SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!

I lifted my head and with my eyebrows furrowed, listened to the sounds coming from my brother Eli's room down the hall. I knew he was getting spanked for something or other, which was not unusual for him at all, because he was always fighting or getting into trouble at school. I heard a few more solid spanks, and then murmering sounds that I couldn't make out.

With a sigh, I returned to studying, but couldn't concentrate. I got up from my desk, paced around a couple of times and flopped down on the bed, feeling upset about something I just couldn't put my finger on. It wasn't the fact that my brother had gotten a spanking, because although I didn't like to see my bro in trouble, it was something that was a part of our family life. Spankings were just the normal punishment...except for me. I'd never been spanked because I had epilepsy. I guess my mom and dad figured I'd fall to the floor in a seizure if they swatted me, or even raised their voice to me.

There was a part of me that felt glad about not being spanked, because nobody wants the embarrassment or pain of that. In another way though, I felt different and somehow like I wasn't fully accepted. I don't know, I just felt ambivelent about it. At seventeen, being different is the last thing any guy wants, and there were already so many things that made me feel different. I couldn't get a driver's license until I had four years of being seizure free. I couldn't play football, because the coach at my high school didn't think it'd be safe. My parents asked me way too often how I was feeling. It was just a lot of little things, and on this particular evening all the little things began building up, and I felt..I dunno...left out?

As I was moping around, my dad tapped on my door and stuck his head in. "How's it going, pal?" he asked with a smile. "You about finished with your homework?"

"No," I mumbled.

He walked in my room. "Why? Is anything wrong?" He asked me, a look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, Dad," I retorted, "I'm getting ready to fall on the floor and start twitching. I can feel it coming on," I replied sourly.

"That's not funny, Jon," he replied quietly and then came over and sat on the bed beside me. "What's wrong?" He asked putting his arm around me, "Did you hear me punishing your brother? Is that what's wrong? Because I did it for his own good, and-"

I couldn't believe my ears! "God, Dad, you don't have to explain it to me!" I burst out, and then turned so I was facing away from him.

He stood up and gave me a pat on on the shoulder. "Well, you better finish your homework, sport."

"No," I mumbled back at him, as I jerked my shoulder away from his hand.

"What?" He sounded shocked.

"I SAID no!" I enunciated clearly.

I looked up from where I was sitting and could see a flash of anger in his dark eyes. I waited expectantly to see what he would say to that.

"Did you take your pill today?" He asked, all traces of anger gone now.

I rolled my eyes. "I always take it," I ground out.

He took a few steps toward the door. "Well, I guess you can do your homework in the morning, if you're too tired tonight," he said, backing down from any open conflict with me.

I was disappointed. If he really cared about me, I thought, he'd see me as his son and forget that sometimes my brain went a little awry. If my brother or sister had talked to him that way...at that moment I realized that he couldn't really see me, and I felt more isolated than ever. "'Kay," I said quietly.

He smiled and walked out into the hallway. "Goodnight," he rumbled.

I stood up and glared. "You know what though?" I spat out, forcing a confrontation that I knew he didn't want. "I don't really think I need to take my pills anymore! So, I'm not gonna take 'em, starting tomorrow!"

If that didn't get a reaction from him, nothing would! I stood motionless, my chest heaving up and down, and my fists clenched tightly at my sides, as I waited.

And then I smelled freshly cut grass, and tasted metal in my mouth, and before I could find out how my dad would respond, I didn't know anything anymore.

My head pounded as I opened my eyes and tried to focus them. I could see the blurry outline of my dad as he knelt over me. "It's OK buddy," he said as he helped me up.

I walked over to the bed, feeling dazed, and lay down.

"I'll get you some Tylenol, and then we'll get you out of those clothes and into some pajamas." I knew I'd wet my pants, I always did when I had a seizure, and even though he was being ever so matter-of-fact and diplomatic about it, I felt humiliated.

I took the Tylenol with a glass of water that he'd brought, while watching him go through my chest of drawers. My head was pounding viciously, and I was still weak, but a rage started building inside of me. "I can get my own pajamas!" I hissed at him. "And I don't need your help changing, either!"

He jerked his head around to look at me. "OK," He said, sounding confused, as he placed his palms out in a warding gesture, like I was some wild animal that he thought might attack. "Just trying to help, Jon."

I nodded, feeling extremely weak and sleepy. "Don't need your help," I mumbled, as I lay my arm across my eyes, trying to block out everything. "Just leave me alone, OK?"

I heard him tell me good-night, and then it seemed like he paused before closing my door softly. I rolled over and clutched at a pillow, and too exhausted to change out of my jeans and t-shirt, I pulled the pillow over my head, to block the light, and fell asleep."

