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Chapter Text

"I say man, this mead is as fine as the choicest ambrosia, drink of the gods!"

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

It was a slow day over at O'Malley's Pub on 133E and 43rd. It was the middle of lunch hour and he only had one customer. Granted, that one customer could drink as much as ten men and tipped well too. Oh yeah, and he was a member of the Avengers. Maybe not such a slow day after all.

Hercules gave an enormous belch, then waved his flagon (he insisted on calling it that) about. "Have I told you about the time I wrestled down Cerberus, three-headed beast of the Underworld, watch-dog of Hades himself, and taught him how to heel on command?"

"Not since yesterday."

"Ah." Hercules waved him off. "I can see I am boring you. I must perform new acts of heroism, so that I have new tales to sing." He stood up, and swayed on his feet.

"'Ey, Herc. You want me to call ya a cab or somethin'? You look a little sloshed."

"Bah! A cab for Hercules? If I couldn't hold my liquor I'd have no right to call myself the Lion of Olympus! Besides, the Avengers Mansion is a mere handful of blocks away."

"Alright... And uhh, about your tab...?"

Hercules turned by the door and gave him a shit-eating grin. "Put it on my Avengers credit. Tony Stark has graciously agreed to pay for all sums of food and beverage whilst I dwell among you mortals."

"Ahh. Okay then. Cool."

Hercules left the pub, humming off-tune and mostly staying on his side of the sidewalk as he made his way down the street. Life was good. He had wrongs to right, justice to uphold, and friends to share his triumphs with—as well as all the free food and drink he wished. But for now, he felt a mighty need to return to the mansion and sleep it off.

Of course, what Hercules did not know was that he was being currently watched from the shadows. In particular, a certain protruding part of his rear anatomy was being observed quite closely.

It was from an alleyway that the lurker had first spotted Hercules, and he now eyed his prize with hunger. It was rare to come across a hero like him so vulnerable.

The man climbed up the fire escape with acrobatics that belied his common human ancestry. Or perhaps he'd become more than human, after the accident that'd given him his powers? Whatever he was, he had one goal in life now, and that was to humble all men who deserved it. The Avengers were at the top of his list, with their powers and their cockiness and their alpha-like status in society. They spoke of their many acts of heroism, but in reality they were nothing more than blunt instruments, crossing international borders with impunity and involving themselves where they had no right to be.

Now though, he had a way to put each and every one of them in line. And Hercules would merely be the first.

He ran along the rooftops, silently hopping from building to building as he followed Hercules along. It was a shame he was so high up. The man's tunic was famous for revealing more than it should.

It wasn't until they'd traveled a block and a half that he dared make his move. They'd left the highly populated commercial district and now found themselves in a nearby warehouse district. While the occasional person could still be seen outside, it wasn't hard at all to find a place to enact his plan. After all, he already had all his necessary equipment stowed away, just waiting for a chance to be used.

"Now, is this the right way...? Or have I once again been turned around on these mortals' streets?" Hercules scratched his head dully as he looked about. It was difficult sometimes, adjusting to life over the many centuries. He'd never gotten lost in Athens.

When the attack came, it was a total surprise. A base, cowardly attack from behind, trying to sweep him off his feet. It didn't work—his knees buckled, but he was able to keep his footing. "And who dares assault the Son of Zeus!" he thundered as he turned around, only to see a shadowy figure run into a deserted warehouse. With zero hesitation or, indeed, thought, the demi-god took off after them.

"The son?" The figure laughed as he fled. "Don't you mean a son? He's had hundreds of them." Fleeting glimpses of a blood-red hand symbol upon his chest could be spied as he dashed among the scores of large wooden crates housed within.

"Who dares besmirch the name of Zeus!" Hercules demanded, looking all about. Only laughter greeted him, echoing from all directions. Hercules began lifting crates one-handed and tossing them aside, hunting for the knave. "True, much has been said of his lusty loins throughout the ages. But let it be known it has always been Hercules who is his favored son!"

Hearing what he thought to be the strange costumed man, he whirled about and hurled a crate in that direction—smashing it and its contents completely. The remains of a tape recorder could be seen amongst the splintered wreckage of the crate. It whirred, trying for a moment to continue playing: "Faaaavooored sooon? Didn't heeee kickkk you ooouuuttt?" before it gave up and only static ensued.

Hercules looked down at it in confusion. "What in the world...?"

An ancient metal chain whipped out, ensnaring Hercules's wrist from behind. He turned with a growl to see a black-clad man emerge from the shadows. A most curious attacker, but not one he'd met before. The man was clad head to toe in skintight spandex, the black material accented by a pair of purple gloves with something strange on the palms, and a matching pair of magenta boots. Emblazoned on his chest was a blood-red hand with a purple eye upon it. He did not recognize the symbol, but it gave him a vague sense of unease.

"You're saying this drunken lech is the favorite of Zeus?" he taunted. He grinned like a madman beneath his mask, although he kept his tone calm. "And here I assumed he'd prefer Ares or even Hephaestus to you." He lashed out the other end of the chain toward Herc as well. "Speaking of which, I thought you might want to check out some of your godly brother's handiwork."

"Nngh!" Hercules had moved to dodge the thrown chain, but it sought him out as if drawn to his blood. His other wrist was seized and locked behind his back to join the other. He glared at the audacious interloper. "I know not who you are, but you shall regret this impertinence," he promised. "For if you truly knew the legends you'd know no mere chain can hold the Prince of Power!" He flexed boastfully before drawing on his immense strength to snap the links which bound him. To his consternation, however, he found they would not give way. In fact, the harder he attempted to break the chain—the weaker he felt. It was sapping his strength!

"Wh-what sorcery is this?" he gaped. "Where could you have gotten one of Hephaestus's creations from?!"

The masked man sniggered. He'd found the chain, once forged to stop the mighty Cronos, for sale in Bangladesh of all places. The black market had provided a great many resources at the time. He was glad to see the rumors behind this particular acquisition had turned out to be true.

With careful manipulation of the chain, he looped it around the demi-god's shoulders and then drew it tight. Hercules groaned as he was wrapped fully around his upper body by the bonds and they pinned his arms to his sides. Shortly thereafter his legs were encircled as well. Slowly, he sank to his knees, grimacing, as he felt his powers drain from him. "Nn-nghh! You...!"

"You'd be surprised. You and your family are famous amongst us mortals." There was a growing strength to the masked man's words as he approached, slowly circling around Hercules. "And they've left lots of their toys laying around over the years."

The demi-god glowered and strained in his bonds. But other than the occasional clink from the links scraping together from his struggles, they held him securely. Forged to weaken the very progenitor of the gods, they were keyed straight to his bloodline. Hercules's massive hairy, straining chest sure put on a show for his attacker though, as it bulged and flexed with his efforts.

From behind, the man patted Hercules's face. He could struggle as much as he wanted. The chain only had to hold him for a few minutes. His gloves had a hole in the palms to show purple skin beneath. It was a vaguely familiar shade of purple, in fact. But even the slight touch of bare skin against bare skin sent a strangely electric jolt, seemingly straight through Herc's mind itself.

"Aah...! What...?"

"Now then..." the man said, his voice now dripping with anticipation. "Let's see just what you have beneath this." He reached down, gripped Hercules' tunic, and lifted up.

"Wh-what are you—!" Underneath Hercules had on only a scant loincloth. Its rough fabric bulging from the heavy contents. "Dost thou mean to strip me!?" he demanded. Oddly though, he couldn't seem to quite muster the indignation this moment required. He twisted in the chains that continued to tighten around him. "W-who are you, who would dare make an enemy of the mighty Hercules?"

The masked man took a deep breath, steadying his trembling hand as he looked at what was below. Such a perfect pair of globes was finally in his reach. He just had to reach down and claim them.

But as much as his mouth watered at the chance of a lifetime, he forced himself to answer Hercules first. "You and your friends will know me as The Handler," he replied, the words precise and perfectly practiced. "But when I am done, you will address me as Master."

One of Hercules's eyebrows rose up. Master? The man was mad! He focused upon the other name first. "The Handler?" he scoffed. "And what exactly will you be handling?"

"You."

In the next moment his loincloth was pulled downward in the back. The demigod gaped at the draft he felt. He had a perfect ass, of course, just like all the classical statues. Muscular and round, and lined with coarse brown hairs.

"And your punishment shall be far more than a mere stripping." There was a theatrical note to his voice, matching his overbearing confidence. Without any further explanation, The Handler brought his bare hand down upon Hercules's exposed rump with a speed and swiftness that could only be borne out of diligent training. SMACK! The demi-god gasped. While certainly no stranger to corporal punishment, it'd nevertheless been centuries, literally, since he'd last been upended over a knee for a well-deserved round of discipline.

But the impact brought something else as well. It was like the feeling Hercules had felt at the Handler's touch before, only much more intense.

SMACK!

As the second whack struck down, Hercules heard himself give an outraged yelp. However, it was like he was listening to someone else. The indignant side of him. But another part, a stronger part, actually wanted—no, needed!—to raise his ass for more. He struggled with the foreign compulsion, even as a strange feeling of euphoria flooded his mind. "Wh-what are you..." He pushed his ass out into the air and bit his lip. "Doing to me!?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" The Handler chided, practically beaming as he saw his charge already starting to succumb to his power. And as Hercules raised up his rear, it only looked more pristine. Shapely, hairy, strong—it really was a perfect man's butt. The kind of butt that inspired the masses, and which men aspired to achieve for themselves. Of course, it needed to be redder, but that much was up to him.

"I'm 'handling' you by waking up the dormant parts of yourself that long to submit." He smiled and raised his hand again. "Unsurprisingly, even a demi-god has desires like that." He struck down hard upon the round and meaty buttocks without holding back.

"Oh!"

"So tell me..." The Handler's smile was insidious as he looked down at the man in chains. "How long will it be until you're begging at my feet?"

That was enough to momentarily snap Hercules out from his submission. "BEGGING?" he thundered in rage. But the next spank made him jerk and twist. "Nngh!" He had a broad, tough arse and was easily capable of duking it out with the strongest beings in the cosmos, from Thanos to the Hulk, but something in his assailant's strikes were able to breach even his formidable defenses. The next spank caught him on the lower cheek, and he twisted up with a grimace. Every spank, in addition to giving a burst of pain, also gave him a strange feeling of acceptance and pleasure. Like this was where he belonged—over this stranger's lap with his buttocks upturned. But his pride kept crying out against it.

"The Lion of Olympus begs for NO ONE!" he roared, his mighty voice even shuddering the glass windows of the warehouse and threatening to make them shatter.

"Then call me 'No One'." The Handler placed his foot on Hercules' back, both as a show of dominance and to get a better angle. He could tell brute force alone wouldn't be enough here. He slapped down hard and precise, this time focusing entirely on Hercules' sit-spots with repeated strikes. "Because mark my words, I'll have you begging to get over my lap."

"Oh! Oh, no!" Hercules was twisting and jerking at the slaps. The muscled reddening mounds of his ass seemed to undulate and then clench in rhythm as they got punished. "Aaaarrrgghh!"

It wasn't the pain from the spanking that was getting to Hercules, it was the pleasure. A strange new part of him was tremendously—and terribly—enjoying the sensation of having his ass struck. Furthermore, each blow further reinforced the mental commands the Handler was planting inside him. You're mine. You belong to me now. Hercules was unable to stave off the impulses. And even worse was the effect they were having on his nether regions.

His pride did continue to rise up in the battle for his spirit. But each time he got a spank it seemed to become weaker, and less important.

"Please!" he shouted as he squirmed. "I cannot take much more!"

"That sounded suspiciously like begging to me." The Handler leaned over Hercules, looking him in the face. "What would you have me do?" It was clear from his tone he was only taunting him. But he needed to be sure Hercules was truly his.

So he took his foot off of Hercules' back... only to slam his palm onto his rear-end again. His fingers splayed out as he groped the muscles buttocks, then ran his hand right along the reddening skin. As soon as he let go, he started his regular blows smacks again. "After all, you still haven't said the magic word."

"Hnnggg, I will never... OHHH!" Another stream of spanks cut him off. Unbelievably, Hercules was near tears now. It was a state he'd not felt in centuries... since he'd squirmed bare-bottomed over the knee of Zeus himself, in fact. But the Handler's strange power had him off-balance and without a chance to recover or regroup. His hairy globes practically sizzled under the villain's hand.

"Ahh, stop, please!" the chained hero yowled. But it did no good. The spanks kept coming. And his ass was so red and hot now. He knew there was only one way to get them to stop. He hated it, but it also felt somehow correct. After all, hadn't this man proven himself over him?

So it was, with teary eyes, that Hercules finally said the unthinkable:

"Please stop... master!"

All at once it was like he fell away. His struggles ceased. And the chains which had encircled his body fell slack, then slowly slid off. Hercules kept his ass raised like a good slave. What was left of the Prince of Power was now bound entirely to the Handler's will.

Chapter Text

"Now then."

Following his submission, Hercules had been laid across the Handler's lap, ass propped high in the air. Here the demi-god continued to receive his spanking as, indeed, he would continue to get so long as he remained under the Handler's power. Each swat to his beefy cheeks carried with it a new suggestion sent straight into his mind. "It's time for you to get to work. We're going to need more heroes. Many more heroes..."

It was an outwardly normal Hercules who emerged from the warehouse a short time later. Other than some red-rimmed eyes and a preference against sitting, no one would have thought anything was amiss with him. Humming the same off-key tune, he quickly put a call in to Dr. Donald Blake's practice. Once connected he informed the confused secretary of his friend and rival that the demigod Hercules had urgent need of her employer. Though the woman was mystified over the phone, Hercules had no doubt that Thor would come as soon as he was able.

"Ah, mine old friend! It has been far too long since we enjoyed each other's company, as true bosom brothers and comrades!" Hercules slung an arm around the shoulders of his fellow deity a short while later. "These mortals are fine for what they are, but they can never truly understand the true life of a hero as we do. Hah! How can they? They barely understand themselves."

Thor was a truly magnificent specimen, whether judged as a god or as a man. He appeared as he usually did, with long flowing hair, winged helm, an armored tunic, and a red cape. Gods such as they rarely changed much. "True," he replied pensively. "But I sometimes wonder, Son of Zeus, whether we are truly so different from them in that regard."

"Ahhhh!" Hercules wagged a finger in his old rival's face. "The words of one who is thinking too much! Tell me Thor, have thy skills been slipping of late? Perhaps you recall the time we wrestled together on the shores of Crete?"

"Hmmm. But of course," Thor replied, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He had been feeling morose of late, but Hercules had always had a knack for drawing out his more playful side. The two of them had been through thick and thin together over the centuries, both as rivals and as comrades. "But as I recall, I won on Crete."

"Dost thou speak true? I remember it quite differently!"

"Hah!" Thor banged a gauntlet-bound fist against his chest. "My skills are as sharp as ever, but I've heard precious little of thine own. Tell me, what monstrous beasts have thou felled, what grand deeds performed? Perhaps thou are the one who is slipping."

"Pah! You and I both know this modern age is different from the world we knew. The Age of Beasts is long past." Hercules scoffed. "Besides, the only reason you won on Crete was because thou insisted we wear those strange modern ‘singlets’ for our match. I recall now. If we'd wrestled as the Greeks of old did back in the first Olympics, I'd surely have trounced you into the sand."

Thor simply shook his head. "Thy refusal to concede is the same as ever. Still so like a child."

"Hah! And now thou insult my pride!" Hercules began to stretch out his arms and shoulder. "If thou truly wish to test thyself, perhaps we should have a rematch?"

At that, the God of Thunder got a knowing glint in his eyes. "Is this the true reason thou called me, friend? To be wrestled down and bested? Well, if thou wish to be reminded what a real god can do, the Mighty Thor accepts thy challenge."

"Ho! Mighty words indeed, my friend!"

Parting, the two men made their preparations. Thor placed his hammer down on the ground, then removed his cape and helmet. If wrestling was to be the contest, he would not hold back. The clearing they were should prove an apt battleground at least. Hercules had called him to a thinly wooded area near the shore of the Hudson River. There would be no onlookers to interrupt their grappling. He flexed for a moment, showing off the size of his muscular biceps, before he approached his opponent.

For his part, Hercules had already stripped off his harness and bracers and tossed them to the side. That left his upper body bare, where the size and hairiness of his pectorals easily rivaled his old friend's. He flexed them as well as he stepped up to Thor, not willing to be outdone. "I've been looking for a reason to thrash thee for some time," he told him affably with another great smile.

That much was true enough. Hercules had always been glad to challenge his rival to a friendly bout to prove who was stronger, who was the most skilled and manliest. But now there was another undercurrent as well... the Handler.

Each time Hercules shifted his footing his sore buttocks further reinforced his master's orders. Trap. Ensnare. Dominate. He would obey, and show Thor just how wonderful it was to give up control like he had.

"Before we begin, I want thou to do one thing for me. Swear not to use thy hammer," he told him seriously.

"What are thou saying?" Thor asked, aggrieved. "Dost thou impugn my honor?"

Warily, Hercules laid a warm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Not at all. I know thee to be an honorable man. But I also know Mjolnir sometimes has a mind of its own and comes to thy aid whether you wish it or not. Just to be safe, perhaps thou should throw it away as far as thou can before we begin."

"Tch. As if I'd need mine hammer to defeat thee," Thor told him with a snort. He spun Mjolnir around rapidly several dozen times before letting loose and launching it into the sky. It became a speck on the horizon without any sign of where it would eventually land.

"My thanks, friend. Thou art a good man," Hercules said. Then he smiled and cracked his knuckles. "But now methinks it's about time someone gave you a dose of humility."

"Nay, I think it's about time thou were reminded of the true strength of the God of Thunder!" Thor boasted proudly. He batted Hercules's hand off and then rushed in under his guard.

"OOF!" They met in a titanic crash. Due to Thor's aggressive approach, he had the upper hand as they both went down. They rolled around on the ground together as Hercules strove to gain purchase against his old foe. It was difficult however, as Thor indeed was one of the finest wrestlers in all the realms. But then Hercules got a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Absolutely sure you don't want to wrestle like us Greeks?" he asked as he seized the waist of Thor's pants with both hands. He dragged them down just far enough to bare the muscled crest of Thor's buttocks.

"Ah! That's cheating!"

"Hahaha! Why so prudish? It is just us men here!" Hercules chortled as Thor flailed and attempted to pull his pants back into place.

From a nearby tree, the Handler watched the fight with a growing grin, not to mention a growing tightness in his spandex. Thor's backside might not have been as hairy as Hercules's, but it was just as firm and chiseled. He couldn't wait to compare them side-by-side.

The Thunder God growled around his blush. "Thy people may have wrestled in the nude, but I have no wish to follow their traditions!" he said. Twisting around, he grabbed the waistline of Hercules' outfit with both hands, then he smirked. "But I will not prevent thee from doing so!" In a fit of karmic retribution, he yanked the outfit straight down.

"Unf!" Hercules tumbled right out of the tunic and landed hard on his chest. He was indeed now wrestling like the Ancient Greeks of ages past, as naked as he'd been during the first Olympic games.

The view wasn't exactly an unusual one for Thor's eyes—Hercules was infamous for having a somewhat lax attitude regarding clothing, and the two had even roomed together for a time—but what set the sight apart this time was that the two hairy, muscled globes of Hercules's backside were each undoubtedly painted a sound, punished... red.

Thor was shocked for a moment, but that initial reaction quickly gave way to merriment. He laughed heartily at Hercules's distress, throwing his head back at the ridiculous sight of him. He'd not a clue what could have caused Hercules's backside to have been thrashed so, but knew he needed to dig the story from him now. "What sort of sorry bet did thou lose this time?" he asked, rubbing tears from his eyes.

Hercules dusted himself off as he got back to his feet. The grin remained fixed on his bearded face, though it now hardly moved as he spoke. "Not a bet, friend. But I will be glad to show you just how I came to know the beauty of discipline."

"The beauty of—?"

Hercules suddenly ducked his head down and barreled into Thor's unprepared chest. It was like Herc's entire personality had switched in an instant—he became as serious as if he were taking down the most deadly villain. Thor's view switched to the open sky as he was flipped over and landed on his back hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs. Before Thor could retaliate, Hercules had straddled his waist with both heavy knees, facing down towards his feet. He then grabbed both the Norse god's ankles and lifted them up, bending him at the waist and sliding his pants off to expose his muscled rear to the forest around them.

