Brat on Vacation Ch 01 - Invitation

After Brad had surrendered himself to me it wasn’t this “happily ever after” where we walked off into the sunset and lived in a castle surrounded by helpful mice and birds who sang songs, no we were college students, so every day was a grind, every class milestone was a hustle, but we had each other.  His room in the frat house most weekday nights, my room in the dorms on the weekends when Kevin was away, sometimes he showed up on Sunday afternoon early and found us cuddled together.  Days turned into weeks.  The worst part was when he had gone away for Thanksgiving break and I stayed on campus because I didn’t want to go home.  It was so boring, though I did figure out how to rob the vending machines so at least there was a little bit of fun.

It was in those few weeks before Christmas break that things changed.  Everyone had that little countdown in their head and this desperation to finish do all of the work needed.  It was a Sunday, and I was down in the basement of the dorms doing laundry.  Kevin had walked in on Brad in his diaper at the desk writing an assignment, and as Brad explained it, well he forgot he was just wearing a diaper.  There he sat typing away trying to make some kind of convincing argument when it finally dawned on him.  They shared a look and laughed it off, but when I got back Brad was in sweat pants much to my disappointment and Kevin was on his second beer and shirtless on his bed reading a book he was supposed to have finished by the next day.  They fell silent when I entered the room with my basket full of clothes.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Kevin said with a mischievous laugh.

“Brad?”

“It’s all good.  He just walked in on me in my, well, diaper,” he answered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kevin said, “I’m thinking of taking off my pants right now.”

I rolled my eyes and thought about defusing the situation by taking Brad to dinner when Kevin told me that he had ordered pizza and that the fridge was full of beer.  I settled for the latter of course and got one out.  So I sat on my bed and sorted clothes, started to put them away, when Brad let out this berp, so Kevin did it too, and they both laughed.  When they start farting and making jokes about it, I told myself, then I know they’re friends.

“Do you think a butt plug hurts?” Kevin asked.

I looked to him where he lay, his two sock covered feet off the edge of the bed, his long legs covered by jeans, the band of his boxers and that soft tummy, a cute roll of fat.  He scratched at himself and shifted on the bed and looked to both of us.  I looked away and Brad pretended like he hadn’t heard.  So Kevin sat up and moved to the edge where his feet dangled off.

“I’m serious,” he said, “hey look, you guys have probably put stuff up there.  I’m not gay but you know, times are changing and I was just curious.  Stop being such a prude.”

Brad and I looked to each other and laughed.  We knew.  We had all the answers and yet as open as we were, as much as we didn’t try to hide our little practice of me putting Brad in diapers, our sexuality, any of it, it still felt like a taboo.  For all of our shared secrets we were a bit prudish, at least when it came to straights.  Kevin got himself another beer, opened it, and began to drink it.  He gave another to Brad and urged him to finish the one by his laptop which he did, then he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

“What do you think that was about?” Brad asked over his shoulder.

“Maybe he’s bi-curious?”

“I don’t think it’s a bisexuality thing.  I mean I don’t think he’s into dudes, but you know, maybe he’s just curious.  Lots of guys are doing it now?”

“Doing what?”

“Playing with their butts,” Brad said.

“Really?  Who?”

“Kevin,” he answered in a whisper and we both laughed.

But we fell quiet when the bathroom door opened and he walked back into the room and went to the sink where he washed his hands.  He was about to go back to his bed when there was a knock on the door and he went to open it.  I got to my feet just in time for him to hand me two pizza boxes as he tipped the delivery person then closed the door.  I set them on my bed and opened both.  Kevin was quick to get himself a piece and retreat to his bed where he sat cross legged and looked back at me.

“Don’t you feel like we should be doing something?” he asked.

“And just what do you want to do?” I replied.

“Something, anything, this is so boring.  I feel like we should be exploring.”

“Explore your book,” Brad said.

“No, I want like a real adventure,” Kevin replied.

“If you drink enough we’ll tell you about butt plugs,” I said.

“Really?”

“Do you want to know or is this some kind of test where you laugh at us after?”

“I really want to know,” he said.

“Okay,” I said.

And I went into a long explanation about how they felt, how they didn’t quite satisfy and yet there was something fun to it, that it wasn’t for everyone, some people, gay or straight, liked the feeling of having it in their butt.  I went into the social context of anal play for some people, the feeling of insertion, and then I talked about how for other people it was annoying, gay or straight, having something in the butt was a bother.  I told him about shapes, sizes, and that a tapered base helped it from going inside too far and getting stuck.  He raised his knees and turned away in mock fear when he heard that, but then he drank some more and asked for more details.

“I’m not sure how much more I can tell you.  Did you try looking it up?”

“It’s not, I mean, I guess, it’s more like personal experience, because you know, it’s like, well…”

“Try sitting on one,” Brad said.

“Hey, are you sitting on one now?”

We laughed nervously.

“Is that what you were trying to ask?” I said.

“No, well honestly kind of, but not to embarrass you, but because I am legitimately curious.  Just like when I saw you in the diaper and I made that joke about being able to drink as much as you want without going to the bathroom because you could just go in your diaper.  It’s just one of those things.”

“What do you mean one of those things?  Is that what you meant when you said you wanted to go on an adventure?”

He blushed and covered his face with his hands so I looked away and tried to think up some reason to break up the party.  I mean it felt awkward and yet there was this kind of bond between us, this kind of fun energy.  Mostly, it was the alcohol.  Kevin drank some more and we let the silence pass.  For a moment I thought one of us would think of a new subject, one of us would decide our fates that night, one of us would return the social norms.  But we didn’t, because Kevin was the first to speak.

