By Fenixero
laperreradigital@gmail.comCopyright 2025 by Fenixero, all rights reserved
[3,983 words]
*
* * * *
This
story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced
nudity,
spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for
the
purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be
attempted
in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not
of legal age in your community to read or
view
such material, please leave now.
Jimmy Johnson slouched in the waiting room chair, his presence
impossible to ignore. The arrogant 11 years old boy was with legs
sprawled out confidently, and his massive black cowboy boots rested
arrogantly on the coffee table, their oversized spurs jingling faintly
with every casual tap of his heel. The boots were his ultimate source
of pride, towering shafts of polished black leather adorned with silver
buckles, rivets, and thick straps he’d added to enhance their already
imposing look. His boots, of course, were the real showstoppers. They
were massive, the pointed toes almost like weapons, and the heels were
stacked so high that they gave him an intimidating height advantage
over most of his classmates.
But it wasn’t just the boots.
Jimmy was dressed head-to-toe in his "cool cowboy" ensemble: blue
jeans—tight, pristine, and perfectly tailored—fit like they were made
for a future rodeo champion. that clung to his legs like a second skin,
a belt with a massive engraved silver buckle, and smooth black leather
gloves that he flexed dramatically, as if even his hands were too tough
to be bare.
“You see this gear?” he boasted loudly, tugging
the cuffs of his jeans higher to expose even more of his impressive
boots. “This ain’t something you can just buy at a mall. Custom-made,
real leather. I’m probably the best-dressed guy in the room—scratch
that, in the whole town.”
He glanced at the younger kids
seated across the room and smirked, tugging at the cuffs of his gloves
and running his hands over his boots for effect. “Y’all wouldn’t
understand. It takes someone with style to pull this off.”
Laura, his mother, shot him an exasperated look. “Jimmy, stop putting your boots on the table. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Embarrassing?” Jimmy scoffed. “Nah, I’m showing these folks how it’s
done.” He leaned forward, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust from his
boots and letting the light catch the gleaming spurs.
The
11-year-old puffed out his chest, flexing his arms to emphasize his
developing muscles. He loved showing off his early-bloomer physique,
often reminding anyone who would listen that he was "way ahead of the
other boys."
"Johnson!" one of the nurses called, her voice crisp over the soft murmur of the waiting room.
"Alright, Jimmy, let’s go," Laura said, standing and smoothing her blouse.
Jimmy Johnson didn’t move right away. He leaned back in the plastic
chair, his legs sprawled wide, his oversized cowboy boots resting
noisily on the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his
hat back with a smug grin. "Do we have to? This whole thing’s a waste
of time, Mom. I’m fine. Look at me!"
"Yes, we do," Laura said sharply. "Now get up and stop making a scene."
Jimmy sighed loudly and rose to his feet, his spurs jangling as he took
a deliberate step. The boots were massive, their pointed toes curling
slightly upward, the black leather polished to a mirror shine. The
spurs at the heels were unnecessarily large, a recent addition Jimmy
insisted on because "real cowboys wore them." His tight denim jeans,
cinched with a gigantic belt buckle, and the leather vest over a fitted
plaid shirt completed his self-proclaimed "coolest cowboy look ever."
Laura stood and grabbed his arm. “Come on, Mr. Showoff. Time for your appointment.”
Jimmy rolled his eyes but let her pull him along. The spurs on his
boots jingled loudly with each step, and he couldn’t resist one final
remark. “Best boots in the building, and don’t y’all forget it.”
As they walked past the other kids in the waiting room, Jimmy smirked,
tipping his hat at a group of girls his age. "Bet you’ve never seen a
cowboy like me before," he drawled.
"Jimmy," Laura hissed, "enough with the showing off!"
Inside the exam room, Jimmy immediately began to assert himself. "Look,
Doc doesn’t need to do anything. I’m strong as an ox, got muscles like
a bull. No way anything’s wrong with me," he said, flexing his arm and
giving the nurse a self-assured grin.
The young nurse, Molly,
gave him a polite but unimpressed smile. "That’s great, Jimmy, but we
still need to do a full checkup. Now, hop up on the table for me."
Jimmy’s smirk faltered. "Hop on the table? What for? I’m not a little kid," he grumbled, planting his hands on his hips.
Laura shot him a warning look. "Jimmy. Do as she says."
