Tales of Brian's Bare Tail 5: The Beach Tale(FMF/b, FF/bg, nc, otk, public) by Nialos Leaning Copyright 1998 by Nialos Leaning, all rights reserved. Permission for noncommercial free (no charge) electronic distribution and personal use reproduction of this story is hereby granted. All such distribution, re-posting and reproduction must be without alteration of this story in any way, must include this entire copyright notice, and must in their entireties retain the following statements: "The following story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. This story depicts two preteens, a boy and a girl, being spanked. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material, do not read further, do not save this story, but do immediately shut down your computer and report to your parents for a well deserved bare bottom spanking." "If you don't like stories of preteens being spanked, than don't read this story. Please do understand that some of us, including the author, enjoy such fantasy material." "This story is pure fantasy, written for the enjoyment of adults. At least, the author hopes they will enjoy it. Behavior depicted in this story may in real life be illegal, or considered by society to be abusive, harmful, unacceptable or undesirable. Not wishing to earn a spanking or two, Nialos Leaning neither advocates, condones nor personally engages in any such behavior." "Being a politically incorrect type, Nialos declines to state a personal opinion concerning real life spanking of children. Nialos does, however, remind readers that this story, as is all fiction, is fantasy and not reality." "Compliments and constructive criticism always welcome. Flammers will be charged a $250.00 processing fee per flame message received and subject to a severe bare bottom spanking by any and all willing citizens of Assville." Now, without further ado, before this disclaimer stuff becomes longer then the story, earning Nialos a sound spanking for boring everyone to tears, on with Brian's beach tale of his bare tail. Enjoy! ************************ Tales of Brian's Bare Tail: The Beach Tale by Nialos Leaning "Brian Evans," shouted the ten-year-old's angry mother, "get over here this instant!" "Coming," responded Brian, reluctantly making his way out of the surf toward the crowded beach. "Didn't I tell you to stay near Stacey and Sammy?" mother asked son. "Yes, you did," answered Brian. "Well, do you see them anywhere around?" demanded Nancy Evans. Frantically, Brian looked around. Neither of the girls were anywhere in sight. His seven-year-old sister Stacey wasn't in the water or on the beach, nor was his nine-year-old neighbor Samatha Collins. Sammy the Brat, as he called Samatha, and her single mother had accompanied the Collins family on this day trip to the seashore. "No, mom, I don't," replied a panicked Brian. "And do you know why you don't see them?" "No, I don't," the barely audible Brian mumbled. "Well, I do," said his mom. "Weren't you told to stay in front of the life guard stand?" "But," defended Brian, "I was in front of the stand." "Wrong stand," rebutted Nancy Evans, "the stand we're at is three more down the beach!" "Sorry, mom, I don't know how I got this far away," said the now lightly crying Brian, strongly suspecting what was going to happen next. "Well, I do," said his mother, "not paying enough attention. Well, I certainly hope your bare bottom pays attention to the spanking it's about to receive!" "Please, mom, not here!" begged Brian, beginning his now routine pre-spanking pleading for mercy. As usual, without success. "Yes, right here on the beach," rejoined Mrs. Evans. For the countless time, his mom was again about to prove that she wasn't afraid to use what all the kids in the neighborhood called "his mom's law." A law that she had been a leader in getting approved. A law that made it legal to spank kids. A law that as part of their punishment allowed kids to be naked in public. A law that was regularly used against him by his parents, his teachers, and even, last Christmastime, by Santa. "And these come off, now," said his mom, yanking his red bathing suit down to his ankles. Brian's face went an instant red, matching the color of his bathing suit. A bathing suit that his mom was now waving about like a flag, drawing even more attention to parent and child. Brian absolutely hated having his everything, as he called his privates, exposed to the world's view. He found that part of his punishments even worse than the spankings, horrible as they were. "Start moving," ordered Nancy Evans, giving Brian's bare bottom a hard slap. The irate Mother and her naked son started