The All-Over Tan
By Aldric
Copyright 2013 by Aldric Pietar@spamex.com,
all rights reserved
*
* * * *
This
story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It
contains depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not
of a
legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material
does not
appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
Comments
may be made to Pietar@spamex.com
This
story depicts minors in unusual conditions
that may include unprotected, unsafe sex or extreme humiliation.
Obviously,
this does not describe real life and should not be taken as such. In
the real
world, behaviors as described in the story are not acceptable,
tolerated, or
legal. The reader should never confuse the difference between fiction
and real
life. This story is fictional.
*
* * * *
The All-Over Tan
I
have a problem. Well, actually, I’m 13 years
old so I have several problems. But the biggest one right now is that
summer is
nearly over and I only have two weeks to get a sun tan. Not just a
regular one,
but everywhere. See, Rocky, otherwise known as Duncan Lewis (don’t tell
anyone
I told you his real name) and Chad River expect to see me with a total
tan. Actually,
they don’t expect to see me with one, and that’s the problem. They are
in my
class at school but they’re not exactly friends, although we were back
in
elementary school. Now I’m not part of the crowd they hang around with.
And
when school starts I won’t be able to hide the fact that my upper legs
and my
bottom are pale white.
I
thought that by the age of 13 all boys begin
puberty and certain changes happen. But apparently my body didn’t get
that
message. And, well, Rocky and Chad saw me, so they know about me. I’m a
freak. No
hair; and I still can’t pass the 4” mark on the ruler even when hard.
And
they’re going to share that with the world. Well, maybe not the world,
but with
everyone at Benson Middle School, which is the world as far as I’m
concerned.
This
is getting kind of confusing. Maybe it
would be better if I started at the beginning. At the start of summer I
was put
in charge of Kirk and Kevin. They’re two of my brothers. I have three,
Rick,
who’s 14, or he was then. He’s 15 now. Anyway, next is me. I’m Randy,
and like
I said, I’m 13 now. Then there is Kirk who is 11, and finally Kevin who
is 10. Normally
Rick would be in charge, but he has a part-time job now working at the
car wash
for six dollars an hour. So watching Kevin fell to me, and I guess
since Kirk
is always getting into trouble somehow I’m supposed to keep him under
control
too. See, my mom works part time so she doesn’t get home until noon.
And of
course my dad doesn’t get home until five, so someone has to watch them.
I
seem to have digressed again. Let me get back
to how my problem started. The one about needing the tan, not my size
problem. I
don’t know how to solve that problem. Actually, I don’t know how to
solve
either problem, but the problem I’m trying to get to is that I need a
complete
tan in the next two weeks or else.
Okay,
I’ll start over again. So I’m in charge of
Kirk and Kevin, and they each have a friend over. It was early in the
morning
and it was already a hot day and I didn’t have any plans so I was still
in my
pajama bottoms. Actually, they aren’t really pajamas; they’re just an
old pair
of cotton shorts that I wear to bed in the summer. I also wear them
sometimes
in the winter if it isn’t too cold.
I’ve
got to focus here or I’m never going to get
through the story. So I’m watching TV and the four boys are playing
some kind
of game. Then I notice that it had gotten real quiet, so I got up off
the couch
and went to see what they up to. I searched the house, but didn’t find
them. Kevin
isn’t allowed to leave the yard without telling me where he’s going,
but I
didn’t see any of them in the back yard. I thought I heard a noise in
the
garage, so I went out there. Then I remembered the bulb was burned out.
I
remembered because I promised my dad I’d change it while the cars were
gone,
but I hadn’t done that yet.
Anyway,
I heard a giggle and asked, “What are
you guys doing out here in the dark?”
A
flashlight beam hit me in the eyes and blinded
me and the next thing I knew is they were all on me. My cotton shorts
were
tugged down before I even knew what was happening and then the garage
door
opened. I was pushed outside and they used a remote to close the door
behind
us.
“We’re
going to Tim’s house to play,” Kirk said
with a laugh. “We’ll be home before mom gets back to let you in.” They
all ran
off. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I was naked in the
front yard
of my house!