"Have thou gone mad!?" Thor demanded, staring up at Hercules incredulously. But instead of an answer, he just found one hairy behind coming down to effectively gag him. Hercules pressed his ass soundly down on Thor's stunned face, muffling him completely. Thor struggled to push the demi-god off as he desperately tried to regain control of the situation.

"Mmmmppphhhhh!"

"He is prepared, Master!" Hercules called out to the forest.

"Mmpphrr?" said Thor.

The Handler was already on his way. He sprinted out of the forest like a cheetah who'd caught sight of prey—in this case in the form of one perfect, godly ass.

His palm landed an instant later.

SMACK!

"GRMMMPH" Thor roared unintelligibly. He flailed in his attempts to push his demi-god companion off him. Yet, much to his own chagrin, his behind seemed to have a mind of its own. It rose up higher, assuming position to be struck again. And get struck it did.

SMACK!

He groaned at the feeling. By Odin's beard, what is happening!? He could feel the not-so-subtle urge to submit, growing with each slap he received.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Hercules felt the protests of Thor as muffled vibrations reverberating up through his backside. He ground his beefy buttocks deeper onto his rival god's face, further stifling him. "Give in, my friend," he advised. "Join me in serving the Master. Together we will carry out his will as no one else can." He bent Thor's muscular legs even further upwards, exposing more of Thor's rear to the Handler and allowing him to strike wherever he wished.

With such wide access, the Handler's palm wandered freely over the broad expanse of those godly globes. He slapped everywhere he could, leaving no spot untouched. Each hard smack sent a new wave of commands to Thor. Listen. Obey. Submit. The god practically shook as he tried not to listen. He grabbed at Hercules's buttocks in an attempt to push him off, but it was useless as Hercules seemed damned and determined to keep him in his humiliating position. He could barely think with the red ass stuffed in his face, and his own receiving an identical punishment.

SMACK!

Submit.

"Nnnnghh!"

SMACK!

Obey.

"Hrrrgghhh!"

Thor suddenly remembered Mjolnir. Of course, why had he not summoned his hammer back sooner! It was the cursed commands echoing in his head. They made struggling more and more difficult. But Thor stuck his hand out and reached for his faraway weapon.

Each new spank made it more difficult to concentrate though. Wave after wave of euphoria washed over him. It felt so good to realize he'd lost control. All I need is just one moment of freedom... and I'll beg to be spanked more. No! I want this to stop. To stop!

"Now there, Thor." The Handler kicked his hand away, momentarily interrupting his concentration. "You promised not to do that, remember?"

SMACK!

"NGH!" Thor called out loudly. The hand striking his burning bottom had him utterly confused. Each blow was more painful than the last, yet impossibly satisfying at the same time. He just needed to last a little longer until his hammer arrived. Didn't he?

"Thy struggles do you credit. But believe me, my friend, the sooner you submit the happier thee will be. It feels so good to serve..." Hercules's chest rumbled with pleasure at how fulfilling it was to carry out the master's desires. "And once thou has joined us, no one will be able to match our strength! The two of us make an unbeatable team! That's why I urged the Master to recruit thee first."

Thor tried to say something, but his lips remained trapped under Hercules's muscular ass. And all he could manage were moans anyway.

He was being defeated by a spanking—a spanking, of all things! He tried to recall the last time he'd received such a humiliating punishment. It had been when he'd yelped and bucked over the lap of All-Father Odin—well, he'd thought it had been All-Father Odin, but it'd turned out to be a trick of Loki's that day. Still, the point remained that for a mere mortal to punish him was unacceptable. It went against the very order of the cosmos.

Yet, with every passing slap, it seemed less and less unacceptable. By the time he heard the distant sound of his hammer returning from space, he had difficulty remembering why he'd summoned it in the first place.

But as the whistling grew louder, the Handler took no chances. He slapped even harder and sharper than ever. His hand whipped like a machine against against Thor's red-hot and squirming ass.

Surrender! Surrender! Surrender!

"GHHGH!" Thor cried out as the strikes increased. Hercules could feel something wet against his bottom as Thor's tears welled up. His ass was truly on fire, enough to make him feel like a naughty boy again. But the hammer was almost there, it was... almost...

The hammer came flying into the clearing at super-sonic speed—then stopped. It hovered for a long moment, then fell downward and impacted on the ground. It left a crater just to the side of the three men. Thor's hand fell limp. No further resistance came from him.

The Handler gave a slow grin.

Hesitantly, Hercules raised his bottom up. Then he grinned oafishly down at the sight of the Thunder God. Just from the blissful expression on his face, he knew he had joined their ranks.

The demi-god got to his feet, then stood before the Handler with his arms at his side like a soldier at attention. He made no motion to reach for his garments or re-dress himself. If he were to do so, it would only be at the Handler's instructions. He calmly waited for his next command.

But the Handler only had eyes for Thor, sprawled naked and defeated at his feet. "You may now speak, Thunderer."

Thor lifted his head, staring up at the masked man finally. So this was him. This was his—"Master."

The Handler nodded. Time to test out his control. "Strip completely and join your comrade," he ordered.

Dutifully, Thor stood up. He removed the pants and loincloth that had been gathered around his legs. He then lifted up his armored shirt, slowly revealing his muscled chest as he pulled it up and over his head, then tossed it to the ground. Any embarrassment to baring his body was lost in comparison to thoughts of pleasing his master and receiving more attention from him.

"Now then..." The Handler walked around the two, observing. Two perfectly formed specimens of godly manhood, standing stark naked in broad daylight. He ran his hands along Hercules' rough-haired chest, then Thor's smoother one. He definitely wanted to take his time and enjoy his inspection. Thor was among the strongest hero on the planet, and now he was all his—mind, body, and soul. The Handler licked his lips as he looked down and surveyed the firm, rounded globes of Thor's ass. Right now it was his body he was most interested in.

But perhaps he'd reward Hercules too. He'd performed so excellently as his assistant, after all.

"Both of you bend over and touch your toes," he directed.

Without hesitation, they both did so.

Chapter Text

"Can't believe I got dragged into this," Wolverine muttered.

He was pressed into a crowded bar, smells and odors assaulting his senses from all sides. Though hardly a stranger to the NYC bar scene, Wolverine had always been a loner at heart and there were times he simply didn't want to be around other people. Tonight was one of those nights. He'd much rather be at home with a six-pack and a good hockey game.

The reason for this forced social outing? Hank McCoy. The "bouncing blue beast", as he enjoyed calling himself, was a longtime member of both the Avengers and the X-Men. He was always looking for excuses to get the two teams to mingle together. Y'know, when they weren't at each other's throats with whatever the latest superpowered smackdown fight was.

Wolverine rolled his eyes. As naive as ever. Beast actually thought everybody could be friends if they just spent more time together. Unfortunately, as one of the only other guys with that coveted dual-membership status, Wolverine had been roped in to assist.

He eyed the crowd. It might not be all that bad tonight though. It didn't look like any of the X-Men had been dumb enough to show up.

A few Avengers had though. Beast was sharing a corner with Wonder Man, his best friend on the team. A couple of real wise guys, they were infamous for pulling pranks on everybody else. They were deep in conversation over a pair of icecream sundaes. Then there was Thor and Hercules, standing by the bar. They were a bit of an oddity. Herc he'd expected, since the guy loved to party. But this wasn't usually Thor's scene. They'd both been pretty quiet since showing up, too. Weren't sitting down either.

He wandered over and gave the thunder god a cagey look over his beer. "So what's with you?" he asked, his voice at a low gravel. "Already drank up all the beer in Asgard?"

Thor smiled. "In Asgard we prefer mead," he told him. "And as feeble as thy Midgard ales may be, I could not turn down a challenge to show Herc here how much a true god can drink." He thumped his fellow deity soundly on the chest.

"Hah! And though on Olympus we prefer ambrosia, that does not mean I shall be an easy adversary!"

Thor rolled his eyes. Then he raised his tankard to Wolverine. "I don't suppose you'd care to join us?"

The shorter man hid a smirk. "Sure. But if you're planning some kinda drinkin' contest, don't bother. I ain't never lost one of those yet, and I don't plan on starting tonight—god or no god."

"Oho, might you be willing to back up your words with some manner of wager?" Hercules cut in.

"What'd ya have in mind?"

Thor gave a shrug. "I and the Warriors Three once enjoyed a gambling game. The losers had to forego the wearing of pants for the rest of the night."

"Sounds a lot like strip poker," Wolverine chuckled. "Gotta admit, the thought of sending you two home ass-naked is pretty appealing."

Hercules and Thor exchanged a glance. "Actually, what I had in mind was closer to what you mortals would call... a good spanking!" Hercules said brightly.

Wolverine spat out his drink. "A what?"

Thor had to crack a grin at Wolverine's reaction. He and Hercules had been tasked with finding other heroes to be brought into the master's fold, and tonight was the night they were finally putting their plans into motion. But he had the feeling some heroes would be easier to spank than others. Though he didn't know it yet, Wolverine had just stumbled right into their trap.

"Thou heard the man," he backed Herc up. "A true walloping across the loser's bare backside, just like in the days of yore. Or are thy drinking skills not so mighty as thou wouldst claim?" He crossed his impressive arms, keeping a cocky smirk fixed on his lips. The gauntlet had been thrown.

Wolverine's face darkened. He wasn't normally the competitive type, despite his rep, but something about Thor's manner did always make him want to show the god up. And nobody out-drank him. His mouth split in an ugly grin. "Hey, if you wanna go ass-up over my knee that bad, bring it on pretty boy. It's your ass," he told him confidently. "And when it comes to licks, I don't hold back."

Hercules gave a boisterous laugh, then slapped them both cheerfully on the back. "Perfect, comrades! While you do that, I'll check how our fellow Avengers fare!" He ambled his way over to Beast and Wonder Man, leaving Wolverine in Thor's capable hands.

"Huh?" Wolverine looked off after him. "Wasn't he gonna drink with us too?"

"No need," Thor told him, grinning. "Not any more."

Of all the heroes present, Wonder Man probably blended in the best. He wore a plain—if fashionable—purple jacket rather than any outlandish costume, and had on sunglasses to hide the reddish tint of his eyes.

Not that he needed to worry when he went out with Beast. The guy made no effort whatsoever to hide his nature as a mutant. With a burly, ape-like body and covered head to foot in blue fur, he seemed to enjoy making a very distinct impression—which his prim, academic manner then immediately dispelled.

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad," Wonder Man was saying to him.

Beast shook his head. "I'm telling you Simon, I've had to call three plumbers this week alone. The amount of fur that gets stuck in the drain... Oh!" He turned at Hercules's approach. "Why if it isn't the man of the hour. Tell me Hercules, is there a reason you go by that nomenclature and not the more classical 'Heracles'? Come, sit and join us!"

"Ah..." Hercules seemed hesitant. "I will join you, but I'd much prefer to stand."

Beast raised a brow. "And why is that?"

"Why, er—to fetch more ale, of course!" His cheeks turning red, Hercules did an about-face and retreated back towards the bar.

Beast glanced at Wonder Man over the top of his sundae. "He's been acting a bit odd lately, hasn't he?"

"You're one to talk," Wonder Man teased. He did raise his eyebrows at Hercules's retreat though. There had seemed to be something a little... different about his gait lately. "But yeah, I noticed it too." He crossed his arms and leaned back in the booth. After a moment he leaned forward with a start. "You don't think he and Thor finally...?"

"Now now... I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea," Beast said primly, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. But that attitude only lasted about all of ten seconds before he, too, was leaning forward across the table. "But I've been talking to Wanda and according to her those two have been spending quite a bit of time together lately. Late night meetings, secret rendezvous, all those sorts of things."

"Holy crap," Wonder Man said, dumbfounded. "Thor and Herc are dating."

Back at the bar, Thor and Wolverine had fully engaged in their drinking contest. Neither gave the slightest attention to Herc as he leaned over the counter between them to order a pitcher, and neither slowed down in the slightest as he walked away either. Hercules heaved a sigh as he made his way back to the booth. Thor had it easy challenging Wolverine. That was simply a straightforward challenge between men. But how was he supposed to spank either Wonder Man or Beast, when even their slightest questions had flustered him so?

He was lucky the Master had not been present for his poor performance, or he'd surely have been rightfully punished for his incompetence. But now, he still had to devise a way to get one of them alone.

As he approached the table again though, he saw both heroes glaring at him darkly. "My friends...?"

"So." Wonder Man crossed his arms. "I don't suppose there's anything you'd like to tell us?" he asked. "After all, we are your loyal comrades-at-arms."

"Indeed, friend Hercules. You must know you can tell us anything. Even matters that are of a most... intimate nature," Beast said, equally serious.

Hercules set the drinks down with a lurch as his bruised buttocks gave a throb of warning. "You mean you... know?"

"Of course. You completely gave yourself away." Wonder Man wagged his finger at him. But to Hercules's further confusion, there were hints of a grin peeking through. "Spill the beans already. You know the two of us are great at keeping secrets."

"Er... secrets?" Hercules asked carefully.

"Yes, we've all got secrets on the team. And I don't just mean secret identities," Beast told him with a wink. "And you have to admit, you've been acting strange."

"You and Thor both have."

"All the late night meets..."

"The constant wrestling..."

"The team-ups."

"Plus, neither of you have had a girlfriend in ages."

"And...!" Wonder Man was full-blown smirking as he went for the coup de grâce. "We couldn't help noticing you're both walkin' a little funny today."

"I..." Hercules's sore bottom twitched under his tunic, a sign of his master's growing displeasure. He dabbed at his forehead with a napkin. Had their ploy really been discovered so easily? "That is, Thor and I have..."

"But we understand the difficulty with such things, especially when it comes to public perception," Beast said hastily, placing a hand on Hercules's brawny shoulder. "It's not easy for anyone who is... different from the norm, and you don't need to be a mutant to feel singled out. So we understand if you're not comfortable coming out of the closet right away. We just wanted you to know Simon and I are both accepting people, and we'll always be happy to lend you an ear."

"Hell, we'd celebrate it!" put in Wonder Man. "It's about time!"

Hercules's brow furrowed. "Wait... closet?"

Then it finally dawned on him what they were saying. His bearded face turned red at the implication. "You think...?! Th—Thor and I are NOT—!" A sudden throb of his beefy buttocks however reminded him painfully of his mission. "...ready to fully reveal ourselves yet," he finished with a cough. He cleared his throat, swallowing down his natural inclination. "But I would welcome the chance to speak of this, actually... in private?" He looked between them, wondering who would be the more valuable target.

"Wonder Man," he decided, "Would thou step outside with me?"

"What, right now?" Wonder Man blinked. "Uh, sure."

"Oh, let me clear the table and I'll come with..." Beast started to rise.

"NO!" Hercules shouted. Then he coughed and forced a smile. "I mean... This is something I must speak to someone one-on-one about. I'd be far too..." He coughed again. "...embarrassed to speak to you both at once."

Wonder Man had to do his best not to laugh at the wounded look on Beast's face. Maybe this evening will be some fun after all. That said, it wasn't exactly a historical secret Hercules had been bisexual. Then again, maybe Herc hadn't read a history book in a while—or ever. "Alright alright Herc, I'll hear you out. Let's go out the side door," he suggested as he rose from his seat. He gave Beast a departing wink. "Be back in a minute."

He made his way through the packed crowd with the burly Herc close behind. Oddly enough, the booths they passed were all empty. Looked like everybody was preferring to stand that night. Along the way, he caught sight of Wolverine and Thor with a dozen empty pitchers between them. Two-to-one odds on Thor.

Left alone with his sundae, Beast sighed and cradled his face in his hand. "Definitely acting odd," he opined.

Outside the bar was an empty back lot, holding a dumpster and little else. Hercules glanced around to make sure they were alone. "Ah." He grinned affably. "This should do nicely!" He put his hand upon Wonder Man's shoulder. "I truly do need your help, friend."

"Well sure, Herc. You know I'll help you out any way I can. Uhh, so how long have you had, er... feelings for Thor?"

"Oh, ages, my comrade. But tonight I'd like to discuss my feelings for you."

"Me?" Wonder Man blinked under his shades. "Uh, now hold on Herc. I don't exactly uhh, swing that wa..."

"Oho, but you will soon!" All of a sudden the brawny demi-god was yanking the startled hero off his feet. Before Wonder Man knew what was happening he was slung over the muscled thigh of Hercules as the man knelt down right on the concrete, upturned so his well-shaped bottom was in the air. "We can start by putting you in your place."

"My what??" He twisted around in confusion, only to then get pinned under Hercules's brawny arm. While Wonder Man often bragged he was nearly as strong as Thor, that was only in a fair contest. Pressed down with his butt in the air, he'd have to heavily outclass Herc in order to have a hope of getting free—which he didn't. "What's the big idea!" he demanded.

"Worry not, friend Simon. When you meet the Master, all will be made clear," Hercules replied encouragingly. "But before he arrives..." The demi-god raised his hand high. "...I've been chosen to prep you." He brought it down, hard and crisp, right on the well-formed seat of Wonder Man's pants.

CRACK!

"OW!" Wonder Man jerked in surprise. Whatever his game, Hercules wasn't holding back. That swat had hurt. He wiggled his ass, regretting his choice to wear thin dress pants that night. They offered zero protection as Hercules landed slap after stinging slap on his butt. "Augh, c'mon man, what gives! I thought we were going to talk about your love life!" he said, trying to get things back on track. Something bothered him about the way Hercules referred to a 'master'. "This isn't one of your Greek myth things, is it? I don't remember any of them being about—Ow!—spanking!"

"Perhaps the sanitized versions you know," the demi-god told him with a chuckle. He firmly gripped the waistband of the former movie star's tight pants, then pulled down sharply. The act snapped Wonder Man's belt, as well as sent his pants straight to his ankles. He patted his friend's rump. "But I could tell you stories about Ares and Hephaestus, my friend."

"H-hey!" Wonder Man actually shouted. Beneath his pants he had on only a pair of designer briefs. "What do you think you're doing?" His face freeze in shock as that hard hand whipped down on his ass again. CRACK!. The pain was sharp and biting. It was slowly dawning on him this wasn't some sort of joke or prank. Hercules was actually honest-to-god spanking him. And it was hurting. "Herc, stop right now!" He wiggled his backside in an effort to get free.

Hercules merely chuckled as he easily held the struggling hero down. He folded a muscular leg over both of Wonder Man's to keep him from kicking, then pushed down on his back to lower his head—and raise his ass. "Come now, Wonder Man. Surely thou knowst what this is?" he asked coyly as he peppered the tight, round rear-end with a series of open-palmed slaps. "With the number of pranks you and Beast have pulled 'round the Avengers Mansion, you surely must have received this in the past. From Captain America himself, perhaps! And if not, it's high time you did."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Ow!" Wonder Man gasped at the next series of whacks. He tried to think as his butt heated under his briefs. Was Herc actually angry over one something he and Beast had done? The time they'd stuck a 'Kick Me' sign on Hulk's back maybe, and pointed at an unaware Hercules when confronted? Or perhaps it was for the time he and Beast had done the classic 'Marilyn Monroe' wind gust on him to lift up his little toga while he'd been strutting down 6th Avenue? "Gah!" he yelped as another swat came down. Already, his cheeks were starting to feel tender under the blows.

"You know what? We can figure this out later. Just let me go already!" Wonder Man demanded. "I don't care to meet whoever this 'master' is you're talking about. And if this is about what happened a few weeks ago with the leaf blower, we're sorry, okay!"

"It wasn't, but... now that you mention it..." Hercules smiled wide as he gripped the waistband of Wonder Man's briefs. Instantly he'd peeled them down, turning them inside out as they traveled down the length of Wonder Man's firm thighs. Naturally, that left the hero's toned backside decidedly naked and bare. Hercules grinned down at the sight. Wonder Man's two smooth and muscular cheeks, wiggling together in indignation, already showed the marks of his hand. A strong and arrogant hero, much like himself.

"H—hey! You can't—!"

"Oh, I can. And by the time the Master arrives you'll be truly sorry—and wailing for mercy!" Hercules announced. He then started to really give it to Wonder Man's poor bottom, landing hard, powerful slaps all over the caught cheeks.

CRACK! SMACK! WHACK! CRACK!

"Ow ow ow owwwww! Come on Herc, I said I was sorry!" Wonder Man shouted as he writhed. "OWWW!" But his protests did no good in the face of Hercules's sheer zeal to punish him. It was getting harder and harder to focus with Hercules's constant open-palmed blows slamming into his bottom. He struggled back and forth, trying to get his ass out of the way of the incoming blows. But no matter how he twisted, Herc's hand always managed to find him.