their parade down the beach toward their spot in the sand. Every so often, his mom stopped waving his suit long enough to deliver another stinging blow to Brian's ready but unwilling rear end. Well before they've covered half the distance, Brian was openly sobbing, tears freely flowing. And his real spanking hadn't even began yet. Brian's forced march, trailed by too many followers, especially other kids, was both too long and too short for his liking. Brian was convinced that every set of eyes on the densely populated beach was focused exclusively on his everything and his now somewhat pink bottom. But reaching their destination meant it would be time for a spectacular fireworks show, on his very own bare bottom, in front of the largest audience he'd ever been spanked before. Very much larger than at the mall with Santa, even much larger than that time in school when he, the Brat, and two other kids were spanked bare bottomed at assembly, in the presence of every student and teacher. But reach their destination they did. Pointing to the crying, red faced, naked Brian, Mrs. Evans told her husband and Mrs. Collins, "I found him three stands down, without a concern in the world." "Well, we were all concerned," said Tom Evans. "We were just about ready to report you as lost when we spotted your mother waving your swim suit." "But, dad," stammered Brian, "I wasn't lost!" "We didn't know where you were, you didn't know where you were," replied his father. "That's lost in my book." "Mine, too," added Elizabeth Collins. "At least your mother seems to have the right idea of what to do about it," stated Brian's dad. "I certainly do," said his mother, brandishing her hairbrush in her hand. "Please, mom, can't we wait till we get home?" Brian once more begged, tears copiously running down his face. He had become very aware of the ever growing crowd that was gathering around. Adults, teenagers, kids his age, including many girls. All getting to see his everything, which he knew better than to try to hide. All about to see him get a very thorough spanking, the only kind his parents ever gave. "I told you," snapped Nancy Evans, "that you were to be spanked right here on the beach, and I meant it. Get over to Mrs. Collins, right now." "Please, mom," Brian begged some more, "does she have to spank me too?" "Yes, she does," replied his mother, "you know about our deal." That was something else Brian hated about his spankings. The Deal. His parents and Sammy's mom had an agreement. Since Mrs. Collins had only started spanking Sammy this year, and didn't have much experience, whenever she was around when Brian was to be spanked, she was welcome to join in and practice on his bare bottom. Which she always did. But the deal was bad for Sammy also. Whenever she was due a spanking, and his parents were available, they would help spank her bare bottom. This meant that Brian was usually spanked in front of both Stacey and Sammy, and that Sammy was spanked in front of Brian and his sister. Worse, more often than not, Brian and Sammy ended up getting spanked together, usually after Brian had been spanked earlier in the day. It seemed that anymore if he was spanked once in a day, he was certain to get another one later that same day. "My mom's going to give it him good," Sammy announced to a bunch of giggling kids standing with her and Stacey. "So's mom and dad," chimed in Stacey. "Shut up, twerps!" shouted Brian. "Brian, stop that, and get over to Sammy's mother this instant!" ordered his mom. Brian, not wishing to make his fate any worse, immediately went and stood in front of Mrs. Collins, who was sitting on a cooler. She wasted no time in positioning the hapless boy over her knee. Without commentary, she commenced to briskly hand spank Brian. Hard slap after hard slap smacked his bare bottom. Twenty blows in total. Twenty blows that had Brian sobbing, nose leaking, legs thrashing, bottom reddening. Brian knew that this didn't even count as part of his spanking, it was only "practice" for Sammy's mom. Practice that he certainly didn't want any part of. Practice that he was now convinced, after the job she had just done on his behind, that she didn't need. Brian's first tormentor set him on his feet. "I hope that you learned a lesson from that," she told the boy, a boy who was now hopping from foot to foot. Somehow, Brian was able to resist rubbing his stinging bottom, an absolute no-no in his family. "Answer!" hollered Mr. Evans as he gave the center of Brian's bare bottom, right across the crack, a mighty spank of his own. A spank much harder than any of Mrs. Collins definitely hard spanks. "Yes, I did," blubbered