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After the dressing down in the principal's office I finished out the first week of school wearing a pair of the previous years long school pants. An advantage with shorts is that height increases don't have much effect on appearances. This is not the case with long pants where my additional two inches of growth caused my outfit to scream LAST YEARS- OUTGROWN. The only long pants I owned at this point the fitted me properly was the second pair of Levi's, the mate to the pair dad had burned when we stopped at the dump when we came home with the pile of balloons and old style scout uniforms back in June. Dad never permitted me to wear blue jeans to school because only the farm boys who couldn't afford dress slacks wore them. As a result I was over joyed on Saturday morning when Dad took me to the haberdashers in town, the only store that carried pants that would fit me.

Needless to say their goods were much higher quality and price than the chinos he normally bought me at the department store in the city; but he didn't want to spend the half a day the trip would have consumed. Normally my school wardrobe junket would have been the weekend before school started; but we didn't go because dad had blown yearly clothing budget buying the dozens of old Boy Scout uniforms the department store was trying to unload when we had been in the city to get carnival supplies in June. At that time he was hell bent on forcing me to wear shorts year round.

I still didn't know if dad had really thought I was going to survive wearing short pants my junior year of high school. He obviously allowed for this contingency because he had cleared it with the powers that be at the high school. As we drove to town he informed me he would buy me two pair of properly fitting long pants that were closely color coordinated to the scout shirt I was wearing because he expected me to at least wear the dozen or so short sleeve scout shirts to school. He would also get me two white dress shirts for Sunday wear.

Since of course I was clad in my shorts and knee socks, when we arrived the store owner couldn't help making wise ass remarks relative to my passage from boyhood to manhood because dad was getting me long pants to wear, even though he knew both of us and had seen me hundreds of times previously over the years in long pants. Because his pants were all custom fitted dad would have to pick them up Monday so I would have to wear my outgrown last years school pants one more day. I think they actually made me feel more self conscious than wearing the shorts did.

The following Friday we had our first home football game scheduled. I normally didn't attend the games because I had no means of transportation; but this one would be special because the men in town had installed lights at the football field that summer and this would be our school's first night game on their own turf. I was really curious as to how well such a large area could be lit. So when a couple of guys that had access to wheels said they would be happy to pick me up and take me I jumped at the chance without considering the ramifications of dad's imposed wardrobe would have on me. It didn't hit me until one of them mentioned they did not want to take me along if I was planning on wearing shorts to the game. I suddenly realized I didn't want to be going either; I surely would have gotten beat on.

Thursday night I mentioned my friends invite to dad and he had no problem with me going. I had a problem, however, because he and my step mom would be home when I left and would surely take note of my properly covered legs. I would have plenty of time to arrive home and get them off before they got back from their Friday night outing at the club. I would be in great shape if I could get out of the house without them seeing me.

As usual I changed into my scout play shorts as soon as I got home from school; but after supper I had to scoot up to my room where I donned my Levi's because the guys would be picking me up a few minutes soon after we finished eating. I waited upstairs until I heard them pull up in their car. I planned to quickly hot foot it through the house and out to the safety of the waiting car, but Dad was in the living room reading the paper and he glared at me over the top of the page as I hastily said "Bye." My enjoyment of the outing was tempered by my concern about what he would have to say Saturday morning.

The next morning my step mom was up and about when I came down for breakfast so our conversation only dealt with how well the lighting system worked and how poorly our inept football squad performed. To get my concerns out of the way so I could hopefully enjoy the rest of the nice fall day I made a point of going out to our barn where dad could freely discuss what I was afraid was on his mind.

Dad didn't waste any time following me outside so I knew it was going to be serious. The fact that I had actually had guts enough to wear a scout uniform to school had surprised him and had cemented his suspicions that I enjoyed shorts for reasons other than they were cool, comfortable, and made an outlandish fashion statement. He opened the conversation by remarking that I had worn my blue jeans to the game and he wondered why; since I had committed to wearing shorts instead of long pants. I still didn't recall back in June saying I never would wear long pants as a requisite to his buying me all the scout shorts, so I simply told him the guys wouldn't have taken me if that's what I had been wearing. He smiled as he said, "I don't blame your buddies. I'm sure most people think that you do look a bit silly wearing knee pants because they think you are too old to be showing off your good looking legs most places in public. But you are not going to have it both ways. If you won't wear your damn shorts in public, then you aren't going to wear them down in the woods when you are playing with yourself."

