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It was Saturday morning a week after my balloons had been destroyed. My backside was still tender, but from what I could see the nasty red welts had subsided into light pink stripes. I really had no inclination whatsoever to buy any more cheepie balloons from the dollar outlet store and risk any further punishment to my flesh. I had spent the entire week in a semi stimulated state readily able to get my stem to rise by just focusing my thoughts on the burning balloons and gym shorts I had witnessed being destroyed. I was up and about by eight AM, planning to get an early start on mowing the lawn.

I was finishing up breakfast when dad came into the kitchen to grab some cereal to get himself started for the day. During the past week there had been no mention regarding balloons, my punishment, or the unusual sexual attraction balloons held for me; which more than suited me fine.

Dad prepared his cereal and started eating, all the while fixing me in his gaze. I suddenly became uneasy. I could see he was mulling over thoughts that were obviously directed toward me. It could only have to do with the previous week's incident. As a result I felt it would be a bad move for me to excuse myself and get started on mowing the lawn. Finally dad got his thoughts together and said, "Did you have fun playing with balloons again this week?"

I gave dad a surprised look and replied, "I don't have any balloons to play with. You burned every last one Friday night; remember."

"Yes, I guess that was the case," Dad intoned. "Since I trusted you to be honest with me boy, I'm certain your mother and I did get rid of all of your silly toys last Friday. However we don't think for a moment that you are going to give up sexing yourself up with balloons all that easily. I'm sure there are plenty more rubber toys where the ones we burned came from and I'm sure you will find a way to keep on enjoying yourself in your perverted way. As a result your mother and I have decided that since you have such a fixation for playing with little boy toys you should be dressed like a little boy. So this morning you and I are going down to the Army Navy store as soon as I'm done here and get you some nice sexy short pants to wear. In fact, maybe we can stop by the store where you buy your silly balloons and get you some more to play with outside while you are getting your pretty knees all dirtied up. What do you say?"

Say; what could I say. I just gaped at my father. He couldn't...He wouldn't... I just could not imagine that he might even consider humiliating me in front of all the other kids in town in such a way. Then again would he? Dad looked dead serious as he riveted me with his stare.

"Dad I promise I will not play with any more balloons," I intoned solemnly. "I don't need another whipping and I don't need any short pants to wear. You know what the guys will do to me if they catch me wearing shorts outside."

Dad quickly responded, "Ha, today maybe; what about next week? You have turned those damned balloons of yours into a sexual fetish. There is no way in hell you are not going to use them to come off with in the future. And yes I am well aware what your buddies will think when they see your pretty legs outside of gym class at school and your scout meetings. In any case, you actually do look good in shorts and your mother and I like to see you when you are dressed in your scout uniform. We're sure you will find shorts to be cool and comfortable, just what you need for the upcoming hot days ahead. I also think you are old enough to start handling yourself like a man. I have every confidence you will be able to cope with anything your friends can dish out. Also your mother has informed me that we are well stocked with Band-Aids to take care of any scrapes or cuts your newly exposed legs will receive."

Father was grinning with glee as I cringed in my seat at the table. I did find wearing shorts to be sexually stimulating. On one hand I welcomed the opportunity to expose my legs to the environment. I had really enjoyed the two weeks spent at scout camp the previous summer, especially watching the other scouts enjoying their new found leg freedom. On the other I did not relish dealing with the verbal and physical abuse that would soon be heaped upon me as soon as my friends caught me running about in knee pants.

"I wish I shared your confidence dad," I finally managed to mumble.

Dad was still giving me a broad smile as he chirped, "Wearing shorts will do you a world of good. Just think how much more fun you will have playing with your damn balloons while you are wearing them, hey boy!"

His comment didn't deserve a response so I just gave dad a dirty look.

Father finished his breakfast all too soon and in a matter of a few minutes we were pulling into the parking lot next to the Army Navy store downtown. I was well aware they had shorts for sale that would not only fit boys, but men as well. They had a mannequin that was always in their store window that sported military garb with boots about eight months out of the year, and camp shorts, tee shirt, and sneakers for the remainder. From what I could recall I think they used the same pair of shorts year after year simply because I couldn't fathom any boy or man actually buying a pair of them to wear.

We walked inside and were almost immediately headed off by a salesman as there didn't appear to be any other customers in the place; which I considered great luck for me. Father cut straight to the chase and said, "My boy here is looking for some play shorts to wear for the summer."

"Well shorts we have indeed," the salesman replied as he looked me over. "What kind are you looking for son?"

