"EASTER, BRIGHT AND DARK" ("Maternal Matrimony" #17) by the Crimson Kid F/m F/f f/m F/F

Part 1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § Epilogue

(All rights reserved. This story's setting begins in the early evening nine days after the end of "NUDITY", inside a plastitube bulletcar speeding toward the Vladivostan capital city of Guderian from Starbase Seventeen, mid-28th century.)

Although he would have preferred to sit on Rebecca's maternal lap for part of the trip to the planetary surface, Carlton supportively sat next to Billy, both of them on floor-anchored child-scaled foamseats. The admiral and her two Starfleet colleagues, Lavinia and Rosita, were relaxing on the wide benchlike inflapad seats along the car's interior wall, all three of them in civilian dress. On adjacent adult-sized foamseats sat Nantessa and Selena, who were developing a budding friendship in spite of their fifteen-year age difference.

To the scattered other passengers in the bulletcar, swiftly descending toward the Vladivostan planetary surface at 600 miles per hour, there was nothing remarkable about either the two boyish rejuves or the five casually-attired females, other than perhaps the physically-impressive appearance of Rebecca, Selena and Nantessa. No one appeared to recognize that Starbase Seventeen's commandering officer and second-in-command, along with their respective families, were among the holiday travelers.

"Will you at least get a breathing space tomorrow, so you can get mentally prepared?" Carlton somberly asked his Penitatas comrade.

"Not tomorrow morning," Billy replied slowly. "I'll take my usual bare-assed trip across Mommy's lap for a wake-up session with her helper paddle—and I'm certainly due for my usual nude hairbrushing from Aunt Selena before my bath tonight."

The five-year-old shivered, recalling when his night's sleep had been 'bookended' by bare-bottomed wallopings courtesy of his spousal guardian and sister. It was a dire feeling, he knew, going to bed with sore, sizzling bumcheeks that nanolotion would return to a pristinely pale condition—only so they could be soundly whacked back to stinging-hot intensity the following morning. Dreams featuring Rebecca's leather strap and Nantessa's 'Sibling Seat-Sizzler' paddle had made his slumber rather fitful during those first days as a rejuved child, he remembered clearly.

"At least you're getting nanolotion at night," he noted, offering thin comfort to his older friend. "Some societies discourage its use on pennies at bedtime but it's a requirement on Traditionalist planets."

"If I'm good on Saturday my date with Aunt Selena's punishment brush will be cancelled for that evening," the six-year-old stated quietly, "That's the best I can hope for going into Easter's activities."

"Still, you're only receiving two scheduled spankings a day," the blond Medicalos mused, "Which isn't too bad for a new penny."

The dark-haired Penitatas sighed. "Except for my training exercises..."

After finally grading out with double-'A's (effort and performance), based on Selena's evaluation of his hour-long, large-motor workout sessions, Billy had been put on a maintenance routine of two twenty-minute practice periods each day. He hadn't been graded on them as he had on the earlier extensive exercises, so he'd become increasingly sloppy in his overall effort—until the afternoon session of the second day, when Selena had corrected her penny charge's lack of focus via forty blazing-hot licks of her doubled-up thick leather belt across his upthrust naked buttocks, leaving him blubbering tearfully.

"This past week I started small-motor training," Billy said mournfully, "Which was back to square one with double-'D' grades." He shivered, vividly remembering Monday morning's punitive reckoning—the belt's forty-five leathering kisses that had left burning bands of crimson crisscrossing his chubby nether cheeks.

"That's basically handwriting practice, isn't it?" Carlton inquired nonchalantly. "We do quite a bit of that in kindergarten, trying to develop our digital dexterity. It's pretty slow progress so far, but I'm gradually improving...How about you?"

The young penny gulped, thinking of the bare-bottomed lickings that he'd continued to experience twice a day, courtesy of Selena's butt-blistering belt, while his penmanship had improved only incrementally. That very afternoon he'd barely managed a double-'C' grade, which had resulted in thirty snapping strokes of the thick leather across his exposed asscheeks.

"Let's just say that I'm glad this foamseat is so soft to sit on," he answered his friend, "Considering the kind of 'encouragement' to succeed that Aunt Selena gives me after each session."

"But she does show you affection too, doesn't she?" the Medicalos demanded insistently. "I hope you're not being too stubborn to accept some emotional comfort, Billy—you'll need all the maternal TLC you can get to endure your sentence, especially the special punishment times."

The dark-haired boy briefly shut his eyes, his lips pressed together tightly. "It's going to be Hell, isn't it?"

"Even on a special punishment holiday, your mothers will give you plenty of affectionate treatment between the smackings they'll be administering," his companion pointed out, "If you'll let them, that is." He smiled thinly. "For your sake, I sincerely hope you will..."

"You're the toast of the entire quadrant for your diplomatic skills," Rosita was gently teasing Rebecca, "Yet none of your fellow passengers even recognize you out of uniform."

"Fame is fleeting," the commodore said pointedly.

Rebecca, sitting between her two shorter comrades, shrugged diffidently. "Maybe I'm well known in this sector at the moment, but not the whole quadrant. Anyway, it was just a matter of supplying the Kelvaron miners with what they demanded—which Starfleet had already cleared."

"Don't be so modest, Becca," the commander rejoined. "Starfleet Command approved the assignment of a medical team to the Hamilton mining settlement because you convinced it to do so ahead of time—that was the critical issue involved."

"You're correct as usual, Rosie—it's hard to keep information from an Intelligence operative." The admiral nodded briefly. "It was the niggling details about working conditions and residence facilities that took three days to work out, after I'd presented the schedule to set up an emergency-treatment medical center."

"Even though they already had a small mobile rejuvenator with a technical team," Lavinia noted.

"It was basic anti-radiation protocols being available, to avoid rejuving if possible, that the workers wanted," Rebecca elaborated, "Which I can certainly understand."

"Especially since the limited rejuvination chamber there would perform a sex-change operation on any man it rejuved," the plump Intelligence officer added, "Although coming out female seems like an improvement to me."

The executive officer grinned, gazing fondly at her paramour Selena. "I can't argue with that, Rosie..."

"I have to admit that I feel envious of you, Nannie," the lithe young woman was telling Nantessa, "Regarding your relationship with Carltie."

"Why is that?" the teenager asked.

"Billy still resists accepting my hugs and kisses," Selena replied, "Except when he's falling asleep." She sighed unhappily. "I so want to comfort him after I've walloped his bare backside until it's glowing a dark red and he's bawling pitifully, but he'll stiffen up and pull away from my embrace."

"I see what you mean," her adolescent companion commiserated. "Carltie always likes being held in my arms, or Mom's, or just about any female's if he feels comfortable with her—especially after he's been soundly spanked, since it creates a feeling of forgiveness."

"That's what both Lavie—Commodore Treadwell—and I want to give Billy, but he won't accept it—even though he needs it." The black-haired woman frowned. "The damnedest part of it is that he's developing an attachment to us, we can both sense it, but he just won't let his emotions break through."

The young teen nodded in agreement. "Males can be like that, even little boys. Carltie still has problems expressing himself at times, even when it costs his bare behind big-time—which it has on occasion." She grimaced slightly, thinking of the wet-bottomed bathtime paddling she'd applied to her nude little brother's posterior with a lexanite bath brush nine days earlier.

"It's his patri-dom upbringing too, that makes it worse," Selena stated somberly. "Easter's going to be Hell for him anyway, but it'll crush Billy if he won't let himself be consoled after his punishment sessions."

Nantessa hadn't thought much about Billy until then, but she felt sympathy for both him and the two women who would have to discipline him quite extensively in the near future; she also felt relief that Carlton wasn't a Penitatas and received only one mild unearned chastisement a week.

"Well, don't give up on him yet, Miss Lamonica—people do change, even patri-dom male pennies..."

Rebecca had rented an oversized eight-seat luxury hovercar, allowing adequate room for their weekend house guests, and she piloted it expertly and swiftly toward her planetary residence in Yamamoto, a suburb outside Guderian. Rosita sat in the front passenger seat beside her old cadet compatriot, leaving Lavinia and Selena with ample room in the second three-seat row while the children occupied the back tier of comfortably-cushioned seats.

Seated between Nantessa and Billy, Carlton leaned into his Kindern sister's side and her right arm gently encircled his upper body.

"I'll miss you this weekend, Nannie," the blond rejuve informed the pretty teenager.

"Well, I'm sure I'll miss you too, baby brother," she replied softly, "But you'll have a good time with Mommy and Aunt Rosie, not to mention Billy and his parents. With Mrs. Highsmith dropping by tomorrow, you'll be surrounded by beautiful women." Her light brown eyes sparkled impishly. "Of course, you do tend to end up being paddled pants-down over the laps of attractive females, especially ones you're fond of, so you'd better be careful to behave yourself, cutie."

"You think he's going to get spanked?" Billy asked uncertainly.

"She's just teasing me, Billy," his friend informed him lightly, "But I'll take heed of her advice anyway and be a good boy this weekend."

The six-year-old shuddered softly. "Good behavior won't help me out on Sunday, I'm afraid—no matter what, I'm in for it."

Nantessa had always considered Billy a spoiled brat who deserved the Penitatas discipline he regularly received, but she felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for him as he anticipated his first special punishment day.

"It'll be rough, Billy, but pennies have endured that treatment for centuries and come through stronger in the long run," she stated comfortingly, "So you can do it too, sweetie."

"I hope you're right, Nannie," the young Penitatas murmured, "Not that I have any choice at all."

"Not at the moment," the girl agreed. "You made the wrong decision before, when you had a choice, so now you'll be paying for it."

"You've got most of the day Saturday to get emotionally ready," Carlton noted consolingly. "Easter's only one day, Billy, so you'll just have to take it...ahhh...well..." His voice trailed off uncertainly.

His sister grinned knowingly, ruffling the young Medicalos' soft blond curls. "Were you about to say something like 'one spanking at a time,' cutie?"

"Ummm...yes," he admitted, "But that doesn't sound all that comforting, does it?"

"Not comforting but pretty accurate," she rejoined calmly. "That's probably the basic approach you should take, Billy, hang in tough until it's finally over—but there is one thing you can do to make it more tolerable."

The pale-faced penny chewed his lower lip. "What's that, Nannie?"

"For God's sake, let your mother and aunt console you between punishment sessions," the teenager urged quietly, "Accept all the affection and comfort they'll give you, which will be plenty. Not only will it help you through the ordeal you're going to undergo, but it will help them through theirs too."

"Their ordeal!" Billy sputtered in disbelief. "What kind of suffering will they be doing all day?"

"They'll be doing their jobs as parents of a Penitatas," his fellow rejuve informed him pointedly, "Which won't necessarily be easy for them."

"I don't think they'll have much trouble blistering my butt for the whole day on Easter," the six-year-old muttered, "It's something they do every day without it bothering them."

"Your parents may not show it outwardly, but your rejection of their love and caring does hurt their feelings." Nantessa spoke in a low, serious voice. "I know that your Aunt Selena wishes that she could kiss and cuddle you just as extensively as she reddens your naked fanny, Billy."

The mournful Penitatas slowly shook his head. "This is a nightmare world, all these women in positions of authority—I'm at their mercy as far as punishment goes and they never show me any. I was raised within my family to be respected and obeyed by women, not controlled and disciplined by them." His blurted words reflected the hopelessness and futility he felt. "How am I going to survive this?"

Carlton sighed in exasperation. "Haven't you been listening to what Nannie's been telling you, Billy?"

Once the two-family group arrived at the comfortable McMichael residence in Yamamoto, Nantessa made her farewells; she was going to be staying with a neighborhood girlfriend, providing herself a brief respite from family interactions while allowing her bedroom to be temporarily occupied by two of their guests.

Making her good-byes 'short and sweet,' the thirteen-year-old delivered tight hugs and warm kisses to her mother and brother, who reciprocated in kind; the other women received friendly embraces, Selena's a bit longer than the other two.

When the pretty teen bent down toward Billy, the young penny's body stiffened as his facial features hardened.

"Don't you dare reject my sister's affection," Carlton warned his rejuve comrade, his tone almost meanacing, "When she's trying to be supportive of you."

"Ohhh, all right." The dark-haired youngster half-heartedly returned Nantessa's quick hug and even managed a grudging smile as she lightly kissed his forehead.

"Listen to Carltie, Billy dear," she teased sweetly, "He certainly knows what happens to little boys who get on my bad side—and your bottom's going to feel plenty sore as it is." Her gaze met his, becoming intent. "Seriously, hang in there, honey—I'll be thinking of you."

He nodded pensively. "Okay, Nannie...Thank you."

As Rebecca used her palmprint and security code to program the doorway to slide open, her spousal ward clapped his fellow rejuve on the back while querying him.

"That wasn't so bad, Billy, was it, accepting support from a beautiful young woman?"

The boyish Penitatas shrugged noncommitally. "Your sister's okay, Carltie, but she's just so—well, she doesn't defer to me...or you...probably not even to guys her own age. Nannie just acts like she's...ummm..."

"As good as any male, if not better?" Rosita suggested, interjecting herself into the childish conversation. "She's very mature, competent and assertive for a thirteen-year-old, yet still quite attractive and feminine. Do those traits in a female unnerve you a little, Billy?"

"They seem to unnerve him a lot, Aunt Rosie," Carlton replied hastily, before his friend could offend the Intelligence officer by ignoring her question, "But I'm helping him get used to those kinds of women. They're my favorite type personally, except when I'm bent pants-down and bottomside up over one of their laps—then I end up wishing she wasn't nearly so strong and efficient." He flashed a mock-rueful grin, which his former cadet classmate knowingly returned.

"You got blistering bare-assed butt-whippings from her for two full years, that's what you told me," Billy challenged his rejuve compatriot, "But now that's a joking matter to both of you?"

"Aunt Rosie performed those services for my own benefit," the five-year-old explained, "So I'm highly grateful for her caring and concern."

Selena's hand firmly gripped her new son's left shoulder. "Language, Billy," she admonished him. "Next time you won't get a warning, you'll get a butt-naked hairbrushing across my knees, wherever the offense occurs—and in front of whoever's around to watch our fanny-tanning performance. Do you understand me clearly, young man?"

"Yes, Aunt Selena." The penny's acknowledgement sounded sullen to the youthful brunette, but fortunately for him they'd started entering the house and she decided not to comment on his tone of voice.

Once inside, the admiral led everyone present to the receiving bin—its flashing blue light indicated that their personal luggage had already arrived, via freight tube to the planetary surface followed by minitube delivery to the residence, and was awaiting them inside its air-cushioned walls.

Rooming arrangements had already been made—Rosita would share the master bedroom with Rebecca, Lavinia and Selena would predictably be together in Nantessa's room while Billy would stay with Carlton, sleeping on a junior-sized inflatcot next to his host's bed.

"Nannie's bed is only a queen-sized model," their hostess informed the lesbian couple, "Can you two manage that together?"

Lavinia gently squeezed her beautiful lover's hand in hers. "I don't see any problem with that, Becca. Let's all get settled into our bedrooms, then we can deal with programming for supper."

"What 'language' was Miss Lamonica referring to," Carlton asked his fellow rejuve as they unpacked their compcases and travelpacks, "The term 'bare-assed' that you used?"

"That and even saying 'butt,' then she said it herself when she was threatening me." Billy snorted derisively. "She tells me that 'ass' is vulgar and 'butt' is almost as crude, so I'm not to use those words in conversation while I'm a penny."

His friend nodded agreeably. "One of my behavior rules deals with profanity too—it's considered a spanking offense by my mom, so I try to be careful about my speech."

"Too many goddamned rules, most of them asinine," the frustrated Penitatas complained bitterly, "So what can a free-spirited guy like me do?"

"Self-discipline is the key," his Medicalos comrade responded simply, "Because there are plenty of strict ladies willing to supply exterrnal behavior modification, the seat-sizzling kind, if we don't control our own conduct..."

Suppertime fare turned out to be a tasty combination of Vladivostan, Posteria Priman and old-style Terran dishes, programmed into the multicooker through the cooperative efforts of Rebecca, Rosita and Lavinia while Selena supervised and enforced nap-taking by the two youngsters. (Predictably, Carlton was cheerfully compliant while Billy obeyed instructions with sullen reluctance.)

The four women chatted amiably as they ate, discussing Starfleet scuttlebutt, space station politics and even Nantessa's null-gee powerball team. Following the strict Traditionalist maxim that "children should be seen and not heard" while there were adult guests conversing, Carlton listened silently while eating. Billy did the same, albeit grudgingly—he'd been cautioned about misbehavior when he'd stalled in taking his nap, and he was aware that Selena's patience with him was close to depleted.

"Carltie's a big fan of his sister and her team," Rebecca said casually, nodding at her spousal ward, "I'm sure he knows where they rank in the overall standings."

"They're in a three-way tie for first place right now, Mommy," Carlton announced with sibling pride, "With Nannie being the top-scoring outer defender in the entire Starbase Seventeen Junior League."

"You're quite the proud little brother, Carltie," Lavinia remarked with good-natured indulgence. "I'm glad that you're such a supporter of Nannie's team, that's what family is for."

"Thank you, ma'am." The Medicalos blushed slightly under the commodore's praise.

"It's just a girls' game," Billy muttered contemptuously, "Nothing to get excited about—we used to call it 'powderpuffball' in my family."

"That's enough out of you, my penny child," Selena interjected sharply, "Since you can't be gracious about someone else's success—if she's a girl, that is. I believe you may need a public bare-bottom lesson in mealtime manners, young man."

"Well, that's just his personal opinion," Rosita intervened hastily, "Although it certainly could have been expressed more politely." Her voice was soothing. "I'm sure that he didn't mean for his comment to sound so condescending—did you, Billy?"

"Uhhh...No, Miss Rosie, I...uhhh...really didn't." The Penitatas fidgeted and looked down at his plate, anxiously avoiding Selena's penetrating gaze—until she calmly reached over the table and lifted up his chin, forcing his eyes to lock into focus with hers.

"Strike two," she announced quietly, premonition in her voice. `

"Shall we have dessert now?" the admiral demanded quickly. "It's a traditional Terran favorite of mine, strawberry shortcake with whipped cream."

"No dessert for Billy," her executive officer stated bluntly, "Not tonight."

Rebecca resignedly shook her head. "Well, Lavie, that won't work here—there's a reason that Billy always gets dessert when he eats supper at our quarters."

"Don't be contrary, Becca, I'm responsible for Billy's Penitatas discipline and I don't want him having dessert tonight." Lavinia smiled tightly. "With all due respect to you as our hostess, naturally, it's still my decision—and Selena's, of course."

"Ummm...I don't really feel like having dessert either, Mommy," Carlton informed his mother solemnly.

"Just because Billy can't have any, you won't either?" Selena sputtered. "That's ridiculous, Carltie!"

"It's emotional blackmail, that's what it is," The commodore pointed out. "To keep our penny son from having strawberry shortcake, we'll end up depriving Carltie too since he's going to play the martyr out of friendship."

The five-year-old grinned wryly. "You did want us to become close friends, commodore, and now we have."

The middle-aged woman couldn't help grinning devilishly back at the blond rejuve. "If you truly insist on sharing whatever treatment we're giving Billy, maybe you'd like to join him across Selena's lap later tonight, wearing only your birthday suit for a hot-bottomed date with her hairbrush."

He gulped. "Ahhh, well...no thank you, ma'am."

"I thought not." She playfully touseled the boy's curly hair. "All right, let's have dessert for everybody, Becca—I suppose that Billy having such a true-blue comrade is something worth celebrating."

The evening went by quietly, the two rejuves playing HV simulgames on Nantessa's holovision field while the women watched a dimensionized motion picture from the mid-21st century that was transmitted on a Vladivostan HV network.

"Rowena's certainly in deep denial about her lover," Rosita commented archly.

"I think she's picking up the obvious clues," the admiral countered, "But she hopes to turn the situation around with Helga's help."

"That's not going to happen," the Intelligence officer stated flatly, "Salvador's being twisted by his irrational arrogance and prejudice."

"Helga's got to tell Godric, even though she promised Rowena to keep everything confidential," Lavinia surmised, "Otherwise the school's ideals will be sabotaged by Salvador—he may be obsessed but he's wickedly cunning too."

"I've got a bathtime hairbrush session to administer now," Selena reminded the other women, rising from the old-style Terran couch. "Would you record the rest of this little drama on a playback disk for me, Rebecca?"

"Actually, I'm already doing that," her hostess explained, "But I'll notemark this point in the story for you."

"Happy spanking," The commodore called after her lover, who was heading upstairs to perform her penny-parental duty.

