The following story is fiction.  It contain scenes of spanking.  If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

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 copyrighted characters and scenes of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" are used under the parody and fair use copyright rules and are not mine.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.

Click to have ​Metric units​ (​American/English units​) used in the story.

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Farm Boy Wesley Crusher – Part 1/5

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher was excited.  First, he had just finished his week's duty and, second, it coincided with the weekend break from school.  Well actually computer study since there were so few juveniles on board the starship USS Enterprise.  Third, he was one of the few to know that there was now another hundred Holodeck adventure programs in the system.  Occasionally, there are some nice perks to being the officer to check in shipments.  He was pleased that he had gotten Holodeck time for this evening.  He headed back to his quarters, showered and changed his uniform.  He made a quick stop at the food synthesizer for a high calorie, low volume quick drink meal.  His past experience has taught him that a full stomach could be a problem but that a Holodeck adventure required lots of real calories.

He stopped at the entrance panel and identified himself.  "What program would you like to run?" the computer asked.

He realized that he had not done his "homework" for he had not reviewed the catalog of new adventure programs.  "Computer, suggest an appropriate adventure program from today's delivery, please."

"Would you like: A Day's Adventures of a Boy in the American Midwest, 1888?"

"Make it so, Computer."  Wesley entered chamber of fantasies with great expectations.© YLeeCoyote

"You are a sixteen year old farm boy living with your parents.  Please disrobe, get into bed and to sleep."  He did as the computer said and he actually fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next thing that Wesley knew was that his rump had just been slapped, hard.  He was half asleep, still tired and there was only a little light provided by a lantern with a real flame.  A man and woman were moving around.  The woman spoke angrily: "Wesley, you're late.  Stop your lollygagging and get your ass out of that bed, now.  The cows want milking and you got to get to school."  He was confused.  He should have asked the computer for more information before he started the program.  It was his own fault for not asking.  He could freeze the program and ask but that would change his mood and the dynamics.  He decided to just continue.

The man walked over.  "You sick, son?"

"No, pa."

"Then do as your ma tells ya."  He then yanked the blanket down and gave Wesley five SPANKS on his bare rump.  The man was as strong as Worf, his hands were hard with callouses and the spanks hurt.  "Or would you like to visit the woodshed?"  Wesley jumped out of bed.  He was not sure what would be in a woodshed beside wood but it did not sound a like pleasant thing to visit. He also realized that was naked and they were not; that meant there should be some clothes around.

"The woman turned to him.  "Your shirt and trousers are on the line.  Pick them up on your way back from the barn so you don't get them dirty doing your chores."

His father smacked him on the rump again.  "Come on, boy.  There's work awaiting."  Wesley followed feeling very strange naked.  There were four cows and he copied how pa did the milking.  His fingers hurt but he thought how like jerking off it was.  "Take them out to the back pasture.  You won't have time after that except for breakfast and then school.  Muck out the barn after school."

Wesley was almost back at the house, when the woman, no, his mother, stepped out on the porch.  "Boy, wash off before you put on those clean clothes and come in.  Hurry before your breakfast gets cold."  He stopped by the water pump and washed.  The water was cold.  The soap coarse.  The towel not very effective.  He selected a small shirt from the line and put it on.  It was patched and stained.  The trousers were just as bad.  This stuff was not like his Star Trek clothes.  There were not any socks.  The baggy trousers were held up by suspenders.

Breakfast was greasy fried eggs with fried potatoes and half of a tomato.  That was good but he had to share it with a worm.  The treat was real fresh milk still warm.  "You better git going boy.  Mr. Jones has already spoken of your tardiness."  His mother handed him his books and lunch pail.

"I'll pick you up after school.  Wait for me at the general store.  Do your homework while you wait."

"Yes, pa."  Wesley started out the door.  Just like with the cows he did not know where he was heading but he knew that the computer would keep him on course.

After about a half hour he saw some other kids headed in the same direction.  His feet hurt.  Why did not he have shoes he wondered.  Then he heard a bell and saw the other kids running but they were at least 300 meters ahead of him.  They went into a small building.  Then there was another bell.  It was at least five minutes before he entered the building for he had a long way to go to the bridge over the creek.

The other kids, from seven to seventeen, were already at their desks with their books open.  "Nice of you to join us, Master Crusher.  What did I promise you last time you were tardy?"  There was some giggling in the class.  They all knew.  Wesley knew as soon as Mr. Jones turned around.  He was holding a thing about ​two feet long, four inches wide and almost three-quarters inch​ (​sixty cm long, ten cm wide and almost two cm​) thick.  He was slapping it against his palm.  It seamed to be made of wood.  "Cat got your tongue, Crusher?  Can't you say 'a paddling'?"  The class laughed.  "Get your butt here fast and drop your trousers."

"But...."

"The only butt I'm interested in now is yours.  We all know you ain't hung like a horse for a fact."

The class laughed.  In the back of the class was a loud whisper, "More like a goat."  More laughter.

A different voiced whispered: "A little kid."

Wesley walked to the front of the class, slowly.  Since you have so much time, you have time for a couple of extra for procrastination.  Now move it."  Wesley got to the front of the room.  Mr. Jones yanked his suspenders off his shoulder and his trousers fell to the floor.  He bent over the teacher's desk.  "Don't move."  Mr. Jones took careful aim and brought the paddle down hard on Wesley's bare butt.

WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!