“I wish I had some hard alcohol,” he said, “I’ve been sober all week and I spent two days with my parents.  They don’t let me drink around them.  I had to convince my older brother to buy a case of beer when he dropped me off.”

“There’s hard liquor at the frat house,” Brad said.

Oh no, I thought, Sunday night is turning into a drinking party, that’s not a good way to start the week.  Well, I’ll stay sober, I thought, and Kevin, well Kevin’s poor life choices are his own.  But when Brad stood up and stretched and I heard the words, “fuck it,” from his lips, I knew it was going to be a long night regardless of my maturity because they both wanted to get drunk.  And just like that with those words we were on a mission to get liquor.  Brad pulled on a shirt, retrieved his keys, wallet, and phone from the dresser by my bed, Kevin put on some shoes, and we were out the door.  We walked the paths to the frat house with barely a word between us and when we got there Kevin hesitated for a moment before he stepped inside.

Frat life wasn’t for him.  He had quit soon after joining, so he was a bit of an unwanted guest, but there was barely anyone home so with a shrug of his shoulders we all went inside.  Brad was quick to raid the supply in the kitchen and took two half-full bottles of vodka and a bottle of whiskey with no label.  He handed them to Kevin in a grocery bag then we all went up to his room.  I knew that Kevin didn’t want to be left alone and cornered by one of the frat brothers.  Brad apologized for his messy room and started to look through his drawers.  He tossed a couple of diapers on the bed, some clothes, then he pulled out something and covered it with both hands as he moved to Kevin.

“Put out your hands,” he said.

He did.  And Brad placed a butt plug, his butt plug, there in his palm.  At first he was fascinated by it in his drunken stupor but then he realized what it was and where it had been so he dropped it and pretended to be disgusted.  At least in part he pretended because he really hammed it up with all the cries of disgust and wiping his hands on everything.  He was about to step away and walk from the room when I decided to joke with him a little and wrapped him on the arm to get his attention.

“Pick it up,” I said, “it won’t hurt you unless you put it up your butt and even then it might feel good, don’t be so scared.  You were the one asking all the questions.”

He looked to me then the plug, eventually he picked it up, handed it to Brad, then he wiped his hands on his jeans and walked from the room.  Brad showed it to me with a grin before he stuck it in his overnight bag.  I shook my head and we both laughed.  Kevin waited just outside the room and we all walked out together.  When we stepped out into the cool Fall air it felt like we had committed robbery, like we had gotten away with something.  The frat guys would never notice the missing liquor, but it still felt like we had done something bad.

By the time we made it back to the dorms we were all laughing and joking with each other with those little shoves and pulls guys do. When we got to the room we spilled inside and were cracking up about nothing.  Brad set the first bottle on the desk, followed by the second and third with this resounding thud for each one.  He poured shots with the vodka and we downed them.  He poured again and we downed them.  When he started on the third round I refused and Kevin drank it before going to his bed with a slice of pizza.  He ate greedily and made a mess of himself with toppings falling all over his chest and sauce at the corners of his mouth.  Brad looked to me and we shared a laugh.

“I’m so drunk,” Kevin said, “this is the best.  Who would have thought having a gay roomie and his boyfriend could be so much fun?”

“I won’t take that as an insult,” I said.

“You know what I mean,” he said, “this is great.  I just have to pee.”

Then Brad did something I didn’t expect, he took a diaper out of his bag and tossed it to Kevin.  It landed in front of him and he stared at it.  I watched as the different parts of his body flushed and changed color.  His lips turned red.  His hands turned red.  The cheeks on his face, red.  I shook my head a little and thought to change the way this was going when he took hold of it and began to rub the plastic material with his fingers.  I could tell he was interested.  He just wanted to know, to have the experience, tomorrow it might all be a memory but right then as we sat together, it felt like this given that he would do it.  I expected him to go to the bathroom and do it himself but instead he looked to us.

“One of you has to put me in it,” he said.

“Which?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter, Brad,” he said.

“Okay, strip down,” Brad said.

“Do you think this is going too far?” I asked.

“Have another shot,” Kevin replied.

“Hey, don’t say-“

“I’ve been warned all of my life and what good did that do me?  I ended up repressed and hating myself,” Brad said, “let him enjoy it.  Now strip.”

Kevin got to his feet and swayed for a moment then steadied himself before he pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles.  He stood up and put his hands out in victory as he stood before us with his little penis on display amongst a nest of pubic hair.  It was cute just like him.  I rolled my eyes though at this situation and I was glad it wasn’t me having to put the diaper on him when Brad pushed him backwards onto the bed and took hold of his feet when they popped up into the air.  He pulled off my roommie’s shoes, his jeans, and his underwear, then he pulled him to the middle of the bed, lifted the other young man’s knees into the air.  He sat between those legs, looked down over Kevin’s naked body and he shook his head as he laughed.

“Is this the way it’s done?  I bet you look real cute on your back,” Kevin said, “a big frat boy like you with all those muscles.  I’d like to see that.”

And there it was, this kind of admission, this feeling that he’d had, this fantasy of Brad on his back, a jock boy through and through, yet there he was just like Kevin with his knees in the air.  It was the fantasy that got me excited every time we did it.  Brad interrupted my thoughts with a playful slap to Kevin’s belly.

“Keep being a smart ass and I’ll have to give you a spanking,” he said.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Kevin replied with a ring of challenge to his voice.