Scant seconds later Selena, retribution etched on her facial features, strode into Nantessa's room and faced the two boyish rejuves, seated in front of the holovision field playing Carlton's 'Dieppe Disaster' historic simulgame.

"Strip down, Billy," she coolly instructed her Penitatas child, "I'm taking you on a red-hot trip to Sorebottom City."

"I'm not finished playing this game yet," the dark-haired rejuve rejoined stubbornly.

His friendly opponent immediately shut off the field's power. "Yes, you are," Carlton corrected him quickly—but it was too late to help the hapless penny.

"Strike three, Billy," Selena announced curtly. "Now it's my turn at bat, so to speak in the old Terran vernacular—and you've just earned yourself two dozen extra-hard licks with my belt after your hairbrushing."

Billy was temporarily dumbstruck, while his fellow rejuve gasped in dismay.

"We were caught up in the game, Miss Lamonica," the five-year-old declared urgently, "I'm sure Billy didn't mean to—"

"He's my son, I'm certain I know what he meant," the imposing brunette interjected brusquely. "If you're going to interfere with my parenting, Carltie, perhaps you need to go butt-naked over my lap as well."

Carlton stood up, inhaling softly. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to sound critical of your decision-making," he stated apologetically. "You've been given permission by my mother to discipline me at any time you consider appropriate, I know that. Should I undress for you now?"

Faced with such unreserved cooperation, his potential chastiser immediately regretted her hasty overreaction.

"Oh no, sweetie, I didn't really mean I'd spank you just for trying to help Billy out." She squatted down and lightly kissed his cheek. "You were loyally doing your best for my child and I appreciate that, but he's got to take responsibility for his own disrespectful behavior."

Carlton nodded resignedly. "Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid you're correct."

"Then we'll see you later, Carltie dear." Selena motioned toward the doorway, and the young Medicalos obediently left his six-year-old compatriot to a typical Penitatas punitive fate.

The chastened six-year-old had belately gained enough awareness to avoid further worsening his situation, so he promptly albeit reluctantly stripped to the buff while his parental chastiser shut the bedroom door, retrieved her flat-backed wooden hairbrush and seated herself on the bed's edge.

"You still don't seem to comprehend this penny concept very well, Billy," she informed the nude youngster, "Which means that your sassy bare derriere is going to pay for your lack of understanding, as usual. Let's get you into position for your punishment, dear boy."

"Okay, Aunt Selena." Eyes downcast and trembling in dire anticipation, Billy climbed across the lithe woman's well-toned thighs. Quickly she adjusted his position, elevating his exposed chubby buttcheeks while pinning his right wrist against the small of his back with her left hand.

"While on this extended visit to Sorebottom City," Selena instructed her buck-naked spankee, "Focus on your arrogant, insensitive attitude towards females, Billy—that's what's gotten you into this position." She raised the sturdy brush in her right hand, gauging the distance to its twitching twin targets.

"Yes, ma'am," the quivering child concurred miserably, "I know that."

"Then I'll now help you to modify your approach, sweetheart." The work-toughened technician swung the spanking brush swiftly and powerfully, cracking it sharply across Billy''s plump pale posterior—SMACK!!

After that first bridging stroke smartly flattened those defenseless buttocks, the chastisement rapidlly reached an intensity that almost immediately reduced its rejuved recipient to a state of babyish weeping and wailing as his stinging, reddening bumcheeks bounced buoyantly under the retributive hairbrush's blistering attack.

Following ten solid minutes of relentless chastisement, the piteously bawling Penitatas was finally deposited back on his feet and sent scurrying into the room's near corner with a final fiery swat of the blazing brushback against his deeply-glowing, magenta-hued 'sit spot.'

Ten minutes later, his stubby nose pressed against an exact intersection point of the two walls and his ragged sobbing slowly subsiding, Billy gulped as he heard the sound he dreaded—his maternal disciplinarian's thick leather belt swiftly sliding free of its constraining loops...

{PART TWO}

(This Part's setting begins thirteen hours after the end of Part One, the following morning, at the McMichael residence in Yamamoto on the planet Vladivost, mid-28th century.)

Only Rebecca and Lavinia, looking rested and alert while wearing luxuriously soft Starfleet-issue simulsatin bathrobes, were awake at the relatively early hour.

"The kids can sleep in a little today," the admiral proposed to her close friend, both of them interpreting the word "kids" to mean the two younger women as well as the boyish rejuves.

"Why not?" The executive officer nodded agreeably. "Selena's been pretty tired lately, spending almost all day dealing with Billy but still working part-time at the hydroponics bay. Even on a young, fit person like her, that kind of pressure eventually takes its toll." She took a sip of the hot Baikabush tea that she was drinking from a translucent polyplast cup, enjoying its soothing sensation.

"I think Billly could start spending a couple hours some afternoons at our local Rejuve Activity Center," Rebecca suggested, "So Selena can catch up on her sleep."

"Do you think he'd be able to stay out of trouble there?" The older woman arched her eyebrows.

"Well, the trained personnel there know exactly how to handle misbehaving rejuved children," her Starfleet superior noted breezily. "If Billy didn't follow the RAC's strict rules, I guarantee that he'd regret it immediately and intensively."

"So the RAC follows a strict Traditionalist philosophy on child discipline?" Lavinia inquired pensively.

Her hostess smiled knowingly. "Yes indeed, Lavie, and for all rejuves—not just pennies, although certainly they get even less latitude regarding borderline behavior violations than other types."

"Has Carltie stayed at the RAC?" the commodore asked directly.

"Just once so far, when I was on that diplomatic mission," Rebecca affirmed.

"So his one time at the RAC," her guest probed tentatively, "Was Carltie...dealt with punitively...while there?"

"Spanked, you mean? Oh no, not at all," the admiral rejoined briskly. "He was a perfect little angel, according to what the RAC staff told Rosie."

"Billy's pretty far from being an angel of any kind," Lavinia mused glumly. "If he'd just let us help him through this adjustment time to becoming a penny...But as you saw last night, he just won't accept affection."

"If it's any consolation, Lavie," her friend noted soothingly, "I saw Billy cast several rather envious looks at Carlton while I was playing with him during their bathtime."

The previous evening, after Selena had followed Billy's nude hairbrush walloping over her parental lap by delivering twenty-four blistering-hard cracks of her doubled-up wide leather belt across his already-sizzling bare seat, the two boyish rejuves had been bathed together in Carlton's bathroom following Billy's brief 'reflection time' while penitently facing the corner.

Although he was sobbing piteously while rubbing his fiery-red rump, the punished Penitatas had still refused any comfort from Lavinia while she was washing and rinsing his body—tenderly and carefully, at the admiral's insistence—then sweetly patting him dry with a comfortably-soft, old-fashioned bath towel.

Carlton's eager acceptance of his spousal guardian's lovingly playful treatment, as Rebecca had similarly bathed him and wrapped him snugly in a thick towel, had contrasted starkly with Billy's injured aloofness toward his mother—a situation that made Lavinia grimly shake her head.

"Let's hope you're right, Becca," she muttered uneasily, "Because I don't know what else to do about that boy's patri-dom obstinance. We've managed to paddle some of the arrogance and rudeness out of him, but no amount of corporal punishment will make him accept our love—even though at a subconscious level he wants to let us console him." Her expression became uncertain. "Are you sure about treating Billy so gently during and after his bath? I remember reading about some Penitatas parents harshly scrubbing a just-spanked penny's derriere with a rough washcloth, to remind him of the discipline he'd just received—"

"Trust me, Lavie," her Starfleet superior interjected assuredly, "Bathtime needs to be bonding time—and if it comes right after a fanny-tanning, it should also be comfort-and-forgiveness time."

The room's holovision field abruptly began flashing, its bursts of mild blue-white light being accompanied by three melodious chimes before a softly-feminine computerized voice projected its message: "Transmission contact request for Rebecca McMichael from Svenson Jurgensen..."

"Svenson!" Rebecca's brow furrowed. "What can he want? It can't be good..." Picking up a universal interior remote, she activated the field's 'call response' setting, resulting in the holoimage of a stocky, fiftyish-looking man being projected standing in front of her. Sharply attired in an orange semi-military uniform, he was rugged-looking with pale blue eyes and bright blond, neatly-trimmed hair.

"Hello, Svenson," the admiral greeted her caller, who was the chairman of Starbase Seventeen's Civilian Coordinating Council. "Is there a problem on the station that Reuben can't deal with?" she demanded bluntly.

"There is a minor situation, but I've already resolved the Starfleet angle with Captain Moseley," Svenson informed his governing colleague. "It will require me to unexpectedly remain here on the starbase over the Easter holiday, though. Anyway, Captain Moseley told me that you've entertaining house guests this weekend, and I see that Commodore Treadwell's with you right now." The entrepreneur's image nodded toward the executive officer. "Good morning, Lavinia."

"Greetings, Svenson." The commodore smiled briefly.

"Then what can I do for you, Svenson?" Rebecca's voice sounded puzzled.

"A personal favor, if you're willing," the man responded directly. "Captain Moseley informed me that you're taking your ward Carlton to the big rejuve Easter Egg Hunt at Chuikov City tomorrow—is that correct?"

"Yes, that's true." The admiral's eyebrows arched. "So exactly what is it that you're requesting?"

Svenson paused uncomfortably. "I normally wouldn't impose on our professional relationship, but does your house have room for one more—a pretty small one...?"

Fifteen minutes of conversation followed, involving detailed arrangements and a discussion of the proposed new visitor's personal background. The orange-uniformed businessman did the majority of the talking, his statements interspersed with an occasional query or comment by the two high-ranking Starfleet females.

Finally he concluded the holoview exchange: "Thank you so much, Rebecca; I know I owe you a favor now—a pretty big one."

The tall woman smiled graciously. "Friends do favors for each other, Svenson, but they don't keep strict track on a one-for-one basis."

"Besides, this could actually be beneficial to both of our own rejuved children," Lavinia added, "In different ways."

"If that's truly so, I'm glad it works out that way." Svenson nodded in appreciation. "I won't take up any more of your time, ladies—but thanks again."

As the connection was broken and the HV field flickered into blankness, Carlton shuffled drowsily into the room; wearing his old-style aquamarine "Doctor Denton' sleepers, he looked rather sleep-tousled.

"Good morning, sweetheart," his guardian greeted him cheerily. "Did you sleep well, honey?"

"Fine, Mommy." The five-year-old half-stifled a yawn.

"We have an errand to run later today," Rebecca announced, "Involving a little bit of a surprise for you."

The boy's brows furrowed. "What kind of a surprise, Mommy?"

"Oh, one that you should enjoy," came the cryptic yet maternally affectionate reply, "But that's all I'm saying for the moment."

"Can Billy come along too, please?" The blond rejuve's gaze included Lavinia, his question directed at both smiling women. "Good morning, commodore," he added belatedly.

"Hello, sleepyhead." Leaning forward, the executive officer reached out to playfully ruffle her supplicant's curly locks. "So you'd like my penny son to accompany you, Carltie?"

"If that's all right with you and Mommy, ma'am," he replied earnestly.

"How does your mother get you to be so polite, I'd like to know." Lavinia softly patted his cheek. "What's her secret, anyway?"

"She knows that I much prefer being able to sit comfortably," Carlton explained simply.

The commodore chuckled. "That incentive doesn't always seem to work with Billy." She stood up. "Speaking of Billy, I'd better go wake him up now."

The Medicalos frowned uncertainly. "Wake him up how, ma'am?"

"That's not your business, Cartlie," his guardian admonished briskly.

"He's just concerned for his friend, Becca, that's understandable." Lavinia smiled softly at Carlton. "I'll be administering a good, sound 'wake-up' spanking to Billy, using my 'Mother's Helper' paddle on his bare posterior—that's my responsibility as the parent of a Penitatas. You understand that, don't you?"

He nodded resignedly. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I didn't mean to sound critical—"

"You didn't," she interjected, "You sounded like a loyal comrade. If Billy's behavior is exemplary today, his regular bathtime nude hairbrushing will be cancelled tonight—that's the best accomodation we're offering, Selena and I, so hopefully Billy will take advantage of it."

"Thank you, ma'am," the boyish rejuve stated, "I'll remind him to be on his best behavior."

"So will my 'Helper' paddle." The determined woman strode off to perform her maternal duty.

Thirty seconds later, Lavinia burst into Carlton's bedroom carrying her light-but-effective 'Helper' paddle.

"Huh-Hi, Mommy," Billy greeted her anxiously; he lay supine under the bedcovers on the inflacot but was already awake.

"Good morning, darling." She smiled sweetly at her penny son. "We've got our usual Penitatas business to take care of now, so please get up and let's get started. The sooner we're underway, the more quickly the spanking will be over—which is what we both want, I believe."

"Buh-But I was just spanked so hard last night, by Aunt Selena," the six-year-old protested plantively.

"You totally deserved it, your conduct yesterday was deplorable." The commodore shook her head in disapproval. "You were nanolotioned last night, so your misbehaving rump isn't sore now—although it's going to be again shortly. Come on, Billy dear, let's get this paddling over with."

She reached down, lifted her young penny under his arms and deftly flipped him bottomside up over her lap while seating herself on the edge of Carlton's bed. "Oh, no..." Billy whimpered as his pajama bottoms were smoothly slid down to his kneehollows, then his right wrist was grasped in his mother's strong left hand and pressed tightly against the small of his back.

"Oh, most certainly yes, naughty boy." Lavinia gently patted the 'Helper' paddles's flat wooden surface against her helpless penny's plump, pristinely-pale bumcheeks. "While you're being chastised, Billy, I want you to reconsider your attitude toward females in general. Remember that you now take orders from women and have to be respectful toward all females, that both your parents are women and that we're regularly walloping your bare bottom and making you bawl like a baby. Tomorrow you'll be publicly punished, spanked repeatedly while butt-naked, in front of dozens of women. How much of your false patri-dom pride do you think you'll have left while that's happening, young man?"

"Nuh-None, I suppose," he responded miserably, his buttocks trembling.

"Let's hope so." His mother raised the paddle over her shoulder. "What else should you consider, sweetie, while I'm heating up your bare little-boy buns?"

"I don't know, M-Mommy," the Penitatas admitted, his brown eyes already filling with moisture.

"That Aunt Selena and I both love you very much, and that you're being disciplined for your own good." Lavinia shifted her buttocks slightly, assuming a more comfortable sitting position, then lifted her right thigh to further elevate her spankee's naked posterior. "So think hard, while I spank hard!"

SMACK!! WHACK!! SPLAT!! WHAP!! The woman carried out her part of the bargain with extreme effectiveness, cracking the 'Mother's Helper' paddle across her son's bouncing bottomcheeks with clockwork regularity, easily holding him in place as his hips squirmed and his legs flailed wildly while his formerly-white gluteal globes rapidly colored to blushing pink, then rosy red, then finally brightly-glowing crimson.

SMACK!! WHAP!! WHACK!! SMACK!! As his yelps quickly became wails and sobs, then ultimately babyish blubbering, Billy was able to focus only on the fiery-hot stinging sensation on the surface his his smartly-smacked seat and his futile attempts to avoid the paddle's intense impacts upon his exposed derriere.

Pausing after six minutes of steady paddywhacking, the commodore addressed her soundly-spanked penny child.

"Have you been reassessing your Neanderthal attitudes towards females, Billy dear?"

"Uhhh-Ohhh, cer-certuh-tainluh-ly, Mah-Mommy," he stammered sobbingly.

"Tell the truth, young man," his mother admonished, "I know exactly what you've been focused upon—this 'Helper' paddle's effect on your deceitful derriere. Isn't that so?"

"Yuh-Yes, M-Mommy," Billy admitted softly, "B-But I cuh-couldn't h-help it, my buh-bottom st-stings so m-much, Mah-Mommy."

"That's when a patri-dom penny is at his respectful best, honey," Lavinia pointed out breezily, "When his bare little-boy buns are sore and sizzling from a good hard feminine fanny-whacking." She raised the paddle again. "Since you lied to me, you've got more punishment coming now—here we go..."

SMACK!! SPLAT!! WHAP!! SMACK!! Three more minutes of vigorous spanking ensued, the unwavering woman plastering her Penitatas son's smarting-hot, starkly-exposed buttcheeks with the 'Helper' paddle while he struggled futilely, kicking and crying as his soundly-chastised nether cheeks took on a candy-apple red hue.

Then she held him firmly in place across her firm thighs, gently rubbing his back while he bawled piteously and gradually regained a modest modicum of composure.

"Pluhhh-Please, Mah-Mommy, ohhhh pl-please nuh-no m-more," Billy begged.

"No more for the moment, sweetheart," the commodore agreed, speaking soothingly. "Let's get you dressed now, Carltie and his mother are waiting for us...Unless you'd like to show them what a great job I did of reddening your plump little rump first." She quickly slid him to the floor, where he landed steadily in spite of the pajama bottoms tangled around his knees.

"No, M-Mommy, I don't." He sniffled self-pityingly. "My bah-bottom is SO sore."

Lavinia leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "I'd certainly hope it's extremely sore and stinging, dear, otherwise I wouldn't have performed my maternal duty properly."

"Yes, Mommy," the well-punished boy agreed grudgingly, "I suppose so."

After dressing and enjoying a quick but nutritious breakfast, hand-prepared by the two senior Starfleet officers, Carlton and Billy found themselves passengers in the oversized hovercar as it zoomed toward Guderian's spaceport, deftly piloted by Rebecca.

"Will you tell us the surprise now, Mommy," her spousal ward inquired, "Is it something we'll like?"

"Actually, it's someone," the admiral responded, "But that's all I'm saying, sweetheart."

The person the five-year-old would've most liked to be meeting was his best friend from school, Montana, but she was visiting her family at their new mining camp on the continent of Zhukov—she'd been both anxious and excited at the prospect, as it was to be her first contact with them in her rejuved state.

Thirty minutes later, at the spaceport's Starbase Seventeen tubal disembarkment area, the party they were meeting—a young man escorting a six-year-old girl—was spotted by Rebecca. The rather drab-looking man, wearing a light grey jump suit, was short and slight with reddish-orange hair while his petite, pert-looking young companion had silver-blonde hair and was attired in an electric blue, feminine-contoured playsuit.

"There she is," the admiral noted breezily, "And I recognize her escort too."

"It's Greta," Carlton told Billy agreeably, "One of my kindergarten classmates."

The Penitatas snorted. "Oh damn, another female—more trouble, just younger!"

"Admiral McMichael, ma'am." Approaching his military superior, the carrot-top started to salute.

"No salutes, Norwood," she corrected him, "We're both off duty now. I see that you accompanied Miss Jurgensen on her journey."

"I was going planetside on leave anyway, ma'am, so I offered my services to Mr. Jurgensen." He cleared his throat. "It saved him having to engage an official escort, so I did it as a personal service to help him out."

"Very generous of you, Norwood," the admiral observed. "We're both doing Svenson a favor, it seems."

Carlton, who had been warmly hugged and given soft kisses, one on each cheek, was smiling shyly as Greta stepped back from him.

"I'm glad to see you too, Greta," he said contentedly. "This is my friend Billy, I've mentioned him before."

"Nice to meet you in person," the pretty blonde informed the dark-haired penny, "Even though your circumstances aren't too good at the moment."

"What do you mean?" he demanded sharply.

She displayed the silverish 'I's on the backs of her hands. "I experienced twenty weeks as a Penitatas on Earth, including Thanksgiving and Christmas, that's what I mean."

Carlton looked up at the young Starfleet noncom. "Hello, Petty Officer Norwood...Thank you for bringing my friend to visit us, sir."

Reaching down, the young man touseled the blond boy's curly hair. "My pleasure, Carltie, I was glad to help."

"Billy, say hello to Petty Officer Norwood of Starfleet," Rebecca instructed briskly.

"My mother's a commodore," the penny muttered, "So I don't have to be polite to petty officers, I don't th—uuhhhh, owwww!"

Smack!! Smack!! The admiral's palm had slammed full-force against the seat of the penny's trousers, striking each thinly-protected buttcheek in turn, before he could complete his derogatory comment.

"You have five seconds to apologize, young man," she announced curtly, "Before my belt comes off and your pants come down—I believe you know from plentiful experience what will happen then."

Billy did know, which resulted in his lightning-quick response.

"I'm sorry, petty officer, I didn't mean to offend you." He rubbed his tingling buns.

"No harm done," Norwood rejoined affably. "I'll be going now, admiral..."

As they exited the terminal, the boys holding Rebecca's hands while Greta fondly entwined her fingers with Carlton's, the smallish Innocentata giggled.

"Billy, don't you know by now that pennies have to be polite to everybody?" She shook her head ruefully. "I learned that very quickly, the sore-bottomed way, when I was a Penitatas."

