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: 15 Aug 2010
Blister Boyz — Ch. 42: Baldwin's Plateau
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
When the Paragon U. football players needed to describe Coach Garrett Baldwin to outsiders, they had a simple saying: “Coach Baldwin is a good guy. He's just not a nice guy.”
That might well be obvious with the kind of man who devised spanking as a reward. He did not mess around when it came to punishment. Among Omega alumni he was ranked annually on the top of the list of “most intimidating punishers.” He did not smirk or joke when he was getting ready to lay the wood down on a football player's backside. He didn't give long, droning lectures. He figured the guys were adults and knew what they fucked up. Often he didn't talk at all while administering punishment. He just gave intense, relentless paddling sessions to get his “boys heads on straight.”
Today he was giving his first squad punishment for the season, four big guys on the offensive line. Baldwin had a section of the locker room by his office set up for the specific purpose of punishing wayward players. A large whiteboard on the wall listed all the squads in a spreadsheet format. Twenty squares separated the squad name and a cartoon image of a large paddle. Each time a member of the squad earned a demerit, a square was filled in. So once a squad earned twenty demerits the whole squad earned what coach called “a whuppin'.” The players referred to the board as the “Whuppin' Wall.”
Demerits were usually earned through bad behavior, poor sportsmanship, tardiness, and the like, as well as for poor performance on the field. Whether one person on the squad was more responsible for the demerits than the others was not relevant. They were all punished equally hard. Very hard.
In front of the Whuppin' Wall were four large punishment horses. They were padded steel, adjustable, and bolted to the floor. His paddlings were intense enough to justify the restraints, given the size and strength of the recipients. The horses were arranged in a square so that when bent over them and strapped down, the four squad members were facing inward, looking at each other. Their bottoms faced outward, raised up in the air enough so that their strapped down legs and feet were just off the floor (the height wasn't a problem for the very tall Coach Baldwin). In this position, the player who bore the most responsibility for the squad being punished had no choice but to watch his buddies react to getting their butts blistered.
And that was exactly Coach Baldwin's extremely effective punishment tactic. The most troublesome players were forced to directly experience the effect of his behavior on his teammates. Often by the time it was over, the player responsible for the most demerits was begging the coach to lay off his buddies and give him their swats instead. Baldwin ignored the begging. In the weeks following the punishment, the worst player on the squad inevitably did his best to make sure his teammates weren't punished for his mistakes. The plan was extremely effective.
Players Cody, Reggie, Michael, and Tomas had been strapped down to the paddling horses and were awaiting the coach. They were in full uniform, but with the backs of their uniform pants pulled down to expose their large bottoms, not unlike Dennis's dreams of player punishment. The players were held down with thick leather straps in a variety of places, making struggling worthless. They were bent over enough so that their large cheek muscles couldn't squeeze together or otherwise react to the hard blows of the coach's paddle.
Coach Baldwin's paddle was a piece of work on its own. It was massive, designed to be used with both hands (which Coach Baldwin did). It had a long handle to accommodate a baseball-bat style swing. The paddle started off at six inches wide at the handle, and then widened to ten inches at the end, creating a little bit of a V-shaped paddle.
Anybody versed in the ways of paddle use would declare such a paddle design to be a terrible idea and normally they'd be right. One of the problems of a poorly wielded paddle is that the inertia of a paddle swing was concentrated on the far end of the paddle, so the cheek opposite the person paddling would get the brunt of the impact. That's why occasionally frat boys who have been paddled have much more damaged right cheek than left. Theoretically Baldwin's paddle made this bad problem worse. Since the end of the paddle is wider than the part near the handle, the inertia of the swing was even worse, causing even more damage to the far cheek and an uneven swat.
But Coach Baldwin's genius was that he was ambidextrous with his paddling. He would, in fact, completely bruise and blister a football player's right cheek with his first salvo of swats. But then he would switch sides and repeat the punishment. Then the player's left cheek would be similarly tortured from the swats.
Also, the paddle was designed for big bottoms, which had enough surface area to absorb the pain of the massive swats. You didn't get bigger butts than the guys on his football team. The reality was, after everything was accounted for, the punishment wasn't really worse than any other paddle punishment these guys might get from David or Dennis or Troy, but it sure seemed like a much worse experience, and that helped Coach Baldwin develop his intimidating reputation.
The four young men stared at each other nervously, their bottoms quivering, as the coach strode out of his office toward them, paddle in hand. He had been busy giving Terrell his coach's prize spanking for a really good day of practice while the squad awaited its punishment. Terrell was shooting for the pros and he might well make it.
