FutureSpank 2

Brian was normally a happy-go-lucky type of kid.  He seemed somewhat older than his 11 years.  He was a Fifth grader at Fillmore Elementary School, and was in Miss Simpson's class.  Today as he walked home from school, he held in his hand a slip from Miss Simpson.

It was a discipline slip, with the number "3" circled.  Brian was not a trouble maker in the class, and although this was only the first semester, he had not only avoided a punishment slip this year, he had avoided on throughout his school years.  Oh sure, mom and dad would occasionally turn him over their knees for a much deserved bottom warming, and dad did say that the next time he was going to use a paddle that he had made, and hung on a hook in the basement.  But Brian knew that he could talk his way out of just about anything at home, just as he had been able to at school, up to now.  He was a blonde, blue eyed boy, and he could tell by looking in the mirror that he would someday be quite a "looker".  (At least that is what his mom always said.)

Brian's downfall today with Miss Simpson was both his failure to do his homework, and his setting a tack on Mary Jackson's seat.  Oh sure, he said that he was going to pick it up before she sat down, but he was distracted, at least until she screamed.  Boy, was Miss Simpson mad.  She called him to the front of the room, and wrote out his punishment slip right there in front of the other kids.  After class, 4 of the boys who had already been to the punishment machine all told him how terrible it was going to be.  He knew a lot of that was just to make him scared, but as he held the slip of paper in his hand, he had to admit that he WAS scared!  He had seen Billy Jacobs butt in the gym shower after he had been sent to the machine.  Billy was a 6th grader, and got 6 stripes from the cane on his bottom.  It was quite a sight.  There were 6 arrow straight lines from the top of his butt to the bottom creases where his thighs started.  The marks were a faded red and blue when Brian saw them.  Billy wouldn't talk about it, but you had to believe it really hurt!

Brian had to figure out if he was going to tell his folks. He knew if he did, he would probably be hauled over his mom's lap and given a good spanking on his bare butt.  He couldn't figure out if he should go home, take his licking, and go to the machine, or go to the machine first, and hope his folks did not find out.  Of course, if he did hide it from them and they later found out, he was sure he would be paddled!

The slip gave him until 6 pm to report for discipline.  Any later, and extra strokes would be awarded.  Brian had to walk by the discipline machine building on his way home, so he thought he might just as well get it over with.  His hands were shaking as he pulled the door open.  He was greeted by a room that was almost antiseptic in its cleanliness.  There were plastic chairs along the walls, and soft music played.  A large sign told him to swipe his card, enter the appropriate number, and then take a seat.  He would be called by the last four digits of his social security number.  With trembling fingers, he slid the card through, entered his "3", and sat down. For the first time, he noticed that he was not alone.  Sitting quietly in the corner of the room was a small boy who was gently sobbing, and had streaks of tears and snot running down his face.  Brian made eye contact, and asked the boy how bad it had been.  He was surprised to find that the boy had not even been in yet. Just then, the inner door opened, and a girl of about Brian's age emerged.  She was sobbing and wailing, and crying into what appeared to be a pair of cotton panties that she was holding in her hand.  Brian looked closer, and could not be sure.  The instructions on the back side of the machine instructed you to retreive a printed slip showing that your punishment was completed.  This was to be returned to the person who ordered your punishment.  As the girl reached for the slip, it fell from her shaking hands.  She bent over to get it, and Brian caught a glimpse of her butt.  It was bright red, from the top to the bottom.  Even her little vagina, which peeked through, was red!  Brian heard an audible gasp from the little boy in the corner.  The girl just picked up the paper, and walked out the door, still crying in her panties.

Then, a metalic voice ordered 6985 to report to the machine.  The little boy started crying even louder, but bravely stood up and disappeared into the doorway.  Just then, the voice ordered 7171 to report to machine two.  Brian did not even know there WERE two machines.  Trembling, he stood up and walked to the door, which opened with a hiss.  He was just in time to see the door on machine One closing.  Inside, he saw the little boy, now naked from the waist down, slowly turn and walk toward the machine.  The door to Machine Two opened, and Brian entered.  He was told by a voice to remove all clothing below his waist, except for his shoes and socks.  He was told that he would have a maximum of 3 minutes to do this.  Any delay would result in one additional punishment stroke per minute "wasted".  Brian quickly pulled his shorts down, and over his tennis shoes.  Then, with an audible sigh, he pulled his jockey shorts down and off.  He set them on a small table, and turned toward the machine.  He was instructed to approach the machine, and put his feet on the yellow foot pads.  He was then told to stretch his hands out in front of him. He noticed a series of red laser lights run over his body, and his body weight, height, and width flashed across a large monitor in front of him.  He was then instructed to reach over his head, and grab the wrist straps that were there.  Brian was having second thoughts about now, and was considering leaving.  He stepped off the footprints, and ran for the door.  It was locked tight!  Just then, the voice of the machine told him to immediately return to the machine, step on the footprints and grab the wrist straps.  It said that he would receive an extra punishment stroke for every second he wasted.  Shivering, he slowly approached the machine, only to notice a large clock on the monitor which now showed the number "4". Oh my gosh, he thought, as he raced for the machine.  He stepped on the footpads, and quickly grabbed the straps, just as "6" showed on the screen.  He felt the machine tightening straps around his wrists and ankles. Then, with a soft hiss, he was stretched tight.  The monitor then lit up with a close up of his butt, as the machine lowered his body flat onto a padded metal table.  He could still see the monitor, and saw the number "33" showing on the screen.  Oh, he thought "that's the number of strokes this thing is going to give me."  He also figured out that if he was laying down, he would be strapped.  He felt sweat dropping off his forehead, and felt a rivulet of sweat as it made its' way down the inside of his right butt cheek into his crack.