Brian. "What else do you say?" demanded Brain's dad as he delivered another equally hard spank, in the exact same spot. "Thank you for spanking me, Mrs. Collins," Brian managed to blurt out between his renewed sobbing. "You're welcome, Brian," Sammy's mom replied. With that, she stood up herself, offering the cooler to Mr. Evans. "Good job, Elizabeth," Brian's father said as he put his left foot up on the cooler. "Thank you, Tom," replied Mrs. Collins. "You're welcome," he said as he grabbed Brian, positioning his errant son over his left leg. Brian was horrified. Here he was, a big boy of ten, dangling over his dad's leg like a little kid of three or four, his feet and hands just barely touching the sand. Brian didn't have long to contemplate this situation, as all too soon his dad's hand came smashing down onto his left bottom cheek. Quickly followed by a matching smash to his right one, then one to the center, which like the two before going over his dad's knee, bridged both cheeks. As his dad continued punishing Brian's behind, the now sorry boy increased the volume of his sobbing, which soon gave way to a steady wailing. His legs kicked furiously, as if he was trying to swim in the air rather than the nearby ocean. Snot was running continuously from his nose, his tears were an absolute avalanche of water. Over and over his dad continued to spank Brian, repeating the left-right-center pattern ten times in all, for a total of thirty devastating spanks. His bare bottom, now a strawberry red, was on fire. Once on his feet, the still wailing Brian immediately demonstrated his agony by his prancing dance on the sand. He couldn't stand the pain in his behind, and without thinking, reached back to rub. "Stop that rubbing, now!" demanded his mother, once more flourishing her hairbrush about. "That just earned you ten extra with the brush." Not giving Brian a chance to reply, she very quickly sat on the cooler, putting Brian over her lap. Just as quickly, her brush began reigniting the fire in Brian's bare behind. Time after time, the mean stinging brush struck Brian's already sore hind end. Brian's wailing gave way to an ear piercing howling. His legs were wind milling so violently, it was a wonder that he didn't take off like a helicopter. On and on, the brush relentlessly found its target. Well before the fortieth and final stroke landed on Brian's ravished bottom, he was giving a full blown rendition of his now famous in the neighborhood Banshee imitation. As soon as Nancy Evans had her son standing, Brian launched into an energetic to the extreme jig on the hot sand. Sand not anywhere near as hot as his now dark crimson bottom. He gave no indication that his howling, his tears, his run-a- way nose were going to cease and desist any time soon. "Girls," said his mother, "you have fifteen minutes for a final swim, while Brian calms down some." "Than, we'll get some ice cream on the boardwalk," said Brian's father. When the girls returned, they found the adults had almost everything packed up. Brian, hands behind head, was standing next to their belongings, facing the ocean. For Brian, the worse part of his punishment had began, being made to stay naked and exposed. Knowing how he, and Stacey, the few times she was spanked, hated this, his parents never sent them to face a corner after being spanked. Instead, they had to stand for a while in the middle of the living room, hands on head. For really serious misbehavior, they had to sit on a hard wood chair, legs spread wide, putting the punished child's privates on display to anyone that came to the front door or who was in the living room. "Okay girls," said Mrs. Evans, "dry off." "First," said Mr. Evans, "we'll go to the bathhouse and change, then we get that ice cream I promised." "Mom," asked a not very hopeful Brian, "can I have my bathing suit back now, please?" "I don't think so," replied his mother, "I'll just keep it till I do laundry next, you'll have to do without for a while." Which meant for the next few days, he wouldn't be allowed to wear anything below the waist, thanks to the "hamper rule." In the Evans household, before a clean item could be put on, the dirty item it was replacing had to be put in the hamper. Since he didn't have his red bathing suit to put in the hamper, he certainly wouldn't be allowed to put on his green one, nor any kind of pants. He would be naked till his mom gave him his clothes to put in the hamper. If he was very lucky, that would be today. More than likely, it wouldn't be. Usually, after a spanking, he had to stay naked through the next day, and often even longer. "Where should we go for our