Brad spanked him, three times on the same cheek, but he spanked him.  Kevin laughed.  He actually laughed while being naked on his back in a room with two young, gay men, his knees in the air, his hole exposed.  He laughed.  Brad was quick to reposition him and place the diaper under his butt.

“Do you want the full treatment?” I asked.

“What’s the full treatment?”

“I’ve got lotions and baby powder in my drawer here.  It’ll really make the diaper experience memorable,” I said.

“Trust me,” Brad added.

“Hell yeah, give it to me daddy, I want it,” Kevin said.

Brad spanked him again, this time it hurt and Kevin said so.

“I’m not just going to let you keep spanking me,” he said.

“Then behave yourself,” Brad replied.

I got bottles from the drawer and handed them to Brad, then I stood there and looked down to Kevin who waited.  I watched his tummy rise and fall with each breath, studied the way his cheeks were still rosy, and his nipples hardened at the ends of soft pectoral muscles.  He was quite the sight as Brad put the powder on him first, then he held up the lotion for Kevin to see.

“This next part, it’s not about gay or straight, it’s to protect your little butt from dry skin.  Do you want me to put it on you?”

“Yes please,” Kevin said.

A note of civility, for all the play, for all the antics, he had found some sense of maturity in this little adventure of his.  Brad spread lotion over his ass and the crevices of his thighs.  I knew Brad was turned on by this.  I was turned on by this.  And yet we knew there were limits, this wasn’t someone we had picked up in the bar, this was my roommate.  Brad fastened the diaper and pushed himself from the bed, stood next to me.  We both looked down at him.

“I feel like I need a pacifier,” he said.

“Do you want to try the butt plug?” Brad asked.

“No, nope, too far, I’m good,” he said.

I looked to Brad, whispered for him to strip down and he did.  He stood there in his puffy diaper and rubbed the material for a moment absent mindedly.  Kevin reached down to touch the crotch of his diaper and hesitated for a moment before he saw Brad doing it so he did the same.  He rubbed the outside, front and back, just to feel it.  We all laughed it off and I returned to my bed, Brad returned to the desk.  Kevin moved to the wall where he placed a pillow and picked up his book.  It was over.

The adventure was over, I thought, but it didn’t have to be.  Just what was I thinking?  I wasn’t sure.  Three drunk guys, two of them wearing diapers, on a college campus, Sunday night.  Brad stretched and poured himself another drink.  Kevin slipped a hand down the front of his diaper, just a little, just a few fingers, but it was there.  We were bored.

“What about going on a little adventure?” I asked.

“I’m game,” Kevin said.

“Me too, I can finish this paper in the morning, just let me save it.  What did you have in mind?”

“A little walk around campus,” I said, “but, and here’s the but, you have to walk around in a diaper and a t-shirt, no pants.”

“No pants?” Kevin asked.

“No pants!” Brad shouted in celebration.

And we did, they did.  We stepped out of the dorm room a few minutes later with both of them in white t-shirts and shoes, no pants.  In the light they looked foolish and for a moment I considered making them take the elevator when the bell rang and some other people from the floor got off in conversation.  We all considered running back inside the room but they went down a different hallway, but I could tell the sudden realization of being exposed, well they were both sweating, so I told them we could take the stairs.

Walking around a college campus at night is one thing, but doing it as we were, well it was something else.  We didn’t mean anyone harm, just the opposite.  We were so focused on ourselves and each other that it was this joke between us.  We made it down the stairs and onto a path between the dorms that barely anyone ever used.  We walked towards the woods, and it would have been easy to get lost amongst them, but there would also be the risk of being seen by passing cars and the few neighbors who lived near the college and who were always complaining about stuff like this, usually it was the frats, but that night it was us.  So when I got the opportunity I steered us back toward campus because I figured if campus security saw us they’d probably laugh it off.

We walked all around campus that night, mostly stayed out of the buildings, just kind of hung around in different places, mostly stayed to the shadows.  It was funny to see them run between buildings with just their shirts to cover them, and hide when they heard someone.  But the only time we almost got caught was when we got closer to the dorms and we heard security making their rounds.  Brad and Kevin hid behind a half wall, stood as close to it as possible and I just sat there on it trying to act like we didn’t have any other place to be.  The security guard barely noticed us, but after he passed there were a few whistles and cat calls from the windows of a dorm, by the sound of it a woman.  Both of them flushed with fear and ran.  I tried to see what window, who had done it, but couldn’t make it out so I just shrugged my shoulders and followed after them back to the room.

Once again we burst into the room full of energy, but this time it died off when we got inside and felt warm again.  Each of us went back to doing something, Kevin read his book, Brad wrote his paper, and I surfed the internet.  But all we had to do was look at each other and we’d start laughing.  The most awkward moment though was when Kevin stood up to use the bathroom.  He looked to me and I shrugged my shoulders but when Brad noticed he shook his head.

“Try it,” Brad said.

“I can’t,” he replied.

“Do you mean you haven’t used it all night?” I asked.

“No, well yeah, I mean I peed a little when we were out, but like this time I really have to go and I don’t want to do it in front of you guys.”

“Don’t worry about,” I said.

“Wait, hold on, it’s the best feeling,” Brad said, “knowing and being there with a friend, someone you love,” he looked to me, “it’s wonderful.  Just give it a try.”

