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The Blister Boyz
Chapter 49: Out of the Frying Pan

by Redspkscott

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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: 21 Oct 2012


Blister Boyz — Ch. 49: Out of the Frying Pan ...

The heroes:
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
 

The Sticking Point struggled with feelings of shame and humiliation as the team, with their Freakshow escorts, flew across the patch of Atlantic Ocean that separated the Rogue Isles from Paragon City.

He did not handle himself very well as Jolt Jammer's slave, in his own estimation. Jolt Jammer took great pleasure in forcing the two of them into strange competitions that resulted in them both getting their asses beaten sore. Furthermore, once Jolt Jammer discovered that certain types of pain were particularly effective on Keith, he incorporated it into the punishment as much as possible. He burned Keith's backside with his electricity field constantly. But even worse was that devil's salve he tormented him with, a blend of itching powder and jalapeno juice. Once he discovered spreading it in Keith's asscrack caused him to break down quivering, his ass checks spasming uncontrollably, Jolt Jammer punished him with it as much as possible. Keith had hardly gotten any sleep due the constant heat and itching in his ass crack and blistered rectum.

But seeing his teammates, it was clear Walt, Troy and David had been punished far worse. Their asses were blistered raw, but they seemed to have composed themselves quickly now that they were free. Keith was still trying to hold back tears. He wanted a good long shower, but now he had to worry that they were going to get even more beatings at the hands of the Freakshow.

Keith also felt completely loss as to what the hell he's supposed to be doing as “The Redeemer.” The magic of the Adepts of Discipline revealed his role in the Blister Boyz as the guy who would bridge the gap between those who used punishment as a positive form of discipline and those who used it to abuse others. But he had yet to do a single thing that resembled that duty, while all the other Blister Boyz seemed to be figuring themselves out quite nicely. He spent his whole time in custody of the Crimson Brotherhood gagged, so it wasn't as though he could even talk to Jolt Jammer anyway.

“Man, your asses are fucking raw!”

Keith turned his head to see a Freakshow member was keeping pace with him, making sure he didn't try to break off and try to flee their scheduled meeting with their leader, SpankTank.

“Yeah, I know,” he growled.

“It's kinda hot, not gonna lie,” he said. “Didja like it at all?”

“No.”

“Not even a little bit?” the punk pressed, sounding a little disappointed. “SpankTank said we were finally gettin' the heroes we deserved.”

Keith looked the guy over. He was in his early '20s like the Blister Boyz, well-built, with the requisite mohawk hairstyle, tattoos, tank top and ripped, tight-fitting jeans. He had a nice-looking ass that Keith would enjoy punishing in other circumstances. He thought for a moment about his life of frustration and how Walt's discipline and advice had given him some direction. This was an opportunity, he realized. Maybe he could at least get some insight about the Freakshow.

“Well, there's such a thing as earning it, you know?” Keith said carefully.

“Heard you lost against those dudes in Siren's Call,” he said. “Sounds to me like you earned it?”

“Yeah, we definitely earned a good blistering, no argument there,” Keith said. “We got jumped and it was our own fault. But trying to make us their slaves was way too much, you know?”

“I dunno, our attitude is the winner calls the shots,” the punk said. “I mean when we get snagged by the heroes, we have to put up with whuppin's from the Crey boys while we serve our time at the Zig and all. Those guys love them British canes. End up with stripes for days.”

“Did you like it?” Keith asked.

“Well, it was kinda hot for a while, especially when you get mouthy with 'em. They don't like that. If you're gonna get beaten anyway, though, might as well earn it. But yeah, after a while it kind of loses ... something ... I dunno.”

Keith though for a moment while they flew, thinking through the kinds of things he had heard Walt, David and especially Jason say about discipline.

“Because it's not about you any more,” Keith suggested. “You're just something for them to get their aggressions out on. All they see as an ass to beat.”

“Yeah!” the punk said. “After a couple of days they stop responding to the name-callling and taunts.”

“And it doesn't matter whether you behave or not.”

“No. It takes the fun out of being trouble.” He grinned at Keith. These guys really weren't all that different from the typical Omega boy, Keith thought to himself. This guy talked like Brian, practically. Except the Freakshow took things way too far.

“We've all been watching you guys,” the punk said. “It's pretty cool.” He looked around at the other Freakshow then turned and whispered to Keith, “A lot of us like you the best.”

“What?” Keith asked. He could feel himself starting to blush.

“Well you're the most punk rock!” he said. “The other Blister Boyz are all clean cut. You got those wings and those horns and that goatee. It's hot. And that ass! We've seen you at a couple of clubs in King's Row, but SpankTank said we weren't supposed to try anything yet because you're all still too green.”

These are the guys, Keith realized to himself. They're not evil like the Crimson Brotherhood or some of the other villains we've dealt with. Maybe I can “redeem” these guys? Get them more into discipline rather than abuse?

