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: 09 Jul 2010
Blister Boyz — Ch. 40: Nightmare at Omega House (part 1)
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
In the basement of the Omega Upsilon Chi compound, it was time to make it all official.
Ten college freshmen were lined up in the basement, ready to officially become pledges. They were already dressed in their mandatory uniform for when they were inside the compound: A red baseball cap with the frat's letters on them, a jock strap with the frat's letters on the front and the word “PLEDGE” written on the back waist strap, a pair of sneakers and gym socks, and that was it. Vulnerable and exposed, they would be spending the next eight weeks with their asses hanging out so their brothers could test their limits and willingness to accept discipline.
It was a really good crop this year, the brothers all agreed. They always got a ton of guys interested. But often, once they discovered exactly how committed the frat was to hazing and the discipline lifestyle, they decided maybe they weren't as much into the scene as they thought. They only had two who declined a pledge invitation this time.
Vincent, Ryan and Kyle stood there with the seven other pledges. Vincent was a bit nervous and tried not to let it show. He was certain at some point somebody would point to him and yell “Liar!” and reveal that he was only joining the frat as part of some plot the Family was involved in. He even started to feel a little guilty. He hoped whatever the Family ultimately did with the frat didn't screw them over too bad, but he wasn't going to give up his one chance to make a name for himself.
Jorge did bring Vincent back to his room a couple of days ago. He gave Vincent a few swats “for the sake of propriety” he said. As Vincent's big brother, Jorge would be obligated to punish him now and then. Vincent found the paddle swats to not be as bad as he feared, compared to the belt. But he suspected guys like Troy and David were going to pack a little more muscle with their swats. Jorge also let Vincent paddle him, which was a lot more fun. Jorge gave Vincent some tips to make sure the swats landed squarely and equally and after a good ten minutes, he had paddled Jorge's smooth brown bottom good and red.
“Brothers!” Troy declared as the actives all filed into the basement, all wearing official robes and holding their paddles.“We are here to welcome a new group to our brotherhood, here to prove that they have what it takes to be Omega men!”
The brothers all cheered and applauded.
“What builds strength?” Troy yelled.
“DISCIPLINE!” The brothers called back.
“How do we break down barriers?”
“What makes us men!”
“DISCIPLINE!” The chant was followed with more cheers.
“Omega indicates an end,” Troy said. “The joke is, of course, that it refers to our rear ends and our obsessions with them.” The brothers and even the pledges laughed.
“But it also refers to the end of one part of your life and the beginning of another. You will no longer be spanked like naughty little boys. You will be disciplined like full-grown men. It will be intense. It will challenge you. You will be tested. You will be humiliated. You will be broken down and will submit. Then you will learn more about yourself. You will realize why you came here and you will know where discipline fits into your life. And you will become part of a brotherhood nearly as old as this country. You will have friends – brothers — who understand you for the rest of your life. You will find your place in this world. We guarantee it.”
The silence spun out for a few moments for Troy's message to sink in.
“Applicants, raise your right hand and repeat after me.” The pledges all did so. “I hereby submit to membership in Omega Upsilon Chi. I pledge to accept the authority of the officers and brotherhood of the house and to submit to all demands. I understand and accept that discipline and submission will play a significant role in my life from this point forward. I strive to learn from my brothers what the extent of this role will be.” The ten pledges repeated the oath.
“Good. Assume the position. You will each receive five swats from our formal Omega paddles. One from myself, as the current president; one from David, the pledgemaster; one from Dennis, the Rush Chairman; and two from your designated big brother. Once these swats have been administered you are officially pledges of the house and will be treated as such.”