He closed his eyes tight as he stood there and for a moment I didn’t think it would happen then we heard it, that unmistakable sound of someone pissing in a diaper.  We laughed at it for a moment, then he farted, then he ran for the bathroom.  Brad and I looked to each other and laughed it off.  There are still some boundaries between friends.  When he came back the diaper was barely clinging to his hips as he had pulled it off then back on after doing what he needed to do.  Kevin was about to get into bed when Brad told him to wait.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“Not yet, but if you go to bed in a diaper like that you’re asking for spills.  Pissing a diaper is one thing but pissing the bed is another because you have to do all these sheets and blankets, the mattress is ruined.  I think you need a change.”

“Could you do it?” Kevin asked.

Brad was quick to jump to his feet.  He finally had someone else to change.  This time he waited for Kevin to get into place before he got into position and just like the last time he made him hold his knees in the air with his little dick pointed towards his belly and his hole exposed.  It seemed so routine, so ordinary I didn’t watch and went back to surfing the net.  I heard a few little whispers, giggles, and for a moment it caught my attention but I was getting tired and the alcohol was working on me so I didn’t think too much about it.  So when Brad made his way over to me and crawled into bed, and he wrapped himself around me, put his lips to my ear and whispered that Kevin had asked him to put the butt plug in him I was surprised and for a moment disappointed that I hadn’t seen it, but just the thought of it, of him, there in his bed, my straight roommate with a butt plug in him and wearing just a diaper, well that was enough, and we fell asleep.

The next morning we were all awoken by the buzzing and ringing of Brad’s phone, and it was a good thing too, because we had all slept through our alarms.  Brad rubbed the crusties from his eyes as he answered it.  Kevin rolled over onto his back and for a moment I saw a look of panic on his face, then relief as I’m sure he pissed his diaper again.  Brad looked to me though with renewed fear in his eyes, he held the phone away from his mouth.

“It’s my mother,” he said, “and she wants you to come home for Christmas break.”

“I’m not ready,” I whispered back.

“Too bad, you’re coming,” he said.

“No one will be coming if we both go to your home for Christmas,” I said.

“That’s kind of the point,” he said, “my parents want to meet you.  Will your parents mind?”

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head, my parents wouldn’t mind, they’d kill me, well not literally, but I hadn’t gone home for Thanksgiving.  I had promised I’d be home for Christmas.  But I could live with disappointing them, so I told him they wouldn’t mind and that I’d go.  He looked relieved and told his mother as he went into the bathroom for privacy.  Kevin sat up and threw his pillow at me and hit me.  He ran his hand through his hair, looked down to his diaper.

“No regrets,” he said, “the butt plug feels weird, especially to wake up with it.  Did you hear me jerking off last night?  It felt so good when I was drunk.”

“I’m glad,” I replied with a groan of disgust.  But the truth was all I could think about was Christmas break with Brad’s family.  What kind of hell could this be?

Sparrow Ch 01 - Bottle Nose

Perched upon the grotesque of the Bannister Bank high above the city

Sparrow felt as if he made an imposing, threatening sight if anyone

saw him, but they didn’t.  They were all down there.  The feeling was

only for himself.  And he needed that feeling on a night like this

when his boss, his mentor, The Champion of Wattsburgh City, real name

Brad Wattson, was out of town on urgent League business. That’s how

this responsibility had fallen to him, urgent business, and he had to

give up his ordinary life to watch over the city, stop the bad guys

the cops couldn’t handle.

Just hours before he had been Luke Harden, a mild mannered college

student eating pizza after a 5 hour long study session in the library

with his friends, making his moves on his girlfriend to get her to

come back to his place when it all got interrupted by a notification

on his cell phone.  He pulled it from his pocket and for a moment he

thought about not answering but he knew the consequences if he didn’t.

He took the call and walked away from the table.  It was Brad telling

him he had to leave immediately and that he would be protecting the

city.  Well not him, but the Sparrow, the hero they had invented

together.  And it was done.  He went back to the table and invented an

excuse about his Uncle being sick and how he had to rush out to take

him some chicken soup or something, canceled plans with his

girlfriend, and he stormed out.

A quick drive to his apartment, open the secret compartment in the

back of his closet, costume and utility belt.  He snuck up to the roof

of his building, changed and hid his street clothes in a shadow, and

he was someone else.  The costume felt ridiculous, skin tight for the

most part, boots, gloves, a mask that covered his eyes, and the cape.

He had asked The Champion about why he had to dress that way several

times and the man always had an answer, the same answer, put fear into

the hearts of the criminals, but it never felt like that.  Though the

costume did have its benefits, skin tight meant he could be acrobatic

and there was little for the enemy to grab.  The cape made it easier

for him to hide in the darkness and it camouflaged his figure, made

his body a difficult target to hit.

He yawned into his hand, stretched his muscles as he listened to the

police band radio receiver in his ear.  Domestic disputes, vandalism,

and bar room brawls, none of those were the things he was supposed to

interfere with.  No he was supposed to take the difficult things, bank

robberies, hostage scenarios, anything where he could operate from the

shadows.  It was so boring he thought for a moment to go see what his

friends were up to, maybe even check on his girlfriend and make sure

she wasn’t with another guy.  He was about to give up and call it a

night, find something to occupy his time, when he got an alert of a

silent alarm at a Wattson Industries warehouse.

Those didn’t go directly to the police, Brad had those sent directly

to whoever was on duty.  Usually it was the man himself but in this

case Sparrow.  He pulled his grappling hook gun from his belt and

aimed it down at the edge of the building, once it was secured he

swung down, then lowered himself to the alleyway where he had parked

his personally issued, fully customized motorcycle.  He pulled the helmet from its special compartment and put it on his head before climbing onto it and

engaging the engine.  It roared to life.