The next morning, after looking at the clock, I rushed to shower, and then hurried downstairs for breakfast. I had decided last night that since I was apparantly allowed to act however I wanted, that I was going to be a real S.O.B. In fact it might be fun!

My father was just grabbing up his briefcase, when I went into the kitchen, and he and my mom, both looked over at me.

"What??" I demanded, as I plopped down at the table.

I could see my mom and dad exchanging worried glances. "How are you?" my dad asked, and I could hear the note of wariness in his tone.

"M'okay," I muttered and then looked at the table. My dad walked over and kissed the top of my head. "I'm glad," he answered solemnly. "See you later, sport."

I didn't reply, just looked sullenly over at my mom.

After he left, my mother sat at the table beside me. "You don't have to go to school today, if you don't feel up to it," she said as she brushed a strand of hair off of my forehead.

"There's nothing wrong with me Mom!" I said angrily. "For fuck's sake, why would I need to stay home??"

"Jon, don't use that word." She said calmly, and then stood up from the table and went to get her own briefcase. "I made an appointment with the doctor for you this afternoon," she informed me as she opened her case, put a cup of yogurt inside, and then clicked it closed again.

"Why?" I demanded, as I glared at her.

"Your dad wants you to go," she replied. "He said you told him you were going to stop taking your medicine," she said looked directly at me. "But, you know you can't do that."

"How are you going to make me take it?" I challenged, a small glimmer of hope emerging.

"Noone should have to make you take it," she said gently. "We taught you to be responsible for taking it a long time ago, and you're always going to have to take it. That's just the way it is."

Her sensible tone was annoying, and I looked down avoiding her eyes. Of course, what she was saying was making perfect sense. But it wasn't what I needed to hear.

So I went to the doctor, and he talked to me about the seizure I'd had and why my attitude had changed suddenly. I didn't tell him much, just said I'd been in a bad mood and stuff. He smiled at that. "Well, guess you're a pretty normal teenager," he said and chuckled. "I don't think we need to change your meds at this point. Just be sure to take them every day."

I frowned, guessing that my mom had told him what I'd said about not taking them, but agreed with what he said. I just wanted to get out of there.

Later, I made sure to be as difficult as possible at home. I refused dinner, saying it smelled like shit. I threw my jacket and schoolbooks on the living room floor. I answered everything they said with some smart-assed comment, and when my dad finally had enough and told me go to my room and think for a little while, I laughed openly at him.

He looked shocked. "Upstairs!" he demanded, his voice shaking with outrage.

I went slowly, mumbling under my breath, and right before I slammed the door to my room, I yelled down to him. "I didn't take my pill today, Dad!"

The second after I slammed the door, I stopped in my tracks, hearing what sounded like a buffolo stampeding up the stairs. I looked over at the door just in time to see it fly open. My dad strode in, red faced and puffing with exertion.

I took a step back, my heart pounding, and just gaped at him. I'd never seen him look so mad, at least not at me, and for some weird reason, I felt triumphant.

"Sit down. We need to talk," he said tersely.

I sat down and rubbed my hands nervously up and down the thighs of my jeans. "Talk about what?" I asked him, trying to make my voice sound as disagreeable as possible.

He pulled the chair from my desk and sat down in front of me. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward a little. "Tell me what's going on with you. You've been behaving badly since last night, and I want to know why!" There was steel in his voice, and when he reached out and clasped my nervously moving hand in his, I suddenly felt tears burning my eyes, and I was appalled when one slipped over my lower lid and trickled down my face.

Dad's face softened then. "What is it, pal?" He asked quietly.

In choking broken words, I tried to tell him. "You and mom..I'm not different, so why do you ac...act like...just because I have epilepsy, you...you don't see me the same as Eli or Lisa." I swiped at my leaking eyes, furious at myself for being such a baby. And then just to make sure he knew he knew I was still on the warpath and was in no way calming down, I added, "You both suck!"

"I don't know what you mean, Jon," he responded, sounding like he was going to extreme measures to remain calm with me. I looked at him in amazement, hardly believing that he couldn't understand what I was talking about. Looking back, I realize now that since I had been treated like glass since I was very small, it probably just seemed normal to him and my mom.

I tried to stop crying, so I wouldn't seem like a total wuss, and tried to explain again. It was so hard talking to him about what was bothering me. So hard to say what was going on in my head, and I didn't know if I could do it. And a part of me didn't know if I wanted anything to change. After all, things were pretty sweet for me, and I didn't want to mess that up. I just wanted to feel normal and to know that there were limits for me, just like there were for my bro and sister. "Um...you know...like always asking how I'm feeling, and uh..." I looked at him and bit my lip. "Dad, I'm not always perfect, and I...Oh, never mind!" I burst out in frustration.