"PEOPLE should be polite to everybody," her kindergarten compatriot stated sincerely, squeezing her hand softly, "Like Billy's and my mother are, even though they run the whole space station."

"Carltie's trying to 'butter me up,' that's obvious," the admiral explained, "So I won't do what I probably should, which is to give his friend a sound bare-bottom blistering with my hairbrush as soon as we reach the hovercar."

"Is that true, Carltie?" Greta squeezed his hand tightly.

He chuckled lightly. "Guilty as charged, ma'am."

"But Billy will be getting an overdose of spanking on his poor naked fanny tomorrow," the blonde rejuve mused, "Perhaps he does need a break from it right now."

Rebecca pursed her lips. "What do you think, Billy dear," she asked almost whimsically, "Wouldn't a good pants-down paddling be just what you deserve for such blatant disrespect to a Starfleet noncom?"

"Please don't do that," the trembling boy pleaded plaintively, "I'm sorry, I really am."

"This isn't a democracy," the pensive woman pointed out as they reached the parked luxury hovercar, "But I'll accepted being 'outvoted' three-to-one just this once—we'll consider the matter dropped, children."

She felt Carlton's hand gently squeeze hers, in childlike gratitude, just before he released it.

Following a rather tense flight home in the hovercar, Carlton felt that he should try to find some common ground between his two rejuve comrades. After Greta had been introduced to the other women and her sleeping arrangements (a cot in the master bedroom) had been worked out, the young Medicalos suggested a friendly simulgame competition between his two fellow rejuves. They settled on playing 'Tobruk Tactical,' with Billy taking the 'Union Jack' side against the 'Iron Cross' opposition directed by Greta.

Only twelve minutes into the historically-based competition, though, Billy stood up and charged his girlish opponent with cheating. "Where are all the supplies and reinforcements I'm supposed to get now? I only have about half of them—you tampered with the game protocols somehow, didn't you?" His brown eyes flashed angrily.

"No, Billy, Greta would never do that—" Rising to his feet, Carlton started to defend his classmate, but his penny friend interrupted him.

"She's full of it, but you just don't see her clearly," Billy sneered. "A couple hugs and kisses, then you're bedazzled by some phony feminine affection."

Those remarks sent Greta rushing out of the bedroom, sniffling with hurt feelings, resulting in Carlton urging his compatriot to apologize to her. Billy predictably refused, instead denouncing females as untrustworthy to his young host, but his harangue was abruptly terminated by the appearance of Selena in the doorway.

Wearing a scarlet pseudosilk housedress, the tall young brunette was gripping her fearsome-looking hairbrush with her left hand while waving her doubled-over wide leather belt with her right.

"There's a girl rejuve crying in the living room," she announced sternly, "Which means that there's about to be a boy rejuve shedding ten times as many tears right here."

"It's my fault," Carlton offered quickly, "I pressured Billy into playing that game with Greta, Miss Lamonica. I should've known better, they're both so competitive, but I insisted on them playing."

"Carltie, there's going to be a butt-naked boy getting a serious strapping followed by a hairbrush walloping over my lap, and it's going to start within two minutes. If you take responsibility for what happened, it's going to be you in that punitive role." She smiled forbodingly. "Do you wish to retract your statement, honeybun?"

The five-year-old gulped. "No, ma'am."

The woman stared with piercing eyes at Billy. "Anything to say, my darling?"

He grimaced but looked downward. "Ummm, I...uhh..guess not, Aunt Selena."

"Then you've got five seconds to leave this bedroom," she stated sharply. "Carltie, you have thirty to strip to the buff."

By the time Carlton was stark naked, his rejuve companion had scooted and his disciplinarian had rolled up her right sleeve, set down the hairbrush and placed two pillows at the foot edge of his bed. Then she easily picked him up, plopped him over the pillows with his legs dangling and chubby buns uplifted and pressed her left palm against his back to pin him helplessly in position.

"Carltie dear, I'd suggest that you keep your hands in front if you don't want them whacked inadvertently—which will add two extra strokes to your punishment every time it happens." Selena drew back her doubled-up loop of thick leather, surveying her small spankee's quivering bumcheeks as she took aim. "Three dozen hard ones with the belt, to get us started," she stated calmly.

CRACK!! THWACK!! SPLACK!! The pliable leather sizzled across Carlton's wide-open vulnerable undercheeks, snapping fiercely across each buttock in turn and then bridging both of them expertly, almost immediately reducing the hapless nude Medicalos to the level a wailing, blubbering victim of strictly-applied corporal discipline.

Delivering the sizzling licks of the belt steadily and vigorously, Selena painted a plethora of burning stripes that artistically crisscrossed Carlton's formerly-pale posterior while his teardrops splashed onto the bedcovers. Clutching his trembling hands together, he somehow managed to resist reaching back as his bare derriere danced frantically during the thorough, blistering licking that his punisher resolutely administered.

After the strapping was finally finished, the young woman softly rubbed the sobbing boy's back, speaking to him consolingly.

"You took that part of your discipline very bravely, Carltie. I'll let you recover for a moment, before you go over my knee for five dozen hairbrush smacks."

"Thuuh—Thank yuhh-you, Mih-Miss Lah-Lamonica," he replied raggedly.

Effortlessly picking him up, she hugged the crying child tightly to her bosom as she seated herself on the side of his bed.

"Forget this 'Miss Lamonica' stuff, sweetie," she admonished gently. "I'm in the middle of setting your seat on fire while you're butt-naked—I'd like you to call me "Aunt Selena' now, just like Billy does."

"Uhhh—Okay, Aunt Selena," he agreed.

Then he was casually flipped onto his stomach, upended across Selena's firm thighs; she picked up the flat-backed hairbrush.

"What are you being chastised for, sweetie?" she asked pointedly.

He gulped. "Because I was mistaken in suggest—"

WHAP!! SMACK!! SPLAT!! WHACK!! The punishing brush plastered Carlton's scarlet-striped bottom swiftly, alternating bare nether cheeks in a pistol-crack tattoo of stinging intensity. After twelve blazing swats, the brunette paused in the proceedings.

"That dozen was for giving me the wrong answer, young man, and they don't count towards your total of sixty." She warningly patted the brush's back against his sizzling seat. "Tell me the truth."

Weeping softly, he answered. "Buh-Because I interfered in Bih-Billy getting hih-his due puh-punishment, ma'am."

"Correct, Carltie." Selena smiled. "So you'll be receiving it instead, on this wonderfully-rounded red bottom of yours. Nannie's correct, it's an amazingly inviting spank-target—as though it's just intended to be stung by plenty of willing women."

"I've been told that before, Aunt Selena," the Medicalos admitted ruefully.

"Now I'll demonstrate it for you, honeybun." His disciplinarian raised the spanking brush to strike again, then swung it forcefully downward.

SMACK!! WHACK!! WHAP!! CRACK!! She continued making her point quite emphatically on Carlton's glowing-hot bumcheeks, accompanied by his babyish bawling...

{PART THREE}

When Billy, pale-faced and trembling, had come rushing into the living room minutes earlier, the women sitting there—Rebecca, Lavinia and Rosita, who was embracing and consoling the teary-eyed Greta—had met his appearance with puzzled expressions.

"What are you doing here, Billy dear?" the commodore had demanded of her penny son.

"Aunt Selena sent me out," he'd explained simply.

"She went in there to blister your bare behind but good," his mother had noted, "So why would she send you out here instead?"

"Where's Carltie?" Rosita had asked, while gently stroking the girlish rejuve's silver-blonde hair.

"He's...ummm...getting undressed," the subdued Penitatas had mumbled.

The admiral had then realized what had likely occurred in her spousal ward's bedroom.

"That boy," she'd muttered, shaking her head, "He's too ridiculously noble for his own good at times."

Pulling away from her comforter, Greta had stopped sniffling but looked stricken. "You mean that Carltie's going to be—"

She had been interrupted by the slightly-muffled but nonetheless identifiable sound of flexible, fast-swinging leather striking plump exposed flesh, followed immediately by a distressed boyish yelp.

"Receiving a nude fanny-tanning from Selena, in Billy's place?" Rebecca had finished the query, as the sharp thwacks and whimpering cries had continued to steadily emanate from behind the door of her child's bedroom. "It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"

Fresh tears had begun to trickle down the small Innocentata's cheeks. "Please, make her stop strapping Carltie," she'd pleaded, facing Lavinia, "He did nothing wrong."

Billy's mother had started to stand up, but had been stopped by a hand firmly grasping her elbow.

"Let it play out, Lavie," her superior officer had recommended. "Choices were obviously made, now they're being acted upon—we should respect those decisions."

"Even if it means Carltie getting an unjustified punishment?" Greta had demanded desperately, giving Billy a resentful stare.

"I'm afraid Becca's right, sweetheart," Rosita had explained soothingly, with the sounds of the bedroom's disciplinary activity still ringing out clearly, "Whatever's taking place in there, it's by agreement of the two people involved."

The girl had smiled wryly. "I know what's going on, there's no mistaking that sound—Carltie's taking a serious belt-licking on his bare bottom." She'd chewed her lower lip. "I just wish he wouldn't think he's Sir Galahad all the time, that's all."

The commander had disagreed. "I'm glad he thinks that way myself, Greta, it's what makes him such a wonderful person."

"A wonderful person bawling like a baby while his naked fanny gets tanned royally," she had countered, "But maybe you're right."

Lavinia had grasped Her child's arm, pulling the sullen Penitatas to stand in front of her.

"What did you say, Billy, when Aunt Selena worked out some accomodation to transfer your chastisement to Carltie?"

"Nuh-Nothing, Mommy," he'd responed defensively, "But I didn't ask him to do that—he did it on his own."

"You didn't object either, did you? Perhaps you need a good pants-down paddling yourself." She'd begun to rise, only to have her elbow once again gripped by Rebecca.

"Carltie sacrificed his own rear end, quite literally, to give Billy a respite from being spanked until tomorrow, Lavie," the admiral had stated pointedly. "You wouldn't make that gesture of loyalty meaningless, would you? The discipline your penny earned is being administered, and I doubt that Selena will go easy just because it's my boy's behind in her field of fire—so Billy's misbehavior is being paid for."

"You're right, Becca." The executive officer had nodded reluctantly, still holding her son's arm. "You're so lucky to have a friend like Carltie, Billy."

"More lucky than you deserve," Greta had added.

"Sometimes we get what we need," Rosita had said quietly, "Which is usually more than we deserve."

By that time the noise of sharply-snapping leather and childish wailing had ceased, to be follow by barely-audible lecturing and sobbing. Those sounds had been abruptly replaced by a dozen rapid-fire resounding smacks and boyish blubbering, then a brief pause involving soft conversation, finally more deliberate, intensive whacks accompanied by pitiful babyish bawling.

"Hairbrush, plenty hard," Lavinia had almost whispered. "You're right about Selena not going easy at all, Becca."

Then they had all merely listened, hoping for the steady, nerve-wracking cracks of the spanking brush to stop—but it was to seem like a long wait.

Carlton's weeping had reached the continous "waaah-ahhh-waaah" stage, his voice hitting its cresendo after each hairbrush whack that plastered his glowing crimson buttocks, then subsiding slightly until the next stinging impact of the hardwood. His plump posterior's twin 'sit spots' were a fiery maroon hue, yet Selena continued the bottom-blistering chastisement without mercy.

After the long-awaited sixtieth sizzling swat, though, her attitude changed dramatically and the raggedly-crying nude child found himself picked up and embraced compassionately, the tall woman's arms holding him against her bosom as she gently rocked and caressed him.

As he gradually regained his composure, Carlton snuggled against his chastiser-turned-comforter and hugged her back, enjoying her womanly warmth as she tenderly touseled his sweat-soaked curly locks.

"Ah-I'm soh-so sor-rry, Aunt Seh-Selena," he sobbed softly.

"Don't be silly, honeybun," she remonstrated sweetly, "You didn't misbehave, you simply accepted the blame for Billy's rudeness. Somebody had to be held accountable, to be soundly punished, and you volunteered to be the one—it was quite courageous and self-sacrificing, you're a true friend to my son."

"Ah-I'm glad yuh-you see it that way, ma'am." He sqeezed the woman's trim torso more tightly in gratitude.

Lifting him under his armpits, she raised the nude rejuve to eye level with herself.

"Never mind that 'ma'am' stuff, the discipline is over—so it's 'Aunt Selena' again, okay?" He nodded solemnly, then she continued. "May I ask you for a big favor, Carltie?"

"Anything, m'ah—ummm, Aunt Selena," he agreed.

"Please remain friends with my son, sugar, even though he can be a pain in the rear at times, because he needs your comradeship and your example." Selena chuckled lightly. "Being his friend literally resulted in an intense 'pain in the rear' for you rhis time, didn't it?"

The ruby-bottomed boy managed a rueful grin. "Billy was right, Aunt Selena—you do spank awfully hard for a long time."

She pulled his face toward hers, planting an affectionate kiss on each tear-streaked cheek. "Well, that's my job as a penny's parent—you're the one who chose to replace Billy's naughty little fanny with your own irresistably-rounded rump, sweetie." He was then set carefully down onto his feet. "Let's get you dressed now, Carltie dear."

When the two of them walked into the living room moments later, Selena casually holding her recent spankee's hand, every female awaiting their arrival wanted to give Carlton plenty of caring comfort. The adult women felt constrained to resist their urges, at least at that immediate time, but as a young girl Greta was able to indulge the impulse to rush over to her flush-faced, subdued classmate and tightly wrap her arms around him.

"Oh, Carltie, that punishment session sounded so severe...I feel so sorry for you, brave boy...Did it scorch your seat as much as it seemed to—I mean, from how loudly you cried?"

He nodded bashfully. "Well, yes...Aunt Selena really knows him to deliver a blazing-hot spanking...I think you could tell..."

Leaning forward, the pretty Innocentata placed two soft kisses nearly on top of Selena's, one on each of the five-year-old's blushing cheeks.

"Oh, I didn't mean to embarrass you, darling boy—of course it seriously stung your poor fanny, I know that from my own experience on the receiving end of bare-bottom blisterings."

"So it's 'Aunt Selena' now, is it?" Lavinia mused teasingly.

Her paramour grinned. "There's nothing like a good sound rump-smacking to bond two people together, especially a beautiful womanly disciplinarian and a cute little butt-naked boy."

"So you're calling yourself 'beautiful,' Selena?" the admiral demanded with playful skepticism.

"I'm just quoting Lavie," Selena rejoined breezily, "She calls me that all the time."

"Well, Billy," Lavinia addressed her penny child, "Do you have anything to say to your savior?"

Disengaging from the girlish embrace he was in, Carlton regarded his rejuve comrade without accusation. "It's okay, Billy, you don't have to—"

"I'm sorry it happened," Billy blurted miserably. "I didn't want you to be walloped in my place, but I just couldn't make myself react to stop it. I get so much punishment, it's just about impossible to take any that I can possibly avoid, no matter how—that sounds gutless, I know..."

"I understand," Greta interjected. "Only someone who's been a penny can know what it's like, how much the spankings burn your buttcheeks and make you bawl shamelessly like a baby—and what it's like to constantly be dreading the next one, which is always looming right around the corner."

"Didn't you eventually get accustomed to your discipline?" the commodore inquired.

"Maybe somewhat to the embarrassment of my tight little buttcheeks being exposed so often, especially in front of interested spectators," the cute rejuve replied, "But hardly at all to how much those punishments stung me and made me kick and cry helplessly." She shrugged pensively. "The occasional bare-bottom sessions I get now for misconduct, as an Innocentata, they're pretty tolerable compared to the constant fanny-whackings I received as a Penitatas."

"So you empathize with Billy's doing nothing to stop Carltie from assuming his punishment?" Rosita inquired quizzically.

"That doesn't mean that I agree with his behavior," the girl explained, "But I do find it...well, kind of understandble—although certainly not courageous."

"Mommy," Carlton asked his guardian, "Could I have some Tantris herbal cream for my behind? It's still very hot and sore back there, Aunt Selena's quite proficient at administering a spanking."

The admiral chuckled. "Is she as effective at it as I am, sweetheart?"

The young Medicalos hesitated. "Ummm...well...Almost, I'd have to say."

All the women tittered at that hedging childlike analysis, and even Greta giggled at her rejuve colleague's dilemma—he clearly didn't want to be caught in the middle of any 'Which woman spanks harder?' comparisons, especially involving Rebecca.

"Almost, hmmm?" She reached out to playfully ruffle her child's blond curls. "Would you like me to massage the Tantris cream onto your chubby buns, darling?"

"Wait a minute," Selena objected, "Since I spanked the bonfire onto Carltie's seat, I should be the one to cool it off too."

"Greedy, aren't you?" The commodore's eyes twinkled. "First you get to deliver an extensive butt-naked walloping, then you cuddle your adorable spankee while he cries it out, now you want to soothe his burning backside." Her eyebrows arched sardonically. "Anything else, my love?"

"No, that'll about do it for the moment," her lifemate responded saucily, while Rebecca and Rosita grinned with amusement. "Where's that lotion, Rebecca?"

A moment later, ointment dispenser in hand, the tall technician was carrying Carlton back into his bedroom; both of them were smiling contentedly.

"I'm going to watch the doctoring of Carltie's little red caboose," Greta announced, "To see how much damage was done."

"Well...Okay, go ahead." Rebecca considered that the cute kindergartener had already observed her classmate's naked buttocks when he'd been spanked by Mrs. Kemp at school, so indulging the girl's childish voyeurism given that background was acceptable.

(In a strict Traditionalist culture that strongly promoted the open corporal chastisement of bare-bottomed children, rejuved or otherwise, exposure of their posterior regions—but not of their genitalia—to their peers, including those of the opposite gender, was generally taken as a matter of course.)

"Won't that embarrass Carltie?" Rosita wondered uncertainly as the female Innocentata scampered off.

"What's a bare derriere between friends?" the admiral queried rhetorically. "If Greta getting a good gander at his cherry bumcheeks makes Carltie blush a bit, that's his problem—but I'm guessing that it won't bother him that much at his age, given that displaying 'southern exposure' in front of females is a fact of fem-dis Traditionalist life for him."

"So I'm the only one here who hasn't seen that boy's invitingly-spankable bare behind, is that right?" Lavina flashed a mock-pouting facial expression at her fellow Starfleet officers.

"Well, I haven't had the opportunity either," the Intelligence operative conceded, "Not since Carltie's been a rejuve."

Rebecca smiled knowingly. "Sooner or later, I'm sure that you'll both have my nicely-naughty child pants-down over your laps—and you'll be doing considerably more to his bare derriere than just looking at it." She chortled briefly. "Patience, ladies..."

Selena had just placed her young Medicalos patient in a prone position on his junior bed, head comfortably pillowed and insulshoes removed; she was about to lower his powder blue playpants, which would include their built-in briefs, when Greta burst busily into the room. "Go right ahead, pull them down," she instructed briskly, as the doorway closed itself behind her. "Carlties's mom gave me permission to watch his treatment."

"To see his bare red rump? Well, she's his guardian—that's her decision." The tall woman shrugged, then deftly slipped her fingers into the hyperstretch waistband at the back of Carlton's playsuit bottoms. "Lift up a bit, honeybun." He lifted his hips slightly and the pants were easily slipped downward to nestle at his kneehollows, exposing the boy's still-glowing, deeply-crimson posterior. "Down now." She twice patted his stinging seat, then he relaxed back onto the comfortable bed as she seated herself just behind his small body.

"Carltie darling," the girlish observer cooed in fascination, "Your bouncy behind looks even worse than I thought it would, based on what your butt-whipping sounded like—it might have been more intensive than that walloping you got in class, which is saying a lot."

"You've seen him spanked bare-bottom at school?" Selena asked with obvious interest while she ejected an automatically-measured globule of Tantris cream onto each of the ravaged boyish nether cheeks to her right.

Greta nodded, smiling cheerfully. "By Mrs. Kemp, our kindergarten teacher, who really plastered his naughty naked fanny—thirty hot licks with her strap, then thirty blistering smacks with that wicked polyplast paddle...Ouch and double-ouch!" She giggled girlishly. "Sorry to laugh, Carltie, but it was quite an entertaining show you put on, kicking and crying over Mrs. Kemp's lap."

"Ohhhh...ahhhhh," Carlton exhaled in relieved satisfaction as strong-yet-sensitive womanly hands caressingly massaged the soothing gel onto the surface of his smarting, blazing bumcheeks, easing their discomfort considerably.

"That must have some walloping," his punisher-turned-benefactor mused, continuing her gentle manual ministrations to his plump posterior. "Did Carltie deserve everything he got from his teacher, discipline-wise?"