“Well that's nice, but I'm gonna beat your punk asses alongside my brothers if I need to,” Keith said. The punk laughed.

“Not if we beat yours first,” He said. Then he actually winked at Keith.

The group of them approached Siren's Call, the beach battle zone where the Blister Boyz had been ambushed by the Crimson Brotherhood and kidnapped.

“Stay calm, Blister Boyz,” Heat Blister ordered as they all flew in for a landing. “This is allegedly going to be a peaceful meeting.” The Freakshow found a nice cove away from where the Longbow agents of Paragon City battled the forces of Lord Recluse for control. The Freakshow dropped off the Blister Boyz who couldn't fly, as well as the Longbow agents Troy insisted they rescue as well. A handful of the Freakshow hovered overhead in case any of the boys got any ideas about fleeing.

After about ten minutes, they heard the thud of powerful footsteps approaching. Seconds later, the massive cybernetic bulk of SpankTank crested over a nearby sand dune. He was a large man, a few inches even taller than Jason. His massive bulk had been enchanced, and in some places replaced, with cybernetics. Like the other punks, he had a mohawk (dyed red) a tank-top, and tight ripped jeans. Like Jason and his brother, Ryan, nature had gifted SpankTank with a considerable backside as well. His muscled bottom looked about ready to rip through the jeans.

“Well, well, boys!” He boomed at them. “Nice time for us to finally meet!” His left hand was a large metal glove but his right hand had been replaced with a large steel paddle. He also had Jacob Brass tied up and slung over his shoulder. Troy nodded at the thug.

“Well, I guess I know who negotiated our freedom,” Troy said.

“Jacob's the best, ain't he?” SpankTank said, reaching up and smacking the hero's spandex-clad ass once with his paddle. “He offered himself up as my toy for three whole days to get you boys home. Usually I only keep my heroes around long enough to make them regret losin' to us and send them on their way home bawlin'.”

“We've heard about your fun house,” Heat Blister said.

“Aw shucks, sounds like Jacob spoiled the surprise,” SpankTank said, smacking the hero again. Jacob was gagged with duct tape and gave a muffled moan. “That won't be your fate tonight, though, long as you follow orders. Jacob won't be so lucky, though.” He gave a dark laugh and smiled wide.

“What do you want, then?” Heat Blister asked.

“First of all, you boys all turn around,” SpankTank said. “I wanna check out the merchandise.” He gestured toward the beach. Troy nodded to the other Blister Boyz. They gathered in a line and turned around, showing SpankTank their backsides. With the exception of The Humiliator, they were all bare-bottomed. The Crimson Brotherhood had cut the seats out of their costumes to enjoy the view of their sore asses.

SpankTank walked down the line for an inspection, towering over them all. He whistled as he looked at their asses.

“That's some pretty hefty damage there, boys. I feel for ya.” He pulled out a cigar and lit up, taking a puff as he reached out with his steel hand and felt Poison Punisher's bottom.

“I can feel with this hand, by the way,” SpankTank said. “Believe me I wouldn't have given up the ability to touch some hot jock hero butts.” He squeezed Jorge's blistered left cheek and the hero moaned.

“You're Jorge Vasquez, am I right?” SpankTank asked. “Go by Poison Punisher?” The boys turned in surprise. “I didn't tell you guys to move, did I?” SpankTank growled in warning. He walked down the line, feeling up their asses and calling them by their names. When he got to Dennis, he roughly ripped the seat out of his costume so he matched the other Blister Boyz.

“Yeah, I know who you all are,” he said after he got to the end. “I know about your frat and how you got your powers. You boys hear of a gentleman called Dr. Vahzilok? I use the term 'gentleman' a bit loosely.”

The boys nodded. Jorge rolled his eyes and groaned in realization. The crazed mad scientist Dr. Vahzilok had used a fling of his to hack into and copy Dr. Pete's medical records on all the boys who had been exposed to the chemical that gave them super powers.

“Paid a pretty penny for it, and I know I'm not the only one,” SpankTank said. “Don't worry about your loved ones or anything, though. I'm not that kinda bad guy. But when I saw a group heroes going around and beating ass the way we do, I had to know what your deal is. Y'all can relax again. For now.” He sat down on a large rock on the beach, threw Jacob over his lap like a rag doll and began rubbing the hero's backside with his paddle hand.

“So what do you want from us?” Heat Blister asked.

“For now, just wanted to say hello, welcome to the neighborhood and all that,” SpankTank said. He suddenly gave Jacob a good hard swat on the seat of his spandex shorts and he yelped into his gag. “I'm guessing that at this point you boys have had enough experience here to understand that there's something a little different about the way Paragon City gets along, yeah?”

“You're talking about corporal punishment?” Heat Blister asked.