“Time to go play guard dog,” he said under his breath.

Ten minutes later he was there, he spotted the broken gate and the van out

front immediately so he parked around back where no one could see,

then pulled himself onto the roof with another use of his grappling

gun.  He walked across the asphalt to look down on the van.  He

spotted one man inside it, the driver.  There could be anywhere from

one to five or more people inside, he reasoned.  I like those odds, he

said to himself with a smirk.

Inside the five henchmen and their boss Bottle Nose moved through the

building unaware that they had tripped an alarm, unaware of the

Sparrow on the roof.  They were searching for one thing in particular,

one crate.  They made their way up and down the aisles constantly

looking at their hands where they had written the number.

“615598,” one of them muttered to himself.

“Is that an 8 or a 3?” another asked.

“An 8, an 8,” Bottle Nose barked, “why is good help so hard to find?”

“It’d be a lot easier if we knew where to find it,” one of them said back.

Bottle Nose gave him an eye that meant if he were any closer he’d be

wrapped on the shin with the man’s cane.  But he shook of the notion

and continued to hobble along until he spotted the manager’s office.

“Boys over here, come break this window,” he ordered.

Two of his nearby goons jumped at the chance to break something.  The

first took a swing and punched it but only hurt his hand.  The second

picked up a metal pipe from the nearby stack and took a swing.  Crash,

glass fell to the floor in little bits.  The man grinned at what he

had just done.  The man who had punched it and failed cradled his hand

and looked to Bottle Nose.

“Well, what are you waiting for, climb in there.”

Both men began to climb inside, the first slipped on some papers and

fell.  The second climbed onto a desk, belly against wood he reached

out for something and fell to the ground.  A third goon who had come

to help laughed at them both.  This time the man was close enough for

Bottle Nose to wrap with his cane and the man cried out in pain

causing him to fall silent.

“What are you waiting for?  Get in there and help them.”

The third goon climbed inside and for a moment he stood there in

triumph until something hard and silent hit him in the head and

dropped him like a ton of bricks.  The first two thought for a moment

that he had slipped and they broke into laughter until they were both

hit by the same weapon.  Bottle Nose watched his men fall and he

perked up because he knew this was his worst danger.  The Sparrow

swung down and nailed him in the back with both feet sending him

flying into one of the crates.  He hit with a thud that caused the

wood to creak from impact but not break.  Bottle Nose swung out with

his cane blindly half expecting to connect with someone but didn’t.

He looked around, swung again in frustration.

“Boys, are you still there?”

“Still here boss,” the last two henchmen who had entered with him said

in unison.

“Well, help me out, let’s get out of this place,” he grunted before

running for the gate where they had entered.  The two henchmen

followed behind him looking this way and that to try and see someone.

Bottle Nose made it to the van but found the sliding door was closed

so he looked in through the passenger window to see the driver

unconscious.  He heard two more thuds and he knew that his two goons

had been knocked out so he pulled the handle of his cane out revealing

a three inch blade.  Now in two pieces he readied himself for combat

ready to swing with one half and stab with the other.  He caught a

glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye but it was too late,

those same feet that had kicked him in the back had made contact with

his chest and sent him flying back into the passenger door.  He hit so

hard it knocked the wind out of him and he fell to his butt gasping

for air.

This is it, this is how it ends, he thought to himself.  The Champion

has caught me before and he always took me to prison so it won’t be so

bad at least there he can make some new plan, learn about some new

scheme.  Tears of pain filled his eyes as he caught his breath and he

was about to surrender when he heard two boots land in front of him,

two lightweight boots.  He looked up to see the Sparrow there in front

of him and he looked around for more movement.  This wasn’t like the

Champion.  The Champion mostly operated from the shadows.  He saw the

amused smirk on the young man’s face and he laughed a little to

himself.

“Is it just you wonder boy?”

“Just me,” Sparrow replied.

“Daddy let you stay out this late?  No curfew for baby bird?”

“Look here Bottle Nose, I just took out six of your men and you’re on

your fat ass winded and defeated so I’d say I’m more than enough to

handle the likes of you.”

“Hmm, maybe so boy, maybe so,” Bottle Nose replied.

“Are you going to give up?”

“Yes, yes, just turn me over to the police.”

“Drop the blade and I will.”

Bottle Nose looked down to his knife that was still in his hand.  He

set it on the ground beside him then slid it away, then he looked up

to Sparrow who had barely moved but instead stood there with his arms

crossed.  He made an imposing figure in his little costume, he

thought, imposing but not dangerous.  No, he was just standing there

waiting.  He took note of the young man’s stature, his squared

shoulders, his narrow waist, muscled thighs, and the way his feet were

flat on the ground.  He had won, or at least thought he had won.

Maybe there was a way out of this yet.

He shifted and groaned to try and get up and for a moment he thought

he saw Sparrow move but he was being cautious.  Bottle Nose turned

back and forth until he could get his hands out and one knee under

himself, then he pushed up onto it and onto the second part of his

cane which gave a little on him and scraped across the asphalt a

little before sticking into it.  Finally he got his weight

distribution right and was able to get up to both feet though still

bent over on that little bit of cane.  It wasn’t enough to support

him, at least that’s what he wanted the hero to think, and he reached

out for the van and leaned onto it.  He half stood and gasped for

breath.

“And the Champ isn’t in the shadows?” he said between puffs.