I
ran to the back yard as quickly as I could,
where I checked the back door, which was locked. I had a few options. I
could
break a window, but that would set off the alarm. See, we have a
burglar alarm
that normally never gets set, but the glass-break part is always
active,
something Rick learned when he hit a baseball through the kitchen
window last
summer.
I
could go next door and borrow our spare key
from Mrs. Thatcher, but of course Gail Thatcher might be home. She’s in
the
same grade as me, and I didn’t have anywhere near enough courage to
risk being
seen naked by her. Actually, I probable didn’t have enough to be seen
by Mrs.
Thatcher either.
So
my only remaining option was to wait for my
brothers to get home and put up with their laughter and teasing. See,
Kirk is
about the same size as me, and he actually has three hairs, which he
made sure
to show me. Not that I looked, I didn’t want to see his hair. Okay, so
I
looked, but only for a second. Long enough to see he really was as big
as me and
did have at least one hair. He might have had the other two as well but
I
didn’t look that close to see.
It
was around eight in the morning, and I
figured my brothers would come home early enough to tease me for a
while before
they had to let me in before mom got home. So I got as comfortable as I
could
while hiding under the table on the back porch, where I figured I’d be
for the
next couple of hours.
Of
course, as soon as I got comfortable I
realized I needed to pee. And I needed to pee right away, it wasn’t
going to
wait. So looking around to see if anyone was watching I left my cover
and to
the edge of the grass. I knew it was going to smell, but I could blame
it on
the neighbor’s dog if either of my parents smelled it.
I
was just shaking off the last few drops when
of all people Rocky and Chad River cut through my back yard. There was
no
chance they hadn’t seen me. I was probably the only naked teen boy
outside for
miles around.
“What
the hell are you doing outside naked?”
Dunkin—I mean Rocky—asked.
I
couldn’t tell him that a couple of 10 and 11
year olds had locked me out of my own house naked, so I had to think
fast.
“I
don’t mind,” I lied. “I’m a nudist. I guess I
just forgot to dress before coming outside.”
Now,
why I chose that lie I don’t know. Anyone
who knows me knows that I’ve always been very modest. Even when I was
five and
some kids in the neighborhood picked me to be the patient for a game of
doctor
I ran home. Of course, I’d played many times when other kids were the
patient
without feeling the need to leave. I didn’t mind seeing other kids
naked; I
just minded when it was me who was naked. Anyway, I should have thought
a few
minutes longer and come up with something better.
“You’re
a nudist?” Rocky asked. No surprise, he
sounded like he didn’t believe it.
“Yeah,
didn’t you know? We go to nudist places
every summer,” I said.
“I
thought you just went to see your aunt in
Cleveland or something,” Chad said.
“Yeah,
I guess I never wanted anyone to know, so
I just said that. But really, I’m a nudist.”
“Then
how come you don’t have an all-over tan?”
“Well,
we haven’t gone anywhere this year,” I
said. “My parents both work and Rick has a job now too. But maybe
before the
summer ends we will. That’s the real reason I’m out here—so that I can
work on
my tan before we get to the nudist place.”
Dunkin
and Chad exchanged looks. “Well, don’t
let us stop you,” Rocky said. “Come out here in the sun and lay down.”
I
had to do it, or admit that I was lying. I’d
never hear the end of it if they found out my little brothers had done
this to
me. So I walked out into the sun and sat down on the grass hoping that
none of
the neighbors would chose that moment to look out their windows and
into my
back yard.
“Man,
I can’t believe you still look like you’re
ten and this fall we’ll be in eighth grade,” Rocky said. He paused, and
then
continued. “And when school starts we expect to see that all-over tan.
Or we’ll
see to it that you’ll be the first eighth grader ever chosen to be the
Streaker.” He and Chad moved off laughing.
The
Streaker is an old tradition at Benson
Middle School. Being chosen is not an honor. Rarely is a sixth grader
chosen,
it’s nearly always a seventh grader. And it’s always a boy, much to my
disappointment.