"Well I, um, guess camp shorts," I stammered. I just couldn't bring myself to actually say play shorts. After all, dammit, I was fifteen years old and 'play shorts' were for six year olds.

The salesman quickly had us back to the counter on which there were piles of camp shorts of various colors and sizes. They certainly were well stocked. It figured since it was the beginning of the summer season and who in the hell would actually buy these shorts to wear in the first place. The salesman whipped the tape measure from around his neck and reaching behind me quickly ascertained my girth. "You will want them on the large size so you will be able to get another years wear."

Oh geeze, another year. The salesman held up a pair of khaki camp shorts that had a built-in belt and buckle. The shorts looked almost the same as my gym shorts as far as leg length and bagginess. They were constructed of fairly thin material with about a three inch inseam and wide angled legs. Ugh! He seemed to detect my disgust as he put them aside and said, "Those are good for maybe one summer of camp wear. I have much sturdier shorts over here that you should be able to get a couple of years wear out of, I'm sure. They are good and tough and will take any and all punishment that your legs can take."

Well that wasn't much of an endorsement. I had little doubt how poorlyl my pristine alabaster natural leg covering would hold up when my buddies got a hold of me. There was no question in my mind that it wouldn't take too much in the way of physical abuse from the boys to rip my leg flesh and get the blood oozing. I could just visualize their glee as they watched the red rivulets trickling down my legs.

The salesman quickly had us over to the next table and proudly displayed an obviously much more rugged garment. The overall style appeared to be similar, however, and I didn't relish the vast expanse of my bare flesh that would soon be exposed to the elements. Father spoke up and said, "Yes I think these will be better. He needs good sturdy shorts to work and play in since he plans to wear them for a long time. They are nice and short to give him plenty of freedom of movement and they will show off his nice strong legs to boot."

I could feel the blood rush to my face. Dad was insisting on making a difficult situation as tough as possible for me, and I could see he was enjoying every moment of my discomfort. I had little doubt the salesman was as well.

"Good. It's always nice to have a boy with good looking legs showing them off," the salesman replied. Then as an afterthought he turned to Dad and said, "You do know that he won't be able to wear these shorts to school?"

Buster you have to be kidding. No way in hell man. I was aware that all boys in the school were permitted to wear shorts during the periods of daylight saving time in the spring and fall, but I had never actually seen any boys in our junior / senior high school building wearing shorts except during Boy Scout week in February. On those occasions a couple of the he-man boys that didn't have to take any guff from anyone had worn their short pants scout uniforms to school for just one day in the past mainly on a dare.

Needless to say the salesman's comment had father's immediate attention. The salesman picked up on this and quickly added, "Now over here we have shorts that meet approval for school wear."

Oh no. Why the hell couldn't this blabber mouth keep his lip buttoned and just showed us what we came in to buy? I could see dad's interest shift into high gear as he led us over to shelves along the wall. He pulled the requisite size, a pristine white pair, from one of the piles and held the abbreviated pants up for view. The shorts still had very full cut legs but they were much longer with about a eight inch inseam. "These are approved school shorts," the salesman intoned. "We carry them in white, khaki, navy, dark brown, and military olive drab."

The salesman looked me over and I shifted my gaze to the floor. After a moment he continued, "What grade are you in, son?"

"Uh ninth," I said softly.

I was aware that a few other customers had entered the store and wouldn't you know a couple of them were boys from my school.

"Well then you will need knee length stockings as well," the salesman flashed me his all too gleeful grin. "I guess they don't want you older boys showing off your hairy legs, so from ninth to twelfth grade, boys are required to wear knee length stockings with short pants."
The salesman reached into another bin and pulled out a pair of white long stockings. He turned back to me and handed me the shorts and socks as he said, "Here, try these on. Let's see how you look."

Glancing over at the other customers I emphatically said, "I don't need to try anything on. I'm sure the shorts and socks will fit just fine."

The last thing I needed was to model school shorts before an audience. As it was I could feel my face glowing. I didn't need any further embarrassment.

The salesman looked disappointed. Dad took note of the other customers and correctly assessed that they were the major reason for my reluctance. He then sternly demanded, "Put on the shorts and socks now. I want to see how you will look in your new school outfit, understood."

It would not have been a good time for a fight with dad, so I reluctantly found my way to the small changing room and traded my secure Levi's and socks for the shorts and knee length stockings. The socks were nice and long and went well up over my knee. I was able to fold them over three times forming nice thick bands just below my knees. I figured I would just keep the long stockings on under my jeans so I put my shoes back on as well. The hems of the shorts hung about three quarters of the way down my thighs falling below the ends of my fingertips, the school requirement. Damn I did look and feel sexy as I viewed the expanse of newly exposed flesh framed between my stockings and shorts as I admired myself in the mirror. My stem began to rise as I walked out to face the music and get dad's approval and hopefully out of the store as quickly as possible with a minimum of attention.