“Not tonight, so that means if you fuck around with me I’ll smash you

good, then I’ll take you downtown.”

“Downtown?  You mean you haven’t called the cops?”

“Not yet,” Sparrow replied.

“Well,” Bottle Nose grunted, “that’ll make it easier.”

He reached his free hand for his pocket and Sparrow was on him in an

instant, grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled his arm up, looked into

the man’s hand only to see a pocket watch.  Bottle Nose opened it.

“What’s that for?”

“To distract you,” he answered.

And Sparrow saw it too late, Bottle Nose pressed a button on the other

part of his cane and gas shot out, gas that he aimed right into the

young hero’s face.  Sulfur and something else went so deep into his

nostrils he could taste it and feel it in his throat.  His eyes

watered and he looked to Bottle Nose’s face, a wicked grin with one

tooth missing, coal black eyes stared back at him.  Then there was

darkness.

CP Chapter 04 - The Prospect

After a few text messages back and forth we arranged a time and day for the session.  Despite us having met at the coffee shop to talk through a few things, get a sense of each other’s personality, our commitment, and interest, I was still worried he’d ghost me right up until he knocked on my door.  I was so relieved when he did as I had imagined the whole scene several times over the previous days and even waiting for him I started to get an erection.  I gave myself a moment to breath and focus, let it subside a little, before I answered the door.

He stood before me, eyes down causing his shaggy blonde hair to hang down in front of his face.  He was dressed in a white t-shirt and loose, baggy jeans, and old worn out shoes.  His shoulders were tense and he shifted on his feet.  He was nervous so I adjusted myself, not too serious, not too relaxed, let myself be open to however this would go.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hi,” he forced out of his throat.

“Would you like to come inside?”

He looked back at the street to his car then around at the other houses and shrugged his shoulders before stepping forward into the house.  I closed the door behind him then stepped away to give him space and let him look around but he barely moved so I motioned to a seat I usually leave by the door for taking off shoes and such.  He moved to it and sat, looked up to me with big, hopeful blue eyes.  I stepped back some more and smirked to him.

“I know it feels big, important, like the first time you had sex or something and it’s kind of like that but I’m not here to ridicule you, unless you’re into that, it’s a journey and we’re both on it together.  I just have more experience.”

He smiled back to me.

“I just want it to be right, you know, like I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” I replied, “there will be mistakes and there will be corrections, that’s the point of this.  You want to explore something.  I didn’t go into detail but we’ll use a safe word.  Yellow if you want me to slow down and red if you want me to stop.  The important thing is if you trust me.”

“I do, really, I mean you were the only guy to be so nice and explain stuff to me, just, you know, it’s like new to me.  I mean I didn’t think much about it.  I tried to not think about it, but then I put on white briefs today, which is different for me and it’s been like all I can think about, all through class this morning I kept thinking about this.”

“What if we go into the living room first and we can just sit and talk if you want?”

“Yeah,” he said.

He stood and started to move towards the living room and I motioned for him to stop and pointed to his shoes.

“Sorry,” he replied.

He slid off his shoes and I motioned for him to follow me into the living room where I took a seat in the recliner leaving him the big couch to sit on.  He took the middle seat which was kind of interesting to me.  Most guys, most “alpha men” take a corner seat, try to project strength, so maybe he was more open to this than I thought.  I watched his breathing steady and even out as he looked around at the room.  He spotted a few photos of me and my husband, he smiled at the art on the walls, photographs and paintings of naked men.  Finally he sat back and I figured he had relaxed enough.

“Would you like to start?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Okay, then let’s go back to the front door,” I said.

I got to my feet and led him back to the front door and motioned for him to stand near the entrance so he did.  I took a deep breath.  He did too.  Sympathetic response, that’s good, I thought.

“From now on it’s yes sir and no sir.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” he answered.

“Good, and you understand about the safe word and how they work?  You can beg and plead, get into the role, but when you want things to slow down you say yellow and if you want them to stop you say red.  Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Follow me,” I commanded.

Through the dining room, down a long hallway of closed doors, at the very end on the left I opened the door and motioned for him to enter and he did.  I stepped in behind him and let him look over everything.  There was a bookshelf on the left and a built in closet, a bed to the right with a cross above it, the only in the house for mood.  There were a few pictures on the walls, simply decorative and common things I found in thrift stores.  Thick, heavy curtains covered the windows.  But against the far wall was the desk.  I called it the punishment desk.  It was old and well constructed with a simple chair that had no arms and would have very little comfort to a sore bottom.

The desk had a shelving unit on top where there were several leather bound journals, separated into the men I no longer played with, the two who currently visited me, and one lonely journal for someone new.  I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed a little for him to walk to the desk which he did obediently and without resistance.  I told him to sit and pull in the chair at the desk.  I laid out the new journal and a pen.  He opened it to the first page and took a deep breath.

That’s when I reached into the drawer and took out my favorite paddle, the introductory paddle, and set it on the desk in front of him in front of the notebook so that he’d have to look at it while he wrote.  He gulped and I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder until he calmed down.  He noticed that there were several journals there already and raised an enquiring eyebrow.  I told him the ones on the left were old journals for men I had known previously, most I barely if ever stayed in contact with, one had become my husband and didn’t need it anymore, one we were friends now and stopped being punished some years ago.  The ones on the right were for my new subjects.  I told him to write out his name, the date, and what he had done wrong to deserve a punishment.  He set to the task and I walked away, out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen to catch my breath and assess things.