The ten men all turned around and bent over, grabbing their ankles. Vincent's stomach fluttered with nervousness. He hoped he didn't throw up when he got that first swat. He really didn't know how hard it would feel. Troy slowly made his way down the line. CRACK! Kyle, who was the first in line, grunted in pain from the swat. As he moved on, David moved in behind him. KARACK! His paddle swat was much harder and Kyle lost his balance and yelped. He quickly recovered. Dennis then administered the third. The three made their way down the line. Sweat beaded on Vincent's forehead as Troy took position behind him. He rested the paddle across Vincent's large cheeks. He pulled back and WHACK! The pain spread across his cheeks and he moaned softly. But to his surprise, he realized it really wasn't any worse than the belt. At least there was some time to recover between swats. The Family would get all fast and furious with the belt beatings. David came next and he was indeed much harder than Troy's, but Vincent bore it well. This was just a taste though. He knew he was bound for hundreds of swats eventually and this would be but a pleasant memory.
After the three leaders made their way down the line, the big brothers stepped forward behind each of the pledges. Terrell represented all the football players behind Ryan (The football team petitioned that they should all be able to give Ryan two swats for his pledge ceremony, but Troy overruled it as disruptive). The big brothers lined up and in tandem, gave the pledges their two last swats. Vincent was a bit surprised that Jorge really did smack him hard, not holding back at all, but he knew he wasn't going to get special treatment as long as he was in front of the other pledges.
“Stand up pledges, and welcome to Omega Upsilon Chi!” Troy shouted. The brothers all cheered as the new “official” pledges recovered from the swats. The big brothers all gave them big hugs to welcome them to the fold.
“Seriously, was that it?” one of the pledges suddenly declared loudly. “That wasn't scary at all! I thought you guys were going to be harder than that!” It was Rico, a baseball player. The coach that forwarded Rico's profile warned David and Dennis that Rico was a loudmouthed troublemaker and would need a “heavy hand” when it came to discipline. In his short time here already, David already predicted he would take on Brian's role as frat troublemaker once Brian graduated. For a mean streak of fun, David ordered Eddie Chang to be his big brother, adding a rule that any punishment David or Dennis administered to Rico would subsequently also be administered to Eddie. And as Eddie was obligated to accept David's rules, he was going to face even more punishment.
The celebration petered off very quickly. David raised an eyebrow and gave his sharklike smile. He didn't realize he would get to roll out the intense stuff so soon.
“Pledges, you never know when a test might break out,” Troy said, staring at Rico. “Rico here has decided to initiate a Test of Authority. This is actually a test a pledge gives to an officer or brother. Let's see if David passes.”
David put the big paddle down. From beneath his ceremonial robes, he pulled out his wicked little OTK paddle. Rico did not look impressed.
“Sixty-second ride! Sixty-second ride!” The brothers all started to chant. The pledges all looked around in confusion.
“This is going to be good,” Jorge whispered in Vincent's ear. “Keep an eye on David. If you want to be a bad-ass paddler, you'll learn a lot from him.”
David stepped forward and rested a firm, massive hand on Rico's shoulder. David had about six inches and forty pounds on the baseballer.
“You are right, Rico, and as pledgemaster, I apologize,” David said, holding eye contact. “I do not want any of my pledges to start off their term disappointed.” He snapped his fingers. Jason quietly brought over a stool for David and sat it behind him. David pulled a somewhat resistant, confused Rico toward him, sat down on the stool and forced Rico across his knee. Rico looked around confused as the brothers continued their chant.
“It's time to go for a ride, pledge,” David said. “Are you ready?”
“What the hell is going on?” Rico asked.
“I'll take that as a yes,” David said and cracked the paddle down right across Rico's firm bottom. Before Rico could even get the chance to respond the paddle came back up and cracked right back down again. The pledges watched in shock as David administered his first sixty-second ride to the class, not moments after they officially joined. The paddle slammed down again and again across Rico's ass, with no break for him to react or recover. He started shouting immediately. In ten seconds he was begging for it to stop. In twenty seconds he was crying. In thirty seconds he was quivering, bucking and bawling his eyes out. For exactly sixty seconds, David furiously worked his paddle magic across Rico's ass. When it was over, Rico lay there heaving and sobbing across David's lap. His ass was blistered and raw.
Most of the pledges stood there wide-eyed (with paddle veteran Ryan as the exception, of course). Dennis quietly took note of which pledges had the biggest erections, a hint that they secretly wanted to experience a ride of their own. He would let David know later so he could keep an eye out to see if the men would instigate David into giving them rides, too.
