The Blister Boyz
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 06 Jul 2010
The Blister Boyz
Ch. 37: Big Brothers
Troy Manning — Heat Blister
Jason Klein — Ice Hazer
David Mercer — Smaqdown
Dennis Lowder — The Humiliator
Walt Hemingway — Major Fry
Brian Tannon — Murky Menace
Jorge Vasquez — Poison Punisher
Keith Grady — The Sticking Point
Vincent returned back to a cheap brownstone in Kings Row where his particular young crew in the Family lived. He hated Kings Row. It wasn't really Family turf (“too downmarket,” Family elders would sniff). Young Family guys looking to prove their worth to the Mafia group were put there to fight against the Skulls street gang. Those who did well would eventually move up in the organization and get work in the Family's turf, starting in Steel Canyon.
Vincent let himself in, preparing to tell his brothers about the crazy paddling scenes he had witnessed earlier that night. However, instead he heard the unmistakable sound of somebody's ass getting torn up with a belt upstairs. What was going on? He headed up to the bedrooms to find Joseph bent over the bed, pants down to his thighs, clutching a pillow and crying, while a white-suited Family enforcer lashed his belt hard against the young man's ass.
“This one has a mouth on him,” the large man muttered as Joseph whimpered and apologized as his red bottom quivered.
“That he does, sir,” Vincent agreed. Joseph didn't grow up in the Family the way Vincent had. Vincent had felt enough slaps across the face and the belt on his ass to know exactly how to treat his elders with preference. Cocky, loudmouthed Joseph was still learning.
“Are you Vinnie?” the man said between lashes.
“The boss sent me to bring you over for a report,” he said. “You learn your lesson, boy?
“YES!” Joseph screamed into the pillow.
WHAP! The belt came down again.
Vincent wondered if the lesson would take this time. Or, thinking over today's activities, maybe Joseph secretly wanted the belt. He stared at Joseph's raw cheeks and wondered what would happen if he took the belt to the boy. Vincent was a year older and about twenty pounds heavier. Maybe it was time for Vincent to start establishing himself as the alpha with his crew, given that he was the one selected for this special mission over these others.
But that was something to think about later. Mr. Marcone was not a man to be kept waiting, unless Vincent was looking for a blistered ass of his own.
Keith had brought Kyle back to his room to chat with him a little bit more about the frat. The sexy tattooed and pierced young skater was unrepentantly flirtatious with the burly hockey player, complimenting his muscular arms and betting he was an excellent paddler.
Keith, who had been bottoming all summer, blushed a bit at the attention. After some relentless “hints” from Kyle — at one point the young man lay on his bed with his ass up in the air looking through Keith's sketchbook — Keith finally realized Kyle wanted him to give him a spanking.
“Well ... I'm supposed to show you what it's like if you join the frat,” Keith said. “They've already agreed that I'll be your big brother if you join, so I'm gonna be the one to give your ass what-for usually.” Now he was glad Jason had let Keith learn how to give decent spankings on his big, tough ass for half the summer.
He needed to let his nerves go, though. He thought a bit about his behavior with Walt — much more confident, but submissive. He needed to channel that attitude, but as the guy in charge, not the sidekick.
“Get up,” he ordered. Kyle noticed the change in tone and stood up, grinning. The boy's crotch bulged in his cargo pants.
“Turn around ... boy,” he said. His own face flushed a bit as he realized he sounded like Walt. Kyle obeyed. Keith stared at Kyle's cute, firm little bottom. Kyle wasn't a big guy, like most of the jocks in the frat. Keith's meaty hands would be able to spank those little cheeks quite soundly. He stepped forward so his muscular bulk was right behind Kyle. He rested his right hand, palm down, on the center of Kyle's rump. The cheeks quivered slightly in anticipation. He wrapped his left arm firmly across the front of the young man's chest and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
“Here's how it's gonna be,” he growled. “Your ass belongs to me now. You aren't a pledge yet, but that don't matter. You. Are. Mine. I will spank your ass when I wanna. I will paddle your ass when I wanna. I'll shove plugs and dildos up there if I wanna. You get no say. You get no mercy. You have five seconds to state any objections.”
He counted to five slowly in his head. Kyle's breathing was heavy and he was pushing his bottom into Keith's hand to show submission. After the time was up, and Kyle said nothing, Keith cupped his hand, getting a good grip, and lifted Kyle up. He sat down on his bed and roughly threw Kyle over his lap. He could feel the hardness of the boy's cock in his lap.