"Well, he lied to her and blatantly disobeyed a serious school rule," the blonde six-year-old explained, "So he certainly earned that shellacking—and Mrs. Kemp totally lambasted his bare buns." She paused pensively. "But you just delivered three dozen strokes with the belt and six dozen with the hairbrush, that's thirty-six more than he received from our teacher back then—there's no doubt you put it to him even more extensively than she did."

"That's good to hear," the woman noted rather smugly. "I don't like be outspanked by anyone, except perhaps marginally by Carltie's mother in his case."

"Every lady who punishes me seems to feel that way," the Medicalos muttered ruefully, provoking an exchange of sly smiles between the two females.

"So will I," Greta announced playfully, "When I'm old enough to enjoy 'paddling privileges' applying to your bare buttcheeks, dear boy."

"When would that be, sweetie?" Looking puzzled, Selena ejected another precise globule of herbal cream dead-on into Carlton's upper buttcrack, making him shiver deliciously.

"When I turn fourteen, if I can manage to get some formal fem-dis training and Carltie's still a close friend of mine," the Innocentata stated, "Both of which I'm counting on happening."

"You want us to be good friends then just so that you can sting me regularly?" Carlton demanded dreamily, sighing as firm feminine hands carefully spread more of the sting-reducing ointment across his twin gluteal globes.

"No, I want us to be great friends forever because you're such a darling person, Carltie," his classmate corrected him. "Me putting you pants-down across my lap and soundly spanking your exposed southern hemispheres with a hairbrush like Miss Selena's, that would just be a terrific bonus to our relationship."

"You'd chastise him for no reason?" The woman's fingertips rubbed the blue-green gel insistently but gingerly against her young patient's reddened, roughened skin.

"Oh, there would be plenty of reasons, I'm positive of that." The girl laughed liltingly. "That's the paradox about sweet Carltie here—he apparently manages to land himself bare-bottom-up over a woman's knee quite often, even though he tries hard to be a good boy." She smirked knowingly. "My theory is that Mother Nature gave him such a fully-rounded, tempting tushie that's just made to be smacked long, hard and often by eager females, so he's always going to somehow do something to make sure that's exactly what happens to it. After all, there's no denying the designs of the Sacred Feminine, not in the long run." "Just another maternal figure setting me up to be punished, that's Mother Nature," the boy remarked sardonically.

"We'll give the herbal cream a couple minutes to be be absorbed into your skin," Selena informed him, "Then my nursing services will be concluded. Does your seat feel somewhat less heated so far, honeybun?"

"It's very soothing," he affirmed, "The next best thing to nanolotion—which my mother only allows at bedtime."

"I really appreciate the view here," Greta teased. "A well-paddled, red-hot bottom is always awesome scenery, as long as it's someone's other than mine."

"You seem to have a fascination with spanking, sweetie," the technician observed good-naturedly.

"After all the unearned bare-butt blisterings I received as a wrongly-convicted penny on Earth, I did develop an extreme interest in other people's justly-deserved fanny-whackings," the Innocentata agreed. "I really like watching those kind of chastisements; I'd love to personally administer a few, well actually a whole lot of them, myself—but that's not likely to happen anytime soon, due to my rejuved age."

"What about the recent interplay between Carltie's plump rump and my belt and hairbrush?" Selena queried. "Would you have liked to have gotten a good long look at that disciplinary activity?"

The girlish blonde pondered the question. "Not at the time, Miss Selena, because I thought that it was unfair to Carltie. However, considering that he pretty much volunteered to accept Billy's punishment, I'd now have to admit that it would've been intriguing to watch from that perspective—but I'd still rather that Billy had 'gotten it' himself, for being so mean to me."

The tall brunette chortled. "I'd figure that everyone of the feminine persuasion in this house would agree on that..."

In the living room, which Billy had vacated abruptly after his friend had been carried off for postpunishment care, the three other women were discussing their unexpected guest.

"Carltie's mentioned her occasionally," Rebecca recounted. "I'd guess that she's his second-closest friend at school, next to Montana."

"She seems to be quite fond of him," the commodore noted.

"What female isn't?" Rosita's eyes twinkled with merriment.

"I can't think of one offhand," the admiral conceded cheerfully, "Although Carltie doesn't seem able to avoid being disciplined across the laps of his feminine admirers, something Nannie's always teasing him about."

"When she's not smacking his bare buns herself," the Intelligence officer rejoined, smiling indulgently.

"Don't exaggerate so much, Rosie," Rebecca protested mildly. "Carltie usually stays out of trouble, it's not as though he gets disciplined all the time."

"It just seems that way." Lavinia chuckled. "Right, Becca?"

Their hostess mockingly shook her head at the two grinning guests. "You two are incorrigable, making fun of my darling rejuved husband who's such a well-behaved, sweet-natured little boy."

"Don't forget soundly-spanked too," the commodore added teasingly.

"While bare-bottomed, of course." Rosita giggled.

"We were talking about Greta, girls," the admiral reminded her Starfleet colleagues. "According to Svenson, in absolute age she's about 350 years old—and in her seventh adulthood before being rejuved as a Penitatas."

Lavinia nodded. "He said she'd always been a Terralubber, including over four months as a penny, until it was discovered that she'd been set up to take the fall for her employer's tax evasion—then she became an Innocentata."

"Why did she leave Earth then?" The commander sounded puzzled. "Was there no one available to raise her?"

"Oh, she had plenty of family members there," Rebecca explained, "But Greta was sent to live with Svenson because she was beginning to turn into a spoiled brat, as he told it to us."

"While hard-time pennies are treated pretty harshly on Earth, probably a touch more severely than under Vladivostan regulations, an Innocentata tends to be indulged a great deal," her executive officer elaborated. "Even with her nanoweb removed, Greta was still emotionally a child for the most part—so she naturally began to take extreme advantage of the deep sympathy that people had for her plight."

"Although Svenson's not formally a Traditionalist himself, his young wife comes from a moderate Traditionalist background and she's primarily responsible for their daughter's behavioral training." The commanding officer shrugged offhandedly. "Greta undoubtedly isn't held to disciplinary standards as high as Carltie's in my household, but with a firm motherly bottom-warming every now and then she's straightened out as nice little girl."

"She's older than Svenson then, in absolute age?" Rosita asked.

Her one-time cadet colleague nodded. "He's her biological grandson, one of the few members of their family to have left Earth for a colony world."

"Greta seems pretty happy, except when some patri-dom Penitatas boy is insulting her," the Intelligence operative concluded. "She's lucky that Svenson was willing to take on that responsibility to help her grow up properly."

"Well, his newlywed bride influenced him on that," Lavinia remarked, "Family being very important to Traditionalists, whether strict or moderate."

"In my family on my home planet, meals are top priority," Rosita announced mock-solemnly, rising to her feet, "So I'm going to program the multicooker for a classic Posteria Priman lunch."

That midday meal was a much-appreciated fish-and-meat entree' combination accompanied by several Terran vegetables and Earth-type potatoes, which had been extensively 'transplanted' to Posteria Primus centuries earlier, although they were grown effectively only in isolated areas of Vladivost.

Billy was listless and subdued during the lunch, although his appetite remained more than adequate, but Greta was quite animated and entertaining as she described her rejuved life on Earth as a Penitatas, then an Innocentata, before living on Starbase Seventeen as Svenson Jurgensen's daughter. When she insisted on describing Carlton's pants-off, briefs-down kindergarten spanking at the hand—actually the strap and paddle—of their teacher Mrs. Kemp, the blond Medicalos felt his face flushing warmly.

"Anyway," the girlish guest concluded brightly, "That's how Carltie, along with Montana, became an official member of the Order of the Red Bottom in our class."

"I've heard the basic story before, from Carltie," Rebecca commented crisply, "But without all of your descriptive details, Greta dear—it was highly enlightening." She gazed at her fidgety-acting ward. "Are you squirming because your freshly-spanked chubby buns are still feeling sore, sweetheart, or because you're embarrassed at being featured in Greta's little narrative?"

"A bit of both I suppose, Mommy," Carlton admitted bashfully as the women at the table exchanged indulgent grins.

"Now don't feel that way, darling boy," Greta admonished affectionately. "I respected your integrity in taking on part of Montana's punishment back then—just like I admire you for sacrificing your poor fanny on Billy's behalf today."

After finishing lunch the three rejuves took naps, which were especially needed by Greta, who felt slightly eneverated by the effects of Vladivost's gravity (1.08% of standard terrestrial), and Carlton, still physically and emotionally drained from the corporal chastisement he'd recieved earlier. Billy, unnerved by the morning's events that seemed to acutely foreshadow his own disciplinary doom the following day, took longer to fall asleep than his roommate but eventually descended into a deep, dreamless slumber.

The matrons of that weekend's household allowed the children to sleep until near midafternoon before waking them. While the two boys played Carlton's 'Ironbottom Sound' simulgame on the holovision field in Nantessa's bedroom, their female compatriot joined Selena in the living room to watch that part of the HV drama she'd missed the evening before.

"This magical melodrama becomes popular every century or so," Greta remarked enthusiastically. "It's ancient, but it's still very well performed."

"Don't give the plotline away, honeybun," the technician insisted, "I've never seen it before."

"Oh, I won't, Miss Selena," the petite blonde promised, "But if you've seen the even earlier classics that this adaptation is a prequel to—"

"The institution survives," the woman interjected, "I know that already. How Rowena's going to handle her divided loyalties, between her attraction to Salvador and her loyalty to the school, that's the intriguing question."

For Billy, the rest of the day sped by—suppertime, bathtime and bedtime seeming to almost overlap one another—as he tried vainly to focus on anything other than the rapid approach of his first special punishment day, even losing two encounters at 'Ironbottom Sound' (while ironically reflecting upon the wry notion that an 'iron bottom' was exactly what he needed but lacked) to Carlton, whom he otherwise regularly defeated at HV simulgames.

Lavinia ended up carrying her penny son, highly anxious but still stubbornly resistant to accepting affection, into Carlton's bedroom while the blond Medicalos, his sleepers' 'trap door' dropped, was given a tender nanolotion seat-massage by his spousal guardian while stretched out prone on her bed—a procedure happily witnessed by pajama-clad Greta.

"Carltie," his classmate wondered aloud, "Would you make the same sacrifice for me that you made for Montana and Billy, taking a big-time, bare-bottom blistering to save my precious little fanny?"

"Ummm...Well," he rejoined hesitantly, "It would depend on the situation."

Smack!! Smack!! Rebecca's playful palm slapped smartly against each of her boy's exposed bumcheeks, making him wriggle helplessly.

"How evasive and noncommital," she chortled. "Just like any man, rejuved or otherwise..."

{PART FOUR}

(This part's setting begins eleven hours following the end of Part Three, still at the McMichael residence in Yamamoto on the planet Vladivost, mid-28th century.)

Billy had slept deeply and dreamlessly, largely due to Rebecca's seldom-used delta inducer manipulating his brainwave patterns. His host and roommate, Carlton, had likewise slumbered soundly—but under the more natural influence of Siberoot tea—while the bedtime nanolotion applied by his maternal guardian had efficiently healed his soundly-chastised buttocks.

The sound of the doorbell's chiming its entry request awakened the five-year-old Medicalos, who then deactivated the inducer attached above his sleeping penny friend's head.

"Carltie...What??" The dark-haired rejuve blinked his eyes groggily.

"Someone dropping by," his blond comrade stated softly. "Let's go see who's arriving this early."

By the time the two pajama-clad boys had padded down the hallway to the living room, the admiral was opening the front doorway by activating an interior universal remote.

"Who's here, Mommy?" Carlton asked, just as their visitor—a 5' 11" tall, pretty brunette wearing a light green police lieutenant's uniform—stepped inside.

"The police!" Billy backed up, almost stumbling, then spun around and scrambled away toward the bedroom.

"It's just Aunt Portia," the Medicalos announced simply, watching as his bathrobe-wearing spousal guardian stepped forward and briefly embraced the policewoman.

"It's good to see you, Portia," Rebecca told the young woman. Portia Highsmith turned to face the blond rejuve with mock severity. "Where's my hug from you, young man?"

"Coming right up, ma'am." He scooted straight towards his questioner, then was picked up easily and held against her bosom, firm-but-feminine arms forming a seat under his behind as his own arms warmly encircled her neck.

"Doesn't a kiss come with the hug?" The policewoman jostled the boy up a bit higher and he lightly kissed her right cheek. "Thank you, Carltie honey—I needed that."

"Rough time on the job?" her hostess inquired.

Portia nodded. "I just got off. It wasn't that stressful, but I'm not used to the graveyard shift."

"Why don't you lie down on the couch and rest while I program the 'cooker for breakfast, which you can join us for?" Rebecca asked rhetorically.

"Thanks, I will." the eneverated woman agreed. "I'm both hungry and tired, Becca—so you're an angel of mercy." Striding over to the couch she flopped supinely onto its comfortable, contour-yielding surface, resulting in Carlton—whom she was still holding—landing seated on her stomach.

Only marginally awake, the five-year-old stretched himself out on top of the buxom body, his head pillowed on an ample breast, and began to doze off himself—until the admiral returned several minutes later carrying her light 'Mother's Helper' paddle.

"Time for your Sunday morning bare-bottom smacking, sweetheart," she announced calmly.

"Oh-Okay, Mommy," the boy agreed, hoping that it would be a fairly mild session, which most of his once-a-week 'maintenance' spankings had tended to be.

"This sounds interesting," Portia mumbled sleepily, her eyes fluttering open.

Lavinia, wearing her Starfleet simulsatin bathrobe and carrying her own 'Mother's Helper' paddle, entered the living room followed by Selena, attired in a forest green housedress and swishing her doubled-over leather belt.

"Time for penny-parenting business with our son," the commodore stated, her visage resolute. "Hello, Portia, this is my partner Selena. We've got some special punishment duties to carry out right now, but we'll see you at breakfast I hope."

The policewoman nodded. "Okay, sure...Hi, Selena."

The tall technician managed a quick "Hello, Portia," then she followed her partner down the hallway toward the stairway leading upward to Carlton's bedroom.

"I must've come in just before little-boy spank-time, hmmm?" Portia mused lazily.

"That's two-thirds correct, I'd say," Carlton's spousal guardian replied, seating herself on a magnachair then plopping her rejuve ward face-down while bent over over the couch pillow she'd placed on her right thigh. "Now for some southern exposure, Carltie honey." Her nimble fingers speedily unbuttoned the sleepers' classic 'trap door' flap and pulled it back to expose his well-rounded, pristinely-white upturned bumcheeks.

Their guest rolled sideways to look, lifting up onto an elbow . "That's a sweet spank-target for your paddle, Becca, downright delicious in fact." She whistled appreciatively. "Let him have it long and hard, as you've always advised me."

The admiral felt conflicted, as she had originally planned to administer only a short, fairly moderate handspanking to her bare-bottomed boy—he'd been punished more than adequately by Selena the day before, after all—but the arrival of her spouse-spanking protege' had created an awkward situation. Showing significant leniency to her one-time husband, even in his rejuved state, would clearly contradict the instruction that she'd earlier given her fellow marital disciplinarian, so Rebecca had reluctantly decided to apply Carlton's Sunday-morning chastisement with the light 'Helper' paddle instead—she hoped to deftly limit the intensity of the stinging swats to the starkly-elevated naked buttocks at her disciplinary disposal.

"Here we go, darling," she announced breezily, swinging her 'Helper' paddle briskly but with somewhat restricted force to begin the punitive proceeding—SMACK! WHACK! SPLAT! WHAP!

The young blond gasped and kicked slightly, but felt relief as the fanny-tanning continued at barely medium intensity, his maternal chastiser showing mercy.

Billy was enjoying no such consideration, as the 'Helper' paddle wielded by the commodore was impacting his reddening naked posterior with maximum speed and power as he frantically but vainly squirmed across her strong thighs—SMACK!! CRACK!! WHACK!! SMACK!!

Sobbing and futilely kicking, his legs restrained by the pajama bottoms tangled around his knees, the Penitatas desperately enumerated the smarting paddle strokes—he'd been warned by Selena that "They won't count unless you count them out loud, honeybun."

So he falteringly obeyed his instructions: "...Seventeen...(WHAP!!) Ahhhowww, eighteen...(SMACK!!) Ohhhouu, nih-nineteen...(CRACK!!) Owwwwiee, twenty...(WHACK!!) Ohhhhh! Please, twenty-wah-one...(SMACK!!) Yeowww! Not so hard, twenty-tuh-two...(SPLACK!!) Owwwwch, twent-tuh-ty-three...(CRACK!!) Ahhhouuu, twuh-twenty-fuh-four..."

At that point the flat wooden striking surface ceased its assault on Billy's blushing buns—but his relief was only momentary.

"Oh, please, Aunt Rosie..." Greta implored, trembling as she lay bottom-up across Rosita's comfortable lap.

"Sorry, sweetie," the plump brunette said with genuine sympathy, "But your father apparently felt that you should receive a before-church bottom-warming since Carltie was scheduled for one." She patted the small blonde's compact seat, slightly protected by the quasicotton fabric of her abbreviated nightgown. "I accepted that assignment, but only with broad discretion." Her hand lifted up, then it slapped rather softly against the rejuve's cloth-covered derriere—Pat!

"Huh?" The Innocentata sounded surprised. "Is that it?"

"Of course not," Rosita replied. "Eleven more due now, pumpkin."

Then they were quickly delivered—Pat! Slap! Clap! Pat!—much to their recipient's amazement and even enjoyment.

The Intelligence operative gently lowered the beaming girl to her bare feet.

"Not much more than love-pats, only a dozen, not even bare-bottomed," Greta gushed happily, "So could you give spanking lessons to my stepmom?"

The woman smiled broadly. "It's quite different when the discipline is deserved, my dear; you should ask Carltie about the pants-down wallopings I administered to him at the academy during our cadet days—they always left him crying childishly with his fiery-hot buttcheeks glowing brightly." She chuckled in amused remembrance. "It was highly gratifying to deliver those bare-assed lickings as he always earned them."

"Thank you for being so considerate, Aunt Rosie," the six-year-old murmured gratefully.

Rosita, unwilling to risk the potential 'flashback' effects of giving the trusting rejuve a serious unearned punishment, demanded rhetorically, "What else could I do for an Innocentata?"

"Enough of this farce, Becca!" Portia swung her legs outward and stood up, slipping out of her light uniform jacket.

The admiral, who had applied twenty halfhearted paddleswats to Carlton's invitingly-elevated exposed asscheeks, stopped her twenty-first stroke in midswing.

"What's the matter, Portia?" she asked sheepishly.

"You know damned well what I'm talking about," the policewoman retorted curtly, detaching her stun-blast pistol's holster from the uniform belt and setting it on the stand to her right. "Does Catltie deserve an all-out, bare-butt blistering or doesn't he?"

"Well, I mean..." Rebecca hesitated briefly, then replied firmly. "Certainly he does, or I wouldn't be paddling him."

"That's what you call that half-assed fanny-patting you're doing?" The visitor snorted. "After everything you told me about administering corporal punishment decisively or not at all, Becca." Her eyes flashed with consternation. "If Carltie's going to be disciplined correctly right now, it looks like I'm going to have to put him over my loving lap and spank his bare behind good and hard."

Her hostess nodded reluctantly, then stood up and stepped aside while lifting Carlton. After Portia had seated herself on the magnachair and placed the bolster-type pillow on her right thigh, the boy was easily passed into her possession and flipped into position with his cloth-framed buttocks bent over the pillow, his body once again lying prone across a strong woman's thighs.

Rebecca obligingly held out the 'Helper' paddle. "Here, Portia..."

"Actually, I liked that big flat-headed wooden spoon I used before, as I recollect it really had Carltie here bawling like a baby," the other woman countered. "Could you retrieve it for me, Becca dear?"

Totally nude, Billy was bent over the bottom edge of the bed in Carlton's bedroom, with a pillow under his abdomen uplifting his rosy-hued rump—which was undergoing a steady barrage of crisply-cracking lashes via Selena's doubled-over wide leather belt as she wielded it with unerring accuracy and formidable force. The dark-haired penny struggled to maintain a proper count of the scorching strokes as they snapped fiercely against his tender lower buttcheeks.

"Th-Thirteen...(THWAAACK!!) Owwww! Please, faw-fourteen...(CRAAACK!!) Ahhhhouuu! No moh-more, fih-fifteen...(SMAAACK!!)...Yaaahhhh! It huuurts, sih-sixteeh-een...(THWAAACK!!) Wahhhhhhh, seh-veh-unteen..."

Pressing down on the naked boy's back with her left hand, the tall technician had no trouble keeping him in position, his futilely-twisting hips notwithstanding, as she continued expertly leathering his scarlet-striped gluteal globes.

