I change into Max's clothes he has loaned me and they fit, albeit a bit loose. On him they would be so tight every muscle he had would bulge. I guess that is the point, to show off his well-built body. I'd prefer not to be noticed.
Max pushes me out the door and out back to the garage where a gym and exercise room is set up. He makes a grandiose gesture as he tells me he and his "pops" as he calls the Gunny work out three times a day and that I will be doing so as well. I cringe. He slaps my butt and laughs. His voice is much deeper than mine. I'm intimidated by this boy who is younger than me, yet so much stronger and apparently more mature than I am. And definitely dominant. He is one that is accustomed to being in charge and obeyed. I haven't been able to not notice the bulge in his shorts and he notices that I am staring there. I am not sure if it is because the shorts or so tight or because he is really big down there. I've seen other boys and even men naked at the pool and changing rooms so I am very much aware on how insignificant I am compared to others. Smiling, he puts his hand on his stuff and rubs and asks if I want to see a real man's junk. I stand dumbfounded but nod my head yes. His smile gets bigger as he pulls his shorts and underwear down and under his stuff. He is huge! I swear it and not only that, he has hair all round the thing. I'd swear his is as big as a man's. I guess that is why the Gunny calls him 'little man'. Max smiles and tucks his stuff away saying that is what a real man looks like.
Max shoves me toward the weights bench and tells me that he is going to start me out on some free weights. I don't know what free weights are. I would think they would be free being in his home gym, but I don't know about that sort of stuff and was too intimidated to ask or say anything. He muses at me while he attaches some weights to the bar and then gives me a brief instruction on how to stand and grip and lift. I try to do as he says, enduring frequent slaps to my butt and upper legs. I try to lift and.........nothing. I can't pick it up. Max laughs so loud in a deep voice, you'd swear he was a man. My voice is still high; a little boy's voice. He embarrasses me as he laughs at my puny body. He has me flex my arm muscles, which there aren't any and squeezes making me flinch and cry out. He shakes his head and gives a loud, disappointed laugh. He removes two of the weights and has me try again. I can barely lift it. He yells in disbelief as he says it is only 20 pounds. He scoffs as he removes the weights and puts on two 2-1/2 pound rounds on the bar. I manage to lift to his astonishment. He has me lift the bar over my head and my body starts quivering after 10 seconds. He laughs hard and tells me to put it down before I drop it on my head and that I have a lot of hard work ahead of me. He removes all the weights and has me hold the bar over my head with my legs wide apart. He slaps my butt and upper legs and kicks out my legs as far as they will go while calling me a pansy and little princess. Max soon tires of the abuse and takes the bar from me and puts it away. He tells me to stand in the corner and has me watch has he adds weight to the bar and then without effort starts to lift the bar up and down, all the time staring me down with his prowess and strength. He does about 30 reps or so then hits the floor doing so many sit-ups I lose count. He follows that with just as many push-ups. I am actually amazed and impressed with his strength. He tells me that he does competition lifting and that he has won junior champion three years running. I can believe it.
He eyes me and a smile comes across his face. He gets up and and pushes me outside saying he wants to wrestle. In an instant I am face down in the grass with him on top of me rubbing my face into the ground. As he tortures me with his strength and bravado, he humps me and I can feel the hardness from his erection, although I am not sure what it is, as I have yet to experience erections. He comes close to my ear and says in a villainous and intimidating whisper that I'm definitely a little princess as he rubs his very hard erection up and down my butt crack. I've submitted to a much younger, stronger, dominant boy and didn't even know it.