“Now we'll see if you have what it takes to be an Omega boy,” Keith said and smacked his hand hard down across the seat of Kyle's pants. SMACK! He was easily able to spank both Kyle's cheeks with one hand. The boy moaned after the swat, not unlike Jason's reaction to punishment. He set to work spanking Kyle, not holding back.
Kyle's nickname, “Bouncer,” became apparent very quickly. He was a very lightweight guy, which helped him get plenty of air for his skateboarding tricks. It also caused him to bounce in Keith's lap when he was getting spanked. He had seen it in the spanking bet videos Kyle had posted online, but he never had the experience first-hand until tonight. At first he was holding Kyle firmly down with his left hand on his back, but decided to let up just a bit and enjoy Kyle bouncing up and down with the smacks.
The bouncing also caused the boy's cock to rub against Keith's thighs as he got spanked, which contributed to the moaning. Kyle was suffering through the delicious contradictory feelings of pleasure and pain as he got spanked.
After a few minutes of preliminary spanking fun, Keith stopped and yanked down Kyle's pants. He wore plaid boxers underneath.
“No, no, those are all wrong,” Keith said. “We're jocks. We wear jocks. You wanna be one of us, you gotta wear a jock, too. Understand?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“You say, 'Yes, Big Brother,'” Keith said.
“Yes, Big Brother.”
“And when I tell you you did something wrong you say, 'I'm sorry, Big Brother. Please punish me, Big Brother.' Got it?”
“Yes, Big Brother.”
“I'm sorry, Big Brother. Please punish me, Big Brother.”
“You learn fast. Let's take care of these, first” He grabbed the seat of the boxers in both hands and pulled hard, ripping them away and exposing a firm, tight, pink bottom. He set to spanking again, enjoying the feel of his palms hard against Bouncer's bare skin.
“Oh. Oh. Oh,” Kyle moaned softly after each hard smack, bouncing even faster on Keith's lap. It wasn't Jason's uncontrollable moaning, but there was no disguising his desire to have his ass smacked. Actually, Keith thought, Kyle's eroticization of his punishment reminded him of Jorge.
After a good ten minutes of hard spanking, Keith stopped and began massaging Keith's red cheeks. The young man's cock had remained rigidly hard the whole time, nestled against Keith's thigh, now that his boxers had be ripped away. Keith strongly suspected the next stage would end with Kyle's jizz in his lap.
“You're gonna get this ass of yours spanked every single day as a pledge, you realize that, boy?”
“Yes, Big Brother.”
“There's not gonna be any concern about whether you're in the mood, or if you already got spanked because you lost a bet. Understand?”
“Yes, Big Brother.” He moaned as Keith kneaded his cheeks roughly.
“Speaking of bets, I'm gonna be overseeing those and making sure you do at least one boarding bet a week for the fans. And we're going to be upgrading the punishment should you lose.”
“Yes, Big Brother.”
“In fact, I'm gonna introduce you to it now.” He leaned over to his cluttered table at the end of the bed. He pulled off two objects, Bouncer watching him over his shoulder, prone across his lap still.
One was a remote control for his stereo. The other was the first paddle that would be lighting up Kyle's ass. After years of perfecting the hazing process, Omega knew how to introduce hard-core paddling into a young man's life without scaring him away. These first paddles (nicknamed “smackers”) were a little bit shorter than a typical frat paddle, thin and lightweight. They stung pretty fiercely, but not too hard and it didn't linger. If David's paddle was like a jalapeno pepper applied to the ass, these paddles were like a dose of wasabi. The smack was pretty loud, so it sounded a lot worse than it felt. It was too light to cause welting or bruising. An inexperienced bottom could take some pretty lengthy paddlings with them, and a top could really lay the swats down on a newbie without breaking him. They helped build up confidence in the pledges that they'll be able to take the harder paddlings when the time comes.
Keith rested the paddle on Kyle's warm bottom while he fiddled with the remote control.
“So I understand we're a bit of a ska punk fan, right? I like it, too. It's got a good beat, and you can spank to it.” He turned on his stereo and clicked play. Kyle wiggled a bit when he recognized the band.
“Reel Big Fish,” he said. “Nice!”
“Oh we'll see how nice it is in about three minutes, won't me?” Keith said. And with that, he cracked the smacker right across Kyle's cheeks. WHACK! The sound echoed off the walls.