The three feminine observers arrived in the living room simultaneously, Rosita and Greta entering from the downstairs hallway while Rebecca returned from the kitchen carrying the oversized wooden spoon, the thin handle of which which she promptly placed in Portia's waiting right hand.

"Thank you, Becca," the green-uniformed woman said coolly as she raised the traditional-although-impromptu chastisement implement high, taking careful aim at Carlton's chubby exposed bumcheeks quivering in apprehension directly below it. "Now, Carltie, prepare yourself for an extended blazing-hot trip to Sorebottom City—this will be a totally serious spanking, no halfhearted pattycakes."

The starkly-upended, bare-bottomed rejuve shuddered. "Yes, ma'am."

While their hostess understood her new guest's behavior, Greta and Rosita stood mutely perplexed by the realization that they were about to witness an intensive disciplinary session—both of them knew, from different sources, that Carlton's scheduled Sunday morning chastisements were usually mild, almost perfunctionary, in terms of their intensity.

The police lieutenant swung the wooden spoon swiftly downward, its head's wide flat back connecting solidly with the center of Carlton's right buttock—WHACK!! The second swat followed five seconds later, impacting smartly against the middle of his left bottomcheek—SMACK!!

WHAP!! SPLAT!! CRACK!! SMACK!! Portia paddled away with metronomic precision, the right cheek-left cheek punitive pattern continuing for over seven minutes, the resounding pistol-shot cracks of the hardwood plastering her boyish spankee's naked posterior reverberating through the room five seconds apart. His resolute disciplinarian intended to chastise Carlton even more emphatically than she had the first time he'd been spanked over her lap, and she clearly accomplished that objective as he wailed continuously, squirmed and kicked while his doubly-rounded 'sit spots' were vigorously walloped to a deep magenta shade.

Rosita's expression was one of regretful resignation, Greta's one of empathic concern and Rebecca's one of grudging acceptance; all three of them watched, seemingly frozen in place, as the compellingly-intensive corrective drama unfolded in front of their unaverted gazes.

Meanwhile Billy, finally set on his feet by his belt-wielding punisher, stood blubbering shamelessly but managed to resist both rubbing his stinging-hot seat and prancing in place—both of which, he knew from past experience, would likely result in his fanny-tanning being resumed forthwith. Still nude with his chubby nether cheeks brilliantly shining a fire-engine-red hue while his teardrops spattered the carpeted floor, the six-year-old rejuve appeared a pitiful sight to his parents.

Squatting down in front front of her son, Lavinia smoothed back his short-cropped black hair as she gently gripped his right elbow. "What was your count total, sweetie, the combined number of swats from both of us?"

"Foh-oh-orty-ayyy-eight, Mah-Mommy," the boy stammered.

"That's right," the commodore confirmed. "Bigotry offenses are taken pretty seriously by the Bureau of Pentitatas Affairs on Vladivost, you can tell."

"Let's get our naughty penny dressed for church," her lifemate suggested, "We don't want to hold up everyone's breakfast."

Portia gently rocked Carlton in her arms, his tearstreaked face wetting her uniform blouse as he struggled to bring his sobbing under control.

"That's my brave boy...You took that punitive medicine courageously, without complaining a bit...Whatever you did to earn that walloping, sweetie, has been dealt with strictly—as it always should be...There, there, go ahead and cry it out, darling child..."

Greta stared at her classmate's glowing-hot buttocks, almost convinced that she could physically feel the blazing intensity radiating from those fiery-looking bumcheeks.

"Oh dear, I know exactly what you're experiencing right now, Carltie." Her lower lip quivered, then she sighed expressively while dealing with mixed reactions to the extended rump-smacking her friend had endured, courtesy of the wicked wooden spoon that his comforting disciplinarian still held.

"We'll get these two ready for church," Rebecca said crisply, indicating the two rejuves, "Followed by ourselves, Rosie." She met Portia's gaze. "Thank you for demonstrating the error of my ways, my dear sister, even though it was a somewhat painful lesson to endure. You should go back to resting until breakfast, while the rest of us get dressed."

"That sounds appealing, Becca." The lieutenant released Carlton from her embrace and kissed his tearstreaked face. "I must've used up all my remaining energy paddling your behind, Carltie honey."

"Thuh-Thank you f-for ahh-dministering my Suh-Sunday morning sp-spanking, Aunt Portia," the blond Medicalos told her sincerely, still sniffling.

"My pleasure, sweetie." She playfully touseled his soft curls, then handed him the seat-smacking spoon. "Would you mind putting this away for me for the moment, darling?"

For the next half hour, events moved with military efficiency as the Starfleet officers spearheaded the rapid accomplishment of their objectives—rejuved children and adult females were attired for church, the youngsters in stylish quasicotton outfits and the women in their 'half-dress' semiformal uniforms, then a Vladivostan-type breakfast was quickly consumed (despite squirms of discomfort by the pair of sore-bottomed boys at the table) and the after-meal cleanup finished.

As Portia walked home to rest further before showering and changing her clothes, the admiral piloted the luxury hovercar as it sped through the airways toward Genda, a suburb of Guderian. The children, as usual, occupied the back seat with Greta seated between her boyish comrades, both of whom were considerably larger than her.

"Isn't there a closer church?" Billy demanded grumpily.

"Yes, but we're going to services at the Cathedral," his compatriot explained. "It's very impressive architecturally, plus the acoustics are teriffic—it's almost as though you're sitting with the choir."

"My father says that it's stunning," the blonde Innocentata noted, before hesitantly changing the subject. "Uhhhh...I'm sorry about giggling during breakfast while you guys were wiggling around on your spanked fannies, but you both looked so little-boy cute at the time..."

"You're forgiven, Greta." Carlton smiled wryly. "I suppose we did look pretty silly, but I couldn't much help it—I'm still feeling a lot of prickly heat down there, even on these cushiony seats."

"It won't be easy sitting quietly during some long boring sermon," the dark-haired Penitatas mused gloomily.

"Well, High Priestess Petula usually keeps it short and sweet, not to mention that she has a captivating delivery," his Medicalos neighbor assured him. "Just do your best to stay still—you know what'll happen to any of us who doesn't."

Greta nodded solemnly, remembering her days as a penny on Earth. "I was taken out to the nursery and hairbrushed there, then brought back to my seat in tears—and I got a good hard strapping once we arrived back home, followed by a half-hour of sobbing on my Cornerstool." She sighed sympathetically. "Please do your damnedest not to fidget, both of you, or I might have to wallop you myself."

While Billy frowned, Carlton grinned bemusedly at the concept. "Whatever you say, ma'am."

Fortunately the late-morning Easter service at Genda's Cathedral of the Spiritual Community of the Sacred Feminine turned out to be pleasantly uplifting for most of their party—the notable exception being Billy, who was anxiously distracted by impending events—and no disciplinary action towards any of the rejuves was required by the adult females.

Rising to his feet to sing "Hail Thee Festival Day" in a celebration of renewal and redemption, flanked by two imposing women in his guardian and Selena (the children having been separated to help them behave properly), Carlton found himself wishing that Montana had been there to share that moment of inner peace with him. Eighty-five minutes later, as he walked out of the Cathederal's magnificent nave holding Rebecca's hand while the choir ebulliently burst forth with Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" as the service's recessional, he felt confident that the prayer he'd offered for the succor of his Penitatas friend would be responded to favorably.

There was a traditional Terran-style Easter luncheon held in the reception hall of the Cathedral, for which the admiral had already made a generous contribution on behalf of their visiting group—so after the three youngsters had been hugged tightly and kissed lightly for their proper conduct during the worship protocols, all seven of their party sampled the buffet-style fare. Although Billy had shown stubborn resistance to being treated affectionately by his parents, he found plenty of enthusiasm for choosing from the extensive array of Terran, Vladivostan and Posteria Priman food dishes despite having eaten breakfast less than three hours earlier.

"That's my all-consuming son," Lavinia remarked archly, arriving at their table as the fourth person to be seated there, "Nothing inhibits his appetite."

"Some people tend to overeat when they're nervous," Greta stated simply. "When I was a penny, though, I could barely swallow a bite on Thanksgiving and Christmas until all my fanny-tannings were completed—but then I had to go right to bed on an almost-empty stomach."

"Denial of food isn't practiced as part of Penitatas discipline on Vladivost," the commodore noted, "Although dessert can be withheld on occasion—but not very successfully from Billy if Carltie's around." She playfully ruffled the blond boy's thick curls. "Other than that, pennies get the same food as everyone else here so that they'll develop a positive approach to proper nutrition."

"That's a pretty progressive attitude," the small Innocentata said approvingly.

"It's due largely to Rebecca," Rosita explained. "As the policy director of the planet's Rejuve Regulatory Commission, she has an overriding influence on activities carried out by the Bureau of Penitatas Affairs."

The hovercar flight back home was uneventful, although the two boys seemed to be making up for the self-control they'd shown during the worship service by continually squirming uncomfortably on their well-chastised behinds.

Greta was tempted to playfully tease them about their prickly-warm posteriors, but she empathized too much with Billy's plight on his first Penitatas punishment day to make any painful references to his situation.

"We'll all need to change our clothes quickly," Rebecca noted as their group waited for the house's front doorway to open in response to analysis of her palmprint and DNA patterns, "Plus take any necessary bathroom breaks now. Wear comfortable playtime attire, children, since you'll be running and climbing quite a bit—oh, Carltie dear, bring your clothing to my bedroom before putting it on."

"Okay, Mommy, but why?" The Medicalos pursed his lips.

"I'll need you in your birthday suit for something, sweetheart," his spousal guardian responded.

"Nothing that will add more heat to your down-back chubby cheekies," Rosita added assuringly albeit with an impish smile, "So don't worry about that, honey."

Several minutes later, Carlton stood nude inside the master bedroom's holovision field as multiple sensor beams recorded his exact physical dimensions.

"Why do I have to be totally naked?" he demanded rather petulantly.

"The less clothing worn, the more accurate the data being transmitted," the admiral replied crisply.

"Doesn't the computer information storage have my measurements from before," her ward questioned shrilly, "So I shouldn't have to do this now?"

"That was over a month ago, you've undoubtedly grown marginally since then." She frowned pensively. "Darling, Aunt Rosie won't like it if you make her into an inadvertent liar."

The five-year-old looked puzzled. "What do you mean, Mommy?"

"Well, she told you that your bouncy buns weren't going to be further enflamed at the moment," Rebecca reminded him, "But if you continue this whiny protesting of yours, that statement will turn out to be quite erroneous...Understand, sweetheart?"

His eyes widened. "Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry—It's just that you're keeping something from me, Mommy, and that makes me curious."

"Sorry, honey, but I'm sworn to secrecy regarding the party requesting your measurements." Stepping behind the naked child while grasping his left elbow with her left hand, the statuesque brunette applied six forceful open-handed swats to his blushing-pink buttocks—SMACK! WHACK! SMACK! SPLAT! WHAP! SMACK!

"Ohhh! Owww! Ouch! Yeoww! Please, Mommy, no more!" He hopped in place but didn't try to evade the smartly-slapping parental palm.

"That's for feeding me such blarney, young man," the admiral stated calmly. "Curiosity doesn't justify being disagreeable, does it?"

"No, ma'am, it doesn't," Carlton conceded.

Just then the HV field's womanly-sounding computer voice melodiously announced its brief message: "Procedure completed, you may step down. You have a nice pair of cute round buns, sweetcheeks."

"Huh...??" The blond rejuve was dumbstruck, but his guardian chuckled as she spun him around, bent forward and sweetly kissed his lips.

"Aunt Rosie will explain," she instructed breezily, "But right now get dressed."

Even before the boy immediately obeyed, the acquired HV data had been automatically transmitted to its expectant recipient.

Six minutes later, comfortable outfits having been donned, Rebecca was once again flying the hovercar with Rosita seated next to her. Portia, clean and refreshed in casual civilian attire, sat on the middle seat with Greta and Carlton on either side. The other three visitors, Lavinia's family, were inside a transport tube car that was flashing northward toward their interim destination, traveling at 250 miles per hour.

Carlton soon found himself draped face-down over the policewoman's athletically-toned thighs as she lowered his duradenim trousers (and their built-in briefs) to mid-thigh level.

While his benefactress carefully massaged soothing Tantris gel against the roughened surface of the boy's naked buttocks, his classmate was enjoying a close-up view of the healing treatment which was occurring on her immediate left.

"There are fresh reddish palmprints on your behind, Carltie," Greta remarked with playful mock surprise. "Did you get another spanking after that flap-down smacking with the wooden spoon?"

"No, I didn't," the five-year-old answered, "But I was being a bit difficult with Mommy, so she reprimanded me for being argumentive."

"It looks like she gave you a toasty-warm warning about being cooperative." The girl giggled. "Too bad I missed that little demonstration, dear boy."

Twenty minutes later, the commodore's three-person family group stepped off their transport tube car at municipal station #3 in the mid-sized city of Patton Place.

Billy was feeling apprehensive, partly due to his curiosity about the family that was going to be their traveling companions from that point onward.

He'd been informed by Selena only that "You're going to be meeting an old acquaintance, your fellow guest of honor at our Easter festivities," which left him puzzled and uncertain.

A tall, impressive-looking blonde wearing casual clothing approached their party at the terminal's doorway. Stopping in front of Lavinia, the woman snapped a sharp salute.

"Commodore Treadwell, ma'am, welcome to Patton Place. I'm—"

"Out of order, that's what you are," the executive officer interrupted briskly. "We're off duty, so forget the Starfleet ranks...Marta, isn't it?"

Flustered, her greeter nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am—uhhh, I mean..."

"Lavinia," the commodore prompted amusedly, "Lavie for short if you wish." She motioned toward her paramour then her penny child, the two of them flanking her. "My partner Selena and my son Billy, whom you've heard about."

Two people had caught up to the tall woman, one of them a pertly plump brunette of Lavinia's height and the other, holding her hand, a boy of Billy's age with the filled-in shining-silver 'P' of a Penitatas on the back of each hand—he was fairly slim with strawberry-blond hair and seemed vaguely familiar to Billy.

"Hello," the pretty thirtyish woman said perkily, flashing a dimpled smile, "I'm Sophia, Sophia Highsmith." She gently squeezed her rejuved charge's small hand. "This is our young 'copycat' criminal..."

Realization flooded Billy's awareness as he suddenly recognized his fellow Penitatas.

"Heinrich? It's you, Heinie, damn it all..."

{PART FIVE}

(This part's setting continues from the finish of Part Four, at transit tube station #3 in Patton Place on the planet Vladivost, mid-28th century.)

"What kind of a greeting is that, young man," Sophia demanded briskly, "Immediately using profanity?"

Lavinia nudged her Penitatas charge forward, moving him onto the plastifoam sidewalk as their group stepped away from the station's entranceway.

"I'm so sorry, ladies—and you too, Heinrich." Her hand firmly squeezed Billy's shoulder. "When we get into your hovercar, this offensive first impression will be dealt with promptly and properly."

"There's no need to wait until then," Marta stated nonchalantly, "Not in penny-oriented Patton Place."

The admiral's brows furrowed. "Exactly what does that mean?"

The Amazonian blonde grinned. "With your permission, we'll demonstrate it for you."

The two newly-arrived women met each other's gaze, then Selena nodded. "Please..."

The two rejuves were also looking at each other, Heinrich dumbstruck with awareness of immediately-impending events.

"I'm sorry," Billy babbled, "I was just so surprised to see—uuhohh!"

His speech was interrupted by Sophia reaching under his armpits and tossing him onto her right shoulder. Encircling his thighs with her arms, she jostled him higher with his buttocks facing skyward and his face downward.

"Would you like to do the unveiling honors?" she cheerfully asked Lavinia.

"I'd be happy to," the admiral agreed as she faced Sophia and grasped the elastiflex waistband of Billy's trousers, then pulled them (with their built-in briefs) down to his knees.

"Right on this public walkway?" Selena was wide-eyed with surprise.

"It's a Penitatas-oriented town here, remember?" Marta touched a finger to the technician's wide leather belt. "You don't wear this just to be stylish, do you?"

Billy, his naked posterior elevated as he was held helplessly bent over Sophia's shoulder, cringed as he heard the sound of his stepmother's belt sliding through its loops then whisking free from them.

"You're right, Marta, it's quite utilitarian at times—like now," Selena noted breezily as she doubled over the thick pliable leather and gripped the loose magnalock ends together while assuming a stance facing Billy's left hip atop Sophia's right shoulder.

"I'll believe that when I see it," the blonde challenged roguishly, pressing her palm downward against the upended penny's back to further immobilize him. "Just be careful not to damage my spouse's sweet face."

"Don't worry, those aren't the cheeks I'll be aiming at," the tall brunette said smugly, raising the doubled-up belt over her shoulder, "And I never miss my mark."

"Remember to keep count, Billy dear," Lavinia admonished lightly.

"Yes, Mommy," Billy murmured, already sniffling softly with the realization that he was bare-bottomed and facing punishment in public.

Then the chastisement began, the fiery-hot lashes of the supple leather snapping against the hapless boy's openly-exposed posterior with blistering intensity—THWACK!! CRACK!! SPLACK!! THWACK!!—as Selena swung the flexible belt with speed, power and unerring accuracy. (Although Sophia flinched on occasion due to the striking belt's sharp reports and the concurrent quivering of Billy's bumcheeks, her face remained safely untouched.)

The wailing penny desperarely kept track of the the leathering's progress as his vulnerable gluteal globes were crisscrossed with scarlet stripes.

"Sih-Sixteen...(THWACK!!) Owwwwch! Seh-vehnth-teen...(CRACK!!) Ohhhh, please! Ayyyy-eighteeeen...[SPLACK!!) Nooouuuhhh mooore! Nih-Nineteeen...(THWACK!!) Ahhhhowwwie! Twuh-enty..."

The punishment was halted momentarily after the twenty-fourth lick of double-thick leather had whipped across the blubbering boy's defenseless derriere.

"He's got two dozen more coming," the commodore reminded her paramour, then she smiled at the other women. "Since Billy was rude to our hostesses, perhaps one of them would be willing to finish up this disciplinary action."

Marta licked her lips. "Sophe's got her hands full at the moment, but I'm plenty game." Reaching over to a sixteen-inch, rectangular red leather sheath on her left hip, she withdrew from it a transparent lexanite paddle, gripping its black flexiform handle. "I've got my own weapon, though, which I call my 'Penny Persuader.' It's somewhat bigger than a 'Mother's Helper' model, and it always seems to persuade Heinie to behave himself."

"It certainly does," Heinrich agreed, belatedly having found his voice.

"Let's switch places," Selena offered, replacing the belt around her waist as she and Marta quickly did exactly that, leaving the blonde Amazon in striking position while her dark-haired counterpart lightly pressed a palm against Billy's back to keep him jacknifed over Sophia's shoulder.

The hapless penny felt the paddle's smooth polymer surface lightly rubbing his vulnerably-exposed buttocks; he inhaled sharply as the implement was drawn back by Marta, only to immediately howl in pained surprise as it emphatically plastered his striped seat—SMACK!!

"Ahhhhowwww! Wuh-One...[WHACK!!] Ohhhhouuu! Tuh-Two...[SPLAT!!] Uhhhhohhhh! Thruh-Three...[SMACK!!] Waaaahhhhowww! Foooour...[WHAP!!] Waaahhhhhhhh! Fie-Five...[SPLACK!!] Wuhhhhohhh, it huuuurts! Sih-Six..."

Billy's pitiful wailing was accompanied by frantic but futile kicking and hip-twisting as the chastisement continued, his powerful disciplinarian taking sweeping swings as she emphatically cracked the lexanite paddle against his upthrust, deeply-reddening posterior. His tears had soaked the back of Sophia's ultramarine blouse by the time the blistering-hard punishment finally ceased with him barely managing to finish the count: "Waaahhhhooouuuu! Twehhh-nuhtuh-ty-fooour, pleeeese no mooore..."

"Plenty more coming soon," Lavinia remarked jauntily as her blubbering child was lowered down onto his feet, "But that's your four dozen 'tokens of esteem' for the moment, honey. After you've expressed proper gratitude to your three benefactors, please pull up your pants so we can get going."

Billy reluctantly gazed at the other three women. "Thuh-Thank you for...uhhhh...strapping me...and paddling me...and holding me up to be spanked...I shouldn't...ummmm...have used vulgar language...I'm very sorry."

Sophia chuckled. "From the way I could feel your buns bouncing with each and every wallop, not to mention those pistol-shot cracks ringing right next to my ear, I can believe that you're sorry, darling—and now that you've been properly disciplined for using such profanity, consider yourself forgiven."

