The Paper

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain 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.
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The Paper

by Willie B Florida
comments welcome to williebflorida@gmail.com

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“Dad, I gotta write a paper."

"I thought you could write anywhere, you know, with the new iPad and all."

"Yeah, of course."

I was sitting with my son and daughter in a cafe at the mall. We hardly ever go to the mall, but I was supposed to meet my sister. She loves the mall and insisted we meet her there. "It will be fun!" she had insisted. To top it all off, she was running late, so here we were in the maelstrom of lowest common denominator corporate pop culture. To my son's credit he was trying to do his homework. My daughter was stuffing herself on a giant Cinnabon.

"Anyway, I gotta write this paper . . . "

I took my eyes off the cute girl at the Starbucks counter long enough to glance over at my son. He was staring at the ceiling, his iPad sitting idle on the glass table top.

"Yes, a paper, about what?"

"Well, here's the problem," my son exclaimed, turning to look at me. "It's supposed to be about the SFF program."

"That's a problem?"

"Definitely. Because teachers expect you to write some drivel about how wonderful Florida is, how wonderful SFF is, how great it is that kids have so much freedom, that nobody has to pay any taxes, how we're the most progressive place in the world since . . . you know, all that crap."

"You think SFF is crap?"

"Dad! Of course it’s crap, but that's not the problem."

"Oh," I nodded agreeably. "That's not the problem." I was totally mystified.

"No, the problem is that if I write the paper I absolutely AM going to write, my teacher will give me an 'F' and I'll get hauled in front of the principal and you'll get called in and then DECAF . . . it's going to be a nightmare. I should just drop out of school."

"All that for a writing assignment?" I was seriously surprised. “The Department of Children and Families? What in the world are you planning to write?"

"Just the truth." My son put his head in his hands and looked down through the glass table at his toes wriggling in his flip flops.

I resumed looking at the Starbucks line, but the cute girl was gone. I glanced through the crowd wondering where my sister was. She and I had been conspiring to pull a surprise on my son, actually. She is quite the trickster and she’d persuaded me that it would be fun to strip him, take him around the mall and then bring him home. Fortunately I had thought to warn my wife.

“It’s on you,” she’d agreed amiably. “I’ll tell him I had absolutely no idea.”

“John!”

It was my sister, Cathy. She was in full bloom. My sister’s fashion habits combined with her exuberant spirit meant that she could never, ever be lost in a crowd. She is always enthusiastic and speak only in exclamatory tones, usually pitched to carry far and wide.

“Matthew, Cindy!” she gushed. “I bet you’ve just been dying to see me and here I am running late.” She crushed each of the children in turn with an enormous hug. “Ready to walk around? Did you eat or should we order some food?”

“I ate a Cinnabon,” Cin said cheerfully.

“I have to write a paper,” Matt explained.

“A paper!” Cathy said with mock horror. “Well, I’m sure that can wait.” She nearly swept the kids onto their feet and we progressed down the center of the “mall-way” as I call it—half hall, half runway, all mall. God, I hate the mall.

“I just love the mail,” Cathy proclaimed. “Oh, look at these great shirts. You’d look wonderful in one of these, wouldn’t you, Matthew?” Matt rolled his eyes at the bright orange t-shirts with Nike swoops. “Or these tops for you Cindy!” Cindy mimed a cringe at the frilly creations encrusted with bling.

“So, what’s this paper about anyway?” my sister continued.

“The SFF program,” Matt replied, his voice clearly conveying his contempt for the entire concept.

“Really? That gives me an idea!” My sister really is very good at putting on an act. “Look, John, an SFF booth!”

“What’s your idea,” I asked, gamely playing along.

“Well, since Matthew doesn’t want the orange t-shirt, wouldn’t it be simply divine to strip him?”

Cin perked up, her eyes big.

“Why not?” I answered as casually as I could muster.