“So, Rico,” David said. “Does this experience meet with your approval? Are you now satisfied that you have had the pledging experience that you are entitled to?” Rico sobbed across David's lap and simply lay limp.
“So what do we think, pledges?” Troy asked. “Has David passed the Test of Authority?” The pledges all quickly, affirmatively nodded in agreement. The brothers all laughed.
“Well that's good, then,” Troy said. “I should say that David is a master of this test. He has passed it hundreds of times, always with flying colors. But it's always good to see his skills kept up. Any of you should feel free to request him to take this test again with you as needed.”
“Oh yes,” David said, grinning at the nervous pledges. “I thoroughly enjoy being tested. I always get an A.”
Later in the evening, as David, Dennis and the big brothers started truly giving their pledges' asses what-for, Troy and Walt – in costume as Heat Blister and Major Fry – headed back down to Oranbega to meet with Andrew Porter about his attack.
Troy found himself in an awkward situation. He didn't want to lie to his teammate, but he had promised Andrew not to reveal what they were discussing when Ambush Viper attacked them. Walt was right though, now that he had time to think about it. The nature of the discussion may well be relevant to the reason they were attacked. Andrew had just revealed to Troy that he was in possession of the chemical that gave the Blister Boyz their powers. But rather than just blurting it out, Troy suggested they go meet with Andrew at the scene of the crime so they could more accurately reconstruct the conversation. Not a lie, really. Privately, he informed Andrew of Walt's inquiries and Andrew said they would discuss the matter together with both of them.
They passed through the halls of research and the crystal monitors. Walt pointed out that some of the hazing going on at the frat was visible up on the crystal viewers. Keith had introduced Kyle to his quills in a very specialized kind of spanking. He was wincing and crying as his fellow pledges were pulling them out of his red posterior. The duo checked with the monks, who told them that the boys were all “burning blue,” producing discipline energy.
“Good. Good,” Troy said. “Please let us know immediately if anything odd happens to their readings. We've got some guys playing big brother for the first time and they might take it too far at first.”
As they approached Andrew's office, they heard the sound of paddling coming from within. They asked the monk guards if they should wait, but they waved them in.
“Mr. Porter said you were allowed to witness,” one monk said.
Troy and Walt walked into the office, surprised to find Andrew himself bent over the desk. His pants were down and his muscular bare bottom exposed, covered with a nice little coat of red hair. He was getting paddled by The Augurer. The two boys remained silent. Obviously Andrew wanted them to observe to show that he really was one of them, in case there was any doubt. And to no doubt prove his trust.
“Forty-nine, sir!” Andrew growled.
“Fifty, sir!” He kept his position as well as Walt and his firm ass barely quivered from the swats.
“As you were, sir,” The Augurer said. “Heat Blister and Major Fry have arrived.”
“Ah, thank you, Lawrence,” Andrew said as he pulled his pants back up and turned around.
“Thursday's schedule has proven to be a challenge,” Andrew said to the boys. “Ratings are in free-fall.”
“Sir, I'm afraid you're going to have to admit that Jacob's recommendations were spot on,” The Augurer said. Andrew sighed in response.
“Yeah, I know,” he said as he refastened his belt. “I want to hold off as long as possible because you know how he's going to lord it over us.” The Augurer laughed.
“Yeah, Brian's the same way when he thinks up something nobody else has,” Troy said. “The only thing worse than a loudmouth is a loudmouth who realizes he's right.”
“I'll leave you gentlemen to talk,” Lawrence said, heading for the door. “But don't forget, Andrew: Ad sales are down, and you're up for more swats if you don't get your figures back where they should be by Saturday.” Andrew nodded as he sat back down at his desk. He waved the two Blister Boyz to the seats on the other side.
“Walt, I understand you've hit a dead end in your investigations about our assault and needed to speak with us to reorient yourself.” Andrew said.