There were a couple of results of this assault.  His butt was now red hot and hurting and he had a major hard-on.  "Back to your seat and do problems one to five of chapter fourteen from your arithmetic book."

Wesley stood up and turned.  He took a step and fell on his face having forgotten his trousers were about his ankles.  "He loves mounting that desk." cracked Oscar.  Red faced as well as red butted, Wesley got up and pulled up his trousers over his dripping but now relaxing hard-on.  At least he could manage arithmetic in a one-room school house he thought.

He thought wrong.

The first problem was.

Farmer Smith has a 40 acre square field along side of his brook.  How many 10 foot sections of fence does he need to enclose it.

He looked in the back of the book and found the conversion factor: 1 acre = 43,560 square feet.  OK.  Multiply by 40 and get 1,742,400 square feet.  How to get the square root?  There were no calculators back in 1888 earth.  If he had known how to calculate a square root he could have done it in half a minute.  But he did not and used an iterative method not even hinted at in this book which took five minutes.  There was not enough room on the small slate chalk board.  He was slow doing the arithmetic that he always counted on his calculator doing.  (Incidentally, if he had looked at the previous line in the conversion table, he could have done the problem in his head in a minute.)

The second problem was a bit better.

Grocer Lincoln has 40 pounds of coffee beans that he sells for 8¢ a pound.  He has a large supply of coffee beans that sell for 14¢ but is a slow seller.  How many pounds of the 14¢ coffee should he mix with it to get a coffee mix he can sell for 10¢ a pound for the same profit?  Repeat for 12¢ a pound mix.»

At this point, Mr. Jones looked over his shoulder.  He saw all the scribing on the chalk board.  "You haven't done your studying again, Crusher."  With that he grabbed Wesley by the ear and dragged him to the front of the room.  He handed him a dunce's hat and pointed to the stool in the corner.  Wesley, most ashamed, sat staring at the floor.  Mr. Jones handed him the book and said to study.

Wesley was in shock.  He had been in charge of a starship.  He had lead men more than twice his age on strange planets.  Now he was in disgrace in a little school house because he could not do a farm boy's arithmetic assignment.  Then there was being paddled in front of the entire school and everyone seeing the erection that he had gotten from it.

Lunch time was a disaster.  Typical was the comment from a twelve year old girl.  "You got such a cute red bottom, Wesley."  He ate alone.

The afternoon was also a misadventure.  There was a geography class for the twelve pluses.  Wesley was again completely lost.  He barely knew east from west on the maps.  How, he wondered, did he do celestial navigation?

At long last the school day was over and he went to wait for his pa at the general store for the ride back to the farmstead.  After helping his pa load the wagon, they started back home.  They met Mr. Jones walking home from the school and he waved them down.  "Good day, Mr. Jones.  How is Mrs. Jones?"

"Good day, Mr. Crusher.  Quite well, thank you.  I think that you need to have a talk with your son.  He was most unprepared today.  He could not do simple arithmetic problems and did not know France from England nor Europe from America."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones.  I will have a discussion with the boy this evening in the woodshed.  Thank you so much for telling me.  See you Sunday in church."

They rode home in silence.  Once there, Wesley was put to work mucking out the barn while his father unloaded the wagon and fetched the cows.  After milking them came the day's payoff in the woodshed.

"You heard Mr. Jones, boy.  Is it true.

"Yes, sir."  Wesley had never known academic failure before.

"Strip and get into position."  Wesley removed his two garments and leaned over the wooden horse.  His pa took the strap from the wall.  Although old it was thick, heavy and still supple.  It was now serving as well in its second role as it had previously between plow and horse.  He doubled it over and stepped to Wesley's side.

The strap crashed down on Wesley's butt with great force.  He yelled.  The strap struck again.  And again.  Wesley's butt was flaming hot.  His cock was rock hard.  He was over whelmed.  He came.  The strap continued a little longer.  He cried.  He knew real pain.

Dad hung up the strap.  "When you stop blubbering come up to the house for dinner and to do your school work."

As soon as his pa left he grabbed his cock and milked it.  He quickly shot again.  Wesley pulled himself together.  The sun was setting.  He decided that he had enough.  "Computer stop program."

"Program is non-stoppable until the end of the cycle."

Wesley walked slowly up to the house, stopping to wash at the pump.  "Wesley, your dinner is in the oven.  Start your studying while you eat." stated his mother totally ignoring his nakedness and crimson behind.  He did as he was told.  He did not want another trip to the woodshed.

He went to bed at ten, exhausted.  He dreaded another day in this world.  He sleep fitfully and frequently tried to rub the pain out of his bottom.

He was woken up again with a slap to his butt.  He jumped out of bed before he was hit again.

* * * * * * * * * *

The light level rose.  The farm house faded.  The computer announced: "Cycle complete.  Program terminated."

Wesley sighed with relief.  He dressed appreciating the smoothness of the fabric in a way he had never before.  He returned to his quarters and took a hot and then a cold shower and went to bed.  He decided against going to sick bay for two reasons.  The new Holodeck program were terrific and that would destroy the experience.  Second, it may be OK for a sixteen year old farm boy to be naked in front of his mother but not a sixteen year old Acting Ensign on a Federation starship explaining why he has been spanked.

Shortly he realized that there was a third reason.  He was horny thinking about the paddling and strapping.  After he finished jerking off, he decided that he would have to try that program again.

End of Part 1.  Go to Part 2

© Copyright A.I.L., March 9, 2001

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