Last year Rodney Wellington was chosen, probably because he’s from
England so
he stood out. But I had been told I was a close second. He was the only
boy I’d
ever seen who wasn’t circumcised. (Actually, he was the only boy above
the age
of six or so I’d ever seen naked except for my brothers.) Much to my
surprise
he laughed through it all and never seemed bothered that every kid in
school
was seeing him naked. When he was done he had to come and shake my hand
and
tell me how lucky I was to come in second and ask if I thought he had
done a
good enough job. I told him, “Sure, you did great.”
Streaker
day is always the on the first Friday
of the school year. First we have a fire drill, which gets everyone
outside. Then
a bunch of eighth graders are put in charge of us while the teachers
have
meetings. The rules are pretty strict and those in charge know that
they have
to control things or they could be suspended. I think the teachers know
what’s
really going on. After all, it was probably taking place back when they
were
students.
The
person chosen as the Streaker doesn’t know
until the moment before he is stripped. Rumor has it that if the
Streaker
doesn’t come to school that day he suffers an even worse punishment.
The
Streaker has to move rocks in a wheelbarrow from one pile to another.
And the
amount of rocks you had to move depended on what grade the Streaker was
in. To
be chosen as an eighth grader would be far more embarrassing,
especially if
that eighth grader still looked like a sixth grader as I did. So as you
can
see, I had to get an all-over tan.
The
problem was, I couldn’t do it in my
backyard. Eventually a neighbor would see and then my parents would
find out. And
that would certainly be serious enough to get paddled. My parents
almost never
spanked and only the worst wrong doings called for a paddle to be used.
My
older brother Rick got paddled last year and he cried the whole time
and for a
while afterward. It was the first time I’d seen him cry since he was
seven. I’d
been spanked twice, the most recent when I was eleven, and I cried.
Kirk gets
spanked about once a month. He fake-cries so my dad doesn’t extend the
punishment but once back in our room he laughs.
Once
Rocky and Chad left I returned to my hiding
spot on the porch. My brothers came back after about an hour and had
several
more friends with them. They told me they would give me the remote to
the
garage door if I stood up and did ten jumping jacks for them, so I did.
They
almost fell over they were laughing so hard. “I told you he looked like
Kevin,”
Kirk said.
“Hey,
that’s not fair,” Kevin complained. “My
snake is bigger than that little worm!”
They
all laughed again, but Kirk pulled the
remote out of a pocket. “I’ll leave this in the mail box for you,” he
said. “Make
sure to check for messages in the box.” They all ran back down the
driveway
laughing.
I
wanted to beg them to let me in the back, but
I didn’t want to give them that added pleasure, so I peeked around the
side of
the house. From what I could see the front looked empty so I used the
last of
my courage to run to the front, look for people or cars, and then run
to the
mail box. The remote was in there, and I grabbed it and pressed the
button. The
door stayed down.
From
a few houses down the street I heard the
boys yelling and cheering, which would attract attention to anyone
outside. Then
I saw something stuck all the way in the back of the mail box. “I put
the
battery in the Thatcher’s mail box,” the note read.
I
gave up worrying about who might see me and
ran next door and grabbed the battery. I put the battery in while I was
running
back to my house and then used the remote to open the garage door. I
got back
inside knowing my brothers would tell this story to everyone they knew.
But
there was nothing I could do about that now, what I needed was to
somehow keep
Rocky and Chad from making sure I was picked as the Streaker. The
easiest way
seemed to be to just get the tan.
For
a while I put off thinking about just how I
was going to get the all-over tan, but as the summer progressed I
realized was
going to have to do it. I couldn’t do it at home because I had to watch
my
brothers and who knows what they would do if I were outside naked.
Besides, the
back yard had no privacy at all. So I had to wait until after my mom
got home
from work. I tried the park, but it was full of kids. I found a place
and was
just about to drop my shorts when I heard a noise and quickly secured
them
around my waist just as Kirk rode by on his bike. He wanted to know
what I was
up to, and I made up a story that he didn’t believe, but he rode off. I
waited
for ten minutes and was just about to try it again when he came back.