ice cream?" asked Brian's father as the party made their way across the beach to the bathhouse. "Nellie's!" exclaimed the girls in almost perfect unison. Brian let out an audible groan. It figured, his sister and the Brat had picked a shop some distance down the boardwalk from them. Probably on purpose, just for the fun of seeing him walk naked among the strolling crowds. "Nellie's it is, than," agreed Tom Evans. As they reached the bathhouse, Brian's hopes rose somewhat. His mom didn't have his clothes, they were in his locker in the male's changing room. Maybe he wouldn't be able to wear a bathing suit at the pool for a few days, but he had his clothes. That walk to Nellie's wouldn't be so bad after all, just somewhat uncomfortable with his still sore bottom. At their lockers, Brian's dad slipped off his own trunks. Opening his locker, Tom Evans threw these in, then closed and locked the door. He made no effort to use the other key to open Brian's locker. "Okay, son, to the showers," father told son. "Coming, dad," replied Brian. In the shower room, Brian's dad kindly adjusted and turned on a shower for the boy. "Under you go," he ordered Brian. As soon as he was under the water, Brian reached toward the faucet handle. "It's too hot," he complained. Actually, the water was only slightly hotter than Brian liked, but much hotter than he wanted right then with his still very much hot behind. "No it's not," replied his dad. "I don't want the water cooling off that red bottom of yours." A few kids overhearing this remark, giggled. Several adults laughed. Brian felt his face going red, again. Despite his discomfort, he couldn't help noticing, not for the first time, that while most of the men his dad's age or older showered naked, many of the younger men didn't, keeping their bathing suits on. As did most of the school age kids, and all the teenagers. Mather of fact, this time, he was the only naked person under twenty and over six or so in the shower. Only one of the three men that looked to be in their twenties was naked. Obviously, other kids, and some younger grown ups, didn't like showing off their everythings any more than he did. He'd heard that at the junior high, the kids all showered in suit suits. And that the high school had turned its showers into a store room. He couldn't wait to be going to those schools, maybe then his parents wouldn't make him go around naked anymore. Back in the changing room, Brian's dad still made no effort to open his son's locker. "Please, dad," he pleaded, "I need my locker open." "Why?" asked Mr. Evans. "You won't be wearing what's in there at least for the rest of the day." "Dad, no!" the dejected Brian responded, in almost a shout. "No arguing," responded Brian's dad, giving his son's bare bottom a resounding smack. Brian immediately renewed his crying, cutting short any further appeals from the ten-year- old. Once Tom Evans was fully dressed, he finally opened Brian's locker. Brian stared longingly as his clothes, all except shoes and socks, disappeared into his father's tote bag. "Get those on, now," Brian's dad commanded, pointing to his son's footwear. Brian quickly complied, not wanting anymore of his dad's hand. "Let's go see if the ladies are out front yet," man told child. Reluctantly, the still naked, still embarrassed, still red bottomed, still sore Brian followed his father out to the boardwalk. Neither of the mothers, nor the girls, were yet out of the bathhouse. Brian's dad sat on a bench. He made the naked boy stand in front of him, facing the boardwalk, hands on head. As more and more people got an eyeful of everything he had, the now again sobbing Brian's embarrassment grew immensely. Brian's friends all teased him that as much as he was naked in public anymore, he should be used to it. They were wrong. Used to it, yes. Just like he was used to going to school, to helping with the dinner dishes, to doing chores, to visiting the doctor and dentist, to mom's and grandma's kisses and hugs in front of other kids. Used to all these things, but not liking any of them. And it was the same with his being naked. He didn't like it at all. He didn't like being made to be different than almost everyone else, especially other kids. He didn't like being naked when and where most other people wouldn't be and weren't. He didn't like everyone seeing his everything, when they weren't showing theirs in return. He didn't like the teasing, or the comments about what he had or didn't have between his legs. To Brian, it was all very embarrassing and humiliating. Finally, the female contingent of their group emerged onto the boardwalk. Brian's mother