“Yes sir,” Walter said. “I've got four days to find a new lead or Dennis is going to have my ass again. I need to know what was going on in the discussion the two of you were having leading up to the attack.”
Andrew tapped his fingers on the desk.
“We were discussing the future of the frat and the Blister Boyz, given the development of your powers,” Andrew said.
“You're trying to decide how much to tell me,” Walt said, noting Andrew's fidgeting. He looked over to Troy, who broke eye contact after a couple of seconds, yet another sign.
“You're getting really good at this,” Andrew said.
“Thank you, sir. Now what is it the two of you don't want me to know. You nearly got killed over it, sir. Is it worth your life to keep a secret from me?”
Andrew gave an exasperated sigh.
“You know, Jacob also told me that the secrets we're all keeping from each other are going to lead to problems down the line. He actually wanted to approach you guys from the start. He was probably right about all that too. That's the thing about rebels. They question everything. When you question everything, eventually you're bound to be right.”
“Sir?” Walt responded.
“We are in possession of the formula for the chemical that gave the Blister Boyz their powers,” Andrew said. “We recovered it from the site after your exposure and have been working to synthesize it ourselves.”
Neither of them knew how Walt would respond. He lost his temper badly last time he was down here because of the secrets kept from him. But instead, he sat back and tapped his lips for a while, thinking.
“Obviously, you're planning to create more heroes with our inclination to help fight the Circle of Thorns and other forces of abuse,” Walt said. Andrew nodded. Walt then looked over to Troy.
“You told Troy this ... because,” he paused in thought. Troy started to respond, but Walt waved him to silence. “I want to think this through. This is what you want me to do for the team, right?” Troy nodded.
After a moment, Walt said, “You need Troy's help, but for what? To decide who else to expose to the chemical, of course. You want to keep it in the frat, because we're on the right side of the whole pain spectrum and we're more likely to be a source of discipline energy. The pledges are more than potential new brothers. They're also potential new heroes.”
“Wow,” Troy said. “I'm amazed you haven't figured out who attacked Andrew yet.”
“I'm just getting going,” Walt said. “This guy has been following us for a while. You saw him. We don't know how long he had been spying on us or what he's seen. We assumed he must have gotten info about us from Dr. Vahzilok somehow, but if he had been around us, invisible, for some time, it may not have been necessary.”
“But why would he have been following us if he hadn't found out who we were from the doctor?” Troy asked. “By that point we had just gotten started as heroes.”
“You are correct. We had just started getting publicity, too. Nobody would have any agenda about us. Unless ... they made some sort of connection about our behavior or had some suspicion about our origins.”
Silence spun out for a moment while Walt started thinking. Then he put a hand over his face.
“Wasn't this chemical tested before they disposed of it?” Walt asked.
“What do you mean?” Andrew asked.
“We may be operating on a seriously flawed assumption,” Walt said. “How do we know others weren't subjected to this chemical prior to our accidental exposure?”
“If this was a Crey creation, they would have tested it thoroughly before disposing of it,” Andrew said.
“Somebody who knew about the chemical's value could have made the connection between news reports of the frat's exposure to the chemical with our arrival on the scene as heroes not long after.”
“Countess Crey wouldn't go after me, not this way,” Andrew said. “We're rivals, and definitely not friendly ones, but she knows enough about my empire to know not to fuck with me directly. If I refused to accept advertising from them half their revenue stream would dry up for their science.”
Walter nodded. “Who would they have used it on?”
“Unfortunately most of the records pertaining to the chemical were thoroughly destroyed. There were no names attached to anything we could find.”
“Prisoners,” Walt said. “Crey runs the Ziggurat, right? There have been rumors they abuse the prisoners.”
“They're not rumors. It's true,” Andrew said. “They abuse the prisoners. The Circle gets quite a bit of abuse energy from them. We've seen some of it on our crystals, but it's tough to keep track of because our power derives from the other type of energy.”
“How long have you been burning CDs of punishment incidents on the crystals?” Walt asked.
“A few years, maybe?” Andrew guessed.
“Is it possible you might have these experiments recorded if you go back?” Walt asked.