“OOH!” Kyle yelped as he bounced in Keith's lap. Keith went back to work, smacking him hard with the light paddle and enjoying the feel of the boy bouncing in his lap. Kyle's moans and bounces slowly turned to whimpers and squirming through the song. His bottom brightened to a sexy scarlet red, and he clutched onto Keith's calf with his right hand for balance as he tried to adjust to the new intensity of his punishment.
“Yeah, that's right. Lookit you bounce, boy,” Keith growled. Kyle writhed and bucked on Keith's lap, but interestingly, not in a way that interfered in Keith's ability to smack the paddle down across the skater boy's backside. Kyle's moans were nearly rivaling Jason's by the end of the song, an after Keith laid down a good hard swat across both cheeks, Kyle shuddered uncontrollably and Keith felt the wet warmth on his thigh and grinned. He made Kyle cum without even touching his cock. He was going to have a very, very fun fall semester.
Jason sat nearby as Ryan sorted through his bags in his temporary bedroom. Officially, once he was a pledge, Ryan would be sleeping on cots in the basement with the other guys. But until then, the brothers were at least giving him a decent room to sleep in. A polite touch, given they were already hazing the hell out of his big round bottom.
Ryan's face was red and his ass was redder, but he was grinning his gentle grin. It was exactly like Jason's, so if their massive size didn't give away the fact they were brothers, their friendly, open faces sure did.
Ryan was currently just in his jockstrap after his punishment in the basement, but he was pulling out some clothes. Jason raised his eyebrows at the pile of denim coming out of a large dufflebag.
“You didn't ... did you bring them?” Jason asked.
“Sure did, bro,” Ryan said as he separated out one pair of denim overalls and began to shimmy into them. “I gotta be me. Everybody remembers me for the overalls.”
Indeed they did. Ryan wore overalls all the time. It started, of course, on the farm. The other Klein brothers were quick to be rid of them once they grew up, but not Ryan, for a reason particular to him. Ryan had these overalls specially made. They fit his large frame perfectly, clinging to the massive muscles of his chest, thighs, calves, and ass.
They also, and this was the important part, had the old-fashioned rear end butt flap. The flap was closed with a couple of snaps, and he had the flap designed as tight a fit as possible. It strained to stay closed over his big round cheeks. And because he wore a jock strap underneath, opening the flap exposed his bare bottom. He was known for his regular “wardrobe malfunctions,” a snap occasionally popping loose and exposing a tantalizing view of his muscular bottom. Ryan played dumb about it, but Jason knew full well this was intentional.
The main reason for the butt flap was to allow easy exposure for discipline. Ryan craved lots of discipline. He didn't misbehave the way Brian did to get it and he didn't need it to focus the way Jason did. He was just very insistent on his need to have his backside paddled and strapped in order to “improve the quality of his performance” and he was very aggressive in getting it. He started a small business as a teen in Nebraska as a handyman doing home repairs. He guaranteed his work with his own ass should anything he repaired broke. His toolbox contained not just the typical hammers, wrenches and pliers, but a collection of paddles and straps for use by any unhappy customers. Not only did he guarantee his work, he guaranteed an arrival time, a work time, and an estimate. Whenever he deviated from his promises he explained to his customers they were entitled to punish him as they saw fit. Many men in their Nebraska farm town had bent Ryan over a fence or sofa, pulled open that rear flap on his overalls, and punished him firmly for any mistake and he thanked them profusely for it.
He dressed in the overalls with a simple white T-shirt, looking like the innocent corn-fed country bumpkin he liked to portray. It was a bit deceptive, of course. All the Klein brothers were very smart, despite their modest backgrounds. Ryan was planning to go for his MBA and wanted to open his own business in Paragon City. He had confided in Jason that his fantasy was to turn his guaranteed repair “business model” into a larger company, perhaps with the help of some other “like-minded” brothers who could fill out a pair of overalls. The two of them had laughed when they talked about this plan a year ago, but now Jason realized it might well be a viable business model in Paragon City.
“I will be offering all my repair services and the guarantee of course to all my new bros,” Ryan said, fastening the butt flap closed.
“You know that flap is going to open again probably 30 seconds after I leave you for the night,” Jason joked. They both laughed. “The football team nearly came to blows over who would get to be your big brother. Troy ultimately had to step in and made a special rule just for you. All the football players in Omega Upsilon Chi will be your collective 'big brother' as a pledge.”