After pinning me several times in my meager attempt to wrestle the stronger, yet younger boy, and after him sitting on my chest with his stuff in my face, Max finally tired of humiliating me and got off me and yanked me up saying it was time for lunch. We entered the house and he put his hand on my chest stopping me saying I was not allowed to wear the dirty clothes in the house and to take them off. When I balked at his suggestion, he slapped my butt and upper legs saying I was to do as told and not hesitate when told to do something. He reminded me, with another couple of slaps, that he was in charge. So I took off the shirt and shorts, which made Max smile saying that was better. I started off to the room to retrieve my clothes when he stopped me once again. Asking where I was going and me replying to get some clothes, he said that I did not understand and that I was to only wear my underwear in the house. After all, I was just a little boy and that was all I needed. I started to object when he grabbed me and led me to a kitchen chair where he sat down and put me over his knees and started to spank me. I was shocked and my attempt to resist was futile. I tried to cover my butt with my hand and Max grabbed it and pulled it up my back making me submit. I laid there as he spanked my now very sore and red butt. He then grabbed my underwear and pulled them down and off and started to spank me more vigorously saying I was going to learn one way or the other and either way was good for him. After a good 10 minutes of spanking and a long time after I stopped struggling, he dropped me to the floor. I looked up at him through my tears and he just smirked at me saying what a big baby I was. I got up and started rubbing my butt to which he slapped my hands away saying no rubbing and then guided me to the corner, pushing me into it and saying to stand there until he had prepared lunch. He told me to stand at parade rest, which I had no idea what that meant and the look on my face must have told him that as he put my hands behind my back and kicked my feet out wide. Then I remember the position he had been in when we arrived there earlier. As he pushed me back into the corner, he told me not to move or that I would very much regret it. I believed him. So I stood there my back to the corner, naked, my hands behind my back on complete display as this much stronger boy started to prepare lunch, bringing out all sorts of vegetables and large bottles of powders.
I just stood in the corner legs spread, humbled and humiliated. I had no idea how my life had changed so rapidly in just a few short hours and could not even imagine how it would be changing over the course of the next few days. Max made himself busy making us lunch, opening and closing cupboards and the refrigerator and the blender going loudly as he crushed ice and added this and that. Finally I was told to come over and get my lunch. I slowly approached and instinctively covered myself up. As I approached, Max slapped my leg telling me to move my hands and telling me not to cover my little boy dickie and that I had nothing to hide. I asked to put my underwear on and he said that in this house after a punishment, I was to stay naked, so I would not be wearing anything until bedtime and he suggested I get used to it as he saw many punishments coming my way. He pushed a rather disgusting looking drink toward me telling me that was lunch and it was full of proteins and such to help me bulk up. The look was bad enough, the taste even worse. I put it down and he scoffed as he knocked his back and practically inhaled it in one go. His pleasure at his lunch was evident as he pushed the glass back toward me telling me I had better drink up. I tried again, almost gagging as I drank some. Max gave a deep laugh saying what a pussy I was. I kind of agreed with him. I was not a rough-and-tumble boy like he was. I liked quiet, reading and just being alone. Max and I were complete opposites.
I struggled with the drink, mostly gagging as I downed it, but finally finishing it. Max took our glasses to the sink and moved all the other things, telling me to start washing up and that would be one of my jobs from now on. I stood there with a dumbfounded look which he immediately capitalized on. Grabbing and squeezing my small penis and immature balls, he said in no uncertain terms that I would be doing the cleaning and housework, like the girly princess I was. I managed to get out that I don't live here to which his reply was to squeeze harder and said that I just refuse to learn and understand. Once he had me on my knees, yet still in control of my privates, he whispered in my ear that his pops was going to marry my mother and that I would be living there sooner than I realized and that, yes, I would be doing the housework so I had better get the proper attitude and start to work before he took me over his lap again. Giving one last squeeze, he asked if I was ready to start, to which my reply was a squeaky yes. He squeezed again, saying that I would be addressing him as sir and that I need to start now. With increasing pressure and pain, I submitted saying yes sir, that I understand. Patting my butt, I could not help taking in his smell. It did not smell of boy but a man. A man who was virile, strong and dominant and had been working out. A smell not of stink, but of pure man emanating testosterone. Releasing me, Max stood above me, smiling and sneering at his new conquest. I got up and without any more delay, started washing up the lunch dishes. Max sat on a stool close by supervising me, giving me a slap to my butt to mention something I had missed. To my relief, the phone rang which caused him to release his attention on me and gave me a bit of reprieve from his eyes and hand. But my relief was short-lived as I soon realized he was talking with the Gunny, saying what a wimp and pansy I was, that I couldn't even hold an empty weight bar over my head without buckling. A hearty and manly laugh and the remark that sealed my fate. "You're right, Pops, he is such the little princess. He's already washing up and learning his place. Of course I have had to punish him a couple of times, but he isn't even a light weight. I can handle him. You have a good time. Love you, Pops".