“Let me pull up what little data we could find on the chemical's disposal,” Andrew said, typing away on his laptop. “Like I said, all names were removed from the documentation. They even took off their company name but the idiots were using proprietary data collection software with a font they created. Not very smart. Aha, there is a date for a disposal order on here.”
“I have a feeling they wouldn't have kept it in their possession very long after the experiments ended,” Walt said. “Given what we know about Paragon City, I am curious as to why they abandoned the chemicals.”
“Countess Crey herself is not motivated by pain, though most of the men who work for her are,” Andrew said. “She's obsessed with her image. She probably found this method of developing powers too distasteful for use. I bet you the men in her crew were responsible for its development.”
“Can you ask the monks to sort through punishment recordings for the two weeks leading up to the disposal of the chemical?” Walt asked.
“Good as done,” Andrew said. “We'll get them going 24/7 to figure this out. Anybody slacking off will get a good dose of the paddle as motivation.”
“Good work, Walt,” Troy said.
“Yes, great thinking,” Andrew said. “None of us had even thought about prior use of the chemical before.”
“Thank you, sirs,” Walt said. “I do want to add, though, if you're going to ask that I serve as the role of the Guardian for you all, you can't keep secrets from me. If you need to keep this from the others, I understand, but anything that could potentially play a role in exposing the team to danger I need to know about.”
Andrew nodded. “I agree.” Then he pointedly added to Walt, “It's not a good idea to keep secrets that could affect the Blister Boyz.” Walt caught the hint and quietly filed it away. Not now. When this threat was dealt with he'd tell the team about his father.
Brian, as Murky Menace, was on trial. He was hung by his tail in a special set of stocks in the center of the courtroom. His hands were tied in front of him and his legs were tied at the ankles. He was in his uniform, but the seat had been cut out exposing his bare bottom. He was hanging in “ready target” position, which David had invented. Suspended by his tail, his ass was completely exposed and vulnerable. In this position, David encouraged the Blister Boyz with ranged powers like Heat Blister, Major Fry and Poison Punisher to practice their aim on his exposed cheeks.
But he wasn't at the frat house. The courtroom was lit with bright, primary colors, and the angles were off and the perspective skewed. Also, the judge was Zeke, the troll. The jury was also made up of trolls. As were all the folks sitting in the gallery. Their body proportions were off, even for trolls. They were 10 feet tall and towered over Brian, helpless and vulnerable as he faced “justice.”
“You, boy,” Zeke growled, “Are on trial for bein' a selfish, obnoxious brat with a bad attitude. If you be found guilty, you in for a world o' punishment.” The trolls in the court all hooted and growled and waved large, cracked wooden planks that apparently were intended to serve as paddles.
Argus Penn stood at the back of the court, watching silently, his powers keeping him from being noticed by Brian. So this was Brian's dream tonight. It was not unexpected at all that Brian would dream about being punished some more. The twisted perspectives, bright colors and unusual choice of paddles for this scene gave the dream a cartoonish atmosphere. Argus expected the experience to be amusingly over the top.
“How do you plead” Zeke asked, glowering.
“I'm innocent!” Brian declared. “I'm a good boy, I swear! I don't have a bad attitude!”
“Oh that's a crock of shit,” a whiny voice declared. “And believe me I know what I'm talking about!”
Argus raised an eyebrow. Where did that voice come from?
“Oh no,” Brian whimpered. “Not here, not now. Please be good!”
“The hell with that. Look at all these dumb thugs. If they had as much dynamite as they had brains they might be able to blow their noses.”
It was ... Brian's ass! Brian's ass was talking! Argus buried his face in his palms. This was just too much. He had witnessed thousands of dreams in his 700 some odd years on earth, but never a talking ass.
The bailiff, another huge troll, of course, pulled out one of the massive planks of wood, took aim and WHAM! He smacked it right across Brian's ass. The cartoon effects kicked in. Brian bounced forward in his stocks and his tail stretched, then he snapped back into position with a “SPROING!” sound effect. Animated stars and lines shot out around his bottom, indicating pain.