CRACK!

"AH!" Wonder Man yelped. "What do you want me to say?!"

Hercules shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "You will speak when the Master bids it. But for now..." He started turning up the heat on the slaps, driving Wonder Man to howl anew. "There is truly, absolutely, nothing at all for you to say, my friend."

Inside the bar, Wolverine scowled over his mug at Thor. "Ready to... give in?" he asked, swaying on his feet.

Thor smiled warmly at him. "Nay, friend. Though methinks thou hast reached thy limit."

"Hah! Don't make me laugh... I ain't ever lost one of these. Yer pants are... hic... gonna be mine, blondie."

"Thy skills are quite significant, I'll admit. But I have outdrunk giants in my day."

"Yeah well... my healing factor metabolizes beer... before it even reaches my system..."

At least it does when I haven't had thirty in a row.

"The last round I also substituted some proper Asgardian mead rather than thy usual brew."

Wolverine peered at him warily. "Wait... You what...?"

Then he slumped down head-first on the table. Clunk.

Thor smiled down at the short, hairy man, then set to work gathering him up. "The Master will be pleased with this one, methinks."

He began to unbutton Wolverine's pants.

"Excellent work, slave. Now to finish this one off."

Moments after the unfamiliar voice spoke from behind him, a single critical slap landed upon Wonder Man's beet-red butt. In a fraction of an instant Wonder Man found all his fears, outrage, anger, and embarrassment gone. In its place was nothing but an all-consuming desire to receive even more punishment from that hand. "Master!" he gasped out, unsure of who he even spoke to.

"That's right. Now remain calm. I'm going to tell you exactly what to do..."

"Simon, Herc?"

Their talk was disrupted by the alleyway door opening, and the muscular form of Beast was silhouetted against the interior. "Are you two still out here?" his cheerful voice beckoned. "You've got to come see! Thor and Logan made a bet on their last drinking contest. Now Logan is over Thor's knee, his pants around his ankles, and Thor is spanking him! I've never seen anything like it!" As he spoke, Beast's eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He frowned suddenly at what he saw. Not only was there an unfamiliar third man there, in costume, but there was Simon—his own pants down, and sporting a very bare and very red set of buttocks himself. Beast's mouth fell open. "What... in the world...?"

"Now."

The single word from the masked man had Wonder Man rise up in the air. With his usual speed, he burst over toward Beast and pinned him back against the door. He was still completely pantsless as he pressed up against his friend. "Why watch Logan's," he said archly, "When we could watch yours instead?"

"Wh—what?!"

The man in purple chuckled. "How about you two warm this one up for me? It seems I have another visit to make in the meantime."

"Yes, Master."

"S—Simon! What are you—!" Beast was more than confused as his best friend pushed him up against the door in a manner many would call downright indecent. "Hey, get a hold of yourselves! This is—NO!" he shouted as Hercules swaggered up then and, with one clean yank, ripped his trunks completely off his body. Those torn trunks were soon pushed firmly into Beast's mouth, and the naked blue mutant was getting pulled over both his teammates' knees.

"Mmpghh!!"

The Handler smiled as he left them in the alleyway to their fun. It was so delightfully easy to make heroes turn on each other.

Inside the bar, Wolverine had been pulled over a knee of his own. He kicked and twisted over Thor's. "Cheater!" he ranted. "It was supposed to be Earth liquors only!" His jeans and boxers were gathered 'round his ankles. If the Handler had thought Hercules's ass was hairy it didn't hold a candle to Wolverine's, which practically boasted its own forest over his grizzled cheeks. The mutant man snarled as Thor's hand clapped on his burning buttocks again and again.

"I've heard it said there are no worse losers than those who invent new rules upon defeat." His brawny palm collided with Wolverine's bucking cheeks hard and fast, quickly turning them hot and red. Although he was following his Master's edicts, a large part of Thor—the real Thor—felt it was high time Wolverine be put in his place anyway. He was proud to be the one to do it. His forceful strikes more than outpaced Wolverine's mutant healing factor.

"I know thee to be a man of thy word though, despite thy groans and complaints," Thor said, striking down with a blow as loud as any of his cracks of thunder. "So now I propose a new challenge—whether thy buttocks can outlast my palm?"

"Oh screw you—Aaaoowww!"

Wolverine resorted to animal snarls and growls as the thunder god's broad hand rang out, leaving prints all over his hairy rear. Despite the light-hearted nature of their wager Thor was giving a serious spankin', no doubt about it. On one hand Wolverine could respect that. There was no point in doing anything half-assed. But it did make for a decidedly painful time as he kicked and cursed.

The Handler just smiled as he sidled up to the counter and signaled for a beer. It was slid across to him without a word. In fact, no one in the whole bar had spoken for several long minutes.

It'd been easy enough to gain complete control of the establishment in preparation for this night. Every man in there was currently sporting a reddened ass underneath his pants. It paid to keep the numbers of variables down, and to have contingency plans put in place.

He sipped his drink as he watched the redness of Wolverine's bottom deepen.

"Stop fighting us, Hank. You'll be thanking me soon enough." Wonder Man rubbed Beast's fuzzy bare globes, before drifting down a bit lower for a playful squeeze of his blue balls. Beast gasped as if shocked. "Serving the Master feels incredible. Besides, I've always thought you looked better out of your speedo than in it anyway." He raised up his hand and brought it down hard on Beast's left cheek. CRACK!

"NGH!"

"But you'll understand all that soon enough."

The second blow made Beast buck in surprise, then the third made him kick out. He had to admit, in all his and Wonder Man's adventures together this was a first for them. But while it was one thing to internalize and even fantasize about such a situation occurring, it was quite another to actually feel his best friend giving his naked rear a series of slaps and gropes against his will.

"Mmhg! Ptooie!" He succeeded in spitting his trunks out of his mouth. "Ooh! Alright gentlemen," he said, attempting a joke, "I appreciate the thought, but you know my birthday's not 'til September—YEEARGH!" He was cut off by Hercules landing a swift spank of his own. It landed on Beast's right cheek, which was soon joined by Wonder Man landing another on his left. In that way the two men started to alternate, batting Beast's ass back and forth over their collective knees as if it were a muscular volleyball.

"Oh! If I didn't know better I'd—Ooh!—think some mad villain's scheme involved—Ouch!—mind controlling superheroes to have them spank and humiliate each other! YEOOW! What do you guys—Aah!—think?" He yelped as both palms at once met his furry blue backside.

"I think you should have gotten this a long time ago," Wonder Man replied. "And I'm glad to be the one to do it."

His eyes met Herc's as they both applied themselves to beating Beast's bouncing butt. The two of them had a silent challenge of their own. They were each trying to outdo the other in punishing poor Beast in order to win the master's approval.

Wolverine didn't need his enhanced senses to know something was wrong about the bar. Ordinarily there'd be hoots of laughter to a scene like the one he was in, or at least a crowd of people gathered for the sight. They may not recognize him out of costume, but he was still a short, macho guy gettin' spanked out in public. Shit like that was funny.

But here there was nothing. The people were all just going about their business, silently drinking or even just staring off into space as if there wasn't a thought in their heads. Not just that, but he noticed his Avengers teammates were nowhere to be seen. "Hey, what—RRGH!—gives?!" He tried to point out the strangeness to Thor, even as that damn hand came down yet again on his clenched cheeks. ZZZMACK! The blows were electrified now, like lightning. They were actually sizzling the hairs on his ass. "GRRRAH!"

"Well, there's a lot going on in the world today. You can't expect everyone to drop what they're doing just to see another hero get his ass beat," an unfamiliar voice spoke. Then Wolverine felt a somehow even harder palm land, which made him howl. The stranger—whoever it was—alternated strikes with Thor, slapping down every time Thor raised his hand, and vice-versa. Between the two of them, Wolverine's healing factor quickly became overwhelmed.

CRACKSMACKSPANKWHACKSLAP!

"Aauuurrggghhh!"

Thor himself had gone silent, simply bringing his palm down swiftly enough to break Wolverine's infamous stubbornness. He was in the presence of the Master now, and was on his best behavior. He'd reinforced his grip on the short, angry man though, keeping Wolverine from even jerking his arms or unsheathing his famous claws.

"NNNGH!" Wolverine bucked but got nowhere. The way Thor was holding him, basically all he could do was wiggle his ass around. He grit his teeth and shifted position over Thor's knee, slinging himself forward enough so he could at least check out the newcomer upside down between Thor's legs.

Well, shit.

Black spandex along with purple gloves and boots. Those just screamed classic "bad guy" colors to him. Who was this guy? There was a symbol on his chest as well. Like a red palm surrounding an all-seeing eye. It somehow made Wolverine's ass hurt even more just looking at it.

"Who the hell're you?" he growled. Then he bucked as he received another thunderous swat. "ARGH! Dammit Thor! Why won't ya let me go already! Can't ya see somethin' weird is going on!"

In answer to that Wolverine only received a renewed double-spanking. It was hard enough that even the tough-guy mutant was soon howling under the hard and burning blows.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK!

"AOOOWWWWWW!"

He kicked and bucked, but the Thunder God easily kept him tucked under a strong arm so he only tired himself out. Meanwhile his ass was going up in flames. Weirdest thing was, a word kept blaring in his head and he didn't know why. Somehow though, he knew the pain would stop if he said that one word. But Wolverine set his teeth. No way in hell.

He'd been around enough telepaths to know mind control when he felt it. But he'd also been trained to resist that kind of thing. He just had to keep his psychic defenses up. Then he could—

ZZZZZMACK!

Another harsh, electrified crack from Thor met his ass, and Wolverine's mouth opened in a pained gasp. The word slipped out, as if of its own accord.

"M—Master!"

"Oh! Ooh! Simon, I don't know what mental powers he's used on you, but you've got to—Youch!—fight it!" Beast pleaded valiantly as both sets of hands descended on his rump yet again for another sharp double-smack.

SpankCrack!

"Ohhh!"

His efforts at persuasion were only met with his trunks again wedged inside his mouth. Beast could only groan at his helplessness and flail wildly as the two men continued to thoroughly beat him.

It'd been several minutes since his spanking had started. Wonder Man and Hercules had kept up their competition all the while, leading to quite a painful time for Beast's poor derriere. Both his formerly blue cheeks were throbbing a swollen red and he was in tears when the doors finally opened and the Handler stepped out.

"Well well well, it looks like you boys have done a satisfactory job serving up appetizers," the Handler noted. He slowly walked around them, taking in the scene. When he got behind Beast he poked a finger into one of his hot red cheeks, just to see the mutant man wince and jerk at the touch. Pausing for a moment, he pulled the jacket and shirt off Wonder Man to leave him completely naked. Wonder Man did not resist. He then went around and took Hercules's shirt off as well. That made a much better look for the scene, he decided.

"But now it's time for the main course." With both Beast's muscled legs locked down by one hero or another, there was no way for him to fight back. He leaned over Beast's sobbing, prostrate form, then began striking the mutant's rounded cheeks with such speed it was as though he were playing bongos.

Beast looked with anguished eyes to see Wolverine standing with the Handler as well, completely naked and sporting a burning red ass of his own. The grizzled man stood at attention, calm and unblinking, clearly another of this "master's" mind-bound slaves. But how was he doing it? Men like Thor, Wolverine, Wonder Man... they all had strong wills. They couldn't be simply controlled on a whim. It was only when his sore ass felt the first slap of the Handler's palm that he suddenly understood.

Why, it's pure skin-to-skin mental manipulation, seemingly specialized to be transferred directly through the buttocks! Fascinating! I believe I can actually feel his will subsuming mine.

Unfortunately for Beast, he was already on the verge of giving in when the revelation came to him—far too late for it to do him any good. He lasted perhaps four more swats before he broke into abject tears, begging for the chance to loyally serve his new 'master' as well.

"Please! I'll do anything!" he gasped, "My ass... is yours!"

And so, three more heroes were added to the Handler's growing roster.

Some time later, once he'd brought his new toys back to his secret lair, the Handler looked over his collection. They were each bent over before him, their red rumps glowing. He tapped a paddle between them all. They were a fine group to start with, he supposed. But he wouldn't be satisfied until he had the entire Avenger's lineup under his power and bent over in just the same way.

"Now, boys," he said, "I'll reward whoever comes up with the next idea for a hero to catch with... hmm, how about five minutes of extra hand-spanking?"

He grinned as they all immediately started offering suggestions, speaking over each other in desperation to feel more of his wonderful punishment.

Chapter Text

Wolverine's eyes snapped open.

Where the... blazes am I?

The last thing he remembered was the bar. The bar, the drinks, and...

Oh yeah. And Thor beat my ass.

Wolverine grimaced at the memory. But there'd been more to it than just that. There'd been someone else there too. A villain. And he'd used some sort of mind control power to take control of the whole sorry scene.

Slowly, Wolverine's hands drifted back to check the condition of his ass.

Unknown to him, the Handler's powers worked through both physical and mental means. It worked directly on the mind, but first had to be transferred through a material body. After that, it required a conduit. In short, so long as even a single print of his palm remained on a man's buttocks, he remained in complete control of them—body, mind, and soul.

Wolverine, however, had a mutant healing factor.

Even though he'd been spanked to tears in their initial face off, he healed fast... faster than even the Handler had accounted for. About an hour after the first cries of "Master!" had escaped Wolverine's lips, his hairy cheeks had returned completely to their usual feel and color.

Other than some lingering soreness and a headache, he felt fine. He remembered nothing since his spanking though. The last thing he recalled was standing in a group with all the others, bending over to accept their new commands. What had happened since then? And how long had it been?

He glanced around surreptitiously.

The place he stood in could only be the Handler's secret headquarters. Well, it looked more like an S&M dungeon to him, but he didn't judge. He'd been to the Hellfire Club before. In this case though he was also very... naked.

Making sure to keep his ass facing the wall, Wolverine looked around and saw the Handler currently occupied with Hercules. The big lug was spread over the villain's lap, moaning and groaning as his naked ass cheeks got smacked up good. The others were standing at attention and looking straight ahead, just like a line of perverted action figures. He counted Beast, Wonder Man, and Thor among them. They were all in their birthday suits too. Maybe they were all waiting around for some kind of daily spanking to keep the marks on their asses refreshed? Either way, Wolverine didn't plan on sticking around that long.

He waited 'til Herc was begging at his loudest ("More! Please, Master! Oh, give me more!") before he made his move. Wolverine sprinted across the room, slashed through a support beam, then lunged out an open window. He just hoped he wasn't too high up off the ground. He heard their cries of alarm as the ceiling caved in on them as he dug his adamantium claws into the brick wall on his way down to slow his descent.

Only three stories up. Good. It may not have been the smoothest getaway he'd had ever done, but he wasn't being graded for grace. He slid his way down and in moments was on his feet in what looked like a warehouse district.

Why is it always warehouses?

He quickly ducked into the nearest alley and simply ran like hell. If he was lucky, he'd be able to lose his pursuers in the twists and turns of the city until he could think up a plan. And if he was unlucky?

Well, more than likely he'd be captured again and his ass would get another spanking.

"Man, that was a terrible movie. How'd I ever let you talk me into seeing it?" The muscled black man in the yellow shirt shook his head belligerently as he walked down the street, arms swinging at his sides.

"Come on, Luke. The trailers looked good and you know it." The man in green walking beside him replied with a smile. "How was I supposed to know it'd be a bust?"

"It's called looking up a review, Danny? It ain't rocket science. But I guess all that mystical K'un-Lun training doesn't help you use a computer."

"That's a low blow." Iron Fist put his hand over his heart. "Or at least it would be if you hadn't used that line a dozen times already."

Luke Cage and Iron Fist, the so-called "Heroes For Hire", were more-or-less best friends. They worked together, hung out together, and even fought each other's bad guys together. That didn't mean they let each other get away with shit though. Still, casually walking home in their street clothes, they had no idea what was fast approaching.

Being members of the Avengers—even part-times ones like they were—they'd come to expect any bit of relaxation time they scraped together to get interrupted by one crisis or another. But this was the first time in recent memory it was interrupted by a buck-naked Wolverine. He burst out of an alleyway with a frenzied growl and then slammed straight into Luke's chest.

"Ungh!"

"The hell?"

Luke glared at the short man as he bounced off him and then fell back to land on his ass. Luke was impervious—almost nothing could penetrate his ultra-dense skin. That didn't mean he liked those who tried, though.

For his part, Wolverine scowled up at them and spat. "Hey, watch where you're goin'!" he said, "This is—wait a minute, Iron Fist? Luke Cage?" He looked screw-eyed between them. Then his grizzled face broke into a grin. "Am I glad to see you two's ugly mugs!"

"You think we're the ugly ones?" Iron Fist blinked as he gave him a hand up. "You're the one who's naked."

"Yeah, again," Luke added. "What happened this time?"

Wolverine shook his head as he dusted himself off. "No time for banter, bubs. I've got trouble after me. Quick, one of you lend me your phone." He held his hand out expectantly.

Then, suddenly, he stopped and withdrew it.

"Wait a sec..." He sniffed the air around them with a frown. His eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between them. "You bein' here like this... that's awfully convenient."

They raised their eyebrows at him.

Wolverine grimaced. "Alright, this is gonna sound crazy," he said. "But before I can trust either of ya, you gotta show me yer asses."

"Show you our what?"

"Are you outta your fool mind?"

Wolverine growled. "Look," he started, "I—"

"No," Luke cut in. "Whatever bizarre reason it is, whatever superhero nonsense, I don't care. You can use my phone. But you ain't getting nothing else."

Wolverine groaned in irritation. "Just hear me out. There's a new villain in town who's controlling people by... spanking 'em," he said with a slight flush. "He already got Thor, Herc, Beast, and Wonder Man. He got me too, but I broke free 'cause my ass healed up faster than theirs did. So now I'm on the run. But who knows how many other guys he might've nabbed? So, if you show me yer butts and they ain't got handprints on 'em..." He worked his jaw. "That's the only way I'll know I can trust ya."

It was only when he said the whole thing out loud that he realized how completely insane it sounded.

The two men just looked at him evenly.

"I'm not making it up," he growled.

"We know, Logan," Luke said with a heaving breath. "This is our goddamn lives. Spanking villains. Sweet Christmas. This is why I keep trying to get out of the whole superhero gig." He stared at Wolverine a moment longer, then reluctantly turned around and undid his belt. He yanked down the back of his pants to show a perfectly smooth, muscled, and unblemished backside.

Iron Fist was flabbergasted at the sight. "You seriously believe him?!"

His partner rolled his eyes as he turned back and buckled up. "Danny, you've dragged me into raising dragons, spirit channeling, shapeshifting aliens—"

"Hey, the aliens were not my fault—"

"—but are you seriously telling me this is your limit?"

"It's not that." Iron Fist blushed a little. "It's just—" He was cut off by Luke grabbing him around the waist. "Huh?!" In moments he'd been turned around in his big partner's grip, then the back of his pants were shoved down.

"Aah! HEY!" he squawked.

Wolverine hid a smirk as he looked over Iron Fist's equally smooth and perky rear-end. "Alright," he said. "I'm satisfied. You want yer asses stayin' unmarked though, I'd keep a lookout. They're probably coming right behind me. And take it from me, Thor smacks hard."

Captain America was just enjoying a steaming cup of hot coffee, courtesy of the Avengers' butler Jarvis, when the Avenger emergency line clicked through. He responded immediately with a flip of a switch and heard a familiar, grizzled voice. "Cap! We got big problems!"

"Logan? What's the emergency?"

"New villain in town, calls himself the Handler. He's able to mentally control people. He's already got—"

"Uh... Logan? You might want to hurry up there. I can see them coming." Captain America recognized the new voice as Iron Fist's. A swear told him Luke Cage was present as well.

"Who, Logan?" he asked. "Who is coming?"

"Shit, there's no time. Look, we're at the corner of, uhhh—we're by Luke Cage's dump of an apartment! And Cap, tell everybody to watch their asses, literally. The way the Handler gains control of you, it's by—" The rest was cut off by a burst of static.

"Logan? Logan, are you still there?" Captain America hit the reconnect tab repeatedly. But there was nothing else. He leaned back in his chair, his coffee now forgotten.

He'd better assemble a team.

Wolverine cursed as the phone was fried out of his hand by an arc of lightning from Mjolnir. Looking up, he saw the whole group of them flying in. Thor was carrying Hercules by his armpits, and Wonder Man was doing likewise for Beast. They'd also found their costumes, it looked like.