This time
he got off his bike and said it looked like a cool place to hang out
and he and
his friend starting wrestling in the grass.
After
that it seemed to me that whenever I left
the house one of my brothers seemed to show up, like as though they
were
following me. While my arms and legs were getting tan the rest of me
was still
white, and the start of school was getting closer.
The
summer passed until I realized that the
first day of school was only two weeks away and I needed a plan.
However,
before I could come up with one, my parents dropped a bombshell. We
were heading
to Cleveland to visit my aunt for a week and a half. The chances of me
getting
away alone were slight, and as it turned out it wouldn’t have mattered
because
it was cloudy and raining the whole time we were there.
So
that’s how I got to where I am now. I don’t
have the all-over tan and cloudy weather is scheduled right up to the
start of
school, so even if I could get away it wouldn’t matter. I’m totally
screwed if
Rocky and Chad can really get me picked this year. But then I started
thinking,
everyone gets three votes, and you have to turn your votes in to the
selection
committee to prevent ballet box stuffing. Maybe I don’t really have
anything to
worry about.
Rocky
and Chad came by to visit me the day
before the start of the school year.
“You
got that all-over tan that nudists are so
famous for?” Rocky asked. While I stammered an answer, Chad came up
behind me
and pulled the back of my shorts out.
“Nope,”
Chad said, “The tan line ends at his
waist.”
“It
was cloudy and raining the whole time we were
there,” I said.
“But
you were going to spend the summer getting
tanned,” Rocky said. “Or, at least, that’s what you told us. But since
you’re a
nudist, you won’t mind being picked for this year’s Streaker, will you.
See you
at school shorty.”
The
selection committee was secretly announced
on Wednesday, the first day of school. Rocky and Chad are both on the
committee, so I’m officially worried again.
I
voted for my brother Kirk with one ballet and
for Rocky with the next two. They weren’t supposed to read them, but
Rocky
opened mine and laughed. I thought he’d be pissed, but he wasn’t.
“Good
choices shorty,” he said to me. “But you
should have spent two votes on him instead of me. He’s the one who set
you up
and he’s been gathering votes for most of the summer. In fact, your
time
outside was staged just to get a few more votes. He told me I’d find
you out
back and got my support when you lied to me about why you were out
there. I
think this election is going to be a landslide.” He folded my ballets
and put
them in the box.
I’m
pissed, of course, that my next younger
brother created this, but what could I do about it now? It really
sucked
knowing that he would be there to watch my total humiliation, something
his
evil little mind had spent the summer planning.
I
found out on Thursday that the selected
streaker does know before Friday because the entire selection
committee, all
eight of them, came over to my house after school. They made it very
plain and
simple—I was to be in school and participate or else. The ‘or else’ was
not
discussed except to tell me it would far, far worse than the planned
ceremony. I asked
if it had been a close race and found
out I had gotten 68% of the votes. A bigger surprise was that my
brother Kirk
had come in second with 18%. Fifteen other people split the remaining
14% of
the votes. It was recommended that I wear loose-fitting clothing (to
make it
easier to strip me) and I was told to act surprised when they come to
get me. Oh,
and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that the selection committee tells
you the
night before, so forget I said that.
I
went to bed early but stayed awake wondering
what, if anything, I could do. I wanted to beat Kirk within an inch of
his life
but I worried he might not only be bigger than me but stronger too.
Kevin came
in first.
“Too
bad I’m not in sixth grade yet,” he said to
me with a smile. “I really wish I could be there to see you naked in
front of
your whole school. Except there isn’t anything down there to see, is
there.”
I
jumped out of bed and grabbed him but Kirk
came in just as I was ready to, to, actually, I had no idea what I was
going to
do to him, so I let him go.
“You
just made it worse on yourself,” Kirk said
from behind me. I hadn’t know he was there.
“There’s
nothing you can do to make it worse,” I
said to him.