“How formal of you,” SpankTank said. “Yeah, lots of guys here seem to be into beatin' ass or getting their asses beaten.” He smacked Jacob again. He squirmed a little bit, but SpankTank had him well pinned. “You guys, us, Hopkins' boys over at Crey, the Clockwork, the trolls, those weird-ass mages with their switches. You guys probably haven't dealt with Nemesis and his men yet. They're a real load. And now we have these Crimson Brotherhood guys, too. If I didn't know better, I'd think there was somethin' in the water here.”

The boys didn't say anything.

“I'm not complaining, mind you,” SpankTank said. “I love it here. Absolutely fucking love it. This is my town and I ain't never leaving and neither are my boys. We even helped fight the Rikti! But until now, there's only been a handful of heroes who have shared our inclinations. Jacob, here, being the most notable of them.” He smacked Jacob again.

“So what I want is to beat all your asses good and raw,” he said, smacking Jacob again. “Or get me and my boys' asses beaten good and raw. Whichever. What we want is a good scrap, you know? Something to get our blood pumping. We end up fighting other villains for territory and, you know, that's okay for what it is. But it lacks something. They don't care about what we actually do as long as we don't mess with their turf.”

“It's no fun being bad guys when there's nobody around to punish you,” Ice Hazer said.

“Yeah, exactly!” SpankTank said. “When the heroes do beat us, they send us to the Zig and you might have heard about Hopkins and the Crey guards.” Walt nodded meaningfully. “Yeah, they ain't the good guys. We might as well be over on the islands with those guys who enslaved you.”

“Thing is, you guys ain't quite ready for us,” SpankTank continued. “I was lookin' to introduce ourselves all special to you and your frat in a couple of months, but circumstances bein' what they are, here we are.” He smacked Jacob again, then began rubbing his ass.

“You're still learning the ropes and building your powers,” SpankTank said. “I wanna respect that.” He nodded at Smaqdown. “I want to go one-on-one with this guy, here, but there's no chance I'll lose right now. No way, no how.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Smaqdown said, folding his arms.

SpankTank grinned and picked up a piece of rusted metal on the ground from some previous fight. He crushed it easily in one hand.

“You present a strong argument,” Smaqdown admitted.

“And your muscle-twink here, with the mental powers,” he said, gesturing at the Humiliator. “Try reading my mind. Go ahead.” Dennis looked at Troy. Troy shrugged and nodded. Dennis focused.

“I just kind of getting sort of fuzzy, hard-to-hear words like a radio station out of tune,” Dennis said, frowning.

“Yeah, I ain't stupid,” SpankTank said. “Unlike the Trolls or the Outcasts, I gotta pretty healthy respect for the mental stuff. Enough respect to incorporate some cybertech that scatters psychic waves. You're not gonna be making us spank ourselves or each other.”

“The whole dumb punk thing is an act, isn't it?” Major Fry said. “You have to be pretty damned smart to invent these cybernetics. Is that accent even real?” The other Blister Boyz looked a little concerned at Walt's questions, but SpankTank just gave him a big grin and puffed on his cigar.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” he said.

“So what happens now?” Troy asked. The tension had pretty much drained away. It wasn't like their asses could be any sorer anyway.

“So what I'm gonna do is I'm gonna give you boys three months from today,” SpankTank said. “Three months to prepare, work on those skills of yours. Then it's open season. We're gonna start stirring up trouble in your direction. It's your asses or ours and we're not gonna be giving you a choice.”

Troy thought about it for a few moments.

“Okay, you come after us and we fight, winner punishes the loser, that's how it goes,” Heat Blister said. “But if we catch Freakshow breaking the law, stealing stuff, breaking stuff, all the stuff you do, we're sending you to the Zig like any other crooks. After beating your asses first.”

SpankTank nodded.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Assuming you win, of course. If you lose, though ... .” SpankTank pulled down Jacob's shorts to expose his bronzed bottom framed in his jockstrap. It looked like SpankTank had been allowing him to heal up before having his way with him. SpankTank took a few puffs from his cigar, then pulled it out of his mouth and firmly stubbed it out on Jacob Brass's right cheek. Jacob yelped in pain in his gag from the burn.

“You and us, we're gonna be the best of enemies,” SpankTank said. “But we're gonna be enemies, no mistake. The difference between those Crimson Brotherhood guys and us is that we don't want to make you our slaves. There's no fun in that. But you lose to us, you're gonna be going home bawling. We will have our way with your asses however we see fit.” He took his metal index finger and slowly shoved it in Jacob's asshole. Again the hero yelped and squirmed, but he couldn't stop it. “And thanks to that doc's records, we know you boys can take what we can dish out.”

“Understood,” Heat Blister said.

“Oh, and when I said open season, I mean all you Omega boys,” SpankTank said. “Not just you Blister Boyz. There's hundreds of boys in the Freakshow, you know. The eight of you just ain't enough. You might as well tell the rest of the frat to suit up because we're coming for anybody who got powers.”

Troy nodded at him. Well,