It was about six weeks after I had started wearing my school gym shorts outside especially on days when I had to mow the lawn when a car suddenly zoomed into our driveway and out popped my uncle and his wife. He was in the military and was stationed about a three hours drive away. My uncle was one of those people that never plan anything, he just did everything on the spur of the moment, and in this case he and my aunt were just out for a drive and decided to drop in. They knew dad and my step mom worked, so if I hadn't been home I don't know if they would have just hung around the hour and a half until they showed up or not. Needless to say when he saw me all sweaty in my tee shirt and gym shorts my uncle had to make a few wise cracks about why a boy my age was running around in skimpy baggy gym shorts. He also had some sarcastic flattering comments regarding my pretty legs. It had been two years since he had seen my knees during my other aunt's wedding and the humiliating experience with the Lord Fauntleroy outfit I had been forced to wear.

After he had had his fun with me and gotten me well 'redded' in the face the conversation turned into the 'What have you been doing since we saw you last' routine. During our conversation he mentioned that since I apparently had no inhibitions as all other boys my age certainly had about wearing shorts and exposing my cute legs outside, that he thought his old boy scout uniform might still be at my grandmother's house. He indicated that the next time he stopped in to see her he would look for it and some other scouting stuff he thought he still had and send them to me. He was sure the uniform would be large enough to fit me OK.

WOW! The thought of having a decent pair of actual shorts to wear kept me sexually fired up for the next several weeks. After a few weeks passed, however, I resigned myself to the fact that with his flighty nature my uncle probably had forgotten all about the shorts and scout equipment.

Not so. About three weeks later the mail man tooted when he reached our mailbox because he had a heavily wrapped brown paper package that was addressed to me. I couldn't wait to get it ripped open and see what my uncle had sent. Inside I found one complete scout summer uniform with an extra pair of knee socks and two neckerchiefs, one from the troop he had been in and the other from a scout camp he must have attended one summer. My uncle had been a boy scout about the time I was born in the mid thirties.

I hot footed my loot up to my room and immediately put the uniform on over the gym shorts and tee shirt I was wearing. Then I rushed to the mirror in the upstairs hall. Wow, did I look and feel great. The only problem was the garters that were used to hold up the knee socks were totally shot from heat and age, so I had to substitute a couple of rubber bands under the top of the stocking turn overs to keep them smartly up just a couple of inches below my knees. The uniform more than fit. Both the short sleeve shirt and shorts hung loosely on me. I figured if I didn't over eat I probably would be able to wear his uniform until I was at least seventeen or even eighteen.

In addition to the uniform he had also included his mess kit, canteen, compass, and scout long blade hunting knife with a leather sheath that you hung from your belt. I immediately made this knife an 'always have' whenever I went down into the woods. My grandfather was a carpenter and he had sharpened the knife for him so that you could easily shave with it. I quickly found that just the slightest touch of the point against the skin of one of my penny airship balloons would pop them. On a still day out in the woods I would bat the balloons up into the air and just let them float down to their doom on the upturned point of the knife.

Although I loved wearing the scout uniform down in the woods I had to be very careful that I didn't subject it to any abuse that might cause it to rip. I had to make it last. The knee socks were especially vulnerable to getting jabbed and ripped from low level brush I might be walking through, so their use was mainly limited to wear around the house when I played with my balloons while my folks were out on Friday and Saturday nights. They wouldn't leave the house until after nine o'clock at which time it was getting quite dark. Except for the cluster of houses near the intersection where the hotel and general store were located the outlying homes, like ours, were spaced out several hundred feet apart. I would don the scout outfit and hike around on the roads in the vicinity of our house until about eleven when I would come in for my Saturday night bath.

One Saturday evening in early October I was out sitting on our porch after we had finished eating. It had been a fairly warm day and I had spent the entire time in mowing our yard for what I hoped would be the last time for the year. I was wearing green gym shorts and tee shirt at the time. Dad came out and sat down next to me. It would be another two hours or so before he and my step mom would go out for the evening. He looked over at me and commented that he thought it was beginning to get a little cool for wearing shorts. I told him I didn't think so, especially when I was pushing our damn boy powered lawn mower all day. Then he casually asked me what I had done with the scout uniform my uncle had sent me and why he hadn't seen me wearing it at least around the house. I hadn't even given a thought to the likelihood that my uncle would sooner or later mention his gift and dad would want to know why he hadn't seen me wearing it. I had sent my uncle a short handwritten note thanking him the very next day acknowledging receipt of his package and  sort of hoping he wouldn't mention it to anyone in the family. He had obviously told my father at some point.