“We’ll
see tomorrow,” he said. “And then
everyone will know that you are thirteen disguised as a nine year old.”
I
was too nervous to eat breakfast, but Kevin
brought me a glass of orange juice and said he was sorry for helping
Kirk. The
juice had pulp in it but it was cold and better than going without
anything. I
didn’t want to ride the bus with my brothers and their friends, so I
walked the
mile and a half to school.
The
first classes started at 8:40 and the fire
bell rang ten minutes later. We filed out to our assigned places and
waited for
a head count to be completed. Then the principal gave a short talk, but
I
wasn’t listening and don’t even know what he talked about. There was a
quick
meeting with the eight kids who were to be in charge and instructions
that
anyone who didn’t follow directions would be immediately sent inside to
be
punished. There was no chance that anyone would do anything to risk
what all of
us kids, and probably the teachers too, knew what was going to happen
moments
after they left. Nobody wanted to miss that. Except for me of course.
And
then there were just the approximately 100
kids who made up Benson Middle school left outside. It was quiet as the
eight members
of this year’s committee worked their way through the crowd. Just like
last
year they grabbed a kid to scare him and then let him go. Then they
gathered
around me. I was wearing a pull-over shirt, shorts, ankle socks and
shoes. But
then I felt something stir down below.
“Oh shit!”
I said to myself as I realized I was getting a boner. “Not
now!” I knew from last year what happens if you get a
boner—it
means you’re enjoying yourself and so the amount of rock you have to
move is
doubled. Half a wheelbarrow for sixth graders, one and a half for
seventh
graders, and I was about to find out how many for eighth graders since
I was to
be the first eighth grader to be selected as far back as anyone knew.
I
started to pull my shirt off over my head but
one of the committee members stopped me. “Sorry dude, but stripping you
is part
of the process.”
I
was grabbed and held and slowly stripped. When
they got me down to just my underpants the laughter started. Then they
pulled
my underpants down as slowly as they could manage.
“He’s
got a boner!” I heard someone shout and
then everyone was shouting it. “That means he’s enjoying this,” the
first voice
added.
The
head of the committee lead me to the
wheelbarrow. “Normally an eighth grader would have four loads to haul,
but
since you are having fun you have to move eight,” he said, causing a
loud cheer
to go up. The students began to line up along both sides of the route I
would
have to take to move the rocks.
I
began to load it and tried my best to ignore
all the comments from the spectators, but I heard Kirk as he leaned in
close
and said, “I told you I could make it worse. Your pathetic little boner
is due
to the wonders of medical science.”
I
pondered that for a few seconds and then I
remembered the orange juice. And then it came to me. He had added
something to
it to make me hard. I
wondered if Kevin
knew it before he offered it to me.
I
filled the wheelbarrow but it was too heavy
for me to move it so I had to take some rocks out. The committee said I
had to
haul either full or half loads, nothing in-between. So now I was up to
sixteen
trips. And the worst thing about a wheelbarrow is that you have to have
one
hand on each handle, which leaves nothing to cover yourself with. The
two piles
of rock were about a hundred yards apart and it took me several minutes
to move
the half-loaded wheelbarrow across the distance. All the way hands
reached out
to smack my behind or grab my dick. I couldn’t look up knowing that my
classmates, boys and girls, were looking and laughing at me just as I
had done
to Rodney Wellington last year.
After
each trip I had to return with the empty
wheelbarrow and loaded it again. I guessed it took about ten minutes
per round
trip, which meant it would take me until lunch time to complete the
task.
I
need two breaks to complete it and I kept
hoping the teachers would call us in before I was done, but apparently
they
were content to wait until we finished. When I finally dumped the last
load I
hoped I could get dressed and go home sick, but I had forgotten the
last part
of the ritual. I had to go and shake hands with the runner up. Suddenly
I
wished it was anyone except my brother Kirk. I had to stand naked in
front of
him and tell him how lucky he was. And then I had to ask if I had done
a good
enough job.
As
far as I knew the response was always,
“Sure,” or “Yeah,” or something like that. But not this year.