Brian heard a noise, and looking over his shoulder, saw a sort of metal arm rising up, holding the biggest, meanest black rubber strap that he had ever seen.  Just as quickly, it reared back, and smashed down on his unprepared butt.  At first, he felt nothing. Then, the pain of the stroke welled up inside his butt.  He choked on some saliva, as he snapped his head forward. He saw the monitor number change to "32", and then felt the next stroke.  He screamed out, and tightened his butt cheeks together as the next stroke fell.

He looked at the monitor through tear streaked eyes, and saw his butt.  It was red on the top, and suddenly it was covered, as yet another stroke hit. As the strap lifted he could see a white streak where it had just landed. It seemed to be marching down his butt, from top to bottom.

Brian had never, ever, felt such pain.  Even as his body jerked with the next swat, he knew that he would never, never come here again.  He also knew that he couldn't tell his parents, as he could not possible take another beating.

The strap worked its' way to the bottom of his butt, right where the creases of his butt ended and his thighs began.  He saw that the monitor showed "22".  Just then, the arm moved up, and he felt the table move.  He was going to be released!  Thank God!  But, rather than release him, it moved his legs apart.  Brian could watch on the monitor as testicles swung down from the table top.  He could even see the tip of his penis.  It sure looked funny from this angle!  Then, he noticed that the insides of his butt crack were white, in contrast to the rest of his butt.  As the table slowly spread, he was even able to see his little butthole come into view.  Just then, the strap landed again!  The repositioning had enabled it to hit right inside his buttcrack.  He screamed in agony as the strap hit home, and began its' journey down his left cheek, and into his crack.  Nothing he could do would ease the pain.  He couldn't clench his cheeks.  He couldn't buck. He could do nothing, but lay there and watch the numbers drop on the monitor. Then it hit him, the thing was going to hit right on his butthole!  Sure enough, in anguished fasination, he watched it approach, and then go into his hole.  Oh, the pain.  But it didn't stop there.  It proceeded below his hole, right to the edge of his testicles.  He was in a total panic about his balls, but the strap stopped just shy of hitting them.  He looked at the monitor, as the machine seemed to move to his right side.  His butt was now entirely red, even inside his crack.  The skin on his left cheek was a mottled blue-pink, and he thought he might just have a bruise there, as the machine suddenly smacked his right cheek and crack.  Another 11 strokes for the right side.  By the time he saw the last stroke disappear on the screen, he was in a total state of panic.  He knew in his mind that he had survived the machine.  Even though his butt hurt like a thousand bees had stung him, he knew that he had won.  It was over!

He felt the table move.  The padded center section suddenly pushed out just above his penis, and shoved his bottom out.  His legs were again brought back together, and then he was swung upright.  His legs kept on moving, and he was in a 90 degree angle.  Then he saw the number "6" on the screen!  He had forgotten about the extra strokes.  But, why was he placed like this? An answer to his question came in a high pitched noise, as a clear lexan cane bit into his butt cheeks.  His cheeks were relaxed in this position, and the cane really bit in.  Brain screamed, and begged, but the machine simply marched the strokes down his butt. Finally, it was over. The monitor showed his butt to be bright red, with some discoloration on the left, and six dark red "railroad tracks" from top to bottom.

He was released, and stiffly walked to his shorts and jockeys.  Tears and snot ran freely down his face onto his chest.  He slowly put the shorts on, wiped his face with his jockeys, and carried them out, just like the little girl had done with her panties.  He was careful to catch his completed punishment slip as he walked outside.  He saw the little boy standing by the door, crying his eyes out, with his hands down inside his jeans rubbing his little butt, which showed in the light to be as bright red as Brians.

Slowly, he walked home, hoping he could keep his terrible secret....