I told Dad the uniform was up in my room and I hadn't worn it because I felt socially uncomfortable having my friends seeing me running around wearing the scout uniform. He said he thought I would look even better in the scout uniform than I did in the gym shorts that he said were a little too short and revealing for a fourteen year old to be wearing, especially out side the house. Then he told me to go up to my room and put the uniform on. He wanted to see what I looked like all dolled up in the scout uniform, shorts, knee socks, neckerchief and all.

I reluctantly went up to my room and put everything on while fighting an erection that my Jockey shorts was unsuccessfully trying to control. I wasn't any too sure what my father's feelings were relative to my wearing gym shorts around the house to begin with and I also didn't know if he suspected that short pants meant more to me than just another article of clothing As a result I wasn't too sure what to expect when I came down stairs for his review. My step mom saw me and wanted to know when and where I had gotten the uniform and why was I wearing it at this time of night. I told her my uncle had given to me and Dad wanted to see how I looked wearing it.

While I was upstairs changing, father came in from the porch because the light was rapidly fading. He was sitting in one of our over stuffed living room chairs as I came down the steps. I walked over to him and stood at attention directly in front of him as he looked me over from head to foot, while my little brother piped up, "Why are you dressed up like a soldier."

After a good looking over Dad finally commented, "You look all right to me boy. Why haven't you been wearing at least the shorts around here during the hot days we have had the past couple of months. I can see you might not want to wear the shirt with all the patches and insignias on it, or that silly neck cloth; and you would probably be cooler without the knee length socks."

Then he reached out with his right hand and started to fondle the hem of the shorts pulling the leg tightly against the back of my thigh. I instinctively moved toward him because I thought he was going to rip the leg open. He continued, as he applied another hard pull to the hem, "You know if you don't want to wear these shorts because of what your friends might say and do to you they really are easy enough to get rid of."

His ominous words sent a real chill through me, so I quickly responded, "Please don't rip them. They will still fit next year and I'll promise I'll wear them outside when it gets warm again next spring."

"Do you think a boy your age should be wearing any shorts to begin with?" he queried.

I didn't know how to answer. The society of the day definitely felt that boys over the age of seven or eight who wore short pants for other than athletic reasons automatically branded them as some kind of queer or sissified girl. I felt this view was held by both adults as well as my peers. The only response I could think of was that I felt that shorts were cool and comfortable to wear and lounge around in, but I was forced to admit that shorts were probably not appropriate for boys my age to wear in public. He mulled over my comment for a good minute while I just stood awkwardly in front of him.

Finally to break the silence I had to say something, so I offered, "Well what do you think? How do I look?"

Dad looked me straight in the eye and said, "Why to tell you the truth boy, you look like a big sissy."

His totally negative response took me completely by surprise. "You're a sissy," dad continued, "Because you are afraid to wear them out in the open in front of your friends. Instead you sneak around wearing shorts only whenever you think no one will see you. Actually with your good strong legs I think you look great wearing short pants."

Oh, oh. How much does he know, I thought, if he knows this much about my sneaking around late at night wearing them how much does he know about my balloon play? Who saw me and when?

Dad went on, "If you aren't enough of a man to wear shorts in public, then you aren't going to sneak about wearing them only around here or when you are alone down in the woods. So why shouldn't you just get rid of all of them here and now starting with these."

Dad made a grab for the hem of my shorts again but I jumped back out of his reach. I was fighting a panic attack but I just had to know the extent of his knowledge that prompted his comment 'Sneaking around wearing shorts,' so I said, "When have you seen me sneaking around wearing them?"

"Well," Dad replied, "I haven't; but some of the neighbors have seen you out walking on the road late Saturday nights after we have gone out. You know those pretty white legs of yours stand out even when there is only a little moon light. One advantage at least of wearing your shorts is you aren't as likely to get clipped by a passing car." (Actually there was never a chance of getting hit because I would make a dive for cover in the brush along the road whenever I saw car headlights approaching).

I explained my actions by saying, "Late at night is the only chance I have to enjoy wearing them outside without having to take a lot of crap from the guys and probably from a lot of the other people in town as well."

I could immediately sense my father's displeasure with my rationale.

"I really don't want to get embarrassed and humiliated in front of my friends," I went on.

"You mean you don't want to get your ass kicked like happened a few years ago when your mother made you wear those blue shorts she bought you," Dad responded with a disgusted look.