“He’s
an embarrassment to my whole family,” Kirk
began. He still had hold of my hand and used it to turn me around to
face the
student body. “Look at him—an eighth grader, and yet I’ll bet there
isn’t a boy
out there who looks so pathetic. He’s thirteen and not a single hair.
He’s
shamed me and my family’s name. And therefore I think he should put the
rocks
he moved back where they were.”
A
cheer when up while Kirk stood there holding
my hand over my head. My left hand moved on its own to cover my
erection. I’m
not sure why since it had been on display for hours already.
The
committee held a quick meeting and came back
to announce that it would take too long to move all the rocks, but
there was
time for me to move a half load plus another half load for daring to
cover
myself.
Rather
than argue, I grabbed the wheelbarrow and
started loading it. To my surprise, some of my friends began to help.
As they
loaded it up I told them it was going to be too heavy to lift.
“Don’t
worry about,” my best friend said. “Scott
can move it. You just walk along behind him. And don’t cover up again!”
And
Scott Butterfield, another friend, grabbed
the full wheelbarrow and started down the path. But they were having
difficulty, so I picked out two of the bigger stones and carried them
in my
arms. That served two purposes—first, it helped them do the heavy work,
and
second it kept me from being able to cover up.
When
we dumped our rocks at the other end Kirk
was complaining that if other kids were going to help they had to be
naked too.
The rules were explained to him, but he said, “The hell with the rules.
Is the
committee in charge or not? Make new rules!”
The
committee met again and I feared the worse
for my friends, but when they came back out they decided for being the
most
rude and obnoxious sixth grader in the history of the Streaker Kirk
also was
chosen this year. He heard the crowd roar their approval and started to
run but
didn’t get more than a few steps. He begged and pleaded as they
stripped him,
and once he was naked he began to cry, and this time he wasn’t faking
it.
Unfortunately
for me, it did let everyone
compare us together, but unless you were one foot away you couldn’t see
his
hair. And he had a boner, which, while it was a slight bit bigger than
mine,
wasn’t huge by any means.
Because
he had a boner it meant that instead of
just half a load he had to haul a full load. And for trying to run to
avoid his
fate the committee doubled it again. Two full loads. And he quickly
learned
that he, like me, wasn’t strong enough to haul a full load. None of his
friends
came forward to help him so it took him four trips. And he cried the
entire
time which earned him the rather obvious nickname of ‘crybaby.’
When
he was done, there were three people tied
for third place and he had to go to each of them and do his little
speech. One
of them was Rocky, who held his arm up and turned him to the crowd to
recommend
that next year he be considered for a repeat performance because he
wasn’t man
enough this year.
It
was a pretty fitting ending to the most
horrible day of my life. I got dressed in the company of friends (not
all were
boys, which made it sort of bad) while Kirk had to run around and chase
down
his clothes until the committee re-established order.
The
head of the committee, a boy I hardly knew
beyond his name, called us both forward to face the crowd. Kirk was
still
trying to get some clothes on but we were ordered to stand at
attention. Kirk
had to be threatened with moving more rocks before he shut up and stood
more or
less at attention.
“Here
is why we don’t normally choose sixth or
eighth graders. Randy never complained, never resisted, didn’t talk
back, and
followed each instruction. His brother Kirk, on the other hand, tried
to run,
tried to hide, and cried. For those of you who will be here next year
you’ve
already heard a recommendation for nomination. Because of his behavior
this
year I’d like to submit that Kirk Bowler be named an honorary Streaker
and participate each of his next two years along with a candidate
chosen by
ballet.”
The
crowd of kids yelled their approval and Kirk
collapsed in a heap. I actually had to dress him as he just closed up
into his
own little world. “My friends won’t let it happen” was the only thing
he said. But
if I were him, I wouldn’t count on that.
Somehow
I lived through it, and even was
accepted, at least for the rest of the day, by Rocky and his friends.
And I
couldn’t wait to get home and tell Kevin that while he missed seeing me
he
would have two years to watch Kirk move rocks.
(The End)