Beast grinned wide as Wonder Man released his wrists and he dropped down to a street lamp and nimbly swung on it before perching on top with both ape-like feet."Well well well, lookie what we found fellas. Two of my favorite Avengers Reserves. We were just after our erstwhile friend, but here are some more naughty boys ready to take their licks!"

"Is he talking 'bout us?" Luke asked grimly.

Without responding, Beast swung around and around on the pole to pick up momentum, then launched himself their way. "Looks like we're doing this," Iron Fist grimaced as he interspersed himself between them. He focused his chi in his hand and formed the legendary Iron Fist he took his name from. He pivoted towards Beast, and an iron fist met much softer feet. Beast was sent flying.

Hercules was also dropped down, though in his case from many magnitudes higher. He crossed his arms over his chest and positioned himself like a living impact bomb as he aimed himself right for Luke Cage from a height of several thousand feet. Luke just stood firm and raised his fists to block the impact as best he could.

BRROOOOMMMMMMM!

A huge plume of dust rose up as the two titans met, with Luke coughing as it cleared. "Oh come on, I liked this shirt!" he complained. The impact had done considerable damage to his clothes, with his shirt hanging in tatters and his pants not faring much better.

But there was no time for complaints. The two strong men started duking it out with strong, pounding blows, as only powerhouse heroes like them could.

But where the Heroes For Hire got to enjoy one-on-one battles, Wolverine had both Thor and Wonder Man to contend with. The God of Thunder landed behind him first and moved to get him in a pin, while Wonder Man flew in for a frontal assault to prevent escape. "You're gonna get the punishment of a lifetime when we get back, short stuff!"

"Aye! How dare thee betray our Master with thy absence!"

"Shit," Wolverine mumbled as he saw them both coming at him from opposite sides. I still don't even have pants on for Chrissakes! But he could at least use their numbers against them. As Thor flew in to grab hold of him, Wolverine ran—towards Wonder Man. He unsheathed his claws just as the former movie star closed in. "Sorry bubs, just not my scene." He nimbly cut through the seat of Wonder Man's costume, then landed a good slap on those bared buns himself. On cheeks as sore as Wonder Man's already were, that blow was painful enough to make the shocked hero spin out and crash into Thor. They both careened wildly into a nearby building.

"Ooff!"

"By Odin's beard, get thyself off me, Simon Williams!" Thor said, spitting out concrete dust.

"Gracious me, these butts fight back," Beast noted as he rolled and flipped and came at Iron Fist from a different angle. But that did no good, as the mystic martial artist remained on the defensive and again knocked him away.

"Will you stop calling us—butts!" Iron Fist yelled, turning a bit red in the face.

"Oh, but I assure you, it's by far your best feature!"

Meanwhile, Hercules had locked with Luke Cage and they began to grapple.

"The Prince of Power has never lost a wrestling match!" he boasted as he reached down for the remnants of Luke's pants. In one easy move he tore them the rest of the way off. Luke was left in little more than shredded pieces of his shirt and boots.

"Dammit! That's it, you're gonna get it now, mind control or no!" Luke hollered.

Thor and Wonder Man had managed to separate themselves by then. "Thou wilt pay the price for thy tomfoolery!" Thor yelled at the grinning Wolverine. He raised his hammer and shot out another bolt of lightning.

That bolt was ducked under though, and it exploded against the side of a parked car. "Heh! You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, bub," Wolverine goaded. "You couldn't—"

SMACK.

Wolverine gasped. He instantly knew exactly what'd happened.

The mind-controlled minions hadn't come unaccompanied. The Handler himself stood behind Wolverine, his hand pressed firmly against his bare, hairy rear. "You... damn..." Wolverine turned for him with his claws out. But by then, his eyes were already starting to glaze over.

"Oh... shit..."

Hercules gasped as he was actually lifted off his feet and held overheard—much the reverse of his famous bout against the earth giant Antaeus—before he got slammed back to the ground. "Ungh!" He looked up, dazed and groggy, to see Luke Cage standing over him cracking his knuckles. But he was rescued by a most unlikely source—Wolverine ran up and got Luke Cage into a choke-hold from behind, growling and snarling.

"Urgh! Logan, what're you doing!" Luke grunted as he found himself grabbed by his ally. And it was more than a little awkward to have Wolverine pressed up against him from behind since they were both now completely naked. "Get a hold of yourself, man!" But even as he tried to shake him off, the arms of Wonder Man joined in to further restrain him. They were soon followed by a renewed Hercules.

Meanwhile, Beast remained in a tense standoff with Iron Fist. However, he smirked as he struck upon a devious way to finally make the hero lower his guard. "Why, look!" he said dramatically, and pointed to the group fight going on behind Iron Fist's back. "Is that Luke Cage, getting his big bare butt spanked around like a bratty six-year-old?!"

"Hah! Like I'd believe that," Iron Fist shot back with a tight grin. "I've worked with Luke for years. No one knows better than me he'd never let that—" But all of a sudden, the noise of a mighty skin-on-skin slap did ring out. Iron First turned around with a gasp. "What in the—"

In that moment, Thor's hammer rocketed right at him.

"Uh oh!" Iron Fist flipped away archly, barely dodging in time. The hammer instantly flew back to Thor's grip and the thunder god gave a growl.

"Hah! I'm not that easy!"

But the attempt was not made in vain. While Iron Fist was caught in his flip, Beast nimbly leapt into the perfect location to cut off his escape. He rolled over onto his back, then lifted up his giant blue feet. Iron Fist's expression was almost comically surprised as he tumbled right into the X-Man's clutches. "When at first you don't succeed..."

The cheerful blue mutant grinned as he caught the young men with his feet, then began rapidly pedaling. He repeatedly rolled and spun Iron Fist around in the air as if he were part of a circus act. For his part, Iron Fist was so confused and disoriented he couldn't resist at all.

"You put up a good fight, but now it's time to pay your dues! Alley-oop!" Beast jutted both his muscular legs out. To his astonishment, Iron Fist got tossed straight into the air—and right out of his pants.

"What the heeeeelllll?"

"Just a little something you pick up after enough Danger Room sessions."

The bare-bottomed martial artist could do nothing to stop himself flying through the air again. This time it was Thor's hands he fell neatly into. "Aah, crud!" It was like they were schoolboys passing around a new toy. He was soon put squirming under the god's arm, his bare bottom upturned and vulnerable.

"Now..." Thor said, and he raised a crackling, electrified hand. "Prepare thy mortal buttocks to feel a god's displeasure."

ZZZZZZMACK!

Iron Fist howled from the first blow.

And on the other side of the street, Luke Cage had been successfully wrestled to the ground by the combined efforts of Wonder Man, Wolverine, and Hercules. They planted him face-down, then Herc and Wonder Man knelt on either side of his struggling body. While keeping his back pinned down with one hand apiece, they began delivering a truly merciless double-spanking with their other, reprising their early competition from when they'd punished Beast.

SMACK! CRACK! WHACK! CRACK!

Luke Cage's muscled buttocks clenched, wobbled, and jerked as they were hammered with powerful, super-strong blows. He was invulnerable, but not that invulnerable. "Ohh! Argh! Shit! Stop it!"

And Wolverine simply stood at attention like a recruit at boot camp, a single light hand-print visible on his fuzzy bottom. Or at least—it had been. After a moment the mark faded, and he blinked and shuddered. "Wh... what the hell? What happened?!" he said in shock at the sight of the two Heroes For Hire now getting beat bare-naked in front of him.

"You happened."

Slap!

The Handler's palm again smacked against Wolverine's ass. He studied the hero's eyes as they glazed back over, then he sighed. "I've got to stop underestimating that healing factor of yours. You almost broke free again." He then snapped his fingers, and Wolverine bent over and grabbed his ankles. He bestowed a good dozen more slaps upon those grizzled cheeks. Wolverine grunted and moaned at each one. "Now, who did you call and what did you tell them?"

"Nngh!" Wolverine clenched his teeth as he pushed his ass out for more. "I called—Ghh!—Captain America. He'll be on his way here any—Yeargh!—minute now, with a full Avengers team. Augh!"

"Is that right?" The Handler looked around at the various spankings happening around him. Iron Fist was yowling and kicking fruitlessly in Thor's grip, while Luke Cage was cursing and struggling as his brown bottom started to darken too. Meanwhile, Wolverine was grunting under his own hand. He smiled.

"Well, it does accelerate my timetable significantly... but I suppose I've no choice but to prepare something nice to welcome him, now don't I?"

Chapter Text

The Quinjet swooped low over the rooftops. Captain America hadn't had much time to gather a team, but he'd done his best. All they knew about the current situation was that a new villain was in town with the power to control minds. Furthermore, it was possible a number of their teammates were already under his control.

To that end, Cap's first choice for the team had been Hulk. If anyone could happily beat both Thor, Hercules, and anyone else they needed into submission all at the same time, it would be him. The brutish hero was currently crammed into one of the passenger seats, far too large to properly fit in it.

Quicksilver was squeezed in next to him, growing more and more irritated at the humongous green body pressing against his own. His foot tapped rapidly in impatience. "If this is another one of Beast and Wonder Man's pranks, I swear..."

"Calm down, speedy. This one sounds a bit extreme even for those two," Hawkeye replied. The archer was leaned back in his seat, eyes closed and his bow within easy reach.

"Hulk want to smash," the lumbering brute in the back muttered.

"I know, big guy. Don't worry, there'll be plenty to smash soon."

As they crested the row of townhouses where Luke Cage lived, they finally caught sight of their fellow Avengers. But there was something wrong about them all. Wolverine was standing there completely naked, for one thing. Luke Cage and Iron Fist were also without pants, and the former was currently twisting about angrily on the ground as a strange costumed figure appeared to be... repeatedly slapping his palm upon his exposed butt. Iron Fist was being punished as well, in his case by the harsh palm of Thor.

Quicksilver had to laugh at the absurdity. "Don't tell me this villain controls heroes by spanking them?"

Captain America's eyebrows furrowed as he brought the Quinjet into a hover. "I don't know, but it's clear our friends need our help," he told them. "Everyone out, now!" The bay doors opened, and Cap lead the way himself with an acrobatic leap onto the nearby rooftop. Hawkeye, Quicksilver, and Hulk all followed him.

Luckily, it seemed their arrival had thrown a monkey wrench into the unknown villain's plans. They watched the man look up from his spanking of Luke Cage with a scowl, then deliver a single swat to Wolverine's exposed backside. "Take them down!" he ordered. The thralls arrayed themselves into battle lines without question.

"Avengers Assemble!" Captain yelled back. He didn't know how this new villain was commanding his friends, but he was determined to break them free. And he'd do whatever he had to in order to make that happen.

It was quite a stand-off. On one side was Hercules, Beast, Wonder Man, and Wolverine. On the other was Captain America, Hawkeye, Hulk, and Quicksilver. It reminded Cap uncomfortably of Civil War, the last time such large numbers of heroes had fought each other. He vowed he wouldn't let the same results happen from that conflict.

"Marvelous! More to join the master's forces!" Beast said in delight. He was the first to attack. He jumped up high and swung on a light pole like a trapeze act, then hurtled himself towards his former allies. But in the next moment he was slammed back, along with Hercules and Wonder Man, by Hulk clapping his hands together so hard they formed a sonic boom.

"You making Hulk MAD," the behemoth snarled as he advanced towards them all, ready to take anything they could give.

Behind enemy lines, a sobbing Iron Fist found himself hiked up in Thor's strong arms and his ass presented to the Handler. He awaited the villain's spank with as much resolve as he could muster. He hoped his K'un-Lun training might at least allow him to resist the villain's control and keep from turning against his friends, but either way it was going to hurt.

His mystical training wasn't going to be put to the test that day however. Just as the Handler's palm was descending to strike those smooth, helpless buttocks, there was suddenly a blur of white and blue motion—and Iron Fist was whisked away.

"HellothereyoumustbetheHandler.Wellitlookslikeyou'vegotsomethingthatbelongstoussoI'lljustbetakingthisbacknow!" The rapid-fire voice of Quicksilver came as he did a fast rotation around the villain before speeding off back to their side of the conflict, Iron Fist's perky bare backside slung and bouncing over his shoulder. Thor growled and flew after them.

"I will retrieve him, Master!"

Wolverine let out an animalistic snarl as he leapt at Captain America, claws-first. The Avengers leader's shield was the only thing that kept him from being sliced to shreds right then and there. He grit his teeth as he used it to block one after another of the naked berserker's frenzied strikes. "Logan, snap out of it!" he yelled, but it seemed as if Wolverine couldn't hear him.

Pressed back further, he had no choice but to wind his fist back and gave a hard sock to the man's jaw. But while that blow was effective in the short term, it wasn't enough to shake whatever mental control Wolverine was under—or keep him from pressing his attack even harder an instant later.

What Cap didn't realize was that this fight was different from any other he'd had with Wolverine. This Wolverine wasn't interested in exchanging blows or cutting through the impenetrable shield he carried. Rather, the only thing that mattered to him was getting through—to the seat of the problem.

Slice!

Cap gasped as the hairy mutant hadn't aimed for a kill shot like he'd expected, but rather used his razor-sharp adamantium claws to shred the seat of his uniform away. With just his standard-issue jockstrap on underneath, that meant Captain America's buttocks were all but bare when he was then forcibly grabbed by his old friend and, astoundingly, bent over his knee in the middle of the battle.

"What? Wolverine, what are you—Oww! Aah! Stop it!" he shouted as he suffered the extreme indignity of a bare-bottom spanking while the rest of his team continued to fight around them.

For his part, Hawkeye had rappelled down from the Quinjet a good distance behind the others in his role as team support. With Hulk leading the charge, he knew a few well-placed arrows were all the big guy needed to keep on top of the opposition. A flash arrow left Hercules blind and dazzled, while a glue arrow kept Beast stuck against a building, trapped and wiggling. "Sorry about the fur!" he yelled with a smirk as he broke through the line and ran over to the prone, mostly nude form of Luke Cage.

"Ah, geez." He slowed as he reached him. He wasn't an expert by any means, but even to his eyes Luke's ass looked blistered. The muscular buttocks were bruised all over and covered in welts. He knelt by him and touched his shoulder. "Hey man, you still okay to fight?"

"You know it," Luke replied as he flipped over and immediately grabbed Hawkeye by the wrist. With his greater strength, he was able to easily pull the startled archer right over his knee. A few seconds later and Hawkeye's arms were pinned behind his back, and his pants hauled down to reveal two toned, firm cheeks.

"Hey, what the hell are you doi—OW!" Hawkeye yelped as he received his first ever spanking.

With his compatriots all either disabled or scattered, Wonder Man was left on his own against Hulk. He grit his teeth as he flew hard at him, only to get swatted away like a bug and crash into a nearby billboard. It took him a few moments to gather his senses after a blow like that. Against Hulk there could be no holding back. So as he rose for a second time, he gathered as much energy as he could and fired an ionic blast right at the weakness all men shared—superheroes or not. He blasted a bolt right at the not-so-jolly green giant's crotch.

ZZZZAP.

Hulk gaped as the front of his purple pants burst apart. "HEY!" he roared as a large and intimidating object spilled out. "You wreck Hulk's clothes!"

Wonder Man blanched as Hulk lumbered towards him, bristling. It looked like rather than disabling him by striking a weak point, the ionic attack had actually partially... excited Hulk down there.

And as his eyesight slowly cleared enough to perceive shapes again, even Hercules's mouth had to drop at the sight.

"By the Gods, he'd put the Titans themselves to shame!"

So distracted were they by the sight, they were easily grabbed by the savage brute. Hulk smiled eagerly at them both.

"Now Hulk make you two pay."

And in the center of it all, Captain America's spanking continued.

"Gonna teach ya there's no use fighting the master, bub," Wolverine said in a low growl, hand roughly raised over the super soldier's sorely reddened ass.

SMACK! He slapped down on Cap's perfectly muscled left cheek.

"Argh! Wolverine, stop!"

"Ya can try, but in the end you'll fail."

SMACK! He slapped down on Captain America's perfectly muscled right cheek. He ignored the shouts he earned in response.

"Ouch! Logan, snap out of it!"

"You all will. You'll all be conquered under his rule... you'll all be... be..."

Smack! The next swat came, and then another after that. Smack. But there was much less force put into them. Cap looked up at him in surprise. Finally, Wolverine blinked down at what he was doing. Unknowingly, his own ass had just finished healing yet again and freed him from the Handler's control. He woke up to the confusing sight of Captain America himself squirming bare-bottomed over his knee, his cheeks red and raw.

"Wh-what? Damn, not again!" He hurriedly helped Captain America back to his feet. "Sorry Cap! I wasn't in control of myself!"

"It's... it's fine Logan," Cap replied with a pained grimace. He tried to cover up his embarrassment as he surveyed the battle, but couldn't quite resist the urge to rub his aching buttocks as he did so. "Alright Logan. Now that you're free, we've got to see about helping the others—"

"If you two are done having fun?" Quicksilver remarked dryly as he came to a sudden stop before them. He dropped a pantsless Iron Fist on the ground at their feet. "It might be worth calling a strategic retreat here, Cap. Luke Cage is on their side too, and he's got Hawkeye." He pointed a thumb to where they could see the archer yowling over the powerhouse's knee. "Meanwhile I led Thor on a merry chase downtown, but you know he'll be back here any second. And you don't even want to know what Hulk is doing."

At that moment, Hulk was busily trying to fit Hercules's head inside Wonder Man's butt. It was going about as well as you'd expect.

But the one Captain America was most concerned about was Hawkeye. At the moment the archer was kicking and cursing over Luke Cage's knee while the Hero-For-Hire turned his ass a bright, burning red.

At the same time, he saw a newly freed Beast finally join the battle by jumping on Hulk's back. A sudden burst of thunder from a cloudless sky heralded the arrival of Thor as well. Not even Hulk could take on that many of his fellow powerhouses at once.

Captain America rapidly took stock. None of the men he had available were capable of overpowering Luke Cage in order to get Hawkeye out of there. Indeed, it was only incredible luck more of them hadn't already been taken. Furthermore, he could see that mysterious villain mastermind already closing in on the squirming Hawkeye, much closer than they were.

"He's right, Cap. We gotta cut loose," Wolverine put in.

Cap bit his lip. He was responsible for his team, but he'd let them down on this one. They'd gone in blind. And any attempt to get Hawkeye back was certain to lose him whoever he sent and net the villain even more slaves.

"We'll be back for you, Hawkeye!" he shouted, hating himself for it, but seeing no other choice but to make the tough call. They had to disengage and regroup. "Hulk! Retreat!"

"Retreat?" Hulk snorted in irritation. "Hulk busy SMASHING."

"Oh, for the love of..." Quicksilver sped over to him while the others ran back to the Quinjet. "Hulk, if we don't leave right now we're going to lose everything! Use your head for once and do what Banner would do!"

"BANNER?" Hulk scoffed. "Puny Banner would just get spanked. Might even like it. But NOT HULK!"

"Exactly my point. Now let go of your toys. I promise you'll get to smash them more later."

Hulk looked at Wonder Man and Hercules twisting in his grip, and finally snorted and threw them into Thor, knocking them all down. "GRRR! Fine! But you better mean it about the smashing." He squatted low for a massive leap back to the Quinjet. Just as he took off though, Beast made a last-ditch effort to grab hold of him. He only got his hands on Hulk's pants though, and the green giant ripped right out of them as he jumped away. He landed in front of the aircraft angry and buck-naked.

Quicksilver joined him an instant later.

"Strap in, boys," Wolverine said as he hopped into the unoccupied seat Hawkeye had left. The others crammed into the back. If flying with Hulk had been uncomfortable before, it was even moreso now that he had no pants. The worst off was Iron Fist, who didn't have an assigned seat and had to make do basically sitting on Hulk's lap.

To their mingled dismay, they all watched as Hawkeye fired arrow after arrow at them as the hovercraft rose up. The Handler stood behind the archer, smiling with his hand pressed firmly against his red bottom. He'd been turned.

"You did the right thing, Cap," Wolverine offered once they'd gotten out of range.

"Doesn't make it any easier."

An uncomfortable silence went by, as several of the men fidgeted slightly in discomfort. Finally, it was Quicksilver who spoke up. "Well, I'd say that was a complete failure actually. I hope we have a plan now."

Captain America shifted on his own sore backside as he entered in a new set of coordinates. "The beginnings of one. Logan, I'm going to need you to tell us everything you can about this new villain. In the meantime, we clearly need specialized help for this situation. I'm planning to get all our friends back, but for that I can only think of one place to go..."