“YOWTCH!” Brian whimpered.
“Heh, that was a good one,” Brian's ass said.
“There be plenty more if you don't shut up,” Zeke said.
“Promises, promises,” Brian's ass muttered.
“I swear I'm a nice guy, seriously,” Brian said. “It's just, well, my ass. It has a mind of its own. It likes to get me into trouble.”
“Oh sure, blame me,” the ass said. “I'm just sitting back here. You're the one in control. And I'm the one they beat!”
“Yeah, but you don't feel it, do you?” Brian said. “You cause the trouble and get smacked around, but I'm the one who actually feels the pain.”
“Well, what do you expect from me? I'm an asshole. I'm literally an asshole!”
Argus stood back and observed as Brian argued with his own ass and the trolls stood around in confusion. Most mages of the Circle of Thorns have never bothered to really figure out how the pain motivation worked in mortals' minds. They didn't care. They just wanted to channel it for their own ends. Jason, with his undergraduate psychological understanding of pain as a motivation, understood more than the average Circle mage.
This was not the case with Argus. He took his role as the Corrupter pretty seriously. In his 700 years, he had amassed a greater understanding of both the discipline and abuse sides of pain than any other man. If he were a good person and interested in actually helping others, he could sit down with the Adepts of Discipline and answer questions they had been pondering for decades.
But Argus was not a nice man. His interest in the two sides of pain was in figuring out how to corrupt men from the good side (discipline) to his side (abuse) and draw out that power for the Circle.
As weird as the dream was, Argus knew what was going on. He had been in the dreams of dozens of Rebels through the years, trying to figure out a way to corrupt them into their Slave counterpart. Pretty much all boys go through a rebellious phase in their teen years. It's a normal part of development, part of testing limits. Full Rebels, though, never outgrow the phase and live their whole lives testing limits. But that doesn't mean they don't continue to mature.
At some point as a Rebel ages into adulthood he has to go through a psychological process where he consciously accepts that this aspect of his personality is permanent, and that it doesn't make him a bad person. He needs to recognize that he pushes people so that they'll push back. He wants to be challenged, so he challenges others. And that if there weren't rebels, it would be very easy for a society to slide into an oppressive state, which would then make it easier for the forces of abuse to take and keep control.
Brian is in the displacement phase, Argus analyzed. He has realized that his rebellious nature is a part of him, but he's still trying to disassociate it from his main personality, because he still worries that rebelliousness means he is not a good person. If he needs to be punished all the time, doesn't that mean he's bad? So he has put the responsibility for the “naughty” part of him quite literally on his own ass so that he is no longer responsible for his behavior and subsequent punishment.
Argus had seen variations on this theme before. He remembered a young man who dreamed he had been cursed by an ancient artifact that caused him to say “bad things” in times of stress, resulting in punishment. Another dreamed that his ass started giving off pheromones that made people want to come up with excuses to spank him. Jacob Brass's powers rendered his mind closed to Argus's magical infiltration, so he didn't know what Jacob dreamed about or how he adapted.
What ultimately resolves the conflict, Argus knew, was the experience of rebelling and succeeding in some way. Getting your ass beat nine times was worth it for that tenth time where the Rebel's behavior actually resolved a problem. Brian had already accomplished it once with the troll gang. If he had listened to his mother and stayed away, or if he had followed Zeke's orders the first time he punished him, that group of trolls would still be more of a threat to the community than they were now. Brian's confidence would grow as he built more successes and eventually he would no longer feel the need in his dreams to separate his trouble-making tendencies from his core personality.
Argus had tried on several occasions to interfere in this process. He had ultimately been unsuccessful each time. It was rather strange: He had succeeded in corrupting men influenced by other archetypes. His new teammates would be distressed to find out about his role in turning Hopkins from an Enforcer to the Bully that ended up abusing them. But there was something deeply intrinsic about the Rebel that was hard to change. Despite the fact that they each tended to get the same amount of punishment, Argus had never been able to get a Rebel to “surrender” to the pain and convert to the Slave archetype. Rebels were too upbeat, too enthusiastic. And as they grew, they developed that crazy confidence Jacob exhibited that just turned punishment into part of their process of living. Argus found it most ... distressing. And his rivals in the Circle were quick to point out his frequent failures in this area.
