It was a regular day at the Pronghorn Ranch in 1911. Jack Marston, a shy, nerdy, and naive 15-year-old, was busy with his chores. His voice, still caught in the throes of adolescence, was squeaky and unsure.

Duncan Geddes, a year younger but a head taller than Jack, was a stark contrast. He was outgoing, brash, and loved to tease Jack about his dorky tighty whities.

"Hey Jack," Duncan called out, "Your ma still has to write your name on your undies?" His laughter echoed across the ranch, making Jack blush.

Jack didn't respond, instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the ground. Duncan, seeing no reaction, decided to escalate his teasing.

Suddenly, Duncan lunged at Jack, giving him a wedgie. Jack yelped in surprise and discomfort, his face reddening even more.

"You're such a baby, Jack," Duncan sneered, proceeding to put Jack in a spit headlock. Jack squirmed, but his attempts to break free were futile.

Hearing the commotion, Jack's father, John Marston, appeared. His stern gaze fell on the two boys. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice thunderous.

Duncan quickly released Jack, trying to appear innocent. Jack, now free, rubbed his sore backside and tried to steady his breathing.

"Duncan was just..." Jack began but was cut off by his father. "I saw what happened, boy," John said, a note of disappointment in his voice.

John's gaze hardened as he turned to Jack. "I've told you, Jack, you need to stand up for yourself," he said, his words heavy with frustration.

Jack lowered his gaze, shame washing over him. He knew his father was right, but he just couldn't find the courage to fight back.

"Now, go apologize to Duncan," John ordered. Jack's eyes widened in disbelief. "But pa..." he started, only to be cut off by his father's stern gaze.

With a heavy heart, Jack approached Duncan. "I...I'm sorry, Duncan," he muttered, his voice barely audible. Duncan smirked, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

"Now, Jack," John said, "It's time for your punishment." His face was stern as he pulled a chair and motioned for Jack to come over.

Jack obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest. His father pulled down his trousers, revealing his dorky tighty whities. Jack blushed, feeling utterly humiliated.

John placed Jack over his knee and raised his hand. "Count, boy," he ordered. Jack gulped and nodded, bracing himself for the spanking.