"He was just startled," Heinrich stated meekly, "He didn't mean to swear, Maman."

The plump brunette smiled broadly. "Perhaps you're right, Heinie dear, but a Penitatas is allowed no slack at all—especially on a punishment day." She noted that the passers-by who'd stopped to observe the not-so-rare punitive performance of a penny's public fanny-tanning had started moving away as Billy re-covered his warmly-glowing derriere. "Our show's over, let's hurry on now..."

Like the expert pilot that she was, the admiral manually settled the hovercar onto the landing zone beside MacArthur Park on the outskirts of Chuikov City, 170 miles northeast of Guderian.

"Come on," Carlton eagerly urged his classmate, "Let's find some Easter eggs, Greta."

He scrambled out of the middle starboard doorway while the four females exited their craft more deliberately, Portia helping the peitite six-year-old step down—it was clear that the Vladivostan gravity was having a draining effect on the girl.

"Okay, pumpkin?" Rosita asked solicitously as their party began walking toward the check-in station located under a royal blue pavilion.

"I was just finally adjusting to the station's gravity," Greta murmured.

"That's only 104% of Earth's," her fellow rejuve informed her, "But Vladivost is 1.08 terrestrial—I can feel the difference too."

The three women knew that, as a fifth-generation Posteria Priman, Carlton was acclimated to his home planet's gravitational force (1.05 terrestrial) and had easily adjusted to Vladivost's only marginally higher gravity—however, they all appreciated his show of empathy with his girlish compatriot.

Very quickly the two rejuves had been registered by Rebecca, using her palmprint and codeword accompanied by Svenson's encoded/verified transfer of authorization to her person, and had been equipped with traditional Terran-style Easter baskets with hypervelcroid interior lining.

The five- and six-year old rejuve Easter Egg Hunt was to be held on a field of competition resembling an ultraextensive obstacle course, one which would require considerable childlike strength, stamina and coordination—as well as discerning eyesight—to successfully search out its cleverly-concealed hiding places.

The blonde Innocentata shuddered. "Lots of climbing and balancing, it looks pretty dangerous."

"There are magnaband fields under every apparatus," Portia assured the girl, "You can't get hurt falling."

"Finding the silver eggs will be tricky," Carlton noted, looking at the protective light gray insulpadding that covered the various structures, "They're supposedly the special ones for HV simulgames."

"What about the gold-colored ones, sweetheart?" his spousal guardian asked.

"There are only a half-dozen of them," he replied, "They're for expensive LRDG-model patrol jackets. If we find one, it will be just terrific good luck."

"Who's 'we,' Carltie?" Rosita demanded, feeling concerned for Greta—the girl was too small, plus too depleted by the slight gravitational adjustment her body was making, to climb and search effectively.

"We should team up," the five-year-old suggested. "I'm a decent climber, but some of the eggs will only be visible from ground level. Greta's short enough to operate under the magnabands if she hunches over a little, so she can be my spotter and give me directions."

His colleague grinned. "Ordering you around, darling boy? I like the sound of that—and you'd better obey me too, or else!" The six-year-old's playfully assertive manner masked her relief at avoiding being embarrassed by her physical limitations during the hunt—something Rebecca realized immediately.

"It sounds like she means business, Carltie dear," the admiral teased, leaning over to kiss the boy's cheek. "You'd better get going then, both of you." She gave Greta a light kiss on the cheek also, then smacked each of Carlton's duradenim-covered bumcheeks solidly with her open hand. "Those love-pats are for luck, honey."

"I love you too, Mommy." The blond Medicalos, his buns tingling, laughed happily as he and his cute partner headed toward the starting point.

After the Highsmith family's hovercar had been landed by Marta on the lengthy parking strip next to the Patton Place Municipal Fairgrounds, three of the passengers made changes of attire inside before emerging.

Billy and Heinrich had been required to strip completely and then don their special Penitatas egg-hunting outfits, which were black-trimmed field gray jumpsuits without seats—they were like 'Doctor Denton' sleepers (except for lacking footies) with their seat flaps entirely removed, which left the two pennies wearing them with total 'southern exposure' of their boyish backsides.

Sophia had undressed totally as well, unabashedly nude in front of the rejuved six-year-olds and the other women, before putting on an orange jumpsuit with royal blue trim—like the boys' outfits, it was soft, thick quasicotton with built-in underwear, but unlike theirs left its wearer's derriere covered.

"I'm cold back there," Heinrich complained upon exiting the vehicle, his well-rounded buttocks exposed to an air temperature of fifty-eight degrees farenheit.

"A penny complaining that his bare behind isn't hot enough on a special punishment day?" Selena chortled. "Don't worry, Heinie, that won't be your problem for very long, not at all."

Lavinia reached down to place her palm on her son's exposed posterior, which still glowed rosily from its public walloping. "Billy's buns are quite toasty, he's plenty warm down here already—but he's going to be much warmer soon enough."

Sophia was carrying a light, highly-flexible riding crop as she stepped out of the hovercar. The eyes of both Penitatas youngsters widened as they watched the plump woman flick the whippy leather implement through the air.

"I'm going to be an expediter during this Easter Egg Hunt," she explained, brown eyes gleaming. "Don't worry, you'll find out what that means through personal experience. You're both famous, or rather infamous, among the Society's members, so you can expect extra-special attention from all of us expediters—myself included."

Selena and Marta were stealthily walking up behind their respective charges, each carrying a teal blue, oval-shaped polyplast paddle. The tall brunette nodded at the equally-tall blonde, and each of them half-squatted and swiftly swung her paddle at the same time. SM-SM-A-A-CK!!-CK!! The double sounds of 3/8-inch-thick smooth polymer connecting to childishly-plump naked bumcheeks overlapped, creating one extended sharp, cracking report as both rejuves howled in smarting surprise.

"Keep your hands in front of yourselves and keep moving," Lavinia instructed firmly as the two boys jumped and began frantically rubbing their stinging seats, "This is part of the Easter tradition for pennies, being spank-marched via your 'Personal Punisher' paddles to the starting line." Both children reluctantly followed the commodore's directions.

Billy glumly observed that their destination was two hundred yards away. "We'd better try to travel fast, Heinie," he advised, a half-second before the twin paddles struck again—WH-WH-A-A-CK!!-CK!!

There were only two minutes left in the hunt when Carlton noticed the golden gleam from the strategically-hidden egg. With Greta's assistance, he'd already found three silver eggs and dropped them down to her—they'd landed on the field of thermally-responsive magnaforce and the small blonde had been able to slowly push upward through the invisible bands (which gradually dissipated with exposure to body heat) and place the shining prizes in her basket, alongside numerous brightly-colored ones containing traditional Terran-style chocolate treats.

"See something?" she asked, watching from below as the Medicalos, panting and perspiring, began to riskily climb underneath a steeply-sloping padded overhang. "Be careful," she urged as his desperate grip on the narrow handholds was almost lost.

"It's a golden egg," Carlton stated, trying to swing his legs up to brace against the slippery undersurface. "Damn it, I don't know if I can hang on with one hand to grab it..."

"Language, dear boy!" The girl giggled. "You don't want your mother to know you've been swearing—or especially not your Aunt Portia."

"I can't get the egg without falling," he muttered, again almost losing his grip.

"Time's almost up," Greta announced, "It's now or never, sweetie."

The five-year-old lunged downward, losing his hold on the apparatus but managing to grasp the glinting egg as he fell, then landing softly on the cushioning magnabands just as the contest-ending whistle sounded. His body gently slipped through the dissipating force field, whereupon he crawled out from under it to his waiting partner.

"We got lucky," he said modestly, putting the treasure in her basket.

She handed him the warmly-lined jacket he'd shucked off five minutes into the hunt. "Here, you're sweaty and you'll get chilled now that you're not moving actively."

"Thanks." The boy slipped into the World War II American bomber pilot's replica garment. "We did all right, didn't we?"

Two grateful kisses, one on each of his cheeks, constituted Greta's immediate reply. "You were sensational, Carltie."

"It was teamwork." He blushed slightly at her affection and praise. "Come on, let's get to the prize trade-in center with these four special eggs."

Rosita intercepted them on their way, her demeanor friendly but pointed.

"If you have any more eggs for that basket, I'm giving you the chance to put them there now," she informed the two rejuves. "Carltie's mother told us about what happened when Nannie tried to keep chocolate candy hidden to eat later—I'm sure Carltie remembers how that played out."

The blond shuddered, remembering the public bare-bottom hairbrushing that Nantessa, then ten years old, had received from Rebecca. Since he, as the girl's father, had tactitly colluded with her by failing to communicate his knowledge of their daughter's deceit, he'd been disciplined twice himself for that crime of omission—first that evening at home, via an extended severe caning (six dozen strokes with the wicked rattan implement), and four days later at the monthly Sorority meeting via a very sound, lengthy walloping with the Spencer paddle over his still-smarting cane stripes. In both cases he'd been attired in only socks, t-shirt and posterior-exposing 'spankybriefs,' and each chastisement had included an audience—Nantessa clandestinely HV taping his session with the cane and later his wife's Sorority sisters enthusiastically applauding her eight dozen blistering-hard paddleswats to his quivering naked buttocks.

Carlton withdrew a magenta-hued egg from each pocket and dropped them both into his colleague's basket with the other brightly-colored ones.

"We just wanted a little chocolate," Greta explained in a subdued voice.

"Eventually you'll get to have some," the commander promised, nodding approvingly. "Wise decision, Carltie, otherwise your cute round buns would've ended up looking like those two eggs, colorwise—and Greta honey, as his accomplice you'd have experienced what a deserved fanny-tanning from me feels like."

The Medicalos nudged his girlish compatriot. "Trust me, you want to avoid that at all costs."

Chuckling, the plump woman leaned over and kissed each of them twice on the face. "That's the kind of smacked cheeks I'd prefer you impish little munchkins to have."

At the trade-in center, Carlton gave Greta the golden egg so that she was able to win a khaki LRDG-style patrol jacket, a child-sized replica of the type worn by the British Long Range Desert Group during the North African campaign. The silver eggs were exchanged for a simulgame interconnect activator, which was Carlton's, and two simulgames—'Atlantic Wall' and the new 'Armaggedon' with its alternate-scenario functions—which the two rejuves decided to share between themselves.

Rebecca had taken custody of the basket of other eggs, ones with the chocolate candy inside them, and had cheerfully informed the children that she would "ration them out" at such times as she considered appropriate. Afterwards their five-person group walked, in the bright spring sunshine, toward a picnic area overlooking the sparkling-blue Kassarine River to enjoy an event-provided light buffet of old-style Terran dishes.

"You really wanted that type of jacket yourself, didn't you?" the admiral asked her spousal ward as she took his hand in hers. "I've heard you talk about liking it quite a bit, I seem to recall."

"Yes, Mommy," he admitted, "But Greta was desperate for one too—she's my guest and also my friend."

The beautiful woman lovingly squeezed her youngster's hand. "Well, that's certainly her good fortune..."

Billy gasped as the sizzling snap of a flicked riding crop flared atop his naked buttcheeks; it was followed by five more, of equally fiery intensity, in rapid succession, but he maintained his two-handed grip on the magnalocked crystal egg. Eventually his body heat would release the invisible bands immobilizing the prize he held, but until then he was forced to provide a near-perfect target for any expediter who felt like lashing his already-glowing, stinging-hot posterior with her sharply-biting little whip.

He heard Sophia's chortle behind his forward-kneeling body. "Still keeping that naughty bare fanny sticking out for more attention, Billy dear? Okay, I'll be happy to oblige you then."

The red-bottomed penny endured another half-dozen strokes from his pert tormentor's seat-searing weapon before the egg finally was released and he could scramble onward, dropping it into his basket as he moved ahead rapidly. Breathing heavily, he finally felt appreciation for the large-motor skills that he'd been forced to develop via regular practice.

He had suffered numerous unpleasant surprises, starting with the punishment he'd received for inadvertently swearing upon realizing Heinrich's identity, followed by having to don his rump-revealing official outfit. Being smacked by Selena with his own brand-spanking-new 'Personal Punisher' paddle, all the way to the event's starting line, had left the hapless six-year-old blubbering tearfully—just like all the other pennies, an equal mix of boys and girls ranging from five to eight years of physiological age, who'd been similarly treated by one of their parents.

Female parents only, of course, as the chastisement-oriented contest involved only lesbian households with Penitatas children—two hundred strict maternal disciplinarians (as there were exactly a hundred bare-bottomed competitors), forty of them uniformed as expediters and armed with lightweight but stingingly effective riding crops, without an adult male present—a dismaying situation to Billy, who'd been raised under patri-dom influences.

Most distressing of all, his mother (the Society's Bradleyan vice-president for "Events and Rites") had acted as mistress of ceremonies and had introduced both Heinrich and himself to the gathering's audience and participants—notably the expediters: "This is my son Billy and his former schoolmate Heinie, both of whom recently glowpainted derogatory, prejudiced messages about lesbians on our Society's building in Tedder Town. I hope that all of our expediters will be certain to give both of them an extra-warm welcome with special punitive attention to their bigoted bare backsides—stripe their seats with enthusiasm, ladies, for all of us."

That was exactly what had happened, Billy ruefully acknowledged, to himself and presumably to Heinrich as well. The hunt was twenty minutes in duration with only a couple minutes left before its finish, and his exposed asscheeks had been whipped for almost the entire time—especially when he'd needed to stretch up or bend down to secure an egg, leaving his plump posterior invitingly available. (It was always open to chastisement since the contest's rules prohibited its Penitatas participantss from denying access to their derrieres.) Fortunately the expediters' riding crops were light enough to preclude serious damage to the vulnerable behinds they were incessantly flicked against, but the scorching sensation produced was quite intensive—especially when felt repeatedly.

The competition took place in an entirely natural venue, a wooded area adjoining the Fairgrounds, and Billy spotted his twelfth potential prize nestled on the leaves of a low-hanging tree branch. Reaching up to grasp the egg, he braced himself for more blazing licks to his scarlet-streaked buttocks; he wasn't disappointed as a short, slim, redheaded expediter stood to his left and vigorously swished her thin leather whip against his openly-exposed nether cheeks for seventy seconds, until the magnalocked oval object was released into his possession.

Sobbing from the seeming inferno raging across his naked hindquarters, the dark-haired rejuve dropped the crystal egg into his basket just as the shrill, contest-ending whistle sounded.

"Way to hang on, sweetheart, even though I was whipping your bare bottom plenty hard." The fortyish woman leaned down and quickly kissed each of the boy's tearstreaked cheeks. "Well done, Billy dear."

"Thuh-Thank y-you, maah-ma'am," he responded, surprised that he felt no resentment toward the woman; both her voice and features struck him as somehow familiar, but Billy's focus was too centered on his smarting seat and the crystalline prizes he'd collected to consider that impression.

"Hustle, honey, go get your eggs evaluated," she advised him encouragingly. "I've got to check out how my daughter did."

Moments later, Billy stood in front of the scanner/calculator, which projected a holographic screen into midair above him, while Lavinia used her palmprint and codeword to verify her Penitatas child's identity.

A gold-numeraled "48" flashed at the top of the screen, then the feminine-sounding artificial voice announced the instructions: "Drop the eggs into the access opening one at a time, five seconds apart. Red numbers show additions of swats to the participant's base, while blue numbers show subtractions from it; orange lettering shows other changes that may be made. Begin, please."

"Go ahead, dear," the commodore instructed gently, and her son obeyed with considerable trepidation.

The first two numbers flashed red, "6" followed by "2," leaving the adjusted base number as a gold "56."

"Oh, no," Billy muttered, but the next four numbers were better for him—blue "12," red "3," blue "10" and blue "9," leaving him with a gold-numeraled "28" halfway through the scanning of his dozen encoded eggs.

Then disaster struck, the orange words "REVERSE DIGITS" changing his base count to a gold "82."

"Don't collapse now, darling," Selena said quietly, watching from behind him, "Anything can still happen."

A red "6" pushed the penny's swats count up to "88," but three blue numbers—"4," "10" and "2"—followed to reduce it to "72."

"One more," the six-year-old murmured, feeling faint. "Please help me, spirit of the Sacred Feminine..."

"Are you praying, Billy?" his mother asked incredulously. "Drop it in, let's see what you've got."

The youngster followed those maternal directions and was rewarded with orange lettering reading "ONE-HALF."

"Final result: Base count is now thirty-six swats," the artifical voice stated crisply as the golden numerals "36" flashed on the holoscreen, "Information transmitted to parental datapads."

Minutes later, their two family groups rendezvoused at the expansive picnic area and Billy found out that his ex-schoolmate hadn't been overly successful in obtaining crystal eggs during the hunt.

"I've only been rejuved for ten days, so my balance and coordination aren't very good yet," Heinrich explained plaintively. "Five eggs was all I managed to get—they ended up lowering my base count by just three swats."

Momentarily, the commodore strode to the ceremonial audioamped magnaplatfotm and addressed the assembled Penitatas children and their parents:

"Congratulations on participating in this Easter Egg Hunt, children, and my commendations to our volunteer expediters for the rosy red rumps being exhibited by all of our penny participants—especially my son Billy and his friend Heinrich, who got their behinds whipped by just about every expediter." She paused as appreciative applause was offered by her maternal adult listeners. "We're about to enjoy a modest repast for everyone here, with special low scrapesurface benches for you Penitatas competitors to sit upon. To make certain that these little darlings all experience maximum discomfort seated on their unprotected derrieres, one of their mommies now needs to put each one over her knee for a good, sound spanking with his 'Personal Punisher' paddle—the new base counts will determine the number of swats to be administered. Let's get the teardrops flowing and those bare buns glowimg, sisters."

Deftly guiding the hovering dias as it glided slightly above the ground-level disciplinary activity, Lavinia observed numerous fanny-tannings as a hundred resolute women each took a blushingly bare-bottomed penny across her loving lap and enthusiatically whacked his or her posterior with that rejuve's individualized blue (boys) or pink (girls) polyplast bum-smacker, resulting in multitudinous childish yelps, howls, sobs, kicks and wriggles continously punctuated by the resounding sharp cracks of smooth, flat polymer against two hundred fiery-looking, bouncing bumcheeks.

(Her son's three dozen fierce paddleswats from Selena, and Heinrich's forty-five stingers courtesy of Marta, were included within this mass punishment.)

Once the energetic paddlings had all been completed, the commodore addressed her final remarks over the blubbering and sniffling of a hundred thoroughly-chastised children, each of them shamefully displaying a pair of brilliantly-crimson gluteal globes.

"On behalf of the Board of Governors for the Bradley region's Galactic Society of Sappho," the Starfleet officer announced, "Thank you for attending this official Penitatas Easter Egg Hunt. Enjoy the luncheon, ladies, and try not to squirm too very much on your flaming fannies, boys and girls. Remember that each penny's new base number determines how many minutes he must spend upon his Cornerstool immediately after arriving home, plus the length of his bedtime switching as well—both with total 'southern exposure,' of course, and a penalty of six hard paddywhacks for every time he breaks position during his session with the switch."

Billy sighed softly. "It's not over yet..."

{PART SIX}

(This part's setting begins two hours following the finish of Part Five, Easter evening, back at the McMichael residence in Yamamoto on the planet Vladivost, mid-28th century.)

Sitting atop the old-style wooden Cornerstool, his ankles locked in an elevated position by the restraining bar so that all of his body weight was borne by his extensively-chastised naked buttocks, Billy tried to concentrate on anything but the quadrangular points that his tender bumcheeks were heavily pressing down against.

Selena had wanted her penny child to be placed onto the stool totally nude but their hostess had strongly suggested that he wear his posterior-exposing Penitatas egg-hunting outfit.

"It will spare him a bit of embarrassment without protecting his rear end at all," Rebecca had explained, "And he's certainly been embarrassed enough today."

Given the admiral's authoritative position with the Rejuve Regulatory Commission, her arguments had readily convinced Billy's parents to allow him that small shred of modesty—but it still left the boy sobbing from the gradually-intensifying bite of the stool's punitive sitting surface.

With his wrists bound together in front of him, via snugly unyielding kidcuffs, the six-year-old was forced to simply endure the extreme discomfort being visited upon his well-disciplined derriere. At least he was being allowed to suffer in relative privacy, the stool at that time being located in a corner of the room (otherwise Nantessa's bedroom) being shared by his mother and stepmother.

It had been a strenuous punishment day, Billy mused ruefully, and it wasn't over yet—he still faced a sound switching at bedtime, an impending chastisement that threatened to expand via penalty paddleswats if he failed to maintain his punishment-recipient position throughout all thirty-six strokes of the whippy Kamchatwillow wand.