Next: The Fantastic Four

Chapter Text

The assembled thralls watched the Quinjet disappear over the rooftops.

"We have them on the run!" Wonder Man crowed as he rose up into the air. "Shall we pursue, Master?"

The Handler pursed his lips. "No," he told them. "We may have nabbed Hawkeye, but that was still far too close for comfort. They're no doubt retreating to gather intel on us and review options. While they do that, we'll use this time to stack the odds even higher in our favor."

"How so, Master?" Beast asked as he hopped up, still picking bits of glue from his fur.

"Hmm. Pack your bags, Hank. You're going to be the key to a very important mission. As for the rest of you..." The Handler grinned. "You'll be going on a little recruitment drive."

"So there's gonna be chicks at this thing, right?"

Thing had to roll his eyes. "Sure Johnny," he said. "Chicks aplenty."

"Hey, I'm just sayin'," the young hotshot said breezily as he stepped out of the taxi. "I'm only going with you out of the goodness of my heart. But if I'm the hottest one there, that's gonna be a problem."

"Johnny," he deadpanned. "You're the hottest one anywhere."

"Heh. Oh yeah."

Indeed, with his ability to wreathe himself in and manipulate living flame, it was hard to be any hotter than Johnny Storm, aka The Human Torch was. The problem was he knew it. His playboy good looks brought him an easy pass for anything he attempted in life, and he was popular with both men and women. It made him arrogant and spoiled.

That was far from the case for Ben Grimm, aka The Thing. He'd gone through a similar transformation as Johnny had, but where the young hotshot's had been a gift, Ben's had been a curse. He was now a living golem, a man made from tan, rocky clay. His rough-around-the-edges nature was as much an attempt to keep the world at arm's length as it was to show them who he was.

But as much as their differences put them at odds with each other, Thing and Human Torch always had each other's backs when it really counted. The two Fantastic Four members headed up the steps and into Yankee Stadium. Thing wore his civilian duds—a long trench coat and a fedora hat which helped him blend in, or at least made him feel less self-conscious about not blending in. Meanwhile Human Torch was wearing board shorts and a pink Hawaiian shirt he kept unbuttoned to show off his abs.

Thing grimaced. Going to a ball game to pick up girls? Blasphemy!

"Hey," Human Torch said once they were inside. His voice echoed down the wide hallways. "Why's the place so empty? Shouldn't there be tons of people here?"

"VIP tickets. Not only do we get da place to ourselves, we get a tour of the facilities. That's why we showed up so early. Courtesy of my ol' pal Luke Cage," Thing said expansively. "So quit worryin', that guy's never steered me wrong!"

It was true. Whether it was taking in a ball game, scrappin' up and down Yancy Street, or even the monthly poker game held at the Baxter Building, he and Luke had always gotten along like birds of a feather. Thing's ugly face split into a broad grin as he peered across the lobby. "And hey, if it ain't the man himself!"

"Hey Ben!" Luke Cage waved as they walked over, a warm smile on his face. "Glad you could make it. Ready for the tour?"

"Sure, as soon as ya tell me how you scored VIP passes at the height of the season!"

Luke smirked. "My little secret."

"Shoulda known." The two bruisers clasped hands tightly, then exchanged a fist bump. "And sure we're ready. Ain't we, Johnny?"

"I guess so," Human Torch said with a distinct lack of interest.

Hawkeye stood next to Luke, dressed in civilian clothing as well and with a large sports bag slung over one shoulder. He looked about as eager as Human Torch did to be participating. "Hey."

"Barton?" Thing raised a rocky brow. "Why'd ya bring the sourpuss along?" he asked Luke.

"Could ask you the same thing," Luke rejoindered.

"Aww, Johnny's okay."

"Heh. Well let's just say Hawkeye came along to keep the odds squarely in our favor then."

Thing scratched his head. "...Odds?"

"Sure." The archer smiled tightly. "I'm a Red Sox fan."

"The Red Sox? Now I know ya gotta be pullin' my leg!"

"Whatever." Human Torch huffed and rolled his eyes. "Can we do this tour thing already? If I have to listen to much more of this I might go nuts."

"If you don't like it, you can always just Flame On! back to the ol' Baxter Building," Thing reminded him.

"I would, but I forgot to bring my fire-proof undies with me today."

"Is that so?" Luke asked with interest.

"Tch. Trust me, wouldn't be the first time for him," Thing confided.

"Anyway, we're supposed to be staying out of Reed and Sue's hair today, remember? So it looks like I'm stuck with you either way."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember."

"Well, if everybody's ready," Hawkeye shouldered his bag, then gave a slight smirk as they started down the corridor. "We better get started before Johnny here fits in any more complaining."

"Hey, I'm not that bad!"

Luke chuckled nonchalantly as they turned and descended down a ramp. A few moments passed in pleasant masculine silence before he turned to Thing. "Hey Ben, remember that time we whupped the Wrecking Crew good?"

"Harr, do I! Just about broke a 2x4 across their asses."

"Yeah." Luke Cage smiled at the memory, and for once the Handler wasn't affecting his behavior at all. He truly did think back fondly to that moment. But that didn't last long. A throb in his muscular backside compelled him to jerk a thumb back towards Human Torch. "So when's the last time you took hotshot here out to the woodshed like that?"

"WHAT?"

Thing guffawed at that. "Now that's a good question! Hey Johnny, when was the last time I gave ya a good spankin'?"

"Man, NOT funny!"

"Nah, no really. Was it that time ya snuck down to the kingdom of the Moloids? Or maybe it was when ya caused that international incident, going after Doctor Doom at the U.N.?"

"Hey, you went after him too that time!"

"Yeah—to get your bacon outta the fire! Reed had to do a lotta talkin' to straighten that one out, lemme tell ya."

"Whatever." Johnny's face had turned as red as it did when he used his powers. "Those all happened forever ago."

"Doesn't sound that long ago," Hawkeye noted with a snicker.

"Don't you start too."

Thing chuckled. "Heh. What can I say, guys. When a fella starts actin' too big fer his britches, ya can always count on me to bust 'em back down to size," he bragged as he swaggered down the hallway. "Some guys just need ta be set straight, and a good clobberin's the best way ta do it!"

Briefly, Luke Cage and Hawkeye's eyes met behind his back. Then they each glanced back down at Thing's own expansive behind, visibly flexing and shifting beneath his coat with each heavy step he took.

"We couldn't agree more, Ben. We couldn't agree more."

"This looks like... the locker room?"

Human Torch looked around in complete boredom as they walked through yet another doorway and beheld a row of athletic lockers. They'd been exploring for some time, and to be honest he was seriously beginning to consider bailing. Keeping Thing company was one thing, but as NYC's most eligible bachelor he had a certain image to uphold, which included making out with at least one gorgeous supermodel per day.

He sighed and checked his watch. At least it smelled less like feet and jockstraps than he'd expected.

For once, Thing seemed to agree with him at least. "Not exactly da most seemly place you ever brought us to, huh Luke?" he asked.

The Hero For Hire spread his hands. "Hey, when I said full tour I meant full tour."

So, shrugging, they shouldered their way in. It was a professional locker room with all the amenities. A great deal bigger than it strictly needed to be, with multiple partitions set aside for media interviews, press, and training staff. There was a door leading to what looked like a coach's office on one side, and a shower area could be glimpsed through another opening.

"Yep. Well. It's definitely a locker room," Johnny deadpanned. "You think any of those hot dog vendors are out yet? I could really go for a—"

"Hey, hey, hey. Let's not go just yet. Why don't we check over there?" Hawkeye pointed down the line of lockers.

Thing and Torch simultaneously raised their eyebrows. "Uh. Why?"

"Because I think I heard something."

"You heard something?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't we check it out? We're big name superheroes. Don't tell me you're scared."

Thing had to give a snort. "Don't know what your game is, Barton. But fine, if that's the way you wanna play it..."

He stomped his way past the rows of lockers, giving the place a thorough inspection. Trailing along behind him, Luke Cage and Hawkeye shared another significant glance. The stage was set. Now they just had to wait for the planned distraction. Hawkeye reached into his bag and silently retrieved his bow.

"So uh, what exactly do ya think ya heard?" Thing scratched his cheek. "Could it've just been a mouse, or—WHOA!"

When the distraction did happen, it was almost too effective because it brought Luke and Hawkeye up short too.

"What in the—"

Thing skidded to a halt, followed by Human Torch bumping into him from behind, followed by Hawkeye and Luke Cage doing the same. All of them stared.

Hercules was standing in the middle of the locker-room, one leg up on a bench, wearing nothing but a smile. He beamed at them as they entered, and stood proudly with his hands on his hips and his hair-strewn, burgeoning chest puffed out. "Greetings, friends!" he said. His heavy, flaccid dick flopped about with each word. "Why, what splendid good fortune, to meet here of all places!"

"H-Hercules?" Johnny said with a strangled choke, getting an eyeful. "What are y—"

"What gives, Herc!" Thing demanded as he covered his eyes. "Ya ain't no baseball player! And what're ya doin' buck naked?!"

"Too right, mine comrades. I'm not a player of baseball." The demigod smirked. Then he ran full-tilt at Thing and raised his brawny arms to grab at his coat. "But soon I will not be the only one naked! Now, Luke Cage!"

"R-right!" Luke managed to shake off the shock and he tackled Thing from behind. He was immediately pulling at the guy's trenchcoat from that side too, twisting it up and wrapping it around Ben's arms.

"Huh? What're ya—what GIVES!" demanded a confused Thing as his friends turned on him and tied him up in his own clothes.

"Unf! Hey!" Johnny got knocked aside in the scuffle and landed on the floor. While he was working out what to do, an arrow suddenly struck him. It broke into metal cables upon impact which instantly wrapped around his body. "Ah! Hey!"

"Sorry kid, but you're best kept out of the way." Hawkeye strode forward and grabbed hold of him. He shook his head at his teammate. "Geez, Herc. That was the best distraction you could come up with?"

"It worked, did it not?" Hercules said extravagantly. He'd always been a show-off, and the plan he'd arrived at had afforded him that opportunity in more ways than one. "My body has always been said to be stunning, after all!"

"Ugh, if you didn't already belong to the Master I'd want to punish you just for that pun."

While they bantered, Thing wrenched his arms around in Luke's grip, fighting with both his friend and his coat. "Alright, I dunno what's got into you two yutzes, but I do one thing: it's CLOBBERIN' TIME!" With an angry flex he ripped his arms out right through his coat, shredding it, and then turned on his fellow heroes. Blow after blow boomed out across the big locker room as he, Luke Cage, and Hercules all went at it, slamming their fists into each other.

Poor Human Torch could do nothing but watch as he was dragged away from the action by the cord wrapped around his ankles. "Hawkeye?! Hey, what gives, man? C'mon, let me go!" He struggled ineffectually as they entered the shower room. He didn't know if the guys were playing an elaborate prank on them or what, but he did know they'd gone too far. "Okay, that's it!" he said as fires roared into being all over him. "FLAME ON!"

A red-hot corona burst over him, and the heat was intense. So much so that the steel cables he was wrapped in began to melt almost instantly. Soon he was flying up out of them into the air. "Alright, now who do I have to burn to get a straight answer around h—"

Unfortunately, his threat was immediately cut off by several jets of freezing-cold water striking him all at once. Hawkeye smirked as he held down the shower nozzles. Steam filled the room, and moments later Human Torch fell back to the floor, his flames extinguished and completely naked.

He hadn't been lying when he said he hadn't worn fire-proof underwear that day.

"Oh, I am definitely going to enjoy this part," Hawkeye said as he walked over to the soaked and spluttering young man and knelt. It was child's play to grab hold of him and then simply haul him over his knee. He surveyed the tight, round globes of Human Torch's butt as the guy gaped and squirmed. It really was an incredibly perky ass, taut and firm. Hawkeye had privately wanted to spank him for years.

And now he finally had his chance.

He raised his hand and began slapping down on those taut cheeks good and hard, all as Johnny yelled and shouted in confusion.

Meanwhile, Thing had actually gained the upper hand against his two attackers. He left Hercules bottoms-up in a garbage can, flailing and kicking, and then seized the back of Luke's head. He slammed it against locker after locker, leaving an impression of Luke's grimacing face in each. "So ya think you're smart guys, tryin' ta double-team me?" he lectured, "I happen ta' be an expert at team-ups, and I can teach you a thing or two!"

As he took his annoyance out on Luke though he neglected to keep an eye on Hercules, who soon managed to extricate himself from the trash. The demi-god squatted down behind him and then grabbed the waistband of Thing's blue trunks from behind. "This material you wear was invented by Mister Fantastic, was it not? Unstable molecules? Well let us see just how far these unstable molecules can stretch!"

"Huh? Now hold on a sec, Herc. Don't even think abo– YEAARRRGGHH!" Thing howled as Hercules yanked up on his trunks as hard as he could, giving him a serious case of spandex wedgie. And there was no wedgie like one given by someone with super strength. He flailed and yowled as he was actually lifted off his feet by the trunks getting stretched halfway up his burly back, and the blue material disappeared further and further inside the crack of his ass.

"Whatta revoltin' development!"

"You can say that again." Luke Cage wrenched his face out of the last locker, then bent to lend his assistance. Between the two of them, Thing's protests were cut off by the spandex getting pulled hard and tight until they stretched it right over his head, covering his entire face and blinding him.

I can't friggin' believe it! These bozos got me in an atomic wedgie!

It would have made quite the centerfold, Thing dancing around in angry humiliation. The contours of his craggy face could be seen against the spandex as he scratched and clawed at it. "Ohh, when I get my hands on the two of you, I'm gonna murderize ya!"

"We'll see about that." Luke kicked Thing's feet out from under him so the burly hero fell over a locker bench, his still-wedgied ass bouncing heavily in the air. The trunks had been pulled so far up that nearly the entirety of his tannish-yellow buttocks were visible. They were broad and round, as rocky as the rest of him—two big, clenching boulders flexing side-by-side. He twisted around, still blinded by the trunks over his eyes.

"'Ey!! Fight me like a man already!"

Luke and Hercules's eyes met over the angrily wiggling cheeks.

Ben made way too good a target.

When the Handler sauntered into the locker room later that day, it was to one of his favorite sights: two do-gooder heroes begging and bawling.

Their spankings had been going on for hours by then, and even the mightiest heroes have limits. Luckily, the stadium was completely empty so there was no one around to hear their cries. There hadn't been any games scheduled that day, after all.

He turned into the showers first. Rather than a Human Torch, Johnny Storm had been set up as a human target. His bare bottom was stuck through a ring and hung suspended under a spray of water, vulnerable, wet, and defenseless, for Hawkeye to experiment with a few trick arrows he'd been developing. One such was a "spank arrow", with the arrowhead actually crafted in the shape of an open palm. Hawkeye lazily drew it back, pulled the bow string taut, then released. CRACK! A terrific sound rang out, and Human Torch had another welt on his ass that would last the rest of the day.

"Please! No more!" he sobbed brokenly. His entire ass was blazing red. "I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" the Handler asked behind him.

"H—huh? Who are—"

SLAP!

Torch's eyes glazed over almost immediately. "M—Master!"

The speed of his submission was exactly as expected. After as much punishment as he'd taken, most men would willingly relinquish control to anyone in authority. The Handler's powers merely helped that process along. Besides, the Human Torch seemed the type to secretly want to be taken in hand anyway.

He left Human Torch in Hawkeye's capable hands and approached the next on his list. Ben Grimm was still uttering threats and demanding to be let up. He was slung over a locker room bench, his bare bottom churning in the air with Hercules and Luke Cage on either side, taking turns laying down hard swats on its rounded surfaces. Amusingly, his trunks had at some point snapped off completely in the struggle, and they'd been wrapped over Thing's face as a lewd mask as he fumed and kicked.

"Ya damn bunch of goons! Whaddya think yer doin'– givin' me a birthday spankin'?! It ain't til August!"

Interestingly, his ass actually did look red and bruised from the beating. Apparently Thing could be spanked the same as any man as long as you had enough force to do it with. That somewhat relieved the Handler. If Thing's physiology wasn't as different from a normal man's as he'd feared, that might mean his psychology wouldn't be either.

Still, this was his first time using his powers on someone so clearly not human. Even mutants like Beast or Wolverine still shared the same basic DNA as his own. But he had no idea how Thing might react to his powers. Would this be the point where he finally failed? The thought oddly thrilled him. Despite all the assurances he gave his thralls, the Handler's abilities were relatively new to him. He was testing their limits with each new conquest.

He looked again at Thing's burly, indignantly squirming behind. He'd already come further than he'd dared hope, and he wasn't planning to stop anytime soon. He was going to take this all the way.

The Handler flexed his fingers. "Hello, Thing. Tell me, when was the last time you got a good spanking?"

"Huh? A spanking? Now just who're you supposed ta be, ya—"

SMACK!

"OH!"

The Handler smiled as his hand pressed firmly against Thing's hard, rocky bottom. He watched as, bit by bit, second by second, Thing's eyes began to glaze over.

"What in the... What did ya..." He bit his craggy lips. "M—mast...?" He shook his head. "N-No! Whatever yer doin', quit it! Quit tryin' ta get me to... to..."

"To what?" Handler asked calmly. He slapped his remaining hand against Thing's other cheek, then pressed in to speed up the process. "To give in? You're already almost there. And you wish to, don't you, after all these years?"

"No! I don't! And I-I'm not gonna! I... I'm not... not..." Slowly, Thing's head lowered back to settle on the bench. Then, slowly but surely, he lifted his up hips, arching out his back to perfectly press his buttocks into the Handler's hands.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Ben Grimm?"

"M... Master," Thing moaned.

"Good boy," Handler said warmly. He kept his hands where they were for a few more moments to complete the process, then withdrew them. He gave Thing a friendly slap on the backside to properly welcome him into the fold.

"Alright boys," he said. "Fill your new friends in on how we do things. I'm afraid you'll all have to spank each other for awhile until I get back. That's an order, by the way."

"Spank... each other?" Hercules blinked. "But where will you be, Master?"

"Oh, me?" The Handler gave a sly grin. "I'll just be following Beast up to Westchester County, to a little place called The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters."

Next: The X-Men

Chapter Text

Hank McCoy, aka The Beast, hummed merrily as he walked on padded feet down the hallways of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. He was back to his usual gear of white lab coat and spectacles, beneath which he wore his trademark blue trunks, the better to appear as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He nodded pleasantly to fellow X-Men and students alike as he ambled along to his destination.

None of them suspected he was nursing a throbbing, aching red backside underneath his clothes, or that it would soon be responsible for him turning the whole school upside down.

Time was of the essence though. Now that Wolverine was free and picked up by the Avengers, he'd no doubt inform the rest of the available heroes—including the X-Men—about the grave threat the Handler posed. That was why Hank had immediately shut down all incoming communications to the mansion as soon as he'd arrived and shunted them to his own communicator. He told the others there was a system malfunction he was working on—and they believed him! Well, of course they believed him. What could be untrustworthy about the blue, bouncing, buffoonish Beast? He was their tech guy. They kept him around to be smart so that they didn't have to be.

That done—and with Thor and the others doubtless hounding Wolverine and Captain America's every move as well—he'd bought himself a comfortable cushion of time to enact his plans.

The Handler had enlisted him with a task. He was to recruit as many of his fellow mutants to their side as possible—which meant spanking their butts a bright, burning red. Luckily, he knew a fool-proof way to begin the process.

It'd been a simple matter to get himself assigned to the Danger Room's control room to oversee an afternoon's simulator training. Senior members of the team did that all the time, so no one even raised an eyebrow. And there was nothing the X-Men were better known for than their infamously advanced holographic training sessions.

And so long as he was the one running the simulation, both the danger room and control room would be sealed off from each other, as well as from the outside world. It was a completely closed world... and the perfect opportunity to begin the Master's plan.

He stretched his fingers out over the keyboard and smiled.

"Hey Piotr, what's up with the extra training session? We already had one this morning," Anole asked with a yawn as the Danger Room door sealed behind them.

"Yeah, what's Prof X trying to do, kill us?" his buddy Rockslide put in.

The two of them were a bit of an odd couple around the school. Anole resembled a human reptile, complete with green scaly skin, a prehensile tongue, and the ability to camouflage himself to his surroundings. One of his arms was larger and spikier than the other due to an encounter he'd had in Limbo years before. He tended to be surlier and more pessimistic than the towering Rockslide, who looked like he'd been hewed from a living boulder and had a more typically open jock personality. In addition to his self-evident strength and toughness, Rockslide had the ability to separate his heavy limbs from the rest of his rocky body and control them from afar. Together, the two represented the younger generation of mutants on the team.