“Ooh, that's gonna be a lot of hazing,” Ryan said, rubbing his already sore backside. Nevertheless, his grin widened to a full smile.
“Don't be afraid to say something to me or Troy if the punishment gets too out of hand,” Jason said. “It's okay if you can't sit. But if you start to have trouble walking, that's just too much. These guys can get pretty enthusiastic.”
“Naw, I'll be fine,” Ryan said. “And I've got plugs and condoms if they want to punish me in other ways.” Behind Ryan's innocent façade was a relentless power bottom. Men could do pretty much anything to his ass and he would enjoy it. The frat's “no means no” sex rule didn't matter to Ryan because he never said no.
Nevertheless, Jason's protective instincts came into play with Ryan. It was the same for his other two brothers. Despite the fact that the three of them used to beat Ryan's ass all the time and Ryan didn't ever mind, and despite the fact that Jason was mostly a bottom himself, he wanted to make sure Ryan wasn't “taken advantage of.” Well, not too much, anyway.
“Just pace yourself a bit,” Jason said. “You're not like us. You can't just —” he cut himself off, forgetting that Ryan had no idea about the frat's big secret, that they all have powers that let them take on unlimited punishment.
“What do you mean, 'I'm not like you?'” Ryan asked.
“I just mean, yeah, you got paddled and strapped plenty back home, but here it's just so much more,” Jason recovered. “Even your ass has limits. Ease into it. It's a marathon, my spank horse bro. Not the Kentucky Derby.”
“Yeah, but a horse needs to be driven, you know?” Ryan said. “I think I packed a riding crop.” The two of them laughed.
“Okay bro, try to get at least some rest,” Jason said, getting up. Ryan flopped down on his bed with his ass up in the air.
“I'm sure I'll manage an hour or two. See you in the morning.”
Jason let himself out of the room and sure enough, there were two football players waiting down the hall, watching the door intently. They were holding their paddles. Jason sighed and threw up his hands.
“Okay, guys, he's all yours, but I want him down for breakfast no later than 9 a.m.!” he said walking away down the hall. The two men barged into the room and Jason heard the unmistakable sound of two snaps coming undone within seconds. A few moments later, the loud CRACK! of a paddle swat echoed down the hall. He shook his head, but then realized he'd be sharing Ryan's pain soon. He was going to have Troy blister his own ass for nearly giving up their secret on Ryan's very fist night here.
Troy, meanwhile, was in a Blister Boyz meeting with Walt and Dennis in Walt's room. As per Walt's agreement with Dennis following the events of Oranbega, he was giving one of his regular reports in his efforts to track down Andrew Porter's would-be assassin. Failure to make progress in the case meant a blistering punishment session across Dennis's knee.
Walt and Keith (as Major Fry and the Sticking Point) had been making some strategic strikes against small groups of the Tsoo in Steel Canyon to see if anybody was willing to talk. Troy had asked why the entirety of the Blister Boyz couldn't be brought to bear. Walt had responded that making it look as though the whole team had set their sights on the massive criminal organization would likely result in an organized response that could overwhelm them. Smaller raids on individual groups would be brushed off as “typical” superhero sweeps.
So the two of them had taken down a couple of crews and paddled their backsides firmly, Major Fry applying some additional electrical shocks to their bottoms and Sticking Point leaving behind some quills as “souvenirs.” Unfortunately nobody would spill any information. The men they had taken down claimed to have no idea what they were talking about and insisted, even after some serious paddlings, they didn't know about any contracts on Andrew.
“I have to admit, sirs, that I still am no closer to determining who is responsible on the attack on Andrew or why,” Walt said, standing at attention. “I have one more group I want to target, sirs. If you want to punish me now for my failure, I will understand, sirs. But I would ask just one more chance, sirs.”
“What do you think, Dennis?” Troy asked.
“Are the men you took down in jail?” Dennis asked.
“Yes, sir. Each were wanted for other crimes, sir. Several felonies.”
“Well, I won't call it a total failure then,” Dennis decided. “Even though you haven't uncovered Andrew's attacker, you're helping keep the city safe. I will give you one more chance.”
“Sir, thank you, sir. I have one request, sir,” Walt said.