With a dramatic groan, Jimmy climbed onto the table, still full of
himself. "Fine, but let’s make it quick." He lounged back with his legs
crossed, letting his boots dangle over the edge. He tugged at the cuffs
of his gloves, ensuring they were snug on his hands, and then flexed
his fingers.
"Alright, first thing’s first," Molly said, turning to Laura. "He’ll need to undress for the exam."
Jimmy’s head snapped up. "What? No way! That’s not happening!"
“Jimmy!” The nurse’s voice rang out, interrupting his display.
Jimmy laughed out loud, crossing his arms defiantly. “No chance. These
clothes cost more than this whole clinic. Nobody’s messing with my
gear.”
Laura had enough. “Fine,” she snapped, stepping toward him. “If you won’t take them off, I will.”
Jimmy’s smirk faltered. “Wait—Mom, no! You can’t just—”
But Laura reached for his hands and began tugging at the fingers of his gloves.
“Hey! Stop it! My gloves!” Jimmy yelped, his widened eyes locking on
the gloves as they slid off his hands. First one, then the other,
leaving his bare hands exposed. He stared at them, his mouth agape, as
though he’d just been stripped of something irreplaceable.
Laura held the gloves up for a moment, then tossed them aside onto the chair. “There. Now you look less ridiculous.”
Jimmy’s face reddened as he clutched at his now-bare hands, his lips
forming into a pout. He looked more like a sulky little boy than the
confident cowboy he’d been moments earlier.
Next his mother
stripped him of his proud leather vest and shirt, exposing his
unimpressive torso, and making him feel like a little boy. Jimmy had no
desire to show off his supposedly big biceps again.
But Laura wasn’t stopping there. She moved straight to his belt.
“No—Mom, not the belt!” Jimmy protested, his voice cracking slightly as she unfastened the oversized buckle with a quick tug.
The belt slid free and clattered onto the chair with the gloves. Jimmy’s face burned brighter. “Come on, Mom! This isn’t fair!”
Jimmy’s heart raced as he lay on the cold, sterile examination table,
eyes darting between his mother’s hands and his own boots, still
clinging to the last remnants of his pride. He hadn’t expected things
to escalate this quickly. The clinic was supposed to be just a quick
checkup, not a complete dismantling of his confidence.
"Come
on, baby," Laura cooed, her voice unusually calm as she knelt beside
him. Her hand moved toward the waistband of Jimmy’s jeans, the first
step in his fall from self-assured arrogance to vulnerability. “We need
to get these off.”
The words barely registered before she
began to fumble with the front button of his jeans. Jimmy's breath
hitched, a cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. He tried to sit
up, to stop her, but the nurse had already taken her position beside
them, watching the scene unfold with a professional disinterest. It was
as if she had seen this exact same scenario a hundred times before.
Laura’s fingers deftly undid the button. The fabric of his jeans seemed
to resist, clinging to his skin, as if protesting the inevitable.
Jimmy’s mind screamed for him to stop her, to fight back, but all he
could do was stare at the ceiling, his lips pressed together in a tight
line. The moment the button released, a small, sickening sensation of
dread washed over him.
“There we go,” Laura murmured, pulling
the waistband out just a little. Jimmy’s heart pounded in his chest.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to be
undressed like this. Not him. Not the cool kid. His chest puffed out in
resistance, but he felt so small, so helpless.
The sound of
the zipper coming undone was like a death sentence. The faint zzzip
echoed through the sterile room. Jimmy’s legs jerked instinctively, and
his boots shifted on the table. His jeans were too tight to simply
slide down, so his mother had to grip them harder, pulling the zipper
all the way down to the bottom. Jimmy’s stomach churned. He wanted to
protest, but words stuck in his throat.
“Mom, stop! You
don’t—!” His voice cracked with the desperation of a boy who couldn’t
understand how things had gotten so out of control. His hands shot down
to cover himself, but Laura only shook her head with a quiet sigh.
“No, Jimmy,” she said, her tone more authoritative than he'd ever heard it before. “We’re doing this. Now, lift your hips.”
Reluctantly, Jimmy did as she asked, his legs stiff as if to resist any
further degradation. His boots clicked lightly against the table, the
spurs jangling mockingly, as if reminding him of the pompous attitude
they had once carried. Laura gripped his jeans again, her hands cool
and firm as she tugged them down with a slow, deliberate motion.