Piotr Rasputin, aka Colossus, took his time in replying. Already armored up for the session, he resembled a glistening metal bodybuilder who was wrapped in primary red and yellow spandex which clung to his powerful frame. His bulging arms flexed and shimmered with every movement he made. "Actually, I believe this training session was tovarisch Beast's idea," he said. "Something about preparing us for a new threat he'd encountered."

"Beast?" Rockslide groaned. "Great, if he's not putting us to sleep with his lectures, he's keepin' us awake with danger room sessions! When are we supposed to sleep?"

A forceful grunt cut through the chatter. "With as many enemies as we've got, you can never get too much training," said Bishop. A dark-skinned, powerfully built man from a dystopian future, Bishop had been stranded in their time period years prior. He'd now become a leader in his own right. He cocked his heavy laser rifle grimly. A tattooed 'M' was over his right eye. "You want to join the big leagues as full-fledged X-Men? You'd all better get that through your heads now."

"Hey, we're big league! We're big league! Right Anole?" Rockslide elbowed his buddy. "Uhhh, you really think you're gonna need that gun?"

"Cool it, Bishop. Can't you see you're scaring the boys?" a smooth Cajun voice slid in. They turned to see Gambit in one corner. No one had seen him come in. He smirked at them all in his long duster jacket, his red eyes glimmering as he flipped a card between his fingers. "Always so serious. A properly balanced life makes time for play too, non?"

Bishop glowered. "Your kind of play is not the role-model I’ve got in mind for these kids."

"Oh? Hey, I've got a long pole here." Gambit flexed out his metal bo staff. "How about I tell you right where to stick it—?"

Before an altercation could break out between the two, the last invited mutant arrived. "Oh, let me guess!" a heavily accented voice called out from above, just as they caught a whiff of sulfur. With another puff of smoke Nightcrawler vanished again, then appeared among them. With his blue skin and forked tail, it was often said he resembled a demon, but in truth he was one of the most kind-hearted mutants to ever live. He did have a decidedly wicked sense of humor however. "Would it be like that time we fought the Brotherhood, and we bent Toad and Avalanche over the wing of the Blackbird to—"

"There's no need to finish that sentence," Colossus interrupted with a scowl. It seemed Nightcrawler always had to play the clown. "Hank, I believe we are all assembled. Are you ready yet?" he called up to the observation room window.

"Nearly, my metallurgic friend," Beast's reply came over the speakers. His fingernails clacked in the background. "I'm just putting the finishing touches on your program now. Before we start, tell me, have you ever been tested as a group to see how much... punishment you can handle?"

"Punishment?" Bishop asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I think we're about to find out," Gambit said. The environment around them glitched, then shifted into a rocky terrain, full of stalagmites and boulders. It was one of the more common environments the system held. Suddenly a group of spinning buzz saws flew at them from one side, forcefully ejected out of the wall. The heroes all went into dodging maneuvers, ducking or twisting to avoid being cut. Bishop's arm came up with his gun and he shot several out of the air.

"Hah! You will have to do better than that, Hank," Gambit bragged, spinning his bo staff to knock the last few away. He wasn't aware however that the buzz saws which had flown by had changed direction in mid-air. Or that they were heading back... with one aimed right at the seat of his costume.

SLICE!

The blade cut through, just enough to rip the tightly stretched fabric but not enough to cut through to the skin beneath. Gambit gaped as the crest of his two firm buttocks were exposed. "Wha...?"

Anole had flipped easily out of the way of the returning buzz saws. He landed briefly on Rockslide's shoulder and then used his bigger friend as a kick board to flip further and out of range of the blades entirely. He landed directly behind Gambit, then blinked at what he saw. "Uhhh, I think you lost something back there..."

"Dude, I can totally see your butt!" Rockslide said, somewhat less diplomatically.

"Beast, is this your idea of play?" Colossus questioned, glancing up at the control room. He caught a blade with his bare hands, crumpled it up, then tossed it aside.

"If so, it is not a game Gambit likes," an annoyed Gambit said, flushing in anger.

"Oh, that? That was just foreplay," Beast purred over the PA system. "The real fun hasn't even started yet."

"Fun?" Nightcrawler lifted his eyebrow.

Bishop furrowed his brow. "Foreplay?"

While everyone was thoroughly distracted by the sight of Gambit's exposed rear, long metallic arms deployed from the ceiling. One plucked a surprised Nightcrawler from the air. He'd been dodging buzz saws by teleporting about in a familiar pattern, but soon regretted it as his blue tail was grabbed and hauled upwards. "Mein gott!" he exclaimed as another arm came around, armed with a paddle. It gave a sharp SMACK! to his upturned rear. He quickly teleported back to the ground. "Herr Beast is not fooling around!" he said, rubbing his behind. "Or perhaps he is?"

The metal arms continued descending while Bishop shot the last of the buzz saws out of the air. When they got low enough, Rockslide reached up and seized two of them in his big hands. "I got this!" he shouted. Then several more swarmed down, wrapping around his arms. "Uhhh, I don't got this?" he said as they lifted his heavy frame upward.

Bishop narrowed his eyes and trained his gun up at the opening where the arms were emerging from. But just then mechanical turrets swung up from the ground. One shot off a glob of something green and steaming which impacted on his gun. Immediately, it began to melt. Cursing, he threw it away as hard as he could.

"AUGH!" he roared as the gun exploded on the far side of the skirmish, hard enough to shake the foundation of the room.

"Boys and their toys," Beast commented drily.

"They shoot acid!" Bishop shouted to the others. "Don't let any touch you!"

"Acid, huh? Lucky I'm immune," Anole said with a smirk. The reptilian mutant darted through the steaming projectiles harmlessly, then sprang up to grab hold of Rockslide's leg and haul himself up to him. "Hey dude, I think the idea was to not get grabbed?"

"Yeah, yeah, just get me out of this," his big friend grumbled, struggling. He watched as Anole started cutting through the metal coils with the spikes on his arm. Unfortunately though, the young mutant lacked the power to manage more than shallow gashes in the dense material. "C'mon Anole, put some muscle into it!"

"I'm trying, ya big dope!"

As they both struggled, one tentacle dove for Rockslide's waistband. The rocky mutant's eyes bugged out as he suddenly felt a draft. "Uhh, guys?" he said as he looked down to see his pants falling to the floor. His broad cheeks clenched. "Fair warning, I think I'm showing some ass here."

"Uhh... yeah, not just ass," Anole confirmed, glancing down Rockslide's straining front to his exposed groin. As many times as he'd seen it, being roommates with the guy, Rockslide's stony member still brought him up short. While he was distracted by that sight, metallic tentacles shot for him and wrapped him up in their limbs. "Gah! Crap!" A few moments later, his pants could be seen slowly drifting down as well.

"No need to fear! I will assist you!" Nightcrawler vanished again and reappeared with a bright grin. "I'll have you both free in a—huh?" Nightcrawler blinked, as for some reason he wasn't by Rockslide and Anole at all. Instead, for some reason he'd teleported into an empty space several meters in the wrong direction—where a metal tentacle was waiting to grab him. "Was ist das?" He tried again, but he only reappeared once more in the same spot. "No!" he cried as that tentacle wrapped him up. It was as though he was stuck teleporting to only one location.

It soon got so it was a great effort to even teleport away at all. The metal tentacle easily lifted his helpless form and then bent him over in the air. Nightcrawler's perky blue cheeks were soon revealed as his costume was peeled down. "Oh!"

"Oh dear," Hank tutted over the intercom. "You do know that when you teleport you're actually traveling through an alternate 'brimstone' dimension, yes? And that, by planting a special homing beacon in said dimension, it can unerringly draw you to the same coordinates in ours? Well, you certainly will now." He chuckled as two metal coils armed with paddles took position behind Nightcrawler and began delivering a series of sharp swats to their target.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Oh! Was zur Hölle!? Aah, it hurts!"

Bishop cursed as he saw the blue mutant's embarrassing predicament. "We're being picked off one by one!" He was still dodging the turrets, some of which shot acid and others which shot bouts of flame. Pinned down as he was, he had difficulty moving across the battlefield to help any of the others.

Gambit didn't have the same problem. He flipped over the turrets with ease, and let loose a handful of charged cards. The entire line was reduced to smoking wrecks. The rogue smirked as he helped Bishop up. "You help the elf," he said, "I'll get Rockslide and Anole down."

"Right..." Bishop barely had time to respond before Gambit made another acrobatic leap, twirling his staff to ward off more attacks. Bishop looked after him in jealousy. The last thing he'd seen had been a flash of toned Cajun buttocks. But he soon shook the sight from his mind and set off in the opposite direction.

"Fuuuck! This totally suuucks!" Rockslide bellowed. In the interim, he and Anole had begun to be paddled as well. He squirmed under the licks. Despite his rocky body, it seemed he was as vulnerable to the pain of a good spanking as anyone else—at least if his butt got struck hard enough. He was gritting his teeth and trying to grab at the coils holding him, but they always yanked him back into position with his large ass perfectly raised to take more swats.

"Owww, I knooow!" Anole was bucking beside him, his green buns now a mottled shade of red under his own robo-spanking. Bishop had to ignore them as he raced for Nightcrawler instead.

Nightcrawler was yowling under his own spanking. "Ohhh, please mein freund Beast! What kind of danger room program is this!?"

"Didn't I tell you earlier?" Beast sounded unbearably smug from the control room. "To test your punishment threshold."

"Our vhat? Owwww!"

Bishop grimaced as he raced through the obstacle course. He didn't know what had come over Beast, but they were going to have words once the session was over. Before that though, he had to get everyone free.

But just as one hurdle was cleared, another appeared. More turrets snapped up between him and his goal of Nighcrawler's bare wiggling bottom. "Damn!" he said as he twisted around, only to see his escape cut off in that direction as well. He raised his arms instinctively as they all fired a spray of acid at him at once.

Colossus's intervention was the only thing that saved him. The big Russian hurtled in just in time to wrap his arms around Bishop and take the brunt of the acid on himself. He winced at the burn, but his armored skin was able to protect him. "Nngh...! Are you alright, tovarisch?"

"Yes... But, uhh..." Bishop caught himself staring. The acid may not have damaged Colossus's skin, but his costume was another story. It was slowly burning off before his very eyes, revealing more and more of the man's muscular frame the longer he looked. And, when Colossus turned around, he could see the back of it was nearly completely gone too, leaving his beefy backside steaming and exposed.

I've heard of buns of steel, but this is ridiculous.

"That is enough, Hank!" the soon-to-be naked metal man yelled as he covered his groin. He glared up at the control room. "Override Zero-Alpha, Colossus!"

To everyone's surprise, the override actually worked. The rocky terrain disappeared, along with all the assorted dangers it had contained. Held aloft in the air, Rockslide, Anole, and Nightcrawler were all released without warning. The German mutant was able to teleport down to the floor safely. Anole and Rockslide, however, landed in a naked heap.

"Ow! Dude, your balls are on my face!"

"Er—sorry!"

Bishop ignored them. "Hank, what the HELL is going on up there!" he thundered up at the control room window.

"This your idea of a practical joke?" Gambit put in, leaning on his staff.

"Yeah, this isn't like any training I've done before... Is this uh, normal for big leaguers?" Rockslide asked as he rolled off Anole.

"NO!" everyone yelled back.

There was the sound of rapid typing coming from the speakers. "Ah, curses. I knew I was forgetting something. Disabling the override protocols. Of course of course. Ah well, won't happen again."

"Beast, that's enough of this. Get your ass down here. NOW!" Bishop wouldn't be deterred. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

Beast chuckled. "My hirsute posterior? Oh Lucas, it's your own you should be worried about. Congratulations, by the way, on being the last remaining X-Man to be still wearing his pants. Although I doubt that will last much longer." He keyed in several more strokes. "I was going easy on you out of a misguided sense of team solidarity, but it now appears I should take the kid gloves off."

"Kid gloves...?" Colossus wondered, frowning up at the control area. But an instant later, the environment shimmered again and silhouettes appeared all around them. He gaped at what he saw. Or rather, who he saw. "No! Tovarisch, stop! This is too much!"

"Good luck, boys," Beast cackled as he flipped a switch, and the next simulation began. "You'll need it."

Chapter Text

The danger room hummed as the next program kicked in. Seeing what they were up against, Colossus ran for the exit with Bishop and Nightcrawler hot on his heels. But a holographic brick wall suddenly sprang into place to block the door.

Before they could break through it, more holographic shimmers appeared all around them. The earlier silhouettes were solidifying, with more and more details being added. They were all were notable figures from the X-Men's past, none of them good.

The first to be fully loaded was the hulking form of Juggernaut, helmet-clad and with brown leather bracers on his enormous arms. He stomped up to Colossus with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Well lookie here," he mocked. "The Russkie's got his whole ass hanging out!"

Standing there with his costume mostly melted away, Colossus scowled and flushed. He and Juggernaut had had many battles over the years, with him usually on the losing side of them. But he reminded himself this was not the real Juggernaut, but rather an elaborate holographic projection. He turned back to the brick wall. "Hank, stop this nonsense. This is not—"

He was cut off by Juggernaut grabbing his head in one enormous hand, fully engulfing it. "MMGH!"

"Big mistake turning your back on me. I was talkin' to you, tin man!"

Although technically not truly substantial, the holographic Juggernaut had all the strength and power of the real thing—at least within the confines of the Danger Room. Everyone gaped as the mighty Colossus was lifted high in the air, then slammed down hard over one of Juggernaut's large knees in an agonizing back-breaker. He lay there stunned, paralyzed by pain, before he got flipped over so his muscular metal backside was propped up over that same knee. The last remaining remnants of his costume was torn away to leave him truly nude.

Before he could go to his teammate's aid, Bishop suddenly found his wrist grabbed by another hologram, this one in the form of Sebastian Shaw. The Black King of the decadent Hellfire Club smiled grimly as he pulled hard, and Bishop stumbled and fell over a lap of his own. "What? What is this!" the X-Man shouted as confident fingers undid his belt, then begin to peel down his pants. He wiggled and struggled, but only had his wrists seized for his troubles.

"Hello. I don't believe we've ever met," Shaw said sardonically as he tugged down Bishop's tights to reveal the man wore only a jockstrap underneath. He purred at the sight. "Allow me to introduce myself."

"Dammit Beast, whatever you're up to, end it now!" Bishop shouted, ignoring the hologram which had caught him. "Override Gamma-Nine, Bishop!"

But the code received only a negative chirp in response. Bishop gasped and his face turned white. They'd been locked out... and his buttocks were bare and all but helpless. Immediately the first spank slammed down, nailing him right on the crest of his muscular left cheek.

Crack!

"ARGH!"

Anole and Rockslide found themselves caught in the coils of Omega Red, the Cold War-era Russian super-mutant, who quickly weakened them and sapped their strength. The evil mutant smirked as he arranged them together, bending Anole's toned green reptilian cheeks over top of Rockslide's broader, rockier ones. "Now this will be fun!" he cackled in his thick Russian accent. Two paddles appeared in his hands, bearing the Soviet crest.

Watching all this happen, Gambit's eyes met Nightcrawler's. They were the only two X-Men left standing. "One of us has gotta get to that control room, mon ami."

"Agreed."

Unfortunately for them, that was when the villain known as Sabretooth made his holographic appearance. The savage and sadistic mutant leapt at them from out of nowhere with a bestial snarl.

They both dodged in their own ways. Using his staff, Gambit pole-vaulted over the feral mutant's claws, while Nightcrawler joined with the shadows on the floor and darted underneath to emerge on the other side.

Gambit wheeled around to face Sabretooth. "You're the only one who can teleport up there!" he said. "I'll hold him off!"

"Alright. But watch yourself, mein freund!"

Leaving Gambit to deal with the snarling villain, Nightcrawler headed for the control room running on all fours. When he got close enough, he closed his eyes to initiate his trademark Bamf! of teleportation. When he opened them however, he wasn't in the high-tech control room confronting his overstepping teammate. No, he was up high in the air—back in the same spot as before. "Oh no," he gasped. "I forgot!"

"Did you really think I'd make it that easy?" Beast's voice chuckled.

Nightcrawler winced as he tried a second time, but only arrived back at the same point again. Meanwhile, he watched all his teammates taking their assorted punishments. Colossus desperately threw an arm back to block the strikes against his muscled metal ass, but Juggernaut caught and rudely twisted it behind his back. Then the overbearing brute swatted his heavy palm even more harshly against the hapless cheeks of the X-Men's strong man. Despite his armored state the skin of Colossus's bottom was beginning to show a dull red under the continued abuse, and his cries were growing desperate. "Nooo, stop! That is enough!"

"No can do!" Juggernaut laughed mercilessly. "I've been waiting to do this to you X-Brats for years!"

Bishop wasn't faring any better. He twisted and kicked over the aristocratic Sebastian Shaw's knee, but was unable to gain any purchase to escape. Embarrassingly, his mutant power to absorb and redirect energy blasts was of no use whatsoever against something as simple as a hand spanking. He grit his teeth and tried not to show that the pain was getting to him. "Nngh! Rrgh! Hank, you're going to pay for this!"

And Rockslide and Anole simply wailed as Omega Red treated them to a joint lashing with his Carbonadium coils before even using his paddles on them. The two tentacle-like constructs came down like whips on the youthful backsides, crisscrossing them with welts and angry red stripes. It was unclear just who was in more pain, as they were both screaming under the Soviet's torment.

"Aoowww, please dude!"

"No mooore!"

Even Gambit, the last X-Man standing, didn't appear as though he'd remain free much longer. Every lunge Sabretooth made was the slightest bit faster, the slightest bit more ruthless, and came the slightest bit closer to catching him. Gambit's bo staff was keeping the large villain at bay for now, but he couldn't last much longer. If he made even a single mistake, he'd be inevitably grabbed and tossed over a knee as well.

"Mmmmm, Cajun meat's on the menu tonight."

"Don't flatter yourself, Creed."

Nightcrawler couldn't allow the torment of his teammates to go on any longer. He shut his eyes tightly to push away all distractions, just as Professor X had taught him, and tried to think of a plan. His short-range teleports weren't working, but perhaps if he tried for a long-range one and pushed his powers as far as they could go? He was desperate enough to try anything.

So he reached deep inside for the familiar rush of his powers... and when he felt it, held on to them as tight as he could. A horrible wrenching sensation overcame him, like he was almost being stretched apart. It was the most agonizing teleport he'd ever managed, but when at last he opened his eyes, he found himself within the familiar confines of the danger room's control room.

It'd worked! Albeit left him exhausted to the bone. And, glancing down at himself, he realized he was also missing a few things. As difficult as it had been to teleport himself, he hadn't been able to bring any of his costume along—not even his underwear.

"Scheisse."

Back in the Danger Room, Gambit had finally succeeded in fending off his holographic attacker. An explosive card to Sabretooth's face sent the beastly man reeling, then his holographic form had shimmered away. Twisting, Gambit capitalized on his advantage and threw another card to free his nearest teammate. But unfortunately for him, that teammate was Bishop... and his spanker was Sebastian Shaw.

The force of the explosion didn't budge Shaw one bit, other than blow off his shirt. Rather, he smiled cruelly as he absorbed its energy. His powers were like Bishop's—he could take in all manner of kinetic energy and redirect it. But in his case he had much fewer limitations.

"Why thank you..." he said with an evil sneer. He raised his hand over Bishop's muscled bottom. "You've just made Bishop's punishment much harder."

His hand, when it fell, did so with almost the force of a bomb blast on the former XSE officer's raised cheeks. Bishop threw his head back and screamed as the speed and force of his spanking both increased exponentially. "Ohhh, NOOO!"

"Oops! Uhh, sorry Bishop!" Gambit said apologetically.

"Just—AAAUUGGHH!—help the others!"

Gambit nodded and took out another card. But before he could throw that one, a shadow from above pressed down on him. He found himself grasped by two large talons and hauled into the air on the beats of reptilian wings. "Argh! What?" he shouted as he dropped his cards.

It was Sauron, the pterodactyl-like mutant who ruled the Savage Land. He lifted Gambit up high, cackling in delight. "Now to get the revenge I've craved!"

"Hey! Gambit not ready to settle down with anyone just yet!" The Cajun X-Man grappled with the dinosaur, who was apparently intent on transporting him to a non-existent nest. Unfortunately, Sauron's claws were clamped down too tightly for him to wiggle out, and he had nothing to charge with his mutant powers. Well—almost nothing.