He sat there silently looking at me, his eyebrows furrowed. "I really don't know how we treat you differently. Yes, we are more concerned about your health than we are about Lisa and Eli's, but that's only natural. We don't treat you any diferently in other way though."

"Yes, you DO!" I contradicted loudly. "You're doing it right now!"

"Doing what, now??"

"If Eli had talked back like I did and then slammed the door, you would've given him a spanking!!" The moment I blurted the words out, I felt horrified at the pronouncement. I couldn't look at him. I just wanted to disappear.

He didn't say anything, and I wouldn't look up at his face to see what expression he wore. I pulled my hand out of his, and then stood up, and walked over to my desk. I pressed my lips together as an embarrassed hot flush crept over my face. "I need to do my homework now," I told him in a low voice, as I picked up a schoolbook.

I heard him clear his throat, as I stared down at the cover of my history book.

"I guess you're right about that, Jon. I never did spank you. When you were two, you had your first seizure. You were sitting in your high chair, smiling and playing, and then you fell back and began jerking."

He stood up and walked up behind me, and placing his hand on my shoulder, turned me to face him. "Can you imagine what that was like? To see your baby go through something like that, and not know what to do to help him?"

I shook my head, still feeling embarrassed, and stared at my feet.

"And then another time, when you were seven, you were opening your gifts on Christmas morning, and I was taking pictures. When the flash went off, you had a seizure." His voice sounded choked now, as if what he was remembering was too painful for him to bear.

"Look Dad, I know-" I began impatiently, just wanting him to stop remembering stuff.

He held up his hand, and I stopped talking. "It was hard for us and it was hard for you too," he continued. "But I want to ask you something, son. If you had been in my place, could you spank your son, when he already had so much to deal with?"

"I dunno," I mumbled. "I just want to be treated like a normal person. It's not just about that." He sat back down in my desk chair. "What else is it about, Jon?" He asked me.

I couldn't tell him that I just needed to know that he and Mom thought of me as normal, and that they cared about me as much as they cared about my brother and sister. There was no way to express those feelings, and the fact that I'd never been punished made me feel almost like I couldn't count on them. Yes, I'd always been a basically good kid, but what if I did something really dangerous. Would they lay down the law even then? I had my doubts.

"I didn't take my medicine today," I said sullenly, repeating my earlier statement.

"Well, you'll take it now," he said calmly.

"No, I won't!" I spat out as I turned toward him, and glared. "I can do what I want, and there's nothing you can do about it!" I flung my challenge at him.

He stood up quickly, nearly knocking the chair over in the process. He stared at me for a minute and then walked to my bed and sat down on it. "Come here," he said in serious, low growl.

My stomach started hurting at his tone. "Why?" I demanded uneasily, afraid I already knew the answer.

"I think you're trying to test me, Jon, but you're not going to play with your health in the process," he said tersely, and at that moment, I was pretty sure that I'd pushed him as far as I could without some kind of consequence. Pretty sure, is not the same as knowing though, so I didn't back down.

"I guess I can do what I want," I said flippantly, as I stood my ground. My arms were firmly planted across my chest as I looked at him, but a palpitation of fear, made me rock slightly.

He stood up then, and walked over to my bedside table where I kept my pills, and then taking one out of the bottle, he walked back over to where I obstinately stood. "Take it," he demanded.

I shook my head stubbornly, knowing I'd taken things too far to back down now, and yet feeling a twinge of guilt for what I was doing.

His face reddened considerably as the placed the brown bottle on my desk. "All right, Jon, this is getting ridiculous. You want to be treated like your brother and sister, then OK, but I don't think you're going to enjoy this particular way of being treated equally." With a tug he propelled me over to the bed, and before I was aware what was happening, he'd plopped down on my mattress, and was reaching over to unclasp my Levi's.

Instinctively, my hands pushed at his. I hadn't expected to have my jeans taken down, and humiliation washed over me. I gasped when he suddenly smacked my hands firmly. That single spank to my hands stung, and then the reality of the situation really sank in. I had pushed him, and now I was going to get what I thought I needed. The saying, 'Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it,' flashed through my mind, as I jerked my hands quickly out of the way.

The room was quiet as he unfastened my jeans, and then slid them down to my knees, and as a sudden rush of panic washed over me, I tried to squirm away. He was for real about punishing me. I knew that for sure now, and that certainty, made my resolve just vanish.