I shot back, "Yes, that's probably my main reason."

"Well, you know what, boy, we are going to have to get you some good old fashioned back bone confidence or you are going to have a hard time in this life letting everybody walk all over you," was his surprising reply.

"Now," he continued, "I don't want you wearing these shorts again until you are ready to wear them during the daylight out in front of your friends and other adults. If I hear about you sneaking around in them at night any more that uniform will immediately go into the incinerator along with all those other shorts you have; do you understand me?"

I nodded acceptance of his terms.

"Speaking of burning things," Dad went on, "I think that neck rag you are wearing makes you look like a little kid in one of those short pants sailor suits. I think it would improve your appearance if you got rid of it. It's just thin cotton and it ought to burn easily."

Now in my opinion wearing a neckerchief is what turns a boy wearing shorts into a boy scout. Additionally wearing a neckerchief I think is sexy and gives me a western cowboy out doors feeling. Since I didn't think it would go over too well to present these thoughts to my father, I just told him I would take his opinion under advisement.

If this was this all he knew then I was home free. If someone had seen me wearing shorts down in the woods then they probably would have also seen me enjoying my rubber toys, and worse may have even observed me pleasuring myself. Since I had just given him the opportunity to bring additional disgusting aspects of my hidden lifestyle up and he hadn't, I had to assume that was all he knew or he was, out of his love, sparing me untold additional emotional stress.

The rare encounters with my dad where references of any sort were made on implied relative to my balloon and short fetishes always left me sexually hyped up, and that was the case at this moment as I stood there in front of him. I was afraid my cock, which had started to stir as I was coming down from my room in my scout uniform, was going to expand in earnest at any moment. Since I thought our discussion about the scout uniform was finished, plus the fact that I desperately wanted to get things better adjusted down below, I just turned and started to walk away.

He immediately said, "Whoa, hold on. I'm not done talking about your unusual affinity for young boys pants."

Everything just suddenly drained out of me as I slowly turned to face him again. "What are you planning on doing with all the gym shorts you salvaged from school this past June?" he asked.

I stammered, "Why I guess I was just going to wear them around the house to sleep in and when I'm doing hot sweaty jobs like today. They were just going to throw them out so I grabbed a few dozen along with some tee shirts. I didn't even bother to sort them for size or anything, so some of them are a actually a little small for me to wear."

"How many did you take that will fit you," he went on.

Since he probably wanted to see them and they were all in one place except for the ones that were on the small side that I stuck out in the barn for later destruction, I thought it best not to lie and told him there were probably about six dozen. Dad continued, "How do you plan to ever wear out that many of them?"

"I doubt if I will," I responded. "About half of them are extra large size and will easily fit you," I offered.

"What about the ones you say are too small?" he countered.

"Well I'll probably just get rid of them; use 'em for grease rags or something," I replied.

Then he asked me where the shorts and tee shirts that were too small were and I told him they were out in the barn. Then he said, "Let's go take a look at them."

As we walked out to the barn a really strange feeling came over me. Why was dad interested in the gym outfits that I probably would never be going to wear?

Little brother wanted to come with us but my father had mom collar him as it was about time for her to take him down to his grandmothers for the night anyway. The fact that Dad didn't want him with us sent another wave of shivers down my spine. We went out to the barn and I exhumed the gym outfits from their hiding place. I knew he had to be suspicious; wondering why something I was planning to throw out was so well hidden, but he didn't make any comment about it.

"So these don't fit you say," he remarked as he handed me a pair of white gym shorts. "Here, why don't you see if you can squeeze into these shorts and we will have a look."

I turned away from him and dropped my scout shorts. As I pulled on the under size gym pants I knew he suspected something. I didn't know how I was going to not blow everything due to the sexual stimulation that was flooding over me. The small size shorts were wearable but tight enough around the waist to show even a trace of bulge if I lost control for even a moment.

"Since these are too small for you to wear and you are going to get rid of them anyway," Dad said, "I'll show you what we used to do with them when I was in college. Lean against this wall and stand firm."

I obeyed, wondering just what he was planning to do. I was hoping it didn't involve any great amount of pain on my part. He came up behind me and grabbed the hem of the left leg and gave it a hefty yank. The leg of the shorts snapped tightly against the front of my thigh for a moment and then suddenly relaxed as the outer seam ripped apart with a sudden almost tired ripppp sound. A moment later the right leg was given the same treatment and it tore just as easily. Dad then grabbed the elastic waist band and gave it a good yank. The ends were sewn together at the back of the shorts under the label and the stitching ripped at that point and continued down the back seam that would normally be between your ass cheeks until it reached the junction of the four pieces of material that moments before had been a perfectly good pair of gym shorts. He then released the waist band and the shorts dropped in a ripped cotton puddle around my feet.