immediately added to his distress. "Here, son," she said, handing him a bright yellow shirt, "put this on. I found it in my bag." Brian was sure that it wasn't by accident that his mom just happened to have that shirt with her, just like it wasn't that she had her hairbrush on the beach. The shirt was the only kind she let him wear when he was being kept naked. A shirt like many of his others, except it was somewhat short, doing nothing to cover any part of his behind, or even worse for him, his everything. "Please, mom," asked the hapless boy, "don't make me." "I don't believe it," his father interjected before his mother could respond, "the boy who hates being naked in front of others not wanting to put something on when we let him." "Unbelievable," agreed Mrs. Collins. Brian felt his face flushing again. He always felt so ridiculous going about with shirt, shoes and socks, but no pants or underwear. It was like he was too stupid to know he was supposed to wear those missing items, or too dumb to know he didn't have them on. His short shirts always made him more embarrassed than being completely naked, embarrassing as that state was. "Please, mom," Brian attempted one more time to try to persuade his mother. "I told you, no arguing," said Brian's dad, giving the boy's bare behind another hard slap. Tears were again cascading down Brian's face. "We don't want your shoulders getting sunburned," said his mother. Brian's brain saw a glimmer of hope. "Shouldn't I cover my bottom, too?" he asked. "It could get sunburned also." "I don't think so," Nancy Evans replied to her only son. "As red and sore as it is, I don't think you would be able to tell the difference anyway." "Yeah," taunted the Brat, "it's so red it looks like you still have your bathing suit on." "Shut up!" shouted Brain. "Make me," Sammy continued taunting, "I'm not the one showing his little dickie off to the world." "Sammy, enough!" shouted her mother. At the same instant, Brian gave the Brat a shove, sending her sprawling as he shouted, "yeah, well at least I'm a boy, so I have something down there to show!" "Brian," shouted his own mother, "that's it! You just earned another dose of my brush, young man." "So did you, Samatha Collins," Sammy's mother informed the girl and everyone else within the vicinity. She had a hairbrush of her own in her hands. Brian's mom hadn't been the only one to pack some "medicine" today. In very short order, Brian, still without the dreaded shirt, was over Mrs. Collins lap. An equally naked Sammy was over Mrs. Evans lap. As if on cue, both mothers simultaneously started spanking the other's child. Punishing hand spanks descended on the twin sets of bare bottoms, eliciting a not- so-pleasant to hear stereo screeching from two pairs of lungs. A serenade that never-the-less was beautiful music to many a passerby and onlooker, especially the children drawn to the commotion as if by a magnet. Kids just seemed to love seeing other kids "getting it." After what seemed a small eternity to the two youngsters, the punishing palms paused. Quickly, the two miscreants were switched, each now over their own mother's lap. Just as quickly, two hairbrushes started delivering their own unique, but effective, cure for misbehavior. Soon, Brian was giving a re-run of his reaction to his beach spanking. Sammy followed his lead. The banshee had found a companion, both howling loudly, kicking away, noses running furiously, tears coming continuously. When the two combatants were back upon their feet, both entertained the boardwalk with their not quite Broadway caliber dance routines. Brian's bottom was an even darker crimson then before, Sammy's a very bright red. "Now, put this on," said Brian's mother, handing him the shirt. Brian did as told, without any hint of protest. He wasn't about to risk for the third time that day an encounter of a most unpleasant kind over a parent's, or neighbor's, lap. Finally, the Evans and the Collins, including the naked, red bottomed Brian and Sammy, set off down the boardwalk toward Nellie's and their promised ice cream. And despite his embarrassment, his nakedness below the waist, and his very sore behind, Brian did enjoy his ice cream. As did the Brat. After all, ice cream is ice cream. * * * Brian's parents kept him naked for three days. He managed to stay out of trouble, and avoid further spankings, for a while afterwards. However, Brian being Brian and all boy, again experienced his mother's justice just eight days after the beach. But that tale of Brian's bare tail, and many more, are for another time. The end, a very red end for Brian, until Brian's bare tail reveals another tale.