A few moments later a very naked Gambit was flipping downward, leaving the surprised saurian holding his empty jacket and pants. "What?" Sauron hissed. Gambit twisted in mid-air to give him a smirking salute, just as the discarded clothes exploded in Sauron's grip. The dinosaur's cry of pain was lost in the blast.

But he'd misjudged how high up they'd been. As the ground rose to meet him, Gambit had just enough time to regret his decision before impact—but, miraculously, no impact came. Instead, he found himself caught over a black-clad knee that'd formed right underneath him. He gaped over his shoulder at his new captor.

"Sinister! You?"

The arch-villain known as Mister Sinister smiled with his mouth full of sharpened, shark-like teeth. "The very same. Did you really think I'd allow anyone else to punish you?"

Too late, Gambit was learning the trick of the program. Any time one villain was dispatched, another was sent in who was even stronger. And sooner or later, one of them would get you.

Mister Sinister took a moment to stroke Gambit's decidedly naked and very vulnerable backside. Then he languidly raised his hand—and swatted it down hard and fast right onto Gambit's supple left cheek. The hero jerked and cried out. Even though it was a hologram, it still felt exactly like the real thing.

And Gambit was soon kicking and yowling, begging for mercy over a villain's lap just like the others.

He was the team's last hope.

Nightcrawler crept through the dark, his heart pounding. He did not know the meaning behind Beast putting his teammates through so much pain and humiliation, but he was determined to put a stop to it.

The control room was full of screens monitoring the team's condition, as well as various other power settings and algorithms for the program it was running. In addition, a separate screen had been devoted to each of his teammates' reddening butts. From his position, Nightcrawler had a clear view of them all twisting and bucking, bouncing under the relentless swats. A second group of monitors was devoted to their tear-streaked faces. He could also see the lab coat-clad form of Hank, typing away and humming at the main console. He did not yet seem aware Nightcrawler had gone missing.

His chance to strike was now. Nightcrawler bamfed to Beast, where he quickly whipped the man's lab coat around his head to blind him. "Now to see how you like some humiliation, ja?" he asked. He quickly reached down to Beast's trunks and pulled up on them as hard as he could, giving the furry man a brutal atomic wedgie. It was the least he deserved.

At least... that had been his intention. But he blinked as he grasped nothing but empty air. "What?"

A sudden fuzzy mass of blue hurtled into him from behind. He found himself slammed hard against the wall, leaving him stunned. As he slumped down to the floor, he could identify his attacker as Beast, dressed in nothing but his tight speedo. And inside the lab coat which he'd attacked? An image inducer, much like the one he himself sometimes used to disguise himself while out in public.

"Too bad you didn't go for the emergency control panel first," Beast wrapped his over-sized hands around Nightcrawler's throat. "If you'd just cut the power, you'd have freed your whole team. Instead... I'm afraid you'll be joining them."

"I do not think so, freund," Kurt bit out. "Whatever's gotten into you, it ends now!" He focused his power to teleport over top of Beast and drop down on him. However, nothing happened. A moment later as Beast withdrew his hands, he figured out why. The scientist had left something behind. A blinking collar—just like the ones they used in Genosha to dampen a mutant's powers.

"Hank..." he said in dawning horror, "No!"

"Oh yes," Hank informed him. He spun his chair around and sat down on it, then easily flipped Kurt over a knee. Against Beast's superior strength, there was nothing the dazed and naked Nightcrawler could do. His flexible tail was soon wrapped up in Hank's grip, fulfilling the dual effect of lifting up his bare bottom as well as keep him from running away.

Then his spanking began.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Ahh! Hank, stop! Are we not your friends?" he gasped as his cheeks felt the full sting of Beast's ape-like palm on them. "Ouch! Why!?"

"You'll understand soon enough Kurt, once the Master draws you into his fold. Until then, consider this just the appetizer, my swashbuckling friend."

Nightcrawler continued to squirm and protest, but it did no good. Beast was on a mission to literally spank him into submission. And with the big, muscular body gifted him by his mutation, the scientist was more than capable of doing so. As Nightcrawler's tight blue buns clenched and bounced over Beast's knee, he could hear the others through the speakers as well. They were all mimicking his cries, all begging and wailing for their torments to end.

"Excellent work, Beast. Why go to the trouble of so laboriously capturing your teammates one at a time, when your own training simulator could do all the work for us in one fell swoop?"

"My thoughts precisely, Master."

Beast was preening as they walked down the lineup of bare, reddened, well-muscled asses. Each of his teammates had been securely bound and bent over before them to present their backsides. They'd all been collared as well, and sniffled helplessly behind their gags. The extended punishment session inside the danger room had lasted hours.

"Yes, excellent work indeed. And with this many strong, strapping heroes joining us we should have no trouble taking down the Avengers next time we meet."

"Then we can begin the second stage of your master plan!"

The Handler smiled. "Exactly. Now, you may turn around for your reward."

Beaming, Beast excitedly pulled down his trunks and bent over to grip his ankles. He was not disappointed. SLAP! The Handler's palm left a new print in his muscular blue backside. "Oh!" he sighed in almost orgasmic delight. He then received several more. "Ahhhhhh!"

"Now for the others."

The Handler stepped up to the first in line: Bishop. Before he gave him his spank, he pulled the gag out from the man's mouth. The teary-eyed hero bristled and spat at him. "Who are you, and what have you done to Beast? When we get out of this, you're going to pay for—"

SMACK.

Bishop stopped in shock as he received an open-palmed swat to his ass.

"Why don't you tell me who I am?" the Handler suggested.

"You are our... Master," Bishop said, wide-eyed.

The Handler beamed. "Exactly." He delivered another firm swat just to watch the man shudder and gasp. He then proceeded down the line, giving a good, hard slap to each of the other X-Men as well. None of them fared any better than Bishop under his dominating influence. After suffering so much punishment, none could resist him for long. Their muffled protests were quickly replaced by conquered moans.

He turned back to Beast. "And is the next phase ready to begin then?"

Beast nodded, hands still clamped to his stinging cheeks. "Triggers have already been placed behind all doors in the male dormitories, personalized and keyed to each mutant's power. They won't be able to escape the traps. In fact, they should begin going off at any moment." He grinned conspiratorially. "Very soon now we'll have more mutant bottoms than we can handle."

"Oh, I don't know about that." The Handler's eyes sparkled. "I can handle quite a few."

Next: Regroup

Chapter Text

Wiccan studied the hairy, muscular butt in front of him.

...Some days are definitely stranger than others, he reflected.

As lead member on more than a few Avengers reserve teams, Wiccan was of course always glad to help out any way he could. But when five heroes showed up at his doorstep in various states of undress, it was still a surprise.

Of them all, Quicksilver was the only one still fully clothed in his spandex bodysuit. Wolverine and Hulk were completely nude, their costumes having been ripped off in the fight they'd escaped from. Captain America had three slashes across the seat of his costume, exposing quite a pair of muscular buns himself. And Iron Fist, while retaining the top half of his costume, was bare below the waist.

That was a lot of distracting eye candy standing around his apartment. He hoped his boyfriend Hulkling was enjoying the view as much as he was.

But he returned his attention to Wolverine's rear. Cap had explained the situation when they'd stepped in—some villain was going around enslaving heroes, and his power involved strikes against the buttocks. Moreover, even after Wolverine's bottom had healed he'd still been brought back under the villain's control with a single slap. They hoped there might be a magical way of dispelling the connection between master and slave.

Carefully, Wiccan poked a spot near the middle of Wolverine's grizzled right cheek.

"I do sense something, maybe... Where was the last place this 'Handler' slapped you?"

"Right where your finger is."

"Huh. Then I definitely do sense something."

"Do you think you can fix it?" Wolverine shifted his weight onto his other foot, irritated at the particular part of his anatomy presently being the center of attention. Not that he was exactly unused to being naked around people, but still. Everyone else was standing by as Wiccan examined him. "As it is, I'm a liability to the team. He got Luke Cage 'cuz of me."

"Well..." Wiccan bit his lip in thought. "Maybe. I'll need to meditate for a proper solution, but there definitely is some sort of connection here linking you to this Handler guy. It's inactive right now, but like you said it'd take very little to 'wake it back up'. There might be a way to purge it from you completely though... if I can find the right incantation." He considered. "With luck, I might even be able to free the others who're under his control too."

"Thanks. But hey, kid?"

"Yes Logan?"

"...Quit squeezin' my ass."

"Oh!" Wiccan flushed and withdrew his hand. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Logan grumbled, while the others exchanged snickers behind them.

Hulkling was among the heroes doing his best not to outright laugh. Being a half-Kree, half-Skrull hybrid, a superhero, and Wiccan's boyfriend for several years, he was used to various odd occurrences in his life. Still, he hadn't expected the first official Avengers visit to his and Billy's new apartment to be anything like this—not that he particularly minded.

But when there was a noticeable uptick in the amount of growling Wolverine was doing, Hulkling remembered he was technically playing host. "Let me uh, see if I can find something for you all to wear," he offered.

"Yeah, I'd been just about to mention that," Iron Fist mumbled. It'd been a long, rough day. They'd been all up and down the east side searching for help. But Doctor Strange's Sanctum Sanctorum had stood empty, with the doctor apparently deep on a journey into the astral plane. Same at the Baxter Building of the Fantastic Four. Reed and Sue Richards were off on a trip to the Negative Zone, and even Human Torch and Thing had been out. Something about a ball game. In growing desperation, they'd come to the home of Wiccan and Hulkling. But they all harbored doubts such young and inexperienced heroes could truly help them.

To be honest, Iron Fist was still feeling a little stunned himself over what had happened. Not only had a villain gotten the better of them, but Luke had been taken in the process. Luke Cage, his best friend! How in the world was he going to get him back?

He shook his head, trying to focus. "So what's the plan?" he asked. "We just sit around waiting for some magical cure? Because I happen to have some experience with magic. It might be powerful, but it's rarely fast. And we've already wasted a lot of time as it is."

"You raise a good point." Cap looked hard at the young Avenger. "Wiccan, how long is this going to take?"

"Well... it's tough to say," Wiccan answered honestly. "It's not exactly magic I'm examining here, but it's not exactly not magic either. Whatever it is, I've never seen anything like it before, so I'd like to be careful. If I make a mistake it might even activate whatever latent energies the Handler's left behind and put Wolverine back under his control." He pursed his lips and looked over the hairy man. "Sorry Logan, you'll probably have to go without pants the rest of the day so I can keep studying whatever the Handler did to you."

Logan growled at that, but Quicksilver rolled his eyes. "Like that's anything new for him." That earned him an even louder growl.

Captain America sighed and raised his arms between them. "Let's try to keep the peace here—"

"Hulk want to watch TV." As everyone stood around, Hulk had grown bored. He lumbered over to the couch where he plopped his big naked green butt down. The furniture threatened to give out under the weight. He picked up the remote control, then scowled hard at it while he tried to work out how to use it with his huge fingers.

Acting fast, Quicksilver scooped up the remote before Hulk could throw any tantrums over the buttons being too small. "Let me help you with that," he said smoothly. "How does the news sound?"

"Cartoons!"

"After the news." Quicksilver changed to a local station. A few moments later he said, "Uhhh, Cap? I think you'd better come see this."

"What is it?"

It was live coverage from a downtown news helicopter following after Thor, who was himself chasing after a quick-moving red blur. It took a few moments of watching before they could get a close enough look to see it was Spider-Man. The web-slinger was expertly dodging blasts of lightning with what seemed to be a sixth sense of his surroundings. But unfortunately for him, he couldn't dodge them all. As they watched, they saw one bolt strike the swinging man right on the seat of his costume, making him loudly yowl on camera.

"Hah hah! Web-head get zapped!"

Cap frowned. "Looks like they're on the move again. If they get Spider-Man, that'll be one more hero under the Handler's control."

"This could also be a trap," Iron Fist pointed out. "Look how public they're being. They could be trying to draw us out."

"True. But we still can't just let them take him." Cap turned decisively to the others. "It looks like they're no longer bothering with espionage. That could mean they feel they have the advantage, but it could also mean they're being overconfident. I say we take the fight to them and show them how wrong they are. Anyone who's with me, suit up and meet at the Quinjet in five minutes."

Wolverine immediately started forward, but Captain America pressed back on his hairy chest. "Not you, Logan. Stay here with Wiccan and keep working on that cure. You guys might be our only shot at freeing everyone else."

Wolverine growled, but after a moment relented. "Don't like being sidelined," he grumbled.

"I know. But your mission here might be even more important than ours."

"Besides, right now you're nothing but a liability to us," Quicksilver told him as he zoomed by and dispensed a fast smack of his own to the man's cheeks. Wolverine gave a startled yelp. "I don't feel like serving beside someone who might try to wrestle me down after a single spank."

Wolverine's eyes narrowed as he rubbed his slapped ass. "Why you..."

But Quicksilver quickly zipped to the other side of the room before the hairy man could pop his claws. Iron Fist held out his hands. "Uhh, all due respect, suit up in what? Most of our costumes are in shreds halfway across the city."

"I've got you covered!" Hulkling had returned, his arms loaded down with garments. He'd also transformed into his bulkier green form and was wearing his own spandex suit. He started tossing out outfits. "Jeans for Cap, jeans and a bandanna for Iron Fist, and for Hulk, uh..." He paused, now sounding even more sheepish. "We don't exactly have any clothes that'd fit you. But we've got this old bed sheet at least?"

Hulk frowned as he held the sheet up between his fingers. "Hulk no like this costume!"

"Oh shush you big baby. Here, let me." Quicksilver zipped over and, with a little help from the others, quickly fashioned something like a Greek toga for Hulk to wear. It hung over one brawny shoulder with the aid of a clothespin. While it looked like it'd keep him from breaking any public indecency laws, it also looked likely to flutter away with the first stiff breeze it encountered.

"Uhh, I guess that's fine," said Iron Fist, while the big man just grumbled.

On the other side of the room, Wiccan had floated up to Hulkling. "So, I take it by your change into this drop-dead hunky, skin-tight attire of yours that you're planning to go along?"

"Yeah, well..." Hulkling gave a light blush. "It sounds like they can use all the help they can get."

"Oh they definitely do," Wiccan agreed. "But you better be careful." He reached around and grabbed his boyfriend's rear as he pulled him in for a kiss. He gave a light squeeze. "Because I'd be very upset if anybody got to spank this besides me."

"Don't worry." Hulkling grinned as they parted. "You think I'd let just anyone put me over their knee and call me a bad, bad boy?"

"Mmm, now there's a thought..."

Captain America and Iron Fist pulled on their borrowed jeans and found them to be a little or a lot loose, respectively. Apparently Hulkling kept a variety of sizes on hand due to his shape shifting. "Uhh, not to break this up but you got any belts?" Danny cut in on the loving couple.

"Yeah," Hulkling turned to him with a decidedly goofy grin. "One second, let me just—" Hulkling was cut off by a blur as Quicksilver blasted by, and belts appeared in both men's hands. "...get them?"

"Can we get going now? Please?" the speedster asked impatiently.

"Right." Captain America nodded as he fastened his on. They soon headed outside, once Hulkling gave his boyfriend one final kiss goodbye. "Alright Hulkling, why don't you sit up front with me. The rest of you, pile into the back and we'll—"

"Actually, I'd prefer to run. I'd rather not be squashed against Hulk's bulk, and I'll get there faster on my own anyway," Quicksilver said. He took off without waiting for a reply and vanished from sight.

Cap frowned after him, but it was too late to call him back. He just shook his head and lead the way to the Quinjet, baggy jeans and all.

"Y'know, that's not a bad look for you, Captain. Very gangsta," Iron Fist joked.

The man ignored the jibe. "Everyone be sure to prepare," he said. "We know now that one false move can lead to this villain seizing any one of us. But this time our guard will be up. We won't let it happen again."

They all nodded. But as the Quinjet took off, many were thinking decidedly more private thoughts.

Quicksilver zoomed along the city streets, going faster than any human possibly could. He'd always been a loner. Talking to others was like forcing himself to speak in slow motion. He knew it wasn't their fault, but it was still maddening. So whenever he got the chance to work alone, he took it.

But as he arrived at the scene, he saw even his best speed was a few seconds too late. He watched in dismay as a confused Spider-Man got pulled, struggling and kicking, straight over the broad knee of a victorious Thor...

Chapter Text

"Hey uhhh, I love you too Thor, but I save any and all spankings for the second date, okay?"

Spider-Man didn't understand it. It'd been just like any other day with him swinging through the city on the way to his Daily Bugle job, as usual, when all of a sudden Thor had come after him. The Thunder God was clearly not himself, ranting about some sort of "master" he now served. But what really put the wrinkles in things was that Thor was intent on making him join too.

And now, after leading him on a merry chase through half of Brooklyn, he hung limply over Thor's knee, his toned bottom upturned and helpless. Caught.

Aunt May told me there'd be days like this.

"Hey hey, whoa whoa, let's talk about this!" he yelled as Thor dug his fingers into his costume and started to slide down his pants. He had no underwear on underneath, and Thor was soon chuckling as he cupped first one of his bare cheeks, then the other.

"I see thou hast prepared for our Master's arrival, even if thou didst not know it."

"Yeah yeah, my spidey briefs are in the wash, okay? Now what's gotten into you—"

CRACK!

Thor's only reply was a resounding wallop to his bare butt.

"YEE-OWW! Okay okay, whatever it is I did, I'm sorry!" Spider-Man yowled as a blazing palm print took shape across his buns. But the apology did nothing. If anything, Thor just started spanking him more soundly. Spank after spank met his squirming, wiggling cheeks, and no amount of spidey-sense could let him avoid them. "AOOOWWW! What's the matter with you! And who is this 'Master' you keep talking about!?"

There was the sound of a throat clearing, and the high-speed Avenger known as Quicksilver stepped out into the open. "I think I can answer that," he said. "He's being controlled by a villain called the Handler."

"Huh? Pietro?" Spider-Man said, and he flushed under his mask at a fellow hero seeing him in such straits. "Who is the—OWW!—Handler?"

"Well, to give you the Cliffs Notes he's a new villain who controls any hero he spanks. And now he's sending those spanked heroes out to spank the rest of us."

"I... WHAT?"

"He is my master!" Thor bellowed. "And thou wilt soon all know his glory. Each and every man in Midgard shall kneel at his feet and beg for their justly-earned punishment."

"Hmm, indeed. Well Spidey, there you have it. I'm sure you wouldn't believe me if you weren't presently being spanked yourself, but that at least allows us to skip that tiresome part of the conversation so perhaps it's a blessing in disguise. But hold tight. The others will be here soon and then we'll free you easily, I'm sure."

"OOOHH! I'm not sure I—AAAOWW!—can!" Spider-Man wailed. Thor's hand was like concrete, and each resounding whack he received heated the surface of his butt exponentially. He was surprised he wasn't already in tears.

Quicksilver rolled his eyes. "Oh, very well. I suppose I can rescue you myself. Just don't blame me if you get wind burn in places you'd rather not." He took a split-second to tie his shoes, then he raced towards the hapless hero. But Thor saw him coming and threw his hammer out to intercept. Quicksilver smiled as he swerved and avoided it easily. "You're going to have to be quicker than that," he said as he came around for another pass, "If you want to catch the quickest man alive..."

It occurred to him, via his superfast thought process as he ran, that Thor was acting peculiarly. Where were the rest of the heroes Handler had caught, and why weren't they acting as a group? But the thought came just a few microseconds too late. Quicksilver may have been the fastest hero alive, but even he couldn't out-speed what he didn't notice.

From the very edge of his vision, Wonder Man suddenly came barreling out of hiding. The thrown hammer had been a signal to him, and he'd gotten a run-up down several boulevards to attain his own max speed. He timed it perfectly to catch Quicksilver the instant he came around again. In moments he'd grappled the white-haired man down, then was guiding him to his new home.

Quicksilver gaped as he fell over his teammate's firm thigh, then felt a strong hand grip his waistband.

"NO!" he cried as his spandex tights were peeled down.

"Wow, he really is fast. He's already at the 'getting caught' part," Hulkling joked. They were all looking down at the scene from the Quinjet, which hovered over the low-rise buildings.

Captain America scowled as he flipped switches and pulled the ship into a halt. "I tried to warn him he needs to learn to be a team player. If we weren't watching him get his just desserts already, I'd have half a mind to spank him myself when we get down."

"Now there's a thought," Iron Fist quipped from the back-seat.

"Everybody want to spank Speedy Guy," Hulk agreed next to him.