"My, your boy does look good in shorts," the salesman commented to dad. "Nice strong legs and well formed knees. I'll bet you do a lot of running, son. Are you on the soccer squad?"

"No," I replied curtly.

I was hoping against hope that by some miracle the other patrons hadn't spotted me and I would be able to get back into my adult clothes undetected. This or course was a hopeless thought. In no time the two boys from school, both older than me, showed up and gave me the look over. I could see the mirth displayed on their faces as they shook their heads and walked away. Had my father not been present I had little doubt there would have been nasty comments about my manhood along with undisguised laughter.

The salesman turned to business as he said to Dad, "What's your pleasure."

I quickly got that sinking feeling in my gut as I realized that dad had no intention of having my new short pants regimen last for just a short term. Dad curtly ordered me to select several pair of both the camp and school style shorts in various colors of my choice. Within moments we had gathered up three pair of the heavy camp shorts along with three more pair of the school shorts. Five additional pairs of long socks were added to our purchase pile. I turned to go back to the dressing room when dad said, "Put your belt on your shorts and just fetch your jeans. You can wear your new school outfit home."

This just couldn't be happening. Did he actually expect me to show up next Monday morning in my ninth grade classroom wearing these shorts and socks like some kind of geek. Or even wearing these white knee pants I was sporting outside to wear going home.

I reluctantly went back to the changing room, transferred my belt to the shorts, rolled up my 'adult' pants, and walked out into the store to face the stares and guffaws of my awaiting audience.

One of the boys with his father was standing with dad at the wrapping table as the salesman bundled my new wardrobe. As I walked up dad held up a pair of school gym shorts as he remarked, "Here, while we are getting you set for summer I got you another pair of sexy gym shorts to replace the ones you lost last week."

I couldn't believe my dad. Why didn't he just tell the world that he had burned them after I had creamed in them because I was sexing myself up playing with my balloons? I could tell the kid standing there was having trouble containing his mirth and I was sure he had plenty of negative comments on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak the boy's father turned to mine and piped up, "Your boy does look sharp in short pants. I can see he's not afraid to show off his good looking legs like mine."

The guy turned to his son and gave him a cold stare. The kid was bigger than his father and I would bet he could take him if they ever came to blows. Notwithstanding, the boy cringed at his father's accusation. I actually felt a sudden but short lived burst of pride. I was really hoping that the guy would force his kid into wearing shorts as mine had done but instead he just commented, "I guess he feels he is just too old to wear shorts anymore. Doesn't want the GIRLS to see his hairy legs, I suppose."

Oh boy. I couldn't miss the emphasis and the associated sexual preference implication in his caustic comment. The boy gave me a ho ho ho sort of smirk. Dad seemed oblivious, however, as we all waited for the salesman to finish wrapping my clothes and ringing up the sale.

I couldn't get out of the store fast enough. Fortunately I made it back to the safety of our car without any other confrontations although everyone on the street within eyeball range seemed to be turning and staring at me.

As we drove off, dad clamped his right hand firmly on my left knee and started pinching the flesh on my kneecap as he said, "Well boy. Now you have plenty of little boy pants to wear. I just can't wait to see what these pretty knees will look like a week from now. I bet you this skin busts just as easily as your silly balloons, at least until you get yourself toughened up."

"I'll bet you are right," I replied glumly.

"Well, now that you are going to be a little boy again and have behaved this week I think we should get you some little boy toys to play with. What do you say?"

I turned and gave my father a disgusted look. "Dad, don't you think you have humiliated me enough already? Do you realize what the guys are going to do to me when they see me wearing shorts? Do you really want the other dads to think you have a wimpy kid?"

"No son, but I have to face the fact that you have elected to still be a little boy. And no, I don't think you are a wimp. But the fact remains, that instead of wanting to grow up and becoming a man and thinking about girls when you are jacking off, you would rather have sex with some silly toy balloons. Since this is what seems to turn you on we will swing by the dollar store and you can buy yourself some more balloons to play with tonight. In fact you can show me just exactly what all you do with them later on when your mother isn't around. What do you say?"

Oh hell no. This has gotta be a nightmare. Wrong. Dad swung over to the next street and in no time flat we were in front of the Dollar Outlet store. I could see through the large front windows that the store was fairly crowded with customers. I refused to get out of the car.

