The following story is fiction about CP. The story contains scenes of strapping.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

The protective gear that the narrator uses in the story does not exist.  It is just a SciFi idea.  Sorry but you must use the real stuff for safety.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

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I am an avid skateboarder with a big problem – protective gear.  My dad is absolutely adamant that I wear the stuff every time.  I would have loved not to use it but I had witnessed several accidents where fellow boarders had been seriously injured.  The EMTs’ comments about how a helmet or a knee pad would have made a huge difference really struck deeply into the core of my being.© Y Lee Coyote

In short, I am totally with dad about wearing such gear.  I know that some injuries can be crippling and others can linger for years.  I still have nightmares about Waylon whose brains literally spilt out in the skatepark after a horrendous fall when he was not wearing his helmet.

My problem came about because of relocation.  Dad’s job relocated so we had to relocate several hundred of miles away.  It turned out that the skaters in my new town had a different attitude about safety because there hadn’t been horrific accidents in that area.  To put it simply “Protective gear is for sissies and babies.” was the mantra.  My reports of the horrors I had seen were laughed off as hyperbola and propaganda from little old ladies.

In summary, my problem was that I was tormented by the other skaters for being safe.  Not wearing protective gear was not really an option even if father hadn’t promised to roast my tail for any such lapse.

Suddenly there was a hint of a solution.  It came in the form of a tiny little ad with a come-on about the other skaters hassling you about being safe.  It was asking for volunteers to join a trial for a new kind of protective gear which was invisible.

Obviously, I jumped at it instantly.  I sent in the application and, happily I was accepted.  A week later I got the package.  When I opened it, I was disappointed.  It was not invisible but looked like regular protective gear although it had a strange finish.  Then I noticed that it came with an Instruction Manual rather than just a how to wear it guide and there were some other things in the box.

I learnt that it was battery operated and I tried it.  It was so strange that I actually read and followed the instructions.  I stood in front of the mirror and turned it on.  It was absolutely amazing!  The gear seemed disappeared like I had taken it off.  I tried bumping things and it worked.  I turned it off and I could see it again.  FANTASTIC!

The manual explained that an advance in science enabled their engineers to create this wonderful device.  I fully agreed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Saturday, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I went to the skatepark after a breakfast at noon, alone since the folks were long gone.  It only took a few minutes before I got comments about not being a baby nor sissy with all that protective shit on.  I actually felt that I belonged like back ‘home’.  That I was deceiving the guys was a secret I was delighted to have.  For the first time since moving I really enjoyed my skating.

After a couple of hours, came disaster – a.k.a. FATHER!  He called me by my full name and obviously he was enraged as his face was red with fury.  As so as I got within reach, he grabbed me and instantly yelled about my being ‘naked’ as in without the protective gear I was required to wear.

I couldn’t get a word in even edgewise as he forced me to lean on a fence with my butt up.  He had managed to pull his belt free and was doing a number on my tail.  To say I did not feel a thing would be a lie but the force was spread out so it was no rougher than a teammate’s swat after a game in the locker room.

The others watched in silent amazement as I took it apparently super-stoically without a sound.  Surely that was giving my street cred a major prop to counter the shame of being spanked especially in public.

“Not a word, boy.  Get in the car, now.” snapped dad as he started to put his belt on.  “We’ll continue this at home.”

I did as he said, of course, as he was furious enough.  After a minute I turned the invisibility function off and worried about how he was driving.  “Please drive carefully, father.” I said gently.  I was terribly concerned about the immediate future.

Dad drove into our driveway and as he killed the engine snarled at me “Strip and wait with the tawse in the garage and we’ll continue the discussion.”

“Dad – Look at me, please.” I said as forcefully as I dared.  He started yelling about backtalk and sass but, fortunately, looked and saw I was in the proper protective gear.  He was at a loss for words, so I explained.  “The experimental gear arrived and works as advertised.  Watch when I turn it back on.”

Dad came up with a mess of explicatives several of which I had not heard before.  I gently reminded dad that I believed in protective gear especially when I still get nightmares about poor Waylon being stuffed into that body bag.  This new stuff stops the razzing from those idiots who can’t believe that it makes a difference.  I guess I should have told you it came but you were out.

Dad apologized for strapping me but I forgave him and explained that it would help my street cred and thanks to the protective gear the strap didn’t hurt but it was impressive.  Dad promised to pay for new gear when the experiment was over.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. August 29, 2024

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Last updated: August 29, 2024