With the jeans finally slipping past his hips, Jimmy’s heart felt like
it was in his throat. His body was exposed, and with it, all his pride
seemed to vanish into the air. His chest heaved in sharp breaths, his
stomach clenched as he lay there, half-naked on the examination table.
“Mom, stop! These jeans are custom!” he whined, trying to bat her hands
away. But it was no use. She yanked the tight denim down, revealing
Jimmy’s pale, gangly thighs. The jeans clung stubbornly as she tugged,
peeling away inch by inch until his legs were fully exposed.
Jimmy squirmed on the table, trying to pull his legs up to hide them,
but Laura wouldn’t let him. By the time she reached his ankles, his
jeans were off entirely, leaving him sitting in just his boxers and
boots.
The boxers, which Jimmy had chosen for their “cool”
black design, hugged his frame awkwardly, failing to maintain the tough
image his outfit had projected.
Laura raised an eyebrow. “Really? You thought those were cool?”
Jimmy turned an even deeper shade of red, clutching at the hem of the boxers. “Just give me my jeans back!”
But Laura ignored him, moving to his boots.
“No, no, not the boots!” Jimmy begged, his voice cracking.
Laura crouched down and began unfastening the straps and buckles. One
by one, she removed the decorative straps he’d added, pulling them off
with sharp tugs. “These ridiculous things,” she muttered, tossing them
aside.
The boots themselves came off next, with a firm pull that left Jimmy’s legs fully bare.
“Now what do you have left to show off?” Laura asked, holding up the boots triumphantly.
Jimmy whimpered, trying to cover himself with his hands. He looked
utterly ridiculous—bare-legged, wearing nothing but his black boxers
and socks.
But then Laura’s hand darted toward the waistband of his boxers.
“Mom, wait! No!” Jimmy yelped, but it was too late. She yanked them
down, revealing a second layer beneath: tight, childish white briefs
that left nothing to the imagination.
The sight of those
briefs destroyed what little dignity Jimmy had left. He clapped his
hands over them, his voice rising to a high-pitched whine. “Mom! Why
did you do that?”
But Laura was already gathering the
discarded garments, leaving Jimmy standing barefoot on the cold
linoleum floor in nothing but the humiliating white briefs.
Jimmy bolted for the hallway, desperate to escape, but his humiliation
only worsened when he ran straight into the crowd of kids he’d been
bragging to earlier.
Laughter erupted as they pointed and jeered. “Nice undies, cowboy!”
Jimmy froze, his gangly legs trembling as he tried in vain to hide
behind his hands. Without his boots, he looked smaller, weaker, and
utterly defeated. Jimmy stood paralized in the hallway, his face
burning hotter than the midday sun. He desperately tried to shield his
humiliating white briefs with his hands, but they were woefully
inadequate against the onslaught of laughter echoing around him. The
boys and girls he had mocked earlier stood in groups, their fingers
pointing and their voices filled with glee.
"Thought you were
all tough, huh, Jimmy?" one boy called out, grinning from ear to ear.
"Look at you now—where’s your big belt and those fancy boots?”
Another girl chimed in, her arms crossed smugly. “All that bragging
about your ‘custom gear,’ and now you’re running around looking like a
little kid in his underwear!”
Jimmy’s legs quivered, his
gangly knees knocking together as he tried to inch his way back to the
exam room. Without the commanding height of his heeled boots, he felt
pathetically small, every step making him more aware of his trembling
thighs and the cool air brushing against his exposed skin. But as he
turned to escape, Laura’s firm voice rang out from behind him. “Not so
fast, young man!”
Jimmy froze mid-step, his shoulders hunched.
He turned around slowly, only to see his mother standing in the doorway
of the exam room, holding the remnants of his once-proud outfit. In one
hand, she carried his jeans, gloves, and belt, and in the other, his
boots, dangling by their shafts like discarded props.
“You’re not running anywhere until we’re done here,” she said, her voice calm but commanding.
“But, Mom!” Jimmy whined, his voice breaking. “They’re laughing at me! Just let me get dressed!”
Laura arched an eyebrow. “You think this is bad? Maybe you’ll learn not
to act like such a show-off next time. Now march back here, or do I
need to come get you?”