When I returned he was still writing so I gave him a minute to see if he’d run out of energy.  I walked up to him and looked to the notebook.  He was on his third page and making a bullet point list.

“Are you almost done?”

“Yeah, just one more thing,” he said.

“Sir,” I replied.

“Just one more thing, sir,” he said.

When he stopped I closed the journal and set it on the shelf with the others before putting my hand back on his shoulder and telling him to stand.  He did so without much reaction so I told him to assume the position over the desk as I picked up the paddle.  He crossed his arms against it, let his head settle against them, his blonde hair fell down against the wood.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“I need to pee sir,” he said.

“On a scale of 1 to 5?”

“One sir,” he answered.

“Wait,” I said.

The first whack caught him off guard and he barely made a sound.  His jeans took most of the impact.  I set the paddle down and grabbed the back of the his jeans and tugged up giving him a slight wedgie until I could make out the shape of his buttocks then I let him settle back down on his feet and against the desk.  I tapped his butt to let him know I’d spank him again and saw him brace himself so I cracked him once just to let him really feel it, what it was like when the jeans didn’t break the impact and he grunted.  I spanked him two more times in quick succession and he rose up on his toes so I paused and let him settle.

I tapped and he braced himself but this time I didn’t spank him and waited.  I waited until he relaxed a little then I gave it to him three times.  Instead of rising up on his toes he tried to grind his heels into the carpet, really plant himself there.  I tapped him and he tensed so I paused again, but not as long before I laid into him three more times causing him to grunt with each one.

“Don’t hold back,” I said, “let it out.”

He braced himself and I spanked him three more times.  One foot was up, one foot was down, he squirmed a little.  I could see his breathing had quickened.

“Do you still need to pee?”

“Yes sir,” he said, his voice crackling with effort and pain.

“From 1 to 5?”

“Two sir,” he answered.

“It can wait,” I said.

By then he had settled both feet but he wasn’t prepared, didn’t steel himself, so I spanked him two more times.  He grabbed at the back of his head, dug his fingers into his scalp.  I set the paddle down on the desk and told him to stand up and face me.  He did so, slowly, but he did it.  His eyes were down at my feet, his hair partially covered his face and I could see his jaw was tense.

“Are you ready for what’s going to happen next?” I asked.

“Yes sir,” he replied.

I reached out and took hold of his belt buckle, pulled him to me and opened it.  His hands at his sides he watched as I undid his belt, pulled it from his jeans, then tossed it onto the bed.  I unfastened his jeans next, opened them fully and let them slide down his legs to his knees before squatting down and telling him to lift one leg at a time until I picked them up from the ground.  I tossed them on the bed then went down to one knee and told him to lift his foot up enough so I could take off his socks, one at a time until there were two bare feet on the carpet.  I watched him ball his toes for a few seconds before standing and telling him to assume the position again.

He sighed and turned away from me to the desk, stepped to it and assumed the position.  I took the socks over to the bed, folded them, folded his jeans, rolled his belt up and piled everything together neatly as I looked to him, bare feet, bare legs, and a cute little brief covered butt.  I moved to stand behind him, picked up the paddle and he watched. He took a deep breath and readied himself.  I tapped him and he tensed so I paused again, reached to the waist band of his underwear and pulled his briefs up a little so I could see the full shape of his butt.  I lifted his shirt a little too, just above the band of underwear.  He began to breath easier.  

That’s when I spanked him two more times.  He squirmed.  I spanked him three times in quick succession and he shifted on his feet, almost put his hand back to protect himself.  I let him catch his breath, then laid into him three more times.  This time he put his hand back and covered his butt.  I took hold of his wrist gently and pulled his hand up his back as I stepped closer to him.

“There’s no way out of this punishment boy,” I said, “you know you deserve this and you’re going to take what you have coming.  Now be a good boy and keep your hand up here so you don’t get hurt on accident.”

I tightened my grip on his wrist and laid into him.  He grunted the first time, moaned the second time, whimpered on the third, and with the fourth he squealed and tried to break his hand free of my grip.  I set the paddle down next to him so he’d see, then I told him to stand and face me, letting go of him as he did.  He looked to my feet again.  I opened my arms and he stepped into them and we hugged, my hand naturally went to the back of his head deep into that thick blonde hair.  He cried into my shoulder for a few minutes as I said soothing words.  

“We’re not done yet,” I said.

“I know sir,” he replied.

I broke the bond between us and stepped away from him.  I put one hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to turn away from me.  When he did I led him to the corner of the room and placed him there.

“Do you still have to pee?”

“It’s a three sir,” he said.

“Can it wait?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

I moved directly behind him, put my fingers in the waist band of his underwear and slowly pulled them down.  When I got to his feet he stepped out of them and I stood back up, held them out to appreciate how new and clean they were before taking them over to the bed and folding them and placed them under the belt and socks.  I looked to him in the corner and he rubbed at his face and eyes before reaching back to touch his butt.  He did so carefully and was about to rub his flesh.

“Stop, hands on your head,” I ordered.

He did so immediately and without hesitation.  The hem of his shirt rose above his butt and even his waist letting me see his butt completely.  I could make out the reddest parts where I had spanked him the hardest and the most, the discoloration of skin around those spots, and the places I had missed like the bottom of his butt.  Little did he know I’d be back for round two in just a minute.  I crossed the room to where he stood and got right behind his ear.

“I’m giving you some time to think about what you did wrong and how you’re being punished.  When your arms get tired you can put them at your sides but don’t, and I repeat don’t, touch your butt and especially don’t touch your dick.”