The sniffling rejuve attempted, with limited success, to focus his attention somewhere else than on the extreme discomfort afflicting his flaming southern hemispheres.

He'd tried to seriously talk with Heinrich when they'd been eating their post-Hunt meal, but it had proven difficult to concentrate when seated on the low bench with its sandpaper-like sitting surface irritating his smarting unprotected backside, meanwhile being surrounded by other sobbing young pennies.

Still, Billy had tried to press his former collegiate acquaintance to answer the question he'd found so troubling—why Heinrich, knowing what had happened to his ex-schoolmate, had nonetheless committed the exact same crime and therefore received identical punishment, a 2x6-12 Penitatas sentence.

Frustratingly for Billy, his strawberry blond comrade had been entirey uncommunicative on that issue, both during their light repast and later while on the brief hovercar trip back to the Highsmith residence in Patton Place. He himself had found himself rather distracted by Sophia's state of extreme undress, as she had stripped off her expediter outfit but hadn't elected to cover her nudity until they'd arrived at their destination.

The plump brunette had explained to Billy that she was a Naturalist who believed in "letting my whole body breathe, free of any covering" as much as possible—she was generally nude at home and typically wore clothing only in public or for certain visitors.

"Not everyone feels totally comfortable with the human body being displayed," she'd stated simply, "Although your parents assured me that you wouldn't have any problems dealing with it, or I wouldn't have undressed in front of you."

The boy had flashed a tight, rueful smile. "I'm not allowed any modesty of my own at home, so your being butt-naked here doesn't bother me."

Sophia had tittered lightly. "That's the life of a well-punished penny anywhere. Heinie spends lots of time with his buns nicely bared, often he's as totally starkers as I am around our house—although my sweet derriere remains quite pale, while his is often bright crimson." She'd chuckled. "Right, Heinie honey?"

Her son had squirmed awkwardly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Mine's been red and hot just about all day," Billy had noted, trying to make his fellow Penitatas feel less embarrassed.

"On a special punishment day, that's hardly unexpected for a penny." The nude woman had grinned. "Are you naughty boys looking forward to your whompings with a Kamchatwillow switch tonight?"

"Ummmm...not really, Maman." Heinrich had shuddered anxiously.

"According to my friend Carltie, it's really an intensive sting," his boyish compatriot had noted. "He got switched with a Kamchatwillow branch as an adult, and it left stripes which lasted for a week."

Selena had shifted around to address her stepson. "I'm going to have your plump little rump dancing, Billy, during that nude switching we've got scheduled for you tonight. You're truly lucky to have done so well on the Easter Egg Hunt, so be grateful for those last dozen strokes that won't be blazing across your bare behind."

Her six-year-old had nodded. "I am grateful, Aunt Selena."

"Once I saw Petula Raintree kiss you, after the Hunt ended, I figured you'd have good fortune with your final count," Sophia had remarked. "Being blessed by the High Priestess like that, after she'd just finished lashing your naked fanny so hard, was bound to bring you luck."

"The High Priestess, we saw her at church earlier," Billy had murmurred in sudden realization, "That's why she seemed so familiar to me."

"You didn't recognize her?" His stepmother had demanded with pretended indignation. "She'll have to address that rather insulting ignorance on your part the next time we go to services at the Cathedral. Let's say double the ass-whipping she gave you during the Hunt, after you've stripped to the buff and humbly asked Priestess Petula to apply her riding crop to your 'seat of learning' to correct that disrespectful attitude towards her." She'd smirked. "In her personal chamber after the service, so there'll be some privacy—except that I am going to invite all those charming girl acolytes to observe the proceedings."

Billy had sighed in resignation, fully aware that there was no possibility of his avoiding the humiliating punitive ritual that he'd just been sentenced to undergo—even though his stepmother's tone had been almost playful, she clearly intended to carry out the discipline she'd decided upon.

Heinrich had remained largely uncommunicative while they'd been riding in the hovercar, Marta again doing the piloting while the admiral occupied the front passenger seat, but he had given his fellow rejuve one intriguing nugget of information, referring to himself as the recipient of "ninety percent of the butt-blisterings in our household."

Billy had mused that perhaps Sophia's opulent gluteal globes weren't always "quite pale" after all, but his former schoolmate had declined any further elaboration on the issue—as he had continued to evade answering any questions about his motivation for becoming a 'copycat' criminal.

"How are you doing so far, Billy dear?"

The commodore's voice broke her son's pensive reverie as she bustled into the bedroom.

"Okay, I guess," he replied with a slight whine, "But these little points are really digging into my behind. It's not as bad as being paddled, but it still really smarts."

"That's the general idea," Lavinia reminded him. "I hope that you're thinking deeply and repenting your past misdeeds, especially the crime that put you in this uncomfortable position. Six minutes left," she informed her penny charge, "Then you'll be let off and you can change into your play clothes. Carltie and Greta have both been asking about your first special punishment day, but I referred them to you."

"They're back, huh?" The six-year-old smiled grimly. "I'm pretty sure they had more fun at their Hunt than I did at mine."

"Don't worry, honey, they won't tease you about it," Lavinia assured him. "Although I am going to show them your 'Personal Paddle'—Greta was curious about it."

"I know they're too nice to be mean to me," he agreed quickly.

"Not to mention what will befall their own rejuved fannies if they're not as sweet as pie to you, according to Reb—Admiral McMichael." The commodore picked up her son's 'Personal Paddle' from the plastiform wall shelf and swept out of the bedroom.

Five minutes later, the contrite Penitatas was freed from his kidcuffs and the stool's restraining bar then lifted off the Cornerstool's pointed top by Selena, who gave him a tight hug and maternally kissed away two trickling tears on his face—he'd finally begun to sob steadily from the prickling-sharp pain being inflicted upon his soundly-chastised buttocks.

"You've been truly brave through everything that's happened so far," she remarked affectionately as she set the boy down onto his bare feet. "There's still your nude butt-whipping with the Kamchatwillow switch for us to deal with, but right now I'm very proud of you, darling."

"Th-Thank you, Aunt Selena." Billy sniffled, thinking gloomily of the strenuous punishment looming in his immediate future. "May I go see my friends now?"

The tall technician chuckled. "You might want to put on some other clothing first, dear boy—although I'm certain that Greta would enjoy the rear view you'd be providing for her." She motioned toward the khaki playsuit and insulshoes she'd dropped onto the hovering magnachair.

Blushing momentarily, the young Penitatas had taken his stepmother's advice before joining the other two rejuves in Carlton's bedroom down the second-floor hallway. He brought his open-seat egg-hunting jumpsuit along to show his comrades—it was both a souvenir and an item that could have "practical applications," as the commodore had put it, under certain future circumstances.

Both of Billy's compatriots reacted sympathetically to his narrative describing a penny-style Easter Egg Hunt on Vladivost, one in which his mother turned out to be the mistress of ceremonies. Greta was especially inquisitive but also quite empathetic, although she'd giggled at the sight of his posterior-exposing gray outfit.

"Aren't you going to model it for us, Billy, so I can compare your chubby little caboose with Carltie's?'" the Innocentata teased good-naturedly. "I'd like to see who's got the cutest buttcheeks for paddywhacking, though I really doubt that yours could match his for spankability—but I'd be glad to give you guys my expert opinion." Her eyes twinkled as the boys refused to react to her offer.

"Aunt Selena told us that you showed 'courage under fire,' as she put it," Carlton said approvingly, trying to change the focus of the conversation. "I knew that you could handle it, Billy."

The penny shrugged nonchalantly, but pride in his performance under duress was apparent. "Thanks, Carltie, even though I didn't have any choice about it—might as well try to tough it out, it hurts just as much when you whimper." He sighed. "But I'll probably be whimpering during my licking at bedtime, according to what you've told me about Kamchatwillow switchings."

"I've had my bare behind striped with a Terran willow switch on Earth," Greta remarked, shivering with remembrance. "Talk about getting seriously stung, I was howling like a banshee."

"What's a banshee?" asked Billy.

"It's just an old Terran expression," the blonde Innocenta explained. "A banshee was some sort of screaming spirit-creature in ancient legend on Earth." She addressed Carlton. "Rumor among Terran pennies was that a Kamchatwillow ass-whipping is even worse than one with a regular willow branch on Earth. Is that true?"

The Medicalos chewed his lower lip. "I've been disciplined with a Terran-modeled willow syntheswitch and a natural-grown Kamchatwillow one, but only as an adult." He shuddered. "They both sting wickedly, but the Kamchatwillow switch was probably worse—my wife would've considered it the better one from her point of view."

"The admiral flicking a whippy Kamchatwillow branch across your grownup bare bottom when you deserved it, that would've been a sight to remember." The girl tittered impishly, while Carlton reflected that Nantessa undoubtedly had several HV recordings of just such marital disciplinary proceedings—a fact that he hoped his petite colleague never discovered.

"I remember it quite well," Rebecca said breezily as she stepped into the room, "As does Carltie, I'm quite certain." She looked statuesquely beautiful even attired in her silumsatin Starfleet bathrobe, which covered a sheer turquoise nightgown.

"I'll bet." Greta grinned, imagining the scene.

"Greta, come to my bedroom and we'll transmit your body measurements to the Society's headquarters at Montgomery," the admiral instructed. "The sooner we send them, the quicker your prize jacket will arrive here."

Late afternoon passed into early evening, at which time a plentiful Terran-style supper, personally cooked by Lavinia (with Selena's assistance), was enjoyed by everyone—Billy especially, who much appreciated his mother's expertise in preparing meals that were delicious as well as nutritious.

"Having a sore seat never inhibits my darling boy's appetite for my home cooking," the commodore noted cheerily.

"Well, this is teriffic-tasting food, Commodore Treadwell," Carlton chirped.

"Thank you, Carltie," the woman responded, "But from now on I'd prefer that you address me as 'Miss Lavinia,' which is properly more informal—you're not my Starfleet subordinate anymore, after all."

The blond rejuve nodded. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Lavinia."

After an old-style dessert of cherry pie a la mode, the post-supper cleanup was swiftly effected by Rebecca and Rosita with typical Starfleet efficiency. All of the females residing in the weekend household then spent ninety minutes watching the final installment of the 21st-century holovideo drama they'd been viewing the previous two evenings.

Selena seemed especially affected by the melodramatic conclusion. "That was pretty foreboding," she stated softly, "Salvador telling Godric and Helga that his influence would be felt in the school forever, even though he was ending his relationship with it."

"He gave up his love for Rowena because his prejudices were so important to him," Rosita added. "It shows how even a brilliant, highly educated person can become dominated by negative feelings if he's not careful—everyone's psyche has a potential dark side."

"That's rather cynical, Rosie," the admiral admonished lightly.

"Part of my job sometimes involves manipulating people by appealing to their baser emotions," the plump brunette reminded her friend.

"You keep calling him Salvador," Greta pointed out, "But his first name is Salazar."

Selena's cheeks pinkened slightly. "That's my fault, sweetheart, because everyone else here picked it up from me. I was engaged to a guy named Salvador once, and the villain in this story reminds me of him—that's why I keep referring to him as Salvador rather than Salazar."

"When were you engaged to Salvador, Aunt Selena," the girl asked, "Was it recently?"

"Oh no, it was about seventy years ago, during my first adulthood." The technician shrugged in dismissal.

Carlton, realizing that his friend would be unable to focus on simulgame play, spent the evening futilely attempting to divert Billy's attention from his upcoming corrective ordeal. Whether describing the Easter Egg Hunt that he and Greta had engaged in earlier that day or discussing the plotline of 'The Sands of North Africa,' the Medicalos was unable to alter his condemned compatriot's solemn mood. Having experienced several bare-bottomed Kamchatwillow switchings himself, as an adult, Carlton could fully understand the feeling of dread that was engulfing the penny's psyche.

Soon enough the appointed chastisement hour arrived and Billy found himself escorted into Nantessa's bedroom by its temporary occupiers, his resolute parents.

"Strip down, sweetheart," Selena instructed calmly, "Let's get this final punishment over with."

"Y-Yes, Aunt Selena." The boy's face was quite pale.

"I'll get the switch," the commodore stated. She walked into the bathroom and emerged again momentarily, carrying a 32-inch-long thin branch—smoothly peeled, it spattered droplets of water while being flicked casually by Lavinia.

"Finish undressing, Billy dear," she told her son, who still wore his trousers, "Then you'll need to be bent over this near side of the bed. Do we have a bolster to put under his hips, Selena?"

Gripping her child's 'Personal Paddle' with her right hand, the technician lifted a small round couch pillow held in her left. "This should do, Lavie, if it's put tight under his tummy." She placed the pillow on the bed's edge.

"You're earning smacks with the paddle for being so slow," she informed Billy in a clinical tone, "So speed it up, honeybun."

"Uhhh-Oh-kuh-kay," the flustered Penitatas stammered, quickly removing his pants with their built-in underwear.

Lavinia clucked softly. "Look at that ravaged rear end, those expediters really must have worked it over with their snappy little whips."

"They gave Billy's bare buns plenty of extra attention," her lifemate concurred. "Sophia gave her stinging regards to that plump rump several times during the Hunt."

"He can send her a thank-you note for that special consideration tomorrow." The commodore smirked slightly, then she left-handedly scooped up her naked son and plopped him, face down and bottomside up, over the side of the bed with the bolster pillow under his abdomen—this left the boy's stocky legs dangling helplessly while his chubby bumcheeks were invitingly uplifted as a target for chastisement.

"This naughty nude penny's behind is just begging for a good striping," Selena chortled, reaching down to playfully pat his quivering buttocks. "Give him your eighteen first, Lavie, since you're holding the switch."

The older woman nodded, positioning herself a yard to the left of Billy's wide-open bare nether cheeks. Twice she lightly tapped the Kanchatwillow branch against his lower buttocks while reminding her rejuved disciplinee to "Count them out loud, sweetie, or they'll be given over."

"Excessive movement will result in penalty paddywhacks," her paramour added, casually waving the blue translucent paddle.

Then the diabolically-whippy switch began lashing across Billy's upthrust tender derriere—SWIIISH-SWAP!! SWIIISH-SWAP!! SWIIISH-SWAP!!—making him howl immediately with the stinging-hot intensity of each impact.

"Ahhhhowwww! Wuh-One...Uhhhhhohhhh! Two...Wahhhhowwww! Th-Three..." His legs began kicking frantically as his hips squirmed in a vain attempt to reduce the sizzling heat exploding along the length of each newly-formed stripe crossing his exposed posterior.

Grimly gratified at the emphatic effect the sharp, slashing strokes were having on her Penitatas charge, Lavinia continued steadily whipping the Kamchatwillow branch against his wriggling gluteal globes until eighteen lashes had been delivered.

"Waaahhhhhhowwwwuhhhhh—Ayyyyy-eighteeeeen!" he wailed piteously, his feet flailing wildly.

"Good job, darling," his mother praised encouragingly, "You held your position for your punishment—we'll allow some kicking and squirming, as long as you stay on top of that pillow with your fanny sticking up." She handed the switch to Selena, who had shifted the 'Personal Paddle' to her left hand. "Let's give him a minute to recover."

It seemed like only five seconds to Billy, who was sobbing raggedly as he felt his stepmother's two aiming taps touch his scarlet-striped seat.

"Same rules about counting and breaking position," she stated curtly while adjusting her stance and raising the springy Kamchatwillow wand to strike—then she began administering her half of the penny's discipline.

SWIIIISH-SWAAP!! "Ohhhhhhhnooooo—Nineteen!" SWIIIISH-SWAAP!! "Owwwwwww-it huuurts! Tuuuh-Twenty..." SWIIIIAH-SWAAP!! "Ahhhhhhhhh-too muuuuhh-much! Twenty-onnnne..."

Blubbering babyishly, the naked six-year-old somehow managed to maintain the chastising count as the vigorous swishes of the switch blazed across his bouncing buttcheeks, but his legs' desperate flailing twice resulted in him rolling halfway off the pillow under his hips before scrambling atop it to get his fiery-red fanny back into punishment position.

Finally, as the last of the three dozen scorching strokes lashed across his bottom's repeatedly-striped 'sit spot,' Billy bawled shamelessly.

"Wahhhhhohhhh—noooo moooore! Thuh-Thiiiirty-siiix!"

"That's all with this wicked seat-striper," his stepmother noted, dropping the flexible branch onto the bed, "But you've earned eighteen paddleswats—six for delaying in undressing and twelve for breaking position twice during your switching."

Ten seconds later, the weeping rejuve found himself upended over the technician's firm thighs, his fiercely-stinging bumcheeks again pushed upward by the round pillow under his hips.

"Make them hard and fast," Lavinia urged softly, "Let's wrap this up."

Her lifemate did exactly that, smartly smacking the lexanite paddle against Billy's bare behind at three-second intervals as he struggled and squealed, held firmly by a maternal forearm across his back. The walloping lasted less than a minute, a time period that the boyish spankee nonetheless experienced very intensely as the paddle's punishing polymer surface cracked solidly against the sizzling stripes crisscrossing his lower buttocks.

"Excellent effort, my love," the commodore praised with obvious sincerity, "We've completed our disciplinary duty for the day. If you'll pass Billy over to me, I'll get him into his bath now."

Her sobbing son then found himself being affectionately carried by his mother as they headed toward the bathroom down the hallway.

The other two children were already being bathed, Greta by her "Aunt Rosie" in the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom and Carlton by his maternal guardian in the other downstairs bathroom, by the time their rejuved compatriot entered the upstairs bathroom.

Minutes later, sparkling clean and attired in his aquamarine 'Doctor Denton' sleepers, Carlton lay prone on his bed as Rebecca unbuttoned and lowered his outfit's seat flap to expose his posterior.

"I'll rub in the nanolotion now, sweetheart," she explained, "But I won't activate it until bedtime."

"Okay, Mommy." He knew that his slightly earlier-than-usual bathtime had been timed to distract him from fretting over his friend's suffering.

"May I come in?" Greta asked rhetorically as the door slid open and she entered the bedroom, exuding springlike freshness from her small body. "Oh, my," she tittered, "Carltie's bare-bottomed again, isn't he? I'm certainly becoming well acquainted with what this cute round buns look like, I must say."

Her fellow kindergartener reacted with irritation to the girl's light-spirited commentary. "That's because you're always butting into things that are none of your business," he countered crossly, "Like coming in here uninvited."

Greta's face fell immediately, showing hurt feelings from the unexpected attack.

"Carlton Kristain, how dare you talk that way to your guest?" the admiral demanded.

"I was only teasing," the girlish Innocentata remonstrated, her voice quavering.

"Sorry, Greta," Carlton apologized, uncertain himself why he'd reacted so negatively to her playful remarks, "I shouldn't have talked to you that way."

"This situation requires more than saying that you're sorry," his guardian announced curtly. She addressed Greta. "Pick a number between four and ten, dear."

The young blonde smiled slyly, guessing the woman's intention. "How about twelve, an even dozen?"

Her fellow rejuve snorted. "For a mathematical prodigy, you don't seem to get the concept of a number being between—"

"Quiet, honey," Rebecca interjected bluntly. "Twelve sounds good, with my palm or the "Helper' paddle?"

"Your hand is fine, if you smack his bottom sharply enough, Miss Rebecca," Greta replied cheerfully, "But I think I should be the one using the 'Mother's Helper' since he was rude to me."

The admiral nodded indulgently. "A dozen from both of us, you're suggesting?"

"On each of his bouncy buttcheeks, so a total of twenty-four apiece." Greta grinned impishly. "They're quite well-rounded, obviously meant to take plenty of hard whacking."

"But, Mommy, I was just a little short-temped, I said I didn't mean to—" the Medicalos sputtered.

"Hush, Carltie," the admiral interrupted, "Or we'll start doubling numbers. Your classmate clearly knows how to push her agenda, but I'll go along with it just because I admire her cheek."

The girl giggled. "It's Carltie's cheeks that we'll be dealing with now though."

Rebecca sat down side-angled on the bed, her voluptuous derriere next to her ward's head, then pressed her left hand against the small of his back while raising the right hand to strike. "Correct, my dear girl."

She began to spank Carlton extremely smartly, her palm connecting with his naked buttocks in a left-right pattern with metronomic precision, the full-force slaps arriving four seconds apart. He kicked his feet, wriggled his hips and yelped loudly throughout the handspanking, which left him with blushing buns and moist eyes by the time all two dozen smacks had been energetically delivered.

"You took that pretty bravely, Carltie," Greta conceded, "But now it's my turn, and I'll be using the "Helper' paddle."

"I'll have to retrieve it." The admiral rose to her feet and strode out of the room, only to return a minute later carrying the light paddle and accompanied by Rosita.