The kids in the hallway erupted into
fresh giggles as Jimmy stood frozen, caught between humiliation and
obedience. He finally shuffled back toward the exam room, his head
hanging low and his arms still awkwardly shielding his briefs.
As he passed the crowd, one boy whistled loudly. “Hey, Jimmy, where’s that big cowboy swagger now?”
Jimmy clenched his teeth, biting back a retort. His face burned with
shame, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t even
have the confidence to glare at them—without his boots, belt, or
gloves, he felt utterly stripped of his identity.
Back in the exam room, Laura closed the door behind them and set his discarded garments on a nearby chair.
“You’re lucky I’m not making you sit out there like that for longer,”
she said, her tone softening slightly. “But maybe now you’ll think
twice about acting like you’re better than everyone else.”
Jimmy didn’t respond. He just stood there, his hands still clutching
his briefs, his lip trembling as he avoided his mother’s gaze.
Laura sighed. “All right, sit back down. Let’s finish this appointment,
and then you can get dressed—what’s left of it, anyway.”
Jimmy
sat down gingerly on the edge of the exam table, wincing as the cold
paper crinkled under him. His skinny legs dangled awkwardly, his bare
feet brushing against the floor. Every time he glanced at his
reflection in the mirror across the room, his stomach sank further. The
once-confident cowboy was now just a boy in his underwear, stripped of
all the bravado he’d worn so proudly.
The nurse returned
shortly after, her face carefully neutral, though Jimmy swore he saw a
flicker of amusement in her eyes. But the last step to his total
humiliation was yet to come.
The nurse approached him and
said firmly: “Jimmy, get off the table and stand next to me”. Meekly (a
far cry from the arrogant Jimmy just five minutes earlier) Jimmy
obeyed, still humiliatedly covering the front of his little white
briefs.
“I need you to hold my stethoscope for a few
seconds”. Confused, Jimmy carried out the order with great effort and
embarrassment, since that meant exposing the small bulge in his briefs.
But, suddenly, when he had not yet come to understand the delicate
nature of his situation, woooosh! The nurse firmly lowered his briefs
to his ankles!
For a brief second Jimmy turned red like
never before in his life, speechless. Then he let out a high-pitched
little girl's scream, seeing his pathetic excuse for masculinity
exposed to the view of the nurse and (what's worse) his mother. His
supposed early-bloomer status was just a pose to show off to other boys
and girls. His still bald crotch framed a set of small penis and
testicles barely average for his age, and now, with the cold and
humiliation suffered, they were completely shrunken and wrinkled.
In desperation he covered his "male pride" with his hands, but the
damage was already done, as the mocking smiles of both women clearly
demonstrated.
“Mom, why have you done this to me, I'm a big boy, I don't deserve to go through this”, Jimmy moaned, sobbing.
“A big boy?” said his mother, “I don't see anything big around here!
Well, I think we're done, aren't we, nurse? She completed the check-up
quickly, and soon enough, Jimmy was left to dress—or rather, to salvage
what was left of his outfit.
He quickly put on his tighty
whities to minimally save his dignity. The same briefs in which a
moment ago it seemed humiliating to be seen, were now a great relief to
him.
He reached for his jeans next, but Laura snatched them away.
“Not so fast,” she said. “You’ll be carrying these out. I think it’s time you learned a little humility.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious!”
Laura simply held out the pile of clothes, her expression unyielding.
Reluctantly, Jimmy took the bundle in his arms, his fingers gripping
the boots and gloves tightly. He stared down at the items, his heart
sinking further. Without them, he felt like nothing more than an
exposed, humiliated child.
Laura opened the door and motioned for him to follow.
“Let’s go,” she said firmly.
Jimmy shuffled behind her, his head bowed low as they stepped back into
the hallway. The laughter and teasing began anew as the kids caught
sight of him, still in his briefs and clutching his clothes like a
defeated soldier returning from battle.
“Nice outfit, Jimmy!” one girl called out, doubling over with laughter.
Another boy mimicked the jingle of spurs, his exaggerated cowboy strut drawing more giggles.
Jimmy’s face burned hotter with every step. His legs felt heavier than
ever, and he couldn’t bring himself to look anyone in the eye. Without
his boots, without his gloves, without his belt, he wasn’t the
confident cowboy he’d built himself up to be. He was just a boy,
stripped of his armor, walking through a gauntlet of humiliation.