Cin and Matt looked at me as if I had sprouted horns. Nothing of this magnitude would ever be decided in our household without their mother’s stamp of approval. Even matters of far less significance would be shot down in a minute of she didn’t agree.

“Hi!” Cathy walked up and spoke boldly to the SFF representative. “This is my nephew. Wouldn’t he look fantastic naked?”

“We can take care of that, Ma’am,” the young man responded politely. “But we will need a parent or guardian to present their ID.”

“Of course. I was just getting the ball rolling. This is my brother—the father of this soon to be stripped young man.”

Matt still looked unconcerned. He probably figured this was all play acting since he’d heard not a word of discussion about it with my wife. I couldn’t believe I was going along with this prank, but my wife had said it was all on me, hadn’t she?

I stepped up to the counter and produced my ID card and gave the clerk my son’s name, address and birth date. Matt started to look concerned.

“It all checks out, sir. If you’ll just let me know if you’ll be putting this on a credit or debit card today—you can also authorize a direct bank withdrawal, if you prefer.”

“Dad . . .” Matt says.

“Just a moment, son, I’m getting this ready so we can strip you.”

“No, Dad, not now.”

“Matt, it’s as good a time as any. We’re here in the mall—here’s an SFF booth.”

“There are SFF booths everywhere, what kind of reason is that?”

“I agree with your auntie. You’ll look good naked. So let’s do it.”

“Um, what about Mom?” Cin ventures.

“Oh, she won’t mind at all,” I say breezily.

“Uh,” Cin stutters. I’ve evidently left her speechless.

“But, Dad,” Matt persists. “You can’t do this now; you really can’t”

“Don’t be so worried,” my sister assures him, “it’ll be fun! Your cute little butt . . . “

Matt rolls his eyes but doesn’t lose focus. “Dad, please . . . “

“Sir,” the clerk gets my attention. “Here’s the SFF chip. Just place it behind your son’s left ear and you’re all set. You’ll need to strip down and put your clothes into this collection box before you leave,” he says to Matt.

I take the chip on it’s little round bandaid and start to remove it from the wax paper backing.

“Dad!” Matthew shouts. “If you do this I can’t write my paper!”

I pause with the chip halfway to my son’s ear. “Your paper?” I ask. I’m mystified.

“Yes, the paper. I have to turn it in tomorrow.”

“You won’t be the first boy to turn in a paper while naked.”

“I can’t explain, Dad. Just trust me.”

“Just stick it on him,” my sister urges.

“No.” Matt insists. He’s backing away slowly. “You can do it later, Dad. I promise. Just not before I turn in my paper.”

I’m used to being argued down. My wife always has ten reasons why any action has to be done or not done, not now or not later. I revert to my usual family role. “Okay, Matt. I won’t do this right now. But you’re not getting out of this for long.”

“That’s fine, Dad.” Matt replies, looking somewhat reassured.

“Wow!” my sister exclaims. “I thought I was totally going to see some cute butt today.” She remains cheerful and enthusiastic. For her this was all in a day’s fun.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I turn to the clerk. “We’re going to have to cancel this sale.”

“You can just save the chip and apply it when you’re ready,” he says.

“Can’t you just take it back. It isn’t about the refund.”

“Once it’s issued, I’m not really sure about how to take it back. It’s synched with your ID, sir.”

“I can’t be the first to change my mind about stripping my kid,” I protest.

“I’m sure there’s a way, but, honestly, I’ve never done this procedure before. It’s pretty rare,” the clerk admits.

“Oh, never mind. I’ll just put it in my wallet. Matt, I’ve bought this now, so I’m definitely going to use it.”

Matt nods his head, still worried that I’m simply going to apply it to his skin. Once the chip is embedded, there’s no going back—he’s a naked kid.

* * *

“Mom, Dad almost stripped Matt today at the mall,” Cin announces as soon as we walk in the door to the house.

Stephanie looks at Matt in his t-shirt, shorts and flip flops. “I was pretty sure he wouldn’t,” she assures Cin.

