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Bye Bye Shorts #1:- Ritual Burning- A Fantasy
After two weeks of fun in the sun at scout
camp I am really beginning to like the cool loose comfort of my scout shorts;
but upon return home dad thinks I look like a wimpy sissy in my uniform
he bought me just five weeks earlier.
I was almost home from a wonderful two weeks at the Boy Scout camp. Father had picked my friend an me up at the camp and we had just dropped him along with all his gear off at his house in town. I had felt really silly wearing the short pants, long stockings, and neckerchief when I left for camp two weeks earlier and my father felt the same way; that I looked like a big sissy. My father was adamant that manliness was the most important virtue a boy should possess, and anything that detracted from that, such as a fifteen year old boy wearing shorts, was to be dealt with sternly.
However, after spending two weeks in close quarters with a couple of hundred boys who were also sporting bare knees, I had developed a real liking for the abbreviated pants I was now wearing. It wasn't just that they were cool, comfortable, and gave me complete freedom of movement that I enjoyed. I REALLY liked my scout shorts. It was the night time fun we had had wearing them.
I had been masturbating for several years at this point but I had never had any sexual experiences involving other boys since none of my friends would want to discuss such a topic with their peers let alone admit that they played with themselves. At the camp, however, you didn't know most of the kids you were in close contact with and most seemed willing to discuss such matters. I fact, to my initial total embarrassment, they did a lot more than talk. There was little doubt that the short loose fitting legs of our pants provided an inviting and ready means of ingress for other boy's fingers which greatly facilitated the numerous instances of mutual sexual exploratory activity that went on in the woods and after lights out. By the end of the first week I found that I was sexually stimuleted just by looking at several of the boys in their shorts with their bare dirty, and often skinned knees jutting out for all the world to see. Wearing shorts and knee socks the other kids looked sexy and I felt stimuleted when I wore them myself.
As dad and I unloaded the car I wondered what his attitude would be if I wore the summer uniform around the house. I knew he wouldn't let me be seen in public wearing shorts, scout or otherwise, but I thought he wouldn't have any problem if I only wore them around the house. To test my theory, even after we had eaten lunch, I was still clad in my summer uniform and had made no move to change into my usual jeans and tee shirt. Father noted this and demanded to know why I was still wearing those silly shorts and stockings from camp. I told him honestly that I liked the freedom of movement they gave me and enjoyed wearing them.
Dad hit the ceiling and read me the riot act. No kid of his was going to run around wearing sissy little boys pants like some kind of queer. I tried to counter his argument that only sissies wear shorts and they really were good for hot weather wear, but all I got was a demand that I fetch him the other shorts and socks I had taken to camp as well as the camp neckerchief I had bought. I knew what was comming next because my father seemed to get sadistic enjoyment from burning my toys or other things he didn't think I should have. Even though it was painful to watch my things going up in flames I found that I would become stimulated and have an erection.
With me in tow we headed behind the barn where he hung the uniform items from a length of barbed wire strung over to the corn crib. The tops of two pairs of knee socks were each hooked over a barb with the toes hanging down. My back up pair of shorts was stretched, after zipping the fly and buttoning the waist, between two other barbs. Finally he took the neckerchief and impaled the the two ends on additional barbs so it hung down like a V shaped banner. After completing this task he rounded up an old sawhorse and placed it a few feet in front of my dangling scout clothing. My heart sank because the only use that was made of it was times he made me bend over it when he gave me a good licking with his belt.
"Now boy," dad bellowed. "I'll show you what I am going to do with your silly little boys clothes. I also am going to show you what those shorts you are wearing are really good for." Usually his blows landed on my buttocks but his comment about my shorts left little doubt this time would be different. He continued, "Now boy, you haven't done anything wrong I know of but I just really want you to remember extra good what I'm going to do to your silly clothes. Now take your position over the horse. I want you to have a real good view." Dad removed the belt from about his waist as he absent mindedly said, "Now lets see. What should we get rid of first? Lets see how well these silly looking long socks burn, shell we?"
He walked over with the belt in his right hand and flicked his cigarette lighter he always carried to life. His lighter was a refillable type and had an adjustment for the flame height. He cranked it up with his thumb to the max. It was like a mini blow torch as he applied the flame sequentially to the toes of the four stockings. Each began to burn. Slowly at first as the flames seared through the toes then faster as the foot of the stockings was engulphed. The material must have been nylon or some other synthetic because it burned with a bright orange flame and a lot of black smoke. The charred portion crinkled and curled upward as the flames crawled up past the heel. At that point the flames were racing up the inside of the leg portion and soon that entire section was ablaze.
He had torched all the stockings and the flames of the first had just about reached the heel when the cowhide landed across my buttocks. Oh god how it stung. My jeans were heavier material and they provided a bit more padding than the lightweight shorts I was now sporting. I prayed that this was the advantage of the shorts for my punishment. He gave me three more good licks, well spaced out so as to extend over the one minute period required for the four socks to burn; one for each stocking. Normally at this point I would feel my balls tingling as I watched the stockings burn, but the fire on my ass totally killed my usual response.
Next was the neckerchief. He touched the flame to the point of the triangle and the flames quickly raced up the thin cotton turning the bright orange triangle and the silk screened camp logo into a wispy black sheet of charcoal. The entire center portion was gone before he returned to me and laid on another good swat. The neckerchief burned in half and the two ends then dropped down inviting the flames to quickly finish their work.
"Are you enjoying things so far, boy?" dad bellowed. "Love to watch this silly stuff burn. Now if you are ready lets take care of these baby pants and I'll show you why you won't want to wear them," dad chuckled.
He fired up his lighter again and applied the flame to the hems of each leg at the inseam. The flames chewed their way through the inch and a half wide hem then raced up the thin meterial to the crotch while spreading out to the side of each leg. The pain in my ass notwithstanding, I felt my balls twittering. It was short lived. I howled in pain as the black leather laced across the bare flesh of the back of my legs just below the shorts hem that was raised well above normal because of my bent over position. The pain was excruciating and I instinctivly stood up. Dad stepped over and grabbed my head and pushed me down over the horse again. I couldn't even focus in on the flaming shorts as his second shot seared across the back of my legs. "Are you enjoying watching your pretty pants burn?" dad calmly asked as though totally oblivious to the brutal pain he was inflicting. As the flames devoured the scout shorts he chuckled as he went on, "Are you beginning to feel what these little boys pants are really good for. Looks like your getting some blood on the backs of your legs. You really do need to always wear long pants for protection."
With that remark he swatted me a second time.With this shot he either was up a bit higher and cought part of the leg hem or my nerve endings were so overloaded that the stroke didn't seem to add all that mutch to the pain I was already experiencing. Altogether by the time the scout shorts had burned in half he had given me three belts across the bare flesh of my legs. All thre while I was praying that the punishment wasn't going to be repeated as the uniform I was wearing was burned. Even the initial strikes on my buttocks would be far more severe if I were clad in the thin cotton gym shorts from school.
Fortunately he was finished with the punishment as he informed me that after they were washed I was to keep the shorts I was wearing handy in my bureau drawer for use in case I was in need of severe punishment in the future.He also made it clear that if I wore them at any other time he would gladly put his belt to use as a reminder that older boys should always wear long pants to protect their legs.