My hands felt cold and clammy and my stomach roiled, as I stood there on suddenly shaky legs and he held tightly to my wrist. "What if I have a seizure?" I asked in a panic-husky voice.

I could feel him looking into my face, and I forced myself to look back down at him where he sat. I blinked when I saw the look of extreme disappointment in his dark eyes. "I think you're a little confused, son. Your refusing to take your medicine is what's going to cause a seizure. That why I'm going to spank you, remember?" His tone was steady and even, with no trace of sarcasm, but his gaze felt like it was boring into me as he paused. "If you take your pill now, I won't spank you. Think carefully, though, because this is your last chance."

My mouth was completely dry as I looked over at the small brown bottle on my desk. All I had to do was agree to take one tiny pill, and this would all be over with. I gulped, and tried to think through the haze of fear that my mind had become. If I took the pill, my father might not ever see me as a normal kid, and if I took the spanking he'd know I was, and that I wasn't made of glass. My mind was whirling with confusion, as I tried to think fast. OK, but what if he decided to punish me all the time from now on? I wouldn't have the feeling of specialness anymore! I shook my head, realizing what a trap I was in. On some level being different was a huge part of my identity, but that differentness was a double-edge sword. there were good things about it, though. Now that it was down to the wire, I just couldn't make the choice that would keep things the same or change everything.

"Jon? What's it going to be?" Dad's voice was stern as he asked the question.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. And by not answering his question, I had made the choice.

After a few, seemingly endless, seconds, he pulled me firmly across his lap, and I was amazed at his strength. I knew he was strong, but I had never fully realized the extent of it, or just how muscular he really was. My feet scrabbled at the floor as I tried to retain a sense of balance, as my jeans binded my legs, and I blindly reached a hand down to grasp his sturdy ankle.

He didn't speak as he adjusted my body across his broad thighs, and I had a weird sensation of being at the doctor's office. I always felt so dehumanized at the doctor's, and that's how I felt as he lifted his knee to position my brief clad bottom at a sharp angle. Sort of like I wasn't real. It was taking forever, it seemed like, and my heart hammered in my chest, as I dug my toes in and gritted my teeth.

I could feel the tension in his body, as he wrapped his muscular arm around my waist, and pinned me close to his stomach. I closed my eyes and waited.

SMACK!!! Golden sparkles of light exploded behind my eyelids as the sound rang out through the bedroom, and I gasped in astonishment at the sting. The first swat was quickly followed by two quick hard slaps. SMACK!!!SMACK!!! I hadn't expected it to sting that much, and I grimaced and buried my face into my bed.

I felt his hand land again, this time on my lower butt, and I tried to squirm out of his grasp, worried that he was going to swat my legs. He was holding me too tightly though, and I could barely move at all.

SSPANNNK!!! An extremely hard swat landed across both cheeks and I yelped in pain. "You're hurting me!" I hissed out between clenched teeth, in case he wasn't aware of that fact.

He spanked me on the top of one cheek and then at the bottom, as I tried uselessly to get away, and then the thing I was most worried about happened! My dad slapped the top of my legs! Not once, but six times in quick succesion.

"OWWW!!" I yelled out as I threw back the hand that wasn't clutching his ankle, and tried to protect my rapidly heating behind and thighs. "OWWW!"

He paused long enough to take my hand and tuck it under one of his thighs, and then the spanking continued. Crisp, rhythmical spanks covered every inch of my cotton-covered bottom, as I whimpered and occasionally yelped while the sting steadily built. After a few minutes of constant smacks, I felt tears begin to burn the inside of my nose.

"STOP!" I finally wailed out, feeling like my butt was completely scorched. "Please! I promise I'll take my pill!!" As I choked out the words I began to cry for real.

As if I'd uttered the magic words, the pain suddenly stopped, and I could feel my dad's warm hand resting on my back. I bit down on my lip to try to stop crying but an occasional sniffle emerged as he quietly soothed me.

When he finally let me up, I stood and snatched my jeans up quickly, letting out a slow hiss as they made contact with my sore backside. I glared at him accusingly for a minute, but then remembered how I'd caused this whole thing. At that moment, I relaxed, not exactly happy, but knowing that I had been treated the same as my siblings, and also sure of just how far I could push.

"Take your pill, now," he ordered, as he stood up. "Unless you want a repeat performance."

I did what he told me, knowing that he would punish me again if I refused, just like he would my "normal" brother and sister in the same situation.

That was the last time I ever got a spanking. I guess I proved what I felt I needed to prove, to myself mostly. I would recommend less drastic ways of proving things and getting reassurance though, because that spanking really hurt!

Copyright © 2004 2005 Tris