Garrett walked up to the muscled but helpless young men on the horses. Without saying a word, he walked around the square and positioned himself behind Tomas. Tomas was a good, vigilant player, polite, observant, and was not responsible for a single one of the squad's demerits. This is why he would be the first to be paddled. Troublemakers like Cody and Reggie, who were frequently late to practice due to hangovers from partying too hard, would have to watch their most innocent squad member get his ass paddled raw before their turn came around. It gave the two of them a lot to ponder before their asses caught fire.
Without a single world, Coach Baldwin pulled the paddle back with both hands let loose with a paddle swing intended to hit a home run: KRACK! The sound echoed through the locker room. Tomas's eyes widened and he gasped in air in shock as the paddle swat flattened his round cheeks. Then he belted out a cry of pain as he breathed back out.
Coach Baldwin slowly, but relentlessly applied 50 hard swats of the paddle across Tomas's ass. Each swat was equally hard. There were no “warm up” swats. It was all pain, all the way. Tomas was crying by swat 30. And this was only half the punishment. Cody, positioned directly across from Tomas, cringed and whimpered as he was able to see both the coach's hard swings as well as the expression on Tomas's face each time a swat landed. After the 50 swats, Coach Baldwin moved over to Michael, also a fairly innocent player (he was responsible for two demerits) and again, lay down 50 hard swats across his muscled, jock-clad butt. Reggie was positioned across from Michael and occasionally apologized to Michael out loud as he endured the punishment.
After 50 more swats, Coach finally made it to the two football players who deserved it. “Sorry, Coach,” Reggie muttered as the burly man took position behind him. He didn't respond. He knew the boys were sorry. They were still going to get their punishment. He raised the paddle again and Reggie shouted and cried as his big broad backside took 50 hard swats. Finally, it was bad boy Cody's turn he bawled his eyes out as the paddle slammed home.
That was the first half. Coach Baldwin switched sides and then went back through the boys, in the same order, for another 50 hard swats. This was the point where the bad boys begged the coach to give them the swats for the good boys instead. Baldwin knew not to relent or the system would break down. From years of experience he knew that bad boys accepted punishment for their behavior and didn't really change for long. When their innocent buddies were dragged into the punishment, though, they were quick to improve. He rarely had to give a single squad more than two whuppins during a football season. And the bad boys usually made it up to the innocent victims by submitting to them for additional punishment throughout the season.
Once the Blister Boyz learned about the secret world of pain, discipline and abuse, Troy figured the punishment of the innocent players had to show up as abuse energy. After all, the innocent players hadn't done anything to “deserve” the paddlings, and wondered why the Adepts of Discipline hadn't done anything to stop it. But when he checked into it, the Adepts of Discipline told Troy that no, actually, the innocent players also produced the positive discipline energy. It fell on his psych-centric boyfriend, Jason, to explain.
“Football is a team sport, and we all depend on each other, right?” Jason said. “We can't succeed as a team with bad influences. By putting the team in squads, the coach made us all responsible for each other and we all bought into it. Even though the innocent players didn't do anything wrong, they failed to rein in their teammates, which affects our performance overall. So subconsciously, they don't really see themselves as innocent, and even though they hadn't earned any demerits, they didn't really do enough to stop the demerits from being earned, even though they knew what the consequences would be.”
“Interesting theory,” Troy said.
“Believe me, I've thought about it,” Jason said. “I've been the innocent party in a couple of squad whuppins and I realized that was going through my mind. I was thinking of every opportunity I had to stop my teammates from fucking up and did nothing. So in a way I do accept responsibility for the punishment and work harder to keep my squadmates on the coach's good side. It only works on big team sports like football. It wouldn't work in something like wrestling or solo sports.”
Coach Baldwin made his way through the second round of punishment, the football players bawling in pain now, begging and apologizing, and straining at their restraints. It did them no good. Like a machine, Coach Baldwin forced the four boys to take the complete punishment at his full strength. Their four bottoms were blistered, busted and quivering at the end. Their faces were red and their tears dripped down their chins onto the concrete floor.
“Y'all need to get your shit together,” Coach Baldwin said when he finished. “I don't wanna see you back up here. I'm gonna give you double demerits now if any of y'all are late to practice.” The four players all apologized and promised to improve.
“Oh, and you got a boy in the frat, named Dennis, right? Diver?” he asked. The boys nodded. “Tell him I wanna see him about somethin' when get your asses back in there.”