He gulped.  I looked around to the front of him and I could I could tell he had a bit of an erection.  His dick was on the average side, maybe five or six inches when fully erect.  He took a deep breath and I looked up his shirt to his flat, taut stomach.  He tried to look down to me out of the corner of his eye but when I returned the look he looked away to the wall.  I smirked at him which he clearly saw, then I tapped him on the butt playfully, stood, and put my lips back at his ear.

“Don’t forget why you’re here bad boy,” I said.

“Thank you sir,” he replied.

I turned and walked out of the room.  I went to the kitchen and made myself a drink on ice, snacked on a bit of lunchmeat, looked over a grocery list on the refrigerator.  I tried to measure out the time and left him like that for ten minutes or so.  When I returned I was surprised to see him still there with his hands on his head just as I had left him, nearly as stiff too.  His little dick barely deflated.

I asked him if he needed to pee and he said that he would rate it a 4 so I guided him through the house to the bathroom and told him I’d leave the door open a little so I could make sure he wasn’t rubbing his butt.  I looked in to see him raise his shirt a little, thrust out his penis and hold it with the fingers of his right hand.  He peed a little and I smirked at him.  I took him back into the room to the desk.  

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Why not,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

I spanked him once on the butt.

“This is no joking matter,” I said, “you should take this seriously.”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Arms up,” I commanded and he did it immediately.

He raised his arms and I took hold of his shirt, raised it up to reveal a soft stomach and a chest that got very little if any exercise, off his shoulders and up his arms he bent over a little so I could get it past his hands and it was off.  I took it over the bed, where again I folded it and placed it on top of his jeans and under his other clothes and belt.  I went back over to him and picked up the paddle.  He squirmed at just the sight of it.

“Five more,” I told him, “now assume the position.”

He turned away from me and did so.  I tapped his thighs to get him to spread his feet and looked to his balls as they hung down, his limp dick, the way his cheeks parted and I could see his asshole.  I appreciated the sight.  And then I spanked him, five more times, with a little more attention to the spots I missed.  He wailed and screamed but he never tried to stop me or reach back.  I knew he was counting them just as I was and when I finished he nearly slumped against the desk but caught himself.

I pulled him from the desk and into a hug.  This time he gave into the feeling of being comforted and he grabbed back at me.  His fingers intwined with my shirt, his chest against me, his head on my shoulder.  He didn’t cry.  He wasn’t there yet.  I let him relax a little and feel the warmth of our bodies pressed together until I felt him calm down and let go of my shirt.  I broke away again and took hold of his wrist.  I moved to the chair and pulled him down over my lap.

“Please sir,” he begged.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Do you want to use your safe word?”

“No sir,” he answered.

I laid into him with just my hand.  I spanked one cheek then the other, right, left, then several times on the right, several times on the left.  He bucked and squirmed against me and when he put his hand back I took hold of his wrist and forced it to the middle of his back as I continued the assault.  He gave into my my control.  He gave into my hand and I felt him break, physically he went limp and he cried.  His chest heaved and spit flew from his mouth but I kept at him for another moment until he was blubbering and not making any sense.  I stopped immediately and pulled him up from my lap and to my chest where he hugged and clung to me.

Eventually he came around and felt him pull away to break that bond we had shared.  I helped him to his feet and he looked to his pile of clothes then around the room as I stood.  He hugged me again.

“Thank you sir,” he said.

“We’re almost done,” I said.

“Good sir,” he said.  

His face had turned red and white, the extremes of the body pooling blood, darker at his cheeks and ears, nearly as red as his butt.  He was now completely naked.  I put an arm around his shoulders before picking up the journal and guiding him out of the punishment room and to the living room.  I moved him between the furniture to a spot at far side of the room, far from the door, far from his clothes in the room we had left, far from any hope of safety.
I handed him the journal and walked over to my recliner where I sat and looked to him, even then putting one hand slightly in front of his crotch to block my view.  I smirked a little but then cleared my throat and made sure my stern face was back before speaking.

“Open the journal and read what you wrote earlier,” I said.

He had to use both hands to do it.  Reluctantly and with some patience on my account he did.  He held the book with both hands as he stood there before me naked, his dick slightly plump and stuck out from his body, his thighs shook a little.  I noted that his color had begun to return to normal in his face.  His eyes weren’t watery but he bit at his lip nervously and shifted on his feet causing his little dick to bounce a little.

I applauded his confession and that he had completed our little session.  I got up from the chair and moved to him, took back the journal, hugged him, and then led him back to the punishment room with one arm around his shoulders.  I told him to get dressed and he did so obediently, and carefully.  I assumed it was the first time he ever had a really spanked butt, especially as an adult.  I walked him to the door and opened it.  He stepped out into the sunshine and turned back to me.  There was something he wanted to say, something he wanted me to say.

“I’m proud of you,” I said.  “You did well.  I think you’ve learned a good lesson.  Do you want to do it again?”

That was the moment he could have run away.  That was the moment he could have said no and broken my heart.  That was the moment he could have given up on himself and decided it was something he never wanted to do again.  He didn’t.

“Um, I don’t know about my schedule exactly, but maybe sometime next week,” he said.

“Next week, same time, same day, and if you miss, it’ll get added to the next time,” I said.  “I’m going to hold you to this unless it’s some kind of emergency.  Do your work like you said you should, don’t waste time.”

“Yes sir,” he said, “thank you sir.”

I closed the door and put my back against it.  I had found my new project.