“But,” Cin insists, “he really almost did. He bought the chip and everything.”

Stephanie simply laughed.

Matt and Cin looked at one another.

“Gotta finish my paper,” Matt said and disappeared into his room.

“The mysterious paper,” I remark.

I should have figured that the paper had something to do with the events of the day before, but I’m slow, okay?

I got the call at 11:30 in the morning.

“John Fraser.” The voice on the other end is simultaneously bureaucratic, bored and stern. I know at once that somebody’s in trouble. “I have your son, Matthew, in custody. You will need to come to the Department of Children and Families. We have some matters to take care of before we can release him.”

DECAF? Did my son really get in trouble for the paper he wrote? My mind reels. I briefly entertain the thought of leaving him there until I’m done with work for the day. But my thoughts are cut short by the voice on the other end. “If you can’t make it here soon, sir, we’ll have to transfer him to the county’s youth holding center.”

What kids call Juvie, basically jail for kids.

“I’ll be right there,” I say, already standing up from my desk and getting my stuff together to leave work.

When I get to the office I’m signed in and ushered through a set of locked doors. Sitting there in the fluorescent lighting against the drab backdrop of institutional beige walls is my son. He’s stark naked. He’s young, so he doesn’t have the biggest penis, but it is quite obviously erect. And, incongruously to my mind, he’s grinning his head off.

“Matt,” I exclaim.

“I told you dad,” he says triumphantly.

The social worker at the front office has already explained to me that he’s gotten himself in trouble. “He stripped off his clothes in the middle of class and refused to put them back on. The school Sheriff’s deputy gave him the shot, per protocol and brought him here. He’s suspended for the week and you’re charged with insubordination a child and breaking SFF regulations.”

“I thought if a kid stripped off the parent just had to show up and take care of the SFF formalities,” I countered. “Or the kid has to do community service and the parent pays a fine, right?”

“Yes, sir,” the social worker replies. “If he were 14 years or older that would be the case. However, at his age the infractions are all counted as your negligence as a parent. You’ll need to strip him or pay a fine. But either way, you’ll have a provisional record of parental negligence until you’ve completed the required parenting course. Let’s go down the hall and see your son.”

“Look what a pickle you’ve gotten me into,” I tell Matt. “Evidently all these shenanigans of yours are being chalked up to my negligence as a parent. I tried to strip him just yesterday,” I explain to the social worker.

“Will you be stripping him today, or paying the fine,” she asks me.

“Actually, I’ve got a strip chip right here in my wallet.”

Having been “booked” for my offenses and signed up for the mandatory parenting course I walk Matt out to the car. “If you just wanted to be naked why didn’t you let me strip you yesterday,” I complain.

“I wouldn’t have been able to write my paper,” he replies.

“What in the world are you talking about,” I ask.

“My paper was all about what would happen if I simply took off my own clothes,” Matt says.

“Well, now you know!”

“Oh, I already knew. Didn’t I tell you? I’d be hauled into the principal’s office, you’d get called to DECAF. The shot?” He gestures at his erection.

“But if I’d stripped you yesterday?”

“Then my paper would have been pointless. As it is I’ve proved how crappy the SFF program is?”

“You want to be naked?”

“Sure.”

“But the program is crappy? Without SFF you wouldn’t be allowed to be naked, do you know that? In other states you couldn’t just walk around like this.”

“Geez, Dad, I know that. But those aren’t the only two options. Why can’t a kid make up his or her own mind? It’s like some criminal act for me to take off my clothes without my parent ‘forcing’ it on me? It shouldn’t be some big ‘surprise’ or ‘shock’ to the child. Kid wants to be naked, okay. Kid wants to wear clothes, no problem.”

“I see your point, Matt. By the way. I have an idea. Do you want to go with Cin and I to the mall this weekend? I’m thinking of stripping her.”

“Sure!”

“Okay, but no telling. It has to be a surprise!”

Matt grins with sibling glee.

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(End of File)