"Hay now wasn't that fun," Dad said with a big grin. "Here put on another pair. You've got lots of these shorts you are never going to wear. Might just as well get rid of them and have some fun while you are destroying them, don't you think."

I was having fun all right; trying to keep my tool under control. I kept turned away from him as I stepped out of the torn shorts and pulled on the next pair to be destroyed. Dad yanked on the leg hems tearing them off me in the same way as the first pair; and just as easily. The nice soft thin cotton shorts that had been washed many times were not intended to survive the abuse they were getting; and they weren't. With each ripppppp another sexy pair of knee pants was destroyed causing an orgiastic surge of stimulation to flood over me. In less than five minutes he had turned six of the under sized gym shorts into ripped cotton rags.

"Here, let me see if I can get into a pair and you can rip them off me," Dad suggested.

He removed his trousers and pulled on a pair of the undersized white shorts over his jockey under shorts. I didn't think he could get his more heavily muscled thighs and tight ass into a small size pair of them as they were fairly snug in the ass on me, but he did. The cotton was straining across his ass cheeks even with him standing. He realized this gave him an opportunity to bust them in a different way by squatting down and forcing his ass and his bulging thighs into the tightly stretched cotton. The shorts made it through the initial squat but then he started to swivel his rear end. That finished them as the rear seam suddenly ripped and the shorts literally burst open like a punctured balloon; splitting apart from the crotch all the way to the waist with a sudden almost popping sound. Dad let out a hoot and told me to rip the hems on the busted pants off his legs as he had done to me.

I grabbed the hem of the one leg and gave it a good yank. Because the rear seam was already split down to the inseam joint, the legs tore apart at the leg inseam instead of along the outer seam as the others had done when he ripped them off me. At this point the pouch of my Jockey underpants was soaking wet. Watching father destroying my shorts, even though I didn't particularly want them, was providing me a super sexual high. I wondered how steamed up I would be if he had me haul out my balloon stash and he started busting my rubber toys for me as we used to do many years earlier.

Dad burst the rear out of two more of the gym shorts in the same manner and I finished them off by ripping the legs open for him. At this point he decided he had better go in the house and start getting cleaned up and dressed for their night out. As he was pulling on his pants he said, "See how easy and much fun it is to get rid of your shorts. We will have to come out here again soon and finish off all the rest of these gym shorts. If you are not going to wear out all the others you have we can have fun taking care of them too. And if you are not going to wear those sexy boy scout shorts out in public, you we can easily get rid of them in the same way as well. Now hide the rest of these gym clothes for later and when you burn the trash next time you can toss in the ones we just destroyed."

Dad left the barn and went back into the house leaving me standing there with a throbbing dick. As soon as he was gone I pulled down the waist band of my Jockey under shorts, grabbed some of the torn gym shorts off the floor, wrapped the thin cotton around my stem, and started stroking. My system was fully primed and I squirted my load into the torn cotton I was holding in my hand in less than thirty seconds. Wow what relief. Now all I had to do was try and interpret his totally bazaar actions. I had never had an interaction with him before that was anything like this. Did he want me to wear shorts openly on a regular basis or did he think I was too old and suspected that I had other motives for my sneaking around secretly wearing them? And he really seemed to enjoy destroying the gym shorts in the way we had. I wondered if our brief rip off had gotten dad 'excited'.

The entire episode hadn't lasted much more than fifteen minutes and in that time I had become more sexually keyed up than I had ever been before. I was at a loss to explain what my dad had just done. He obviously had gotten more than a passing thrill out of destroying the shorts; or else was he just trying to see how much of a thrill he could give me. I doubted that he couldn't have noticed how excited I had gotten when he started ripping the shorts off me and I suspected that the exercise had been staged as a means of verifying his suspicions that I had a sexual thing for short pants. As I pulled on the scout shorts I realized, that embarrassment and ridicule aside, I would have to openly wear the scout and gym shorts if I didn't want them all to wind up by next spring in our incinerator.

After dad and my step mother left the house I jacked off two additional times up in my bedroom. The shorts ripping incident had me sexually keyed up for the next couple of weeks. Revision Date 2/03
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