Argus was going to take a different tack this time. The goal wasn't to turn Brian into a Slave. That simply wasn't going to happen with the life he was leading. However, with the plan he had been developing while watching Brian's dream, he would at least be able to significantly suppress the benefits the Adepts of Discipline got from his behavior.
In the meantime, the argument between Brian and his ass had gotten louder.
“Enough!” Zeke shouted and banged a wooden plank on his bench like it was a gavel. “Jury! What you think!”
“Guilty!” the trolls all shouted, waving their plank paddles.
“Gotta say, can't argue that,” Zeke said, walking down from behind the bench, holding his plank, towering over Brian.
“Fact is,” Zeke said, clasping Brian's face in his giant hand, “This side of you is good. I believe you. But that other side you on the back there. That part of you is bad. Gotta be taken care of, you understand?”
Brian sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he admitted.
“Ha, the boy knows his place,” Brian's ass said. “Bring it on, tough guys. I'm ready for you!”
“Easy for you to say. I'm going to be the one to feel it.”
“Awwwwwww,” his ass said. Then it let out a huge fart. Then it laughed.
“Okay boy, your sentence is to get your naughty ass beat by all the trolls in the court,” Zeke ruled. “Your ass gonna glow in the dark!” The other trolls all cheered and hooted as Zeke rested the plank of wood across Brian's cheeks.
“Don't go easy on him,” his ass said from beneath the plank. “He doesn't deserve it!”
Zeke pulled the plank of wood back in both hands like he was swinging a baseball bat, then he cut loose like a madman. WHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWAPWHAPWHAP! It was a hardcore cartoon-style paddling, so fast that the wooden plank was a blur. Brian bounced back and forth in the stocks, his tail acting like a rubber band. Stars and little lightning bolts shot out of Brian's ass as the paddling went on. Brian's shouts of pain were amusingly high pitched yelps.
“Yeah! Yeah! Harder! More!” shouted Brian's ass in encouragement.
After a few minutes, Zeke stopped. Brian's ass was red, but amusingly also had an additional red glow that blinked on and off like a street light. Several splinters from the unsanded wooden plank were also sticking out of the bare bottom.
Brian was whimpering and whining in an exaggerated, over-the-top style to reflect his over-the-top punishment.
“Woooo! Who's next?” Brian's ass demanded. “What about one of you jurors? You couldn't wait to find us guilty to save you from the effort of actually thinking or anything!” Another massive troll stepped forward and the cartoonish paddling continued.
Argus decided to let it go on for a bit before he made his move. He wanted to make sure that Brian was in the right frame of mind to accept his “assistance.” It was vital for Brian to voluntarily cooperate if the larger scheme was to work.
Besides, even though they might be on opposite sides of the pain war, it was hot as fucking hell seeing Brian getting his ass paddled this way.
The paddling went on ... and on ... and on. Amusingly, eventually smoke started rising up from Brian's ass. One plank spontaneously caught fire while paddling him. Brian's cries of pain and begging for mercy were drowned out from his own ass enthusiastically insulting the trolls and begging them on.
When Brian's ass started literally sounding like chicken being fried Argus decided it was time to step in. He snapped his fingers and his clothes changed to look like a typical frat boy. He was wearing an Omega Upsilon Chi sweater, baseball cap and a pair of jeans. He snapped his fingers again and the trolls all disappeared, leaving Brian and his ass alone in the front of the courtroom.
“What happened?” Brian asked.
“Aw man, we were just getting to the good part!” his ass said.
“Oops! Sorry dude!” Argus said. “I didn't know this room was being used.” He ambled casually up to the front of the court as though he had just wandered in.
“Hey, can you get me out of here?” Brian asked.
“Don't do it!” his ass yelled. “He's got more punishment coming.”