"Well, hopefully he'll take this as a learning experience. For now let's pull their bacon out of the fire." Cap said, and the top of the Quinjet lifted for the whole makeshift team to leap down at once. "Avengers, move out!"

"No! Simon, don't you dare!"

Quicksilver cursed himself for a fool as his bare ass was hiked up, his spandex now around his ankles. Ordinarily there'd have been no way he'd be caught, but he'd let his guard down for the barest fraction of an instant and now he was paying for it. The worst part was that he could still see TV cameras in the area capturing both his and Spider-Man's humiliations.

"Oh, no. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," Wonder Man replied, licking his lips. He took a moment to squeeze Quicksilver's tight buttocks, then he slapped his hand across the bare rear, hard.

Smack!

"Ouch! Wait, you have?" Quicksilver jerked in surprise.

"Of course. Even without the Handler's influence, every hero's wanted to spank you for years."

"T-they do?"

Smack!

"OW!" Quicksilver started to kick as Wonder Man increasing the tempo, dispensing a few spanks every second. The only thing that made it bearable was knowing help was on the way. From the corner of his eye he could see the rest of his team finally descending towards them. Took them long enough!

Problem was, the two mind-controlled thralls saw it too. "Friend Wonder Man," Thor called over, his mighty palm resting on Spider-Man's round, bruised bottom. "Perhaps we should abscond with our current prizes. The Master did recommend we deal with those already caught before engaging in further conquests."

"Tch." Wonder Man wrapped his arm around Quicksilver's waist and stood up, holding him with his ass facing forward so he could continue his work. "I suppose you're right. Very well, let's go."

From his undignified position, Quicksilver could see Spider-Man get tossed over Thor's shoulder. "Wait..." His voice was muffled in Thor's cape. "We're going?"

Quicksilver's blood froze. Just as everyone was finally making it to the ground, Thor and Wonder Man were rising into the air with their captured prizes. They were far faster than those rushing after them.

"Hold it right there!" he heard Cap shout from a distance.

But realistically he knew none of oncoming Avengers were capable of catching up to the two fliers, even with them carrying passengers. Quicksilver looked around frantically as they ascended upwards. Wonder Man was still spanking him methodically, making him wiggle and kick. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he did notice that his position, while painful and embarrassing, did at least give him access to one thing—Wonder Man's own firm backside, the seat of which still lay open and tattered from when Wolverine had clawed through it the day before.

Winding up his arm, Quicksilver dispensed a super fast set of rapid-fire swats to Wonder Man's toned bottom, landing nearly a hundred slaps per second.

SlapSpankCrackWhackSmackSlapSpankCrack—

"Nngh!" Wonder Man's eyes bulged at the unexpected pain and his flight line went erratic. He kept up his spanking of Quicksilver's butt, but it was difficult to focus while his own backside was getting re-stoked. The rest of the Avengers saw, and their pursuit sped up.

"Hulkling, you're on Thor," Cap said, thinking fast. The rest of them could catch up to Wonder Man, but only the shape-changing Hulkling was capable of keeping up with the thunder god thanks to his wings. "Keep tabs on him, but do not engage. Again, do not engage. He's far too strong for you."

"Aww, I'd kinda like to know how I measure up against a god."

"Not now. The rest of you, don't let Simon out of your sight!"

"Easier said than done, but at least those red buns draw the eye." Iron Fist smirked as he sprinted across rooftops.

"Just do the best you can. And this time, everybody stay—"

"Hulk want to smash!" Hulk shouted, and took several rooftops with a single bound before disappearing down to street level. A few moments later he reemerged in their line of sight, repeating the process.

"...together." Cap sighed. "Nevermind."

Without the aid of any powers or enhancements to aid his own traveling abilities, Cap struggled to keep up and was soon trailing behind the others. But he soon spied Wonder Man rising into the air again a good distance off. He set his jaw then lowered his shoulders, got in a burst of speed, drew back his arm, gauged the distance... and let his shield fly.

Whing! Crash! Klang!

It ricocheted off an alley wall, careened off a fire escape, skipped over a satellite dish—and struck Wonder Man square in the back. Captain America smiled as the ionic Avenger gave a pained grunt and dropped out of the air. The accuracy would have made even Hawkeye proud.

Unfortunately for Captain America, Hawkeye wasn't interested in congratulating him on anything just then. Rather, the mind-controlled archer had set up perch on the tallest building in the vicinity in order to best cover his comrades' retreat. He smirked as he drew a bead on his former teammate—right on Captain America's proud, jutting butt.

"Shouldn't have thrown that shield, Cap. If ya hadn't, you might be able to block this."

TWANG!

The arrow shot with unerring accuracy, and flew right into Cap's right buttock where the head planted itself and stuck like super-glue. There, it beeped rapidly. The patriotic hero had a single moment in which to grasp his situation before the arrow exploded—sending him flying forward screaming with his pants completely destroyed.

With all his jumping and leaping, Hulk didn't see Wonder Man get knocked out of the sky. He didn't see much of anything, really. So he kept going and thus quickly overshot the others. He scratched his head as he finally realized he couldn't hear the sounds of yelling or fighting any more.

"Ugh... Where flyboy go? Now Hulk mad!"

"Yeah... like dat's anythin' new."

"HUH?"

The green behemoth turned to see a man made out of nothing but tan rocks step out from an alleyway, a lit cigar between his lips. Ben Grimm, aka The Thing smirked as he cracked his knuckles. "Been a while since our last scrap," he said. Above him, the Human Torch flew wreathed in flame.

"I'll burn his pants off, Ben. Then you take him over your knee and beat his big green butt!"

"Dat's the plan, Johnny."

Looking the two of them over, Hulk's face slowly broke into a grin. He pounded his fists together and squatted down, ready to take on both Fantastic Four members at once.

"Now Hulk have fun!"

Iron Fist slowly came to realize he was the only one still racing after their captured teammate. But being alone didn't stop him from making the leaps between buildings. Being a hero meant taking risks, and he knew any of the others would do the same for him. Well, most of them would.

He finally came upon the two resting by the side of a sunroof. Quicksilver was laying groaning over Wonder Man's lap, having ultimately come out the loser in their spank battle. His round butt was upturned with the cheeks looking decidedly sore, and the man himself was close to tears. He wouldn't be much help in any fight.

Pursing his lips, Iron Fist assumed a martial arts pose. "Alright Wonder Man, let him go. If you want to spank Pietro after we free you from this Handler guy's control that'll be one thing, but before that I'll take you down here and now if I have to."

"No, you won't."

Iron Fist's heart skipped a beat as a familiar voice spoke up. Stepping out from the shadows came Luke Cage, now dressed in leather gear Iron Fist had never seen him in before. He was holding a doubled-up belt.

"L-Luke?"

The man looked at him evenly. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Danny. You can drop the pants now, bend over, and take this beating you got comin'—or I wrestle you down first and give you a dozen extra, just like my old man used to give me. But either way..." He snapped the belt. "You're gettin' a whuppin'."

"B-but Luke..."

"Looks like you gotta choose," Wonder Man piped up, giving a squeeze to Quicksilver's tender bottom. "Who're you gonna try and save—Pietro here, or your old partner?"

Iron Fist was torn. He'd come to recover Quicksilver, but Luke Cage was his best friend, his team-up partner for years, and the entire reason he was fighting. He couldn't just turn his back on him, especially if there was a chance he could free him from the Handler's control.

Seeming to sense his decision, Quicksilver started to squirm frantically. "Iron Fist, wait!" he said. "We can—"

Swallowing, Iron Fist turned his back. "Sorry Pietro," he said, "Somebody else will have to rescue you."

Chuckling smugly, Wonder Man rose back into the air, the struggling Quicksilver now slung over his shoulder. "Much obliged," he said. "I look forward to hearing how this dance goes."

Where he flew after that, Iron Fist didn't know. Luke was already lunging for him, reaching for his pants.

Elsewhere, things weren't looking too rosy for Captain America.

"Aah! Clint, stop! This is—Aargh!"

Hawkeye smirked and nocked another arrow. "Are you kidding? I've been wanting to do this for years."

He drew his arm back and let the arrow fly.

KRACK!

"Aaoww!"

Even as he struggled, Cap had to acknowledge the skill with which he'd been taken down. His booted feet were stuck to the rooftop via one of Hawkeye's putty arrows. His calves and thighs bulged as he pulled on them, despite knowing the formula lasted hours. As for his upper body, it'd had been bound with another of Hawkeye's trick arrows—a bola arrow, which had wrapped itself thoroughly around his arms and torso. That left his chiseled bare buttocks decidedly vulnerable to attack, as much as he might wish otherwise. And attack them, Hawkeye did.

"I ought to paint some target circles on those buns..."

He heard the twang of Hawkeye's bowstring a mere split-second before his ass exploded in pain again. It was a special arrow he must have developed only recently. He didn't know what Hawkeye had done to the arrowhead to produce the effect, but it felt like nothing so much as a hard paddle swat across his backside.

KRACK!

"Gyah! Clint, stop!"

"About time somebody cut you down to size," the archer continued snidely. "You've always been such a leader, so in charge... It rankled my feathers. But you knew that, didn't you?"

He sent another arrow flying, and Cap yelled as another hard THWACK! met his cheeks.

"But now I know true authority. And unlike with you, I serve the Master with pleasure. He's a better leader than you've ever been, and soon he'll have the whole world under his thumb. Or, should I say, under his palm."

Cap twisted in the constrictive bindings. "Clint, listen to me! We may have had our differences in the past, but you've got to fight this! This isn't you!"

Hawkeye merely smiled and nocked another arrow. This one would be a true ode to his marksmanship abilities. He carefully drew it back.

"On the contrary Cap," he said. "This is more me than I've ever been."

He let it loose, and it shot true. The arrowhead slammed right between Cap's muscular buttocks and drew a startled and anguished howl from the man as it struck right on his hole.

"YEARRGGHH!"

Hawkeye smirked. Bullseye.

A dozen blocks away, Thor was hurtling across the cityscape, pulled by the force of the hammer he held. Spider-Man was still struggling ineffectually in his grip.

"Hey hey hey, I realize I'm coming in halfway through this flick, but can you please let me go already? I'm supposed to have dinner with my Aunt tonight!"

Thor bestowed a swat on one rounded cheek to shut him up. "The master will explain all. There is naught for you to do but remain silent."

"OWW! This is the pits," he groaned as his ass throbbed with a new handprint.

But slung over Thor's shoulder like he was, Spider-Man could see a winged form following some distance behind them. Now is that an angel I spy? Or perhaps a demon? Whoever it was, they weren't going to catch up with them on their own. He'd have to help them out.

Well anything's better than Thor's shoulder.

Spidey arched his back, then wiggled his ass almost lewdly in order to get into the proper position. "Sorry Thor, I'd like off this ride!" He discharged his entire supply of web fluid directly into the god's face.

"Argh!" Blinded, Thor had to descend to a nearby rooftop where he dropped his hammer to claw at the webbing. "Must thou always be so pest-like!"

While he did that, Spider-Man managed to wiggle free and landed on his feet. "Afraid so. Now let's see how you like a good—OWW..."

Spider-Man had given Thor a good sock in the jaw. Unfortunately for him, the blow had connected. Now he was cradling his hand. "I think I... I think I broke my knuckle."

Grimly, Thor finished tearing the webbing from his eyes. Then he advanced on him. "Dost thou truly needst more discipline before I deliver thee to mine master...?"

"No! Not another spanking! C'mon, I got enough hazing for being a member of the chess club in college!"

But, resolutely, the thunder god reached for him—only to be halted by another blow slamming into his face.

CRACK.

"Oh god." Hulkling staggered away, cradling his hand. "Can—can knuckles break?"

"I was just asking the same thing. Hey, wait. I know you!" Spider-Man said brightly. "Hulkling, right? From the Young Avengers?"

"Uhh, yeah." Hulkling blushed a little at one of his favorite heroes recognizing him. "It's an honor, sir."

"Sure. Hey, you don't happen to have any super-powerful gamma muscles, optic blasts, or magic spells that can actually hurt Thor, do you?"

"Uhh, no. Not really."

"Well, crap."

Thor swooped down on them. In an instant he'd grabbed hold of them both despite their best efforts to dodge.

"Actually," Hulkling said as he was dragged forward, "I was only supposed to follow behind, not try to fight him. Guess now I know why. But when I saw you in trouble, I just—"

"Well hey, thanks for trying," Spider-Man said sanctimoniously as they were draped over a thigh each, butts in the air. "Sometimes moments like these are what being a hero's all about." A moment later the seat of Hulkling's tights was ripped away to expose his own firm green buttocks, matching Spider-Man's exposure.

"Er." Hulkling gulped. "We're about to get our asses beat, aren't we."

"'Fraid so, kid."

All of a sudden, a bright light shone from above. All three men, spanker and spankees alike, looked up while shielding their eyes. From out of the light came a trademark snikt of metal.

"Sorry, bub. But you ain't spankin' anybody else today."

"Luke! Luke, please, you've got to listen to me!"

Iron Fist avoided another lunge from his partner. So far he'd tried everything he could think of, but nothing was getting through. Luke ignored everything he said (so what else was new?) and his unbreakable skin made him impervious to all of Iron Fist's martial arts techniques as well. Sure, he could still dodge him all day, but that wasn't exactly making progress.

"No one can escape the master for long!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Iron Fist rolled his eyes. "If he wants me, he can come get me himself!" He rolled away from Luke's hand reaching for his sash, nimbly avoiding yet another takedown.

Hey, wait a minute. The Handler! I don't need to beat Luke, I just need to break their connection.

Twirling past Luke's fists, Iron Fist called upon his inner reserves. He didn't just have access to wealth, expert-level martial arts, and a handsome face, he also had some of the most powerful chi techniques on the planet. So, darting behind Luke Cage, Iron Fist called upon all of them to purify evil influences as he performed a double-palm strike right on the roundest, most protruding part of Luke's body—his big, muscled butt.

Kr-zmack!

Instantly, Luke straightened up, wide-eyed. He went stock-still.

Iron Fist looked at him warily. "...Luke?"

Slowly, Luke turned his head in his direction. It was like recognition was slowly flowing back into his eyes. "...Danny?" he asked.

Iron Fist smiled wide. "Luke! It worked!"

Suddenly, Luke's big arm came down on him. In moments Iron Fist found himself bundled up under his arm, his bottom upturned.

"Nope. But that was the easiest way to get you to lower your guard."

"H-huh?! Oh, crap!"

Immediately, Iron Fist's pants were yanked downward so he was mooning the starry sky. Then he was yelping loudly as his partner's rock-hard palm slammed into his bare ass.

Down at street level, a masked figure approached his newest offering.

"Master," Wonder Man intoned reverently. He kept tight hold of Quicksilver, presenting the man's red, squirming bottom for the Handler's inspection.

The villain ran a finger down one firm cheek. "Excellent work. You have done exactly as required to get this recruit primed and ready," he said. Wonder Man beamed at the praise.

"Is this really your master plan?" Quicksilver said acidly. "To spank every hero you can? As far as mind-control schemes go, this might be the dumbest one I've ever—"

Ignoring him, the Handler raised a hand and slapped it down upon the hot flesh.

Smack!

"Ah!"

Quicksilver' groaned as the pain and dominant energy suddenly flooded through him. He turned and smirked over his shoulder. "I... I live to serve, Master!"

"Heh." The Handler smiled in amusement. "Nice try, but I know when a thrall is truly under my control and when he's faking it."

Quicksilver's eyes widened as the Handler's palm rose over his ass once more. "N-no! Wait—!"

The blows came down hard and fast. And the next time Quicksilver blubbered out, "Master!" there was no artifice.

"Good. Now, let's see who else has been drawn into my net."

Handler bade Wonder Man set Quicksilver on his feet, which he did wordlessly. Then the villain had them each turn around. He gripped one of Wonder Man's red cheeks through the hole in his costume, while at the same time squeezing one of Quicksilver's warmed buns. In that way he could send his senses outward through his entire network of controlled slaves.

"Interesting..." he whispered as he caught flashes first of Captain America roaring in pain as another arrow ricocheted across his bottom, then of Iron Fist kicking and squirming over Luke Cage's lap. "Yes, quite a few newcomers are being readied to join the flock."

He frowned, however, when he reached the Fantastic Four members he'd sent to waylay the Hulk. Both Thing and Human Torch were experiencing some distress of their own. Ignoring that for the moment, he cast his senses out even further. "However, where is the Spider-Man?" he asked. "He should have been the first one brought—"

They were interrupted by a flash of light high in the sky overhead. Quicksilver and Wonder Man shielded their eyes, but the Handler looked straight into it. He did not like what he saw.

Recall everyone. He sent out his psychic command.

Wonder Man blinked as he caught the edges of it. "Master? But we're winning! There is no need to—"

"Can't you see the tables are about to turn, fool? Prepare our exit," he snapped. "Besides, we have this one now. He opens all kinds of possibilities for the future." The Handler patted Quicksilver's firm bottom with a smile.

The speedster quivered in delight.

It was a ragged bunch of heroes who limped out of various alleyways to regroup.

"Cap! What happened to you?" asked Iron Fist, wincing.

"Hawkeye," Cap answered grimly. "He caught me by surprise." He rubbed his backside with a pained grimace, fully aware he was bare below the waist again. At least he wasn't alone. He looked over his fellow hero, who was wearing nothing at all other than his mask. "How about you?"

"Luke Cage. I tried my best to snap him out of it, but instead, he grabbed me and, well... you can see." Iron Fist rubbed his own sore cheeks with a blush. "But then a funny thing happened. Between one whack and the next he just dropped me and ran off."

"Same with me. I wonder why—"

At that instant, there was a flurry of activity from their left. Turning, they saw a teary-eyed Thing and Human Torch stagger out of another nearby alleyway. Both were missing their pants and, when they caught sight of Cap and Iron Fist, they flinched and quickly turned tail to run off in the opposite direction. They showed off quite the pair of roaring red backsides as they did so.

Hulk came out swaggering in their wake. "Hah. Puny rock man and fire man think they can spank Hulk? Hulk spank THEM."

"Hulk! Are you the reason the Handler called a retreat?"

"Huh?" Hulk scratched his head. "Retreat? You mean no more bad guys to fight?"

"...I'll take that as a no. But then who—?"

"That'd be us, bub. He saw us coming and ran."

From up above a bubble of light suddenly appeared. Floating inside was Wiccan, a still-naked Wolverine, a rescued Hulkling and Spider-Man and, most unbelievable of all, a mystically bound and gagged Thor.

Captain America gaped. "Wiccan! Wolverine! What're you doing here? I gave you express instructions to remain behind."

"Blame me if you want, Cap. We saw how the fight was goin' on TV and I convinced the kid to come lend a hand with me along as backup," Logan explained. "By the way, most of yer butts have been plastered all over the nightly news."

Cap ground his teeth. "Even so," he said, "You should have—"

"Like I said, you can take it outta my ass if you want. Looks like that's the only way to free me from the Handler's control anyway."

"...What do you mean?"

Wiccan cleared his throat. "Maybe we should have this conversation back at our place," he suggested. "There's a lot to explain, and you'll probably feel less... exposed there too."

Captain America set his jaw—then nodded. "Fine. But I expect a thorough explanation once we arrive. And if I don't like it, the Handler's not the only one who knows how to spank."

"Oh yeah. That's exactly what we need," Spider-Man piped up as the portal closed around them, bringing the whole half-naked group back.

Chapter Text

"Ohh, so that’s what’s going on,” Spider-Man said, one thorough recap later.

“Yup. It’s not just your ass the Handler's after. It’s all of ours,” Iron Fist commiserated.

“Well it, uh, definitely explains a lot. Like why most of us don't have pants.”

The apartment was looking decidedly crowded now. Every square inch seemed occupied by a superhero in varying degrees of undress. Captain America's pants had been destroyed, Iron Fist had lost his entire borrowed outfit, and Hulk's sheet had naturally drifted away in the wind. Hulkling was running around trying to scrounge up at least a towel for everyone, but was quickly running out. For that matter, the seat of Hulkling's costume had been torn away to leave his well-muscled green cheeks exposed as well.

Though the loss of Quicksilver cast a pall over things, they’d at least made up for it by gaining Spider-Man and Thor, the latter of whom was currently fuming into a gag while tied securely to a chair. Spider-Man squatted down next to him.

“So ol’ Goldilocks here is really under the control of some spank-obsessed supervillain?”

“Yeah, and the first thing he’ll do if he gets loose is probably