With that, he hung up and said to follow him. I obeyed immediately. Max lead me to the front room and threw himself down on the couch grabbing the remote as he went. I started to sit down and he glared at me saying I wasn't to sit on the furniture but I was to sit on the floor at his feet. I did. He smiled and my life as Ronnie ended as I submitted to my fate and contemplated what it was going to be like as his little princess. Max smiled and said good girl and that a princess knew her place around her man. I was confused, hurt, sore and humiliated and all alone.
I sat naked on the floor, silently crying to myself as Max watched some Weight lifting contest on the TV. Every now and then he would comment on the size and strength of the men, telling me to watch and see what a real man looks like. He would occasionally rub his foot on my face holding it under my nose saying to take a good whiff of what a real man smells like. I would inhale deeply and he would laugh and say good girl. Then he told me to kiss his foot. I looked at him questioningly as he slapped my face with his foot. I kissed it. He smiled, again calling me a good girl and that it was important to remember that he was the man. He then told me to lick his foot. I hesitated, he frowned, I licked. I licked and licked it all over as it was some sort of Popsicle. He just laughed as he switched from one foot to the other, occasionally ordering me to suck on his toes.
I sat naked on the floor as I licked his feet and sucked on his toes for 30 minutes or so. He would say what a great job I was doing and that I would get better. I glanced over and saw him rubbing his package. It was huge. He smiled as he saw me eyeing him. After the event was over, he got up and told me to follow him. I got up and obeyed immediately like a little puppy at his master's heels. We went to the kitchen where the told me to dress and that we were going running. While I dressed he left and returned with some shoes for the both of us. As I was about to put them on, he slapped my upper leg saying that I was not ready yet. He stood me up and spun me around with my back facing him. He pulled my underwear up hard between my cheeks making sure I had a good wedgie and that my smalls balls were crushed at the same time. Smiling and laughing, he said I was ready and that is how I will always wear my underwear, should I be allowed to have any on. With that, we went out the door to my next humiliation.
We went running. Rather, Max went running. I was struggling just to jog. I told you that I'm not athletic. Max got frustrated with me and slowed down till I passed him then getting as close as he could, he started pushing me and hollering at me at the same time to get it moving. I tried and did pick up some speed, but not near enough to please Max. As he hurled insults my way he kept pushing till I stumbled and fell with him tripping over me. Max was up quicker than a cat and was not happy. If eyes could kill, I'd be dead right now. Oh, how I wish I was. Max picked me up by my t-shirt and pulled me close to his face saying that I was going to pay for that and that I had better get with the program. I was crying as his anger and displeasure melted any resistance or resolve I had. He dropped me to the ground telling me to run home and he meant run home, no walking and what a baby I was. He said he was going to complete his run and would deal with me when he got back and that I was to strip when I got home and stand in the kitchen corner at parade rest till he returned and I had best not disobey him. He kicked me as he stepped over me and headed off. I sat on the ground in misery, sniffling until I realized I had been there some time and had better get moving. I got up, my body sore and started to run home. "Home". What a misnomer.
I struggled to get 'home' as fast as possible. I did not want to upset Max any more than he already was. We weren't that far away, 5 or 6 blocks or so, but I ran as fast as I could and was totally exhausted and emotionally spent. I entered the back door and immediately removed my clothes and had gotten into position in the corner as I was ordered and waited for my nemesis to return, wondering just how he was going to make me pay for my incompetence. I needed to pee, badly, both from fear and that fact that I hadn't peed since I had gotten up that morning, but I was afraid to move should he come in while I was in the bathroom. I didn't know what compelled me to obey this boy I had only met and known for a few short hours, but something in me said I had to.
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