“I want The Sticking Point to return to his studies, sirs. He needs to get his grades up and I want to limit his distractions. I was wondering if you and Smaqdown could accompany me for this last mission. Smaqdown can help me fight and I was hoping you could use your skills to determine whether we're being lied to. If these men are telling the truth, I'm completely on the wrong track and I need to figure out a completely new direction.”
“He makes good points,” Troy said. “You and David help him out. I want Keith succeeding if he's going to help you out after Walt and I graduate.”
“Help me out?” Dennis asked
“The frat vice president is typically a bottom,” Troy said. “And as you're one of the two men Keith looks to for discipline, it seems like it might make a good match. But we'll just have to see if he thrives this school year.”
Vincent was driven over to Independence Port in a black sedan with tinted windows. Independence Port was the seat of the Family's power and it was extremely rare of somebody of Vincent's low rank to be brought here. He tried not to let his nerves show.
The Family enforcer (who never told Vincent his name) escorted the young man into a warehouse. There, Renaldo Marcone sat waiting for him at a table, flanked by two Family bodyguards. Mr. Marcone smiled at him and gestured for him to sit.
“Vincent Capresi is it?” Marcone said. “Your dad and I go back a ways. How are things for them over in Atlas Park?”
“They're doing pretty well, sir. Can't complain.” Vincent sat down, trying to keep his voice from cracking out of nervousness. Renaldo Marcone has had guys iced for disappointing him.
“I'm very curious about your experience this evening,” Marcone said. “How is college life these days?”
“It was a bit ... unusual ... sir.” Vincent said. “These men were not quite what I'm expecting.” Marcone responded with a booming laugh. He knew much more about Paragon City than Vincent did. He was not as surprised.
“A bit odd to find out that the sports jocks that folks all idealize are all a bunch of homo perverts?” Marcone said. Vincent blushed at Marcone's bluntness.
“It was a bit surprising to see how much they are into punishing each other. They really like pain. I saw Terrell Jackson get his butt paddled raw!”
“Their star player? They're not kidding about it, are they?” Vincent shook his head no.
“Let me ask you,” Marcone said, dropping his voice down. “Do you think they're that much different from us?”
The question brought Vincent up short. He thought about the belt. He had felt the belt on his backside quite a bit. And just earlier he was thinking about the idea of using it on Joseph. And then there was the “stuff” the Family never talked about. There weren't any women in the Family. There were quite a few “encounters” heard of and occasionally witnessed, which were waved away with a simple “Boys will be boys.”
“To succeed you have to be driven,” Marcone said. “Football players are driven. The Family is driven. The paddle ... the belt. We are not so different, see?” Vincent nodded.
“Do you think you could fit in there?” Marcone asked. “This is gonna be a long project. We need to set ourselves up for years to come if we want to take advantage of these jocks. There's a lot of money here. This will make you, boy.”
“I can fit in there, sir,” Vincent said. The paddles didn't really bother him, and he did had to admit he found himself drawn to Jorge. Pledging will be frustrating, but he'd endured plenty worse from his father. He was more concerned about those fucking machines they made up. He had never had anything up his ass before.
“Good, good, good,” Marcone said. He snapped his fingers at one of the bodyguards, who handed a small narrow box over to him. “We've been hearing good things about you, Capresi. Hard worker. Keeps his head down. Knows an opportunity when he sees one. I think it's time to set you on your path. He handed the box over the table to Vincent.
“A ... gift?” Vincent asked nervously. “I mean, thank you, sir. I'm not worthy.” He pulled the lid off the box. Inside was a thick black leather belt.
“That's imported Italian leather right there,” Marcone said. “It's what we all wear, at least those of us with a future. And when it's well-cared-for, it's perfect for motivational purposes.”
“Thank you, sir. It's an honor!”
“I'm putting you in charge of the boys at your place in Kings Row,” Marcone said. “This is a big responsibility. They've been slacking off and we're not gaining any ground against the Skulls there. I am not happy. I want you to take that belt tonight and apply some motivation to each of those boys in the house, understood? Show them you're in charge.”
“Yes, sir!” Vincent's eyes widened. He could feel a bit of stirring at the idea of punishing the other guys. He was very glad the warehouse wasn't well lit. Leaving might be embarrassing otherwise.
“And I want to see a five percent increase in revenue from Kings Row by the end of the month, or I'll be using my belt on you, am I understood?” Marcone warned.
“And you wouldn't want that, what with all the paddlings you're about to get, right?”
“You infiltrate this frat, you'll do the Family proud, boy. You'll be set up for life.”
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