The coach nodded and left them there in their restraints and returned to his office to do some work on the playbook. The guys would remain stuck in the restraints for about an hour, to make them really think about (and feel) their punishment. Then he would come back out and release them.
Coach sat down at his desk, ignoring the sounds of the players sobbing in the background. For some reason that Dennis kid had been on his mind lately. Smart as hell, and got straight A's. But he had never come to claim a coach's prize. For some reason that struck Garrett as odd, though he couldn't quite figure out why.
The Blister Boyz gathered at The Augurer's magic scrying pool down in the depths of Oranbega. Jacob Brass was there standing next to The Augurer as the leader of the Adepts of Discipline chanted a preparation spell.
“I had to go knock a few heads to get a few corrupt Crey prison guards to 'recollect' any experiments going on involving prisoners that might have also involved some corporal punishment,” Jacob said. “Eventually they were able to at least give us a window of time where these experiments were going on. The boys went to work scanning through old CDs and chanting up some past incidents. Fortunately the research was timed well with your pledge hazing because the spells took a lot of discipline energy.” The Augurer had completed his chant.
“That's partly because we're actually trying to search out abuse incidents, not discipline,” The Augurer explained. “We're trying to push into the other side of the pain spectrum and it takes a tremendous amount of magic. The reverse is also true. The Circle of Thorns would have to expend an extreme amount of magical energy if they wanted to spy on your frat games, which serves to protect you a bit from their espionage.”
“Ah, I was wondering why we hadn't had to deal with a bunch of ambushes from them, if they hate us so much,” Heat Blister said.
“It will happen eventually,” Jacob Brass said. “Once you become more than a nuisance. Believe me.”
“Watch the pool if you will, gentlemen,” The Augurer said. “The segment isn't very long, but we've secured it so we can review as needed.”
The boys looked down at the water as a vision slowly faded into view. Six men were strapped down to bent tables in an unidentifiable laboratory. The men were in prison uniforms, with their bottoms bared. They were getting paddled hard by Crey prison security staff.
“Hot!” Murky Menace declared. Heat Blister shushed him.
“Is that Hopkins standing there, too?” Major Fry asked.
“Yes,” Jacob Brass said. “He's the real abuse influence in Crey, not the Countess. I've tangled with him a couple of times, but it's next to impossible to make anything stick with them. I do know that that cane he carries around is for more than show.”
“Hot!” Murky Menace declared again. Smaqdown slapped him on the ass to shut him up.
“This is obviously some early testing of the chemical,” The Humiliator observed. “The number attached to the chemical indicates quite a few iterations of testing, so these guys probably had many sessions like this.”
They watched the six men getting paddled for a little bit. Then Heat Blister pointed toward one of the younger victims.
“There's our ninja, right there,” Heat Blister said. “We didn't see his full face, but the body type matches up very well. Not enough for a court or anything, but enough to investigate. Do you know who these guys are?”
“Unfortunately, only one,” Jacob said. “The blond guy with the goatee, the oldest one there, is Dr. Howard Grand. We only know who he is because his trial was fairly well publicized. He was a Crey researcher who got caught up with some corporate espionage.”
“They're using their own staff for experiments?” Ice Hazer asked.
“They threw him under the bus when they were caught,” Jacob explained. “In all likelihood the poor guy was actually innocent and had no idea he was involved with illegal actions. Crey is very good at making sure they have a fall guy when they do anything that could cause them problems.”
“Yeah, I don't know how many times I've heard them claim some sort of incident involving them was due to a 'rogue researcher' operating outside Crey's instructions,” Major Fry said.
“Their prison records are mysteriously missing,” Jacob said. “This, of course, happens a lot at the Ziggurat. They grease a lot of palms to keep their prison contract. It's certainly not competence keeping them in charge.”
“So any ideas as to where they might be now?” Heat Blister asked. “Obviously at least one of them is no longer in prison.”
“I think so, and you're not going to like it,” Jacob said. “This experiment took place a few months before the big assault on the prison by Lord Arachnos's troops. They liberated thousands of prisoners, many with powers, and brought them to Rogue Isles.”
“You think they're on Rogue Isles?” Heat Blister said. “How did he get here?”
“Remember Oranbega extends beneath both Paragon City and under the ocean to the isles,” The Augurer said. “With the boy's powers, he could travel back and forth undetected.”
“Rogue Isles is way beyond us at this point,” Ice Hazer said. “We'll be eaten alive. Is there any way to find where these guys are?”
“Our scrying magic can't extend to the isles,” The Augurer said. “Simply put, the island is