Dad came around and yanked the car door open almost pulling me out on the sidewalk. His vise steel grip on my arm made it clear that resisting his demands wasn't an option. He marched me through the door and into the crowded checkout area. I immediately had everyone's attention. How could anyone not notice my white outfit with pants that didn't extend even down to my knees? I made a bee line for the toy isle where the rubber bags awaited. Dad grabbed my shoulder lightly as he said, "You go over and get the toys you want while I go and checkout what all they have in here."

No question a couple of women heard his comment as they quickly tried to cover up their mirth. Since I wasn't about to display my youthful boyish look in the toy isle while dad took his time looking over the thousands of items they were selling for a buck a pop, I stayed right behind him for the fifteen minutes or so that seemed like two days as he methodically went up and down every isle examining numerous items, even in the house wares section, that were of absolutely no interest to either of us. He did pick up two articles in the hardware / automotive section.

Finally we reached the toy area and instead of walking down the isle with me he announced to the world, "Go get three packs of balloons for yourself and I will meet you up at the checkout counter."

I cringed as a felt everyone's eyes were watching me, which really wasn't the case because the intervening shelves were more than head height and you couldn't see from one isle to another readily. There were three women and one man, each with their youngsters in tow standing in the toy isle. Naturally the guy and his boy who was about nine or ten were parked almost in front of the bin where the balloons were. I tried to sort of sneak in and grab three bags without attracting their attention but that was futile as the expanse of bare flesh below the hems of my white shorts had their attention well before I got within eight feet of them.

I said, "Excuse me, gotta get some balloons for a party."

I figured to blunt their wondering minds by expressing the only viable excuse any fifteen year old boy would possibly have to be buying balloons.

The wise ass kid didn't buy it at all as he smirked, "Do you like to bust balloons too?"

I had no choice but to play along so I snappily replied, "Sure kid. I love to blow them up until they bust. These will all be gone by tonight."

The man gave me a funny look as he laughingly said, "Looks like you are properly dressed to go to a balloon party for sure, ha ha."

I could feel my head and neck glowing as I scurried up to the front of the store. I had the bags of balloons compacted in my hands as best as I could so the other patrons wouldn't noticing what I was carrying. Naturally there was a line at the counter so I had to endure another couple of hour long minutes getting thoroughly examined by both children and adults alike. Naturally the one checkout girl was a senior from my school.

Finally it was our turn. Dad placed the items he had bought on the counter but wouldn't take the balloons from me to hand them to the cashier. He insisted that I present them personally. The girl gave me a sweet smile as she said, "Oh boy, I'll bet you are going to have some fun with these."

With that comment she held each bag up for everybody to see what they were before stuffing them in the sack along with dad's items.

At last we were out of the store and I was safely hidden in our car and we were on our way home. I could feel that my face and neck were still glowing as we pulled into our drive. Dad had me gather up my clothing package from the back seat while he grabbed the sack from the dollar store and we headed into the house. Mom was in the kitchen and she just beamed when she spotted my young boy look. "My you are a handsome lad in your shorts," Mom gushed. "Those nice white shorts and socks are for dress up I hope. I trust you aren't planning to wear them to play in. You can use them for dress-up occasions. I would never be able to get them clean the way you dirty up your other pants."

Father chuckled, "No this white outfit will be reserved for special occasions. We got three other pairs he will be wearing to school as well as three other pairs of short shorts he will be wearing for work and play. I don't think our boy here will need to worry about wearing holes in the knees of his pants until after he heads off for college."

At this point I had little doubt that my father wasn't joking in the least. My foolish deviant sexual desires had done me in big time. Outing me, at least in regard to shorts, would surely diminish my sexual attraction to them over time. For the moment I pushed all thoughts of other boys ridiculing me out of my mind as I felt the pleasure and freedom the sexy white shorts were giving me.

Father broke my reverie as he finally said, "Go up and get out of your dress up pants and put on your work shorts. You have a lawn to get mowed."

Well at least dad didn't show mom the balloons. So buying me more of them was his idea. As I left the kitchen with my new wardrobe under my arm he removed the two items he had bought from the Dollar store bag and handed it with the balloons still in it to me. I quickly rushed up the stairs to my room where I spilled the shorts and stockings out on my bed. I slipped out of my 'dress whites' and replaced them with the socks I had worn to the store and a pair of olive drab camp shorts.

As I headed through the kitchen and out the back door mom gave me a sexy wolf whistle and commented, "Nice looking legs there boy. Love those thigh muscles."
Post on 6/02

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