And as they exited the clinic and stepped into the bright sunlight,
Jimmy realized with a sinking feeling that his humiliation wasn’t over.
The walk back to the car—and the possibility of running into even more
people he knew—loomed ahead.
Laura glanced at him as they
walked. “Next time you decide to brag about your ‘cool’ outfit, Jimmy,
maybe you’ll remember this moment.”
Jimmy didn’t reply. He just kept walking, his cheeks blazing red and his arms clutching his discarded clothes like a lifeline.
As Jimmy trudged out of the clinic, every step felt heavier, his
humiliation growing with each passing second. The warm sunlight seemed
cruel, illuminating his bare legs and the stark white briefs that clung
to him like a spotlight on his shame. He glanced at the parking lot,
silently praying no one else would see him.
But fate had other plans.
“Jimmy?”
The voice made his heart drop. He turned his head slowly, dreading what
he’d find. Standing by the vending machines were two boys from his
school, Nate and Carter, along with Chloe, the girl he’d been flirting
with just last week. Chloe’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of
him, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“What... what happened to you?” Nate asked, his voice teetering between shock and laughter.
Jimmy opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, his
hands instinctively clutched his clothes tighter, the boots dangling
awkwardly by their shafts.
Carter smirked, crossing his arms. “Nice outfit, cowboy. Forget your pants today?”
The boys erupted into laughter, and Chloe couldn’t hold back anymore.
She laughed so hard she had to lean against the vending machine for
support. Jimmy’s face turned a deeper shade of red, his chest tight
with embarrassment.
“I—uh...” he stammered, shifting from foot
to foot. The absence of his boots’ height made him feel even smaller,
especially in front of Chloe, who now seemed impossibly tall.
“Those briefs are something else,” Chloe teased, her voice dripping
with mock admiration. “Didn’t know they made cowboy undies for kids.”
The remark sent Nate and Carter into hysterics. Jimmy wanted to disappear, to sink into the pavement and never resurface.
“Let’s go, Jimmy,” Laura called from a few steps ahead, her voice firm.
Jimmy turned and shuffled toward the car, but his movements were
awkward, hampered by the pile of clothes in his arms and the
overwhelming need to shield himself. His bare feet slapped against the
asphalt, the sound only adding to his mortification.
“Hey, Jimmy!” Carter called after him. “Don’t forget to polish those boots! Gotta keep the cowboy look alive!”
The group’s laughter followed him all the way to the car.
As Laura unlocked the car, she turned to Jimmy, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“Get in,” she said, opening the passenger door.
Jimmy clambered in, his hands still clutching his clothes. He sank into
the seat, staring straight ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line.
The cool leather seat against his bare thighs was yet another reminder
of how exposed he was.
Laura started the engine and pulled out
of the parking lot. As they drove through town, Jimmy slouched lower in
his seat, his heart pounding every time they stopped at a red light. He
was sure everyone on the street was staring at him, their eyes boring
into his pale legs and the humiliating briefs that marked the end of
his tough cowboy persona.
“Let this be a lesson, Jimmy,” Laura
said, her tone calm but firm. “Clothes don’t make the man. And neither
does acting like you’re better than everyone else.”
Jimmy
didn’t respond. He just stared out the window, his face burning with
shame. His fingers tightened around the boots, the once-prized
possessions that now felt like relics of a life he’d never get back.
As they pulled into their driveway, Laura turned to him.
“Go straight to your room and think about what happened today,” she
said. “And don’t even think about putting those boots back on until
you’ve earned them.”
Jimmy nodded silently, opening the door
and stepping out. The cool grass under his feet was a stark contrast to
the smooth, confident click of his boots that he’d grown so used to.
As he walked to the house, a breeze swept past, making him shiver. For
the first time, he felt small, vulnerable, and powerless—an unfamiliar
and unwelcome sensation for someone who’d spent so much time boasting
about his invincibility.
Inside, he trudged up the stairs to
his room, his bare legs and childish briefs reflecting in the hallway
mirror. He paused for a moment, staring at his reflection. Without the
gloves, the belt, the boots—without everything he thought made him
cool—he barely recognized himself.
The once-proud cowboy was now just Jimmy, a boy learning the hard way that arrogance always comes with a price.