I suddenly felt by balls beginning to ache. I had made a point of stashing a portion of my shorts and balloons in a secure hiding place in the barn just in the event dad demanded a seek and destroy mission on my fetishes; so no matter what he required me to do I would be at least somewhat covered. I cringed, though, at the thought of all my nice loose fitting scout shorts with all the fun and enjoyment they had in them going up in a blaze of glory.

In a stern voice dad continued, "Now I want you to think real good about your silly immature sexual play. The effect it is having on you, and the effect it is having on our family. Then if you still want to continue with this foolishness I want you to bring me every last pair of long pants you have except for the ones for school; which you will only wear to school. Otherwise....," his voice trailed off. I didn't have to guess the implication of 'otherwise'. Bye bye shorts.

"I'm taking your mother and brother down to her mothers and I want your decision by the time I get back, boy," Dad snapped as he turned away. Whenever dad called me 'boy', he was displeased big time.

They were only going about a mile and a quarter down the road so I figured I had fifteen minutes maximum to make my decision and produce something for him to destroy. I ran into the house and up to my room. If I relinquished my shorts as he wanted I still had sufficient to use hidden separately away, but I would surely get caught wearing them under my 'longies'. In any case he was sure to ask if I had given him every last pair and I had never lied to him ever in the past, and I knew I wouldn't be able to now. I knew it wasn't the decision he wanted but the ache in my balls just wouldn't be satisfied unless I tried to save my beloved fetishes, so I quickly gathered up every pair of long pants that I owned, save for the two we had just bought, hauled them downstairs and stuffed them into two grocery bags.

When he got home and walked in the house Dad simply said, "Do you have your stuff that you need to get rid of ready to take out to the incinerator?"

I nodded in the affirmative and apprehensively showed him the bag in which I had purposely placed the blue Levi's on top so he would know immediately my decision. He glanced in and offhandedly remarked, "Good. I see you have made a poor decision. One of many you will undoubtedly make during your lifetime. You realize how cold your pretty knees are going to get this winter, don't you?"

I was about to tell him that school boys in England wore shorts in the winter, at least I thought they did, but it was obvious he wasn't interested in me expressing continued interest in being a boy so I opted for, "Hey dad. All the girls in school go around all winter with bare knees. Don't you think mine are tough enough to take it."

He shot back, "You do have a point there. I'm sure they are; and take it they will."

I grabbed the two bags of pants and headed for the kitchen door but he stopped me with, "Hold on boy. Now I want you to think real hard one more time. Do you have anything else that you really don't need that should be destroyed while we are getting rid of your pants?"

Oh geeze. He surely wasn't thinking about the eighty or more pairs of gym and scout shorts at this point since I had to have some pants to wear. No question he was alluding to my balloon stash as well.

I only had a couple of neckerchiefs, which it this point had achieved fetish status along with my shorts and knee socks; but they would be a small price to pay to save my balloons. Dad had mentioned on several occasions he thought I looked really silly wearing them, and although I knew damn well they were not what he was referring to, I off handily said, "Since you think they look silly I'll get the neckerchiefs too."

Dad scowled at me, "Nooo. They go with those pretty scout shorts and knee socks you will be wearing all the time, and you will be wearing those neck rags as well. Actually I was thinking, seeing as you are now sixteen years old, that maybe you might have some rubber children's toys that you have no use for. I know you enjoy watching rubber burn and all those old balloons that you really don't need any longer will burn real easy. I know for myself I would really like to watch them go up in smoke. Wouldn't you?"

Hell no, I thought. My balls literally felt like lead weights hanging between my legs. The fact that he had allowed me to get them from the novelty supply house to begin with; and even allowed me to have the balloons left over from the carnival had simply amazed me. He was obviously having second thoughts after our sexually stimulating balloon play together up on the mountain a month or so earlier. My first thought was to point out that he unquestionably enjoyed blowing up and popping balloons; but he already felt heavy guilt for my fetish as it was, so involving him in any defense of my toys would have sealed their fate immediately.