“Sorry, buddy,” Argus said. “Not allowed to interfere with sentencing. Looks intense though!” He rubbed his own ass in fake sympathy.
“It's not my fault!” Brian said. “It's my ass. It won't stop causing trouble!”
“That's too bad,” Argus said. “But isn't he the one getting paddled anyway?”
“Yeah, but he doesn't feel it. I do!” Brian whined.
“What, you sure? That's not how it's supposed to go. Something must be broken here,” Argus said, adjusting his cap. “Maybe I should take a look. I'm kind of handy around here.”
“Don't you dare!” the ass ordered. “Mind your own business!”
“Could you please?” Brian pleaded, giving him big brown pleading cartoon puppy eyes.
“Well, first of all, I need a little quiet,” Argus said, as he pulled out a large butt plug from thin air. He walked around behind Brian.
“Don't you dare!” the ass yelled. “I won't be silenced! I won't ... mmmmph! Mmmmph!” Brian moaned as Argus firmly shoved the butt plug all the way into his ass. His ass quivered and bucked as it tried to spit the plug back out, but it was firmly stuck in. Eventually the ass quieted down and accepted its gag.
Then Argus started caressing and touching Brian's ass here and there, pretending he was giving an examination of some sort. It was scorching hot thanks to the punishment. Because of the cartoon nature of the dream, it was hot enough to actually fry eggs on if Argus had a mind to.
“My name's Brian by the way.”
“I'm Jeff,” Argus lied. “Yup, looks like things are all mixed up back here. Good thing I came by. Your ass is supposed to feel the swats, not you. Looks like he's been playing you good.”
“Is there anything you can do?”
“It's your lucky day, Brian. I sure can.” Out of nowhere, Argus pulled out a dream version of his Thornwood paddle and walked in front of Brain to show it to him.
“Ten swats from this will set your body straight. Your ass will feel the troll's punishment instead of you.” Hearing this, Brian's ass started squirming again in the stocks.
“That's it? That's all it takes?”
“Well, not quite. It only lasts for 24 hours. So I'll have to keep coming back to give you more swats. Is that okay?”
“Yes, yes! Of course! Let's try it right now!”
“As you wish.” Argus walked behind Brian again and slowly pulled the plug back out. The ass immediately yelled “Don't you dare!” and started farting hard and long hoping to make a stench to scare Argus away. He held his nose in one hand and rested the black paddle across the ass. Then he laid on a good hard swat.
“OW!” Brian yelped.
“Ha! I didn't feel anything!” the ass declared.
“Just wait,” Argus said. He started applying the nine remaining swats. At five, Brian's yelps got weaker while his ass suddenly went “Ow, I felt that!” By the time they reached the final swat, Brian was quiet and his ass was loudly complaining that the swats hurt.
“That's it? I'm fixed?” Brian asked.
“Well, let's see,” Argus said. He took a few steps back and snapped his fingers. The trolls all returned and acted like nothing had happened. Another troll stepped forward with his plank and took aim.
“Oh nooooo!” The ass whimpered.
WHAP! “OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” the ass yelled as the plank slammed home.
“I didn't feel anything,” Brian said. “My ass is taking the swats like it's supposed to!”
The troll went to work, slamming the paddle across Brian's ass again and again. Brian laughed as the roles were reversed, his blistered bottom begging for the punishment to stop.
“There ya go,” Argus said tipping his cap to Brian. “Make sure that ass of yours gets what it deserves and I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Jeff!” Brian said. “You're a godsend!” Argus then turned and left the courtroom, fading out of the dream as Brian urged the trolls to swat faster and harder.
Back at the Crimson Brotherhood's lair, Argus opened his eyes as he ended his journey. It was a weird game, but he had confidence that it would work. If Brian kept accepting swats from the thorn paddle in his dreams, then once the Brotherhood got Murky Menace in their clutches and Argus forced him into a waking dream, he would agree to take the paddle for real, and then he'd be magically bound to follow Argus's orders.
Dennis, though, was going to be a much harder challenge.
Next: More nightmares.
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