By that time, the boyish rejuve was kneeling on the bed parallel to its edge, his face turned leftward and flattened against the bedspread while his knees were pulled tight under his body with his back arched downward—a position that left his pinkened, cloth-framed posterior jutting both upward and outward.

"Presenting position, it's called on Earth," Greta informed the two women while accepting the 'Mother's Helper' paddle. "I found it highly humiliating to assume when I was a Penitatas."

"Carltie's had to present his bottom like that on occasion, during his adult life as a fem-dis husband," Rebecca noted briskly. "Rosie's going to observe your paddywhacking technique, Greta dear—I figured you wouldn't mind. As for you, Carltie sweetheart, the more feminine witnesses the better."

"The more the merrier," the Innocentata agreed. Gripping the 'Helper' paddle's handle with both her small hands, she took a wide-legged stance and prepared to swing the implement at its upturned twin targets like an old-style Terran baseball bat—then she paused.

"Carltie, if you really don't believe you deserve the spanks I'm about to apply to your bare rear end for hurting my feelings, I won't paddle you." The wood's smooth surface was pressed against her classmate's behind. "What do you say to that, dear boy?"

Carlton gulped. "Go ahead, Greta, let me have it."

"My pleasure." She lifted the paddle back, her grip double-handed, then swung it swiftly forward and downward, using a final upward wrist-snap to impart extra velocity just before the smooth hard surface impacted against her spankee's undefended southern hemispheres—SMACK!!

WHACK!! SPLAT!! WHAP!! CRACK!! The six-year-old steadily delivered stinging paddleswats with all the strength her undersized body could muster, repeatedly cracking the light-but-effective punitive implement's striking surface against the boy's reddening undercheeks with an upswinging wrist action.

It took two minutes for her to complete Carlton's chastisement, the paddle plastering his warmly-glowing nether cheeks at five-second intervals, by which time the Innocentata was breathing heavily while her victim was sobbing softly—he'd experienced an unexpectedly effective walloping from someone of Greta's slight stature.

"Nice work, honey," Rosita complimented the little blonde, "That was a much harder spanking than I'd anticipated you being able to deliver."

"Was that your impression also, Carltie dear?" the admiral inquired brightly.

Her child raised his teary-eyed face, sniffling slightly. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

"Now get down here on your feet," Greta instructed, "It's time for hugs and forgiveness. I'm glad I caused a few tears, you deserved to shed them, but now I want to kiss them away."

While his colleagues embraced, Billy found himself wrapped snugly in his mother's arms, a soft towel around his torso; his stepmother was gently massaging nanolotion onto his thoroughly-wealed sore buttcheeks. Exhausted, he fell asleep after mumbling only three words.

"Love you both..."

{PART EPILOGUE}

(This Part's setting begins on late morning of the day after Easter, fourteen hours after the conclusion of Part Six, inside a luxury hovercar flying towards Guderian, capital of the planet Vladivost, mid-28th century.)

The first thing that Rebecca had noticed about her daughter, while thanking the parents of the teenager's friend Kima for their hospitality, was that she was wearing a khaki LRDG patrol jacket. The garment had temporaily been borrowed by Nantessa, who'd become emotionally attached to it, during the weekend stay at her friend's house in Clark Center—she'd returned it dutifully but reluctantly to Kima before departing.

"Can I get a jacket like that?" the thirteen-year-old had asked her mother after being maternally hugged and kissed.

The admiral had shrugged noncommitally. "Let me consider it, sweetness."

The athletic brunette had been momentarily stunned, upon deftly vaulting into the oversized hovercar and briefly greeting the three women passengers, to see her younger brother wearing the same model jacket, a facsimile of the type worn by the British Long Range Desert Group during a twentieth-century Terran conflict.

"That jacket," she demanded incredulously, "You've got one, Carltie? From where?"

"It was a present from Montana's family," he replied breezily. "Ummmm, it's nice to see you again too, Nannie."

Nantessa shrugged nonchalantly before leaning down to embrace her sibling, kissing his cheek warmly—then her gaze fell upon Greta, sitting between Carlton and Billy while also wearing an LRDG patrol jacket.

"So, cutie, I see you picked up a girl in Yamamoto—I'm figuring she's yours rather than Billy's, the two of you being dressed as a steady couple." The pretty teenager smiled at the small blonde. "Hi, honey, I'm Nannie."

"This is my classmate Greta," Carlton told his sister, "She joined us for the weekend."

"Sit down, Nannie dear," the admiral instructed, "We're taking off now."

Nantessa promptly picked up her little brother, seated herself in his former spot and plopped him down atop her lap with her arms loosely around his torso.

"So you're the notorious Greta, president of the Order of the Red Bottom in my baby brother's kindergarten class?" She inquired rhetorically. "You're quite the one for getting your bare buns toasted by the teacher, according to Carltie."

The Innocentata chuckled. "It's nice to be well known, especially by your brother's family members, but these two guys are the ones who got their naked fannies royally tanned over the weekend while mine was hardly touched."

"That was hardly unexpected, the boys getting their seats scorched," the thirteen-year-old remarked knowingly, before looking past Greta's head. "So Billy, I see that you survived your Easter punishment day—I'm sure it wasn't a holiday for your bottom though."

"That's putting it mildly," the young penny said ruefully.

Selena turned halfway around in her seat and faced the children sitting behind her. "Billy's mother and I gave his bigoted behind plenty of stinging attention all day, and he also got to experience some wicked butt-whippings during the Easter Egg Hunt." She smirked smugly. "You should've seen his ravaged rump last night, after the nude Kamchatwillow switching we administered to our highly-penitent Penitatas—Ouch!"

"But it's too late to see it now, isn't it?" Nantessa clucked in mock disappointment. "That's nanolotion, producer of snow-white bumcheeks."

"Carltie's chubby caboose doesn't have its naturally-occurring crimson coloration now either," Greta added, her eyes twinkling merrily. "Given his tendency for going bare-bottom-up across female laps, though, its pale complexion is only a temporary condition."

Carlton's face pinkened slightly, but he remembered his recently-taught lesson about rude behavior. "Do you girls have to discuss this now?" he asked plaintively.

His sister playfully ruffled his blond curls. "Don't fret, baby brother, we're only teasing you out of affection—besides, your new girlfriend here has a valid point."

"New girlfriend?" Billy queried uncertainly. "Carltie has an old girlfriend?"

The teenager smiled devilishly. "Montana's her name, Carltie saved her life while risking his as a Starfleet doctor—you know the story."

"You've met Montana?" Greta's eyebrows arched questioningly.

Nantessa nodded. "She visited our quarters one evening, along with her guardian."

"They came for supper?" the Innocentata inquired uncertainly, wondering if she and her parents would ever be invited to dine with the starbase commander's family.

"Not exactly," her classmate replied tersely.

"They dropped by after supper so that Montana's aunt could paddle someone's bare derriere good and hard with a hairbrush." The thirteen-year-old grinned broadly. "Do you need three guesses as to who went on a red-hot trip to Sorebottom City over her knee?"

The blonde giggled. "Was it an adorable little boy with 'Spank-me-ma'am' seat cushions?"

"That wasn't the only spanking dished out that evening," Carlton rejoined pointedly, "Nor the longest one either."

"Double-ouch! Please don't remind me of that, cutie, my beautiful bum-bum cheeks will never forget that night." His attractive sibling shivered briefly. "We dearly love our mother, but when she's targeting our naked fannies with her disciplinary tools it feels like the wrath of the Sacred Feminine herself—right, baby brother?"

"Mommy wallops me harder than anyone else does," he stated, "And I've been punished across the laps of a few ladies who are...well..."

"Proficient paddlers?" Selena suggested smugly. "Superior strappers too?"

"That's right, Aunt Selena," the five-year-old concurred.

"So now she's 'Aunt Selena,' not 'Miss Lamonica' anymore?" Nantessa mused out loud. "Exactly how did you two develop this personal closeness over the weekend, my darling brother?"

"How do you think, Nannie?" the technician asked rhetorically.

Greta chortled. "It involved a leather belt and a wooden hairbrush, I'm pretty sure of that. There was plenty of weeping and wailing, in a little boy's voice, that I heard coming from that bedroom where your brother and Aunt Selena were...interacting, let's say."

The older girl gently squeezed Carlton within her encircling arms."Her belt and spanking brush interacting with his bare bottom, of course." She fondly touseled his blond hair again. "Just out of curiosity, cutie, who else colorized your chubby full moons over the weekend—besides Mom on Sunday morning, that is?"

The boyish blond shrugged. "Ummmm...Aunt Portia was visiting us..."

"She replaced your mother for Carltie's over-the-lap session yesterday morning," the Innocenta elaborated, "Because she claimed that your mother was only giving Carltie a half-hearted paddling. Once that policewoman took over, though, she let him have it on his bare buttcheeks with a vengeance—you should have heard him howl like a banshee, Nannie."

"I have, including quite a few times when he was bent over my own knee," Nantessa reminded the younger girl. "Did she use the wooden cooking spoon, that one with the wide flat back?"

"Yes, exactly." Greta sounded impressed. "How did you know that?"

"It wasn't the first time that Carltie's taken a pants-down ride to Sorebottom City across his Aunt Portia's lap," the thirteen-year-old explained.

"Probably not the last time either," Carlton murmurred, "But she was very nice to me otherwise."

His sister hugged him tightly to her breasts. "It's easy to be sweet to you, cutie, especially when you're blubbering from a good hard butt-whacking. So it was an intensive Sunday morning spanking, huh?"

The Medicalos shuddered in vivid recollection. "That's putting it mildly, Nannie."

What Carlton didn't tell his older sibling at the time was that it had been his last gratuitous prechurch paddling. Earlier that morning, Rebecca had spoken to him privately and informed her ward that there would be no further scheduled fanny-tannings on Sunday mornings; she'd conceded that maintaining the punitive practice had been a mistake based on egotism, i.e. her unwillingness to completely terminate the boy's regularly-assigned chastisements because that might constitute an admission that they should never have been initially instituted on her part.

"Please forgive me for that self-centered attitude, honey," the admiral had apologized, and Carlton had been graciously obliging in that regard. He'd also willingly accepted the other policy revision his maternal guardian had announced, that if he earned a spanking for misbehavior during the week he would be due another red-bottomed shellacking on Sunday morning as a reminder to improve his conduct.

"That's fair enough, Mommy," he'd agreed. "I'll try hard to be good for you."

She'd kissed his lips with motherly affection. "I'm counting on you for that, sweetheart."

Billy was sitting pensively, only half-listening to the conversation taking place around him while reflecting on his own circumstances. He'd managed to survive his first Penitatas punishment day and had even won praise from his parents for his "courage under fire," as the commodore had described his performance under duress during the Egg Hunt. In addition, that morning his mother had informed the boyish penny that his scheduled spankings were to be reduced to one per day, to be administered (on a rotating basis between Lavinia and Selena) just before suppertime—while that would leave him sore-seated during the ensuing meal, he would at least be able to relax somewhat during the evening hours before his bathtime.

"Of course, if you deserve any disciplinary action due to negative behavior," Billly had been maternally warned, "Those bare-behind wallopings will still be delivered with extreme prejudice, honey."

"Yes, Mommy, I know that," the boy had stated simply. "That's how pennies are always treated...but not only pennies." He'd momentarily been thinking of Carlton, whose Medicalos buttcheeks hadn't been spared from their own retribution over the weekend.

The commodore had chuckled at that final qualification, gratified that Selena had 'broken the ice' by very emphatically chastising their son's rejuve compatriot two days earlier—there would certainly be many more cross-household spankings of two little boys' exposed posteriors in upcoming days and weeks, an expectation that satisfied Lavinia considerably. It would be of great long-term benefit her darling son to be corporally corrected across the firm feminine thighs of Rebecca and Nantessa, she felt, and she happily anticipated testing a theory about Billy's 'Personal Paddle'—that it would redden Carlton's light-complected bumcheeks quite attractively, imparting a deep crimson coloration that would glow warmly right through the implement's blue-tinted, transparent lexanite striking surface.

She wouldn't consider paddling the blond kindergartener unless the situation warranted it, the executive officer had told herself—but with the assurance that such a restriction would hardly matter in the long run. In spite of his general politeness and obedience, the five-year-old did seem to find himself bare-bottom-up over womanly laps quite regularly; soon enough, Lavinia had projected, he would find himself the recipient a long, hard fanny-whacking while upended across her own knee.

Selena faced back forward and leaned into her paramour's welcoming body as children's conversation continued, the two girls cheerily chattering away while the boys mostly listened.

Nantessa was impressed to learn that her brother had graciously allowed Greta to cash in their golden egg for the LRDG patrol jacket she was wearing, unaware at the time that he was due to receive one as a gift himself.

"No good deed goes unrewarded, huh, baby brother?" The teenager had bent her head down to lightly kiss his cheek. "You really are such a sweetheart, Carltie—but I'm sure that your girlfriend here was appreciative."

"Naturally," the Innocentata said assuringly, "Although I did have to paddle his sassy bare buttcheeks later for being short-tempered with me."

"You too?" Nantessa snickered. "Was there any female in the house who DIDN'T end up giving you a hot seat en route to Sorebottom City, baby brother?"

"Aunt Rosie," he responded.

"She gave me a few friendly love-pats on the seat of my pajamas," Greta chirped,"But it wasn't even like a playful birthday spanking."

The thirteen-year-old smiled smugly. "Sometimes it's good to be a girl, isn't it?"

"Don't forget my mom," Billy reminded his comrade. "She hasn't punished you yet, Carltie, and she really delivers a wicked butt-blistering."

"Now that Aunt Selena's whipped Carltie in the nude," their girlish fellow rejuve clinically informed the two boys, "It's only a matter of time before each of you gets spanked bare-bottom by the other's mother—so you'll both get to experience the expertise of still another chastising feminine hand, one holding a hairbrush or paddle."

"Something to look forward to," Nantessa agreed breezily. "I'm also figuring that you'll eventually become my honorary brother, Billy, courtesy of my 'Sibling Seat-Sizzler' initiating you into that relationship."

The dark-haired penny sighed in resignation. "I'm guessing that you've inherited your mom's ability as a spanker, Nannie."

"After you've had your naked buttcheeks whacked by both of them," Greta postulated teasingly, "You'll be able to tell for certain."

The two boys fell largely silent after that, each ruefully anticipating the future stinging corrective measures he could expect from his friend's feminine family members, while their undersized comrade described in detail her increasing involvement (first listening, then observing and finally participating) in the trio of bare-bottomed chastisements that Carlton had been subjected to over the weekend.

"My little brother was that rude to you?" His sister demanded incredulously, shaking the five-year-old briefly to regain his full attention. "Carltie, I'm very disappointed in you, misbehaving like that—I'm tempted to put you pants-down over my lap right now and apply my hairbrush plenty hard where it will do you the most good. Remember your first punishment as a rejuve, courtesy of my spanking brush in a hovercar? I'm positive that Mom would give me permission to conduct a repeat performance in this case."

"Please don't, Nannie," Greta interjected quickly. "It's been taken care of already—Carltie's apologized, he's been disciplined and I've forgiven him."

"Okay, if you're satisfied," the older girl relented. "But if it happens again, young man, you'll get double the walloping I'd have given you right now."

Carlton exhaled in relief. "Yes, Nannie, I believe you—but it won't be an issue." He shuddered weakly. "It was being teased at school that I was worried about, I suppose—I was feeling embarrassed about Greta telling my classmates all about what you just heard from her."

"That's silly, sweetie," his kindergarten colleague assured him. "I might let it slip to Montana only, but you'll give her the full story yourself anyway. She'll be sympathetic and consider you a hero for taking Billy's punitive medicine, just like you once took part of hers in class—she'll be right too."

"Sorry, Greta, I should've been more trusting." He slowly shook his head. "I still feel pretty bad about hurting your feelings."

His fellow Medicalos tittered. "But I feel really good about hurting your fanny in return, so it all balanced out in the end."

"I'd say ON the end," Nantessa amended briskly, "Carltie's bright red rear end, that is."

Her brother closed his eyes, hoping that the girlish chatter concerning his recent seat-smackings would cease immediately; having to relive those chastisements via the two young females merrily discussing them was nearly as embarrassing to him (albeit lacking their sharp physical impact) as actually enduring them had been.

Carlton was gratified as the feminine conversation eventually shifted to LRDG patrol jackets, notably their popularity among the children and teenagers of Vladivost and speculation about how the admiral might be persuaded to purchase one for her darling daughter.

Feeling Billy's nudge on his right shoulder, the blond rejuve leaned towards his friend.

"Remember what I told you, Heinie saying that he got only 'ninety percent of the butt-blisterings' at his house?" The young Penitatas spoke in a whisper. "Do you think that it's true, that maybe his tall Commando mother really does spank the other one who likes to be naked? I mean, Sophia's rump is uncovered most of the time anyway at home, so it's usually ready to be whacked by that lexanite paddle..."

Carlton shrugged, remembering how he'd been constantly subject to domestic discipline, applied through spousal 'trips to Sorebottom city,' during his adult courtship and marriage. "It's certainly possible, Billy."

At that moment, inside the Highsmith residence in Patton Place, Heinrich was totally nude and lying upended over the end of his junior bed with a cylindrical 'Bottoms Up' bolster tucked under his abdomen to invitingly elevate his buttocks.

Standing next to her son on his left while attired in her burgundy and gold Starfleet Commando uniform, Marta was wielding the 'Penny Persuader' with great prowess, smacking it forcefully across the penny's quivering, crimson-hued derriere with typical military efficiency. Pressing down on the small of Heinrich's back with her left hand, the powerfully-built woman ignored her corrective victim's desperate wails, spattering teardrops and futile flailing kicks as she continued to plaster his bare gluteal globes, which glowed brilliantly through the transparent polymer striking surface with every resounding crack of the paddle.

At long last the blonde Amazon delivered the final dozen paddywhacks. "I hope... (SMACK!!) that you're...(THWACK!!) finally going to...(WHAP!) learn your lesson...(CRACK!!) about addressing...(WHACK!!) your loving Maman...(SPLAT!!) with nothing...(SMACK!!) but total respect...(WHOP!!) and affection...(CRACK!!) Heinie dear...(THWACK!!) or you'll soon...(WHACK!!) be earning yourself...(SMACK!!) an even harder repeat performance." With grim satisfaction, she smiled down at the bawling, rosy-faced and magenta-bottomed boy. "Have I made myself perfectly clear, young man?"

"Waaahhhuuhhh—Yuuuh-Yes, Mah-Mommy," the blubbering Penitatas affirmed piteously. "Nahhuhhhneh-Never ahuh-again, mah-ma'am."

Reaching down, his mother left-handedly scooped Heinrich up and plopped him unsteadily onto his feet. "Then get that nubbin of a nose into the corner until you're released, baby boy, and don't even consider rubbing your disrespectful little derriere."

"Naaah-No, Mah-Mommy, ahhh-I w-won't," the crying child promised, then he resignedly walked into the near corner, clasped his hands together behind his waist and leaned forward to touch his nose between the joining walls.

"That's one saucy-looking Heinie-hiney sticking out so cutely," Marta noted with amusement. "Keep focused on improving your behavior, darling, while your Maman and I have a meaningful dialogue." She hefted the lexanite paddle, which still had an additional immediate duty to perform—one that would temporarily change its name and function to that of 'Partner Persuader.'

Moments later, the tall blonde gripped the punitive implement tightly as she felt Sophia's nimble fingers lower her Commando uniform trousers and gold-colored panties to mid-thigh level while she was kneeling in a face-down presenting position, her exposed posterior jutting upward and backward, on the edge of the bed.

"My, what a broad bare bottom you have, darling girl," the fully nude plump brunette announced playfully, "It looks solid enough to absorb an intensive long licking with your favorite lexanite spanking paddle. Do you agree with me, love of my life?"

Marta gulped. "Yes, ma'am." She felt her disciplinarian's left hand pressing down on her lower back, forcing her vulnerable, firmly-rounded nether cheeks up even higher.

"So how many whacks did you give Heinie?" her lifemate asked casually.

"Seventy-two, ma'am." The blonde's pale southern hemispheres were quivering apprehensively.

"Then hand me the 'Partner Persuader' and request three times that many hard stingers to be administered to your naughty naked bumcheeks," the nude woman instructed smugly.

The paddle was promptly proferred. "Please give me...ummmm...two hundred sixteen hard spanks...on my naughty naked bumcheeks, ma'am."

Sophia eagerly accepted the wickedly-stinging implement of corporal correction from her submissively-positioned spouse. "With great pleasure, Marta my dear." Taking a well-balanced stance, she pressed the paddle's smooth transparent surface against her spankee's wide-open undercheeks.

"I just love paddling the bare behind of a woman in uniform..."

{THE END}

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