Dad's question demanded an answer, and having no viable defense I simply said, "I'm sorry dad, I'm just not ready to give them up. I will take every precaution to insure no one finds out, especially little brother."

Dad paused then turned away, "That's the second poor decision you have made this morning. Maybe, since you really aren't as mature as your age would suggest, I should still be making important decisions for you like I did when you were the proper age to be wearing short pants. But you are sixteen now and you should be mature enough to realize the consequences of your decisions. And there will be lifelong consequences, and I just don't just mean getting ridiculed and razzed by other guys. Continued sex play with balloons will make it very difficult later for you to have a loving relationship with a girl. So if you are not ready to destroy your silly balloons let's at least go out back and get rid of these long pants you no longer want to wear."

Since I was genuinely ashamed to wear the outgrown pants to school I wasn't really opposed to getting rid of them. I grabbed the second bag of pants and followed my father toward the door. As he was about to open it he paused, turned, and giving me a half grin said, "While we are in the process of burning your long pants would you indulge your old man in just one thing?"

With some reservation I replied, "Sure."

I was hoping I was safe as far as my main supply of fetishes was concerned but his phraseology indicated he wanted me to sacrifice something else to the flames. "What is it you want?"

"Well, I would really like to see just how easily one of your nice well worn pair of Boy Scout shorts and as well as a  pair of those gym shorts you salvaged from school burn," Dad remarked.

Then as an afterthought he added, "Then we can both enjoy seeing what you really should do to all the rest of them."

Even though I had dozens of both types of shorts, the thought of even one of them them just wontedly being destroyed added additional stimulation to my balls which felt like they were about to explode as it was.

I handed him the bag I was holding and ran up stairs to fetch the shorts he wanted to see burned. Fortunately I had just dumped a pair of well worn scout shorts that were beginning to get thin and were just about shot anyway in the dirty clothes hamper the day before. I fished them out and grabbed a pair of white school logo gym shorts that had another kids name on it out of my drawer and raced downstairs. Dad was already half way up the yard toward the barn by the time I caught up with him.

We walked in silence around to the back of the barn to our trash incinerator. I was hoping he wasn't just going to dump the clothing in and put a torch to it. Watching stuff burn always sexed me up, even if the item wasn't a fetish. Watching my balloons or shorts burn would really really sex me up big time.

It wasn't a windy day so I was hoping that Dad would have me hang up the long pants and shorts and we could watch them go up in a blaze of glory as my jeans had done up at the dump. However, because it was fall, burning anything outside the confines of the incinerator could potentially spark a fire in the dry grass nearby.

No such luck. When we reached the incinerator Dad took the hoe and cleaned out the ash from the previous burn. He then shook out each pair of long pants, except for the pair of Levi's that were on top that he tossed on the ground, and carefully dropped them in one by one so there would be a minimum of compacting allowing them to burn better. With all my school and play long pants piled in the firebox Dad reached in his pocket and handed me his cigarette lighter; indicating that since it was my stuff I should apply the flame. The clean out door on the front permitted the flame from the lighter to be applied to the bottom of whatever was in the incinerator. I allowed the flame to play over the khaki of one of my pairs of chino school pants. It quickly turned black as the flames licked upward to the many folds of fabric above. I closed the door as I watched wisps of whitish smoke rise from the incinerator's short smoke stack.

I turned my attention toward my father, desperately hoping he was going to spare my jeans that he had tossed aside so I would have at least one pair of long pants for occasions when I might get a chance to go out with my friends. No such luck. He was rigging some poles so that the hapless pants would hang with the legs straight down so they would burn the same way as their mate had up at the dump. It took him awhile, but with the help of some wire he had the waist band hanging horizontally from a pole. This burn wouldn't be quite as much fun as the previous pair because I didn't have a balloon to stuff in the seat of the pants to open them up as we had that last time. Dad motioned me to apply the lighter to the hems of the dangling legs.

I held the lighter flame to the bead hem at the end of the one leg, and as soon as I saw that the flame had eaten through it and had access to the vertical heavy denim I moved the flame to the other leg. To get the most satisfying destructive effect both legs should burn upward evenly, meeting in the seat part of the pants. However to get this to work at all well you need to use two lighters, one for each pant leg. Notwithstanding the staggered start, there wasn't too much difference in the time the ravenous flames reached the crotch of the pants. At this point with each leg acting like a chimney, the rising superheated air raised the front and the seat of the jeans to the ignition point. Suddenly the whole upper half of my remaining longies exploded in orange flames. As much as I tried to control it as I watched the flames devour my pants, my dick was on the rise. My tough 14 ounce Levi's lasted less than two minutes. At that point all that was left was a section of the waist and the fly area that were still blazing away on the ground.

Dad used the gym shorts to knock out the flames on the pole which had started to burn, and when it had cooled after a  minute or so, he started hanging them up along with the scout shorts. The shorts were spaced sufficiently far apart that they could be burned independently. As he was working dad commented that they would burn so fast that he would hang them both up at the same time. When he was finished I looked at him and said, "Which ones do you want to see go first?"

He shot back, "Start with the gym pants you like whacking off in."

Ow, his comment hurt; true as it was.

As I was about to apply the lighter I realized that once the flame got through the half inch hem the thin cotton would burn so fast that there was no way I could get the short full cut legs to burn at all evenly. I mentioned this to dad and he suggested I get some kerosene from the barn and use it to soak just the hems of each leg. Then the shorts would ignite immediately, and moreover the flame would quickly spread around the entire bottom of each leg before heading up the vertical wall of thin cotton. Man this would really send my shorts up in flames with a whoosh.

When I returned with the kerosene I gathered each leg of the gym shorts into a bundle and dunked the good thirty inch length of each hem line into the kerosene. This time when I applied the lighter I just had to touch the flame to the outside and inside of each leg's hem to ignite the shorts. The flames quickly spread around the kerosene soaked hem forming a ring of flames that hungrily raced up the thin white cotton. In less than twenty seconds the entire body of the gym shorts had turned to black ash in a blaze of flame that quickly devoured the heavier elasticized waist band. The tinges of black smoke indicated the rubber in the waist was going and a moment later the waist band drooped as the rubber succumbed to the flames.

Except for some still flaming chunks of the heavier waist that were still burning on the ground, the gym shorts were gone in less than forty seconds. By this point my dick was at full staff and oozing. I wasn't sure I wouldn't shoot off in my shorts while I was standing there. And we still had the pair of scout shorts I had spent countless stimulating hours wearing to finish off.

I dunked the leg hems of the scout shorts into the kerosene as I had the gym pants. The scout shorts had a wider hem and it soaked up more of the kerosene. Again as I applied the lighter the hems quickly ignited and formed a ring of flame that licked it's way up the longer legs of the shorts. My balls felt like they were going to explode as the flames turned the faded light green cotton into black ash ahead of the licking flames. My attention was riveted on the destruction of my fetish and I didn't see dad move up behind me. As the front and seat of the shorts were engulfed in flames he reached around and grabbed the bulge in the front of my shorts and began to give it a gentle massage. I didn't care. There was no way I could have held back in any case. I just exploded right into the gym shorts I was wearing as underpants.

"I see you really enjoy watching your fetishes burn. Maybe you should torch them all and really jack yourself to death," Dad commented sarcastically.

I was having such an orgasm I just let his stinging words float right over me.

"Actually this is exactly why I am not getting rid of your silly clothes and toys," he continued. "Only you can really give up your sexual attraction for balloons and short pants so that you can truly destroy your fetishes in your mind."

We stomped out the remaining embers of the jeans and shorts that had burned and then waited around for the pants in the incinerator to finish burning to insure that there was nothing that could start a grass fire. When everything was secure we then headed back to the house. On the way dad suggested that I had better get out of my wet shorts and to be sure to rinse them out so my step mom wouldn't see any signs of sex juice stains. Rev. Date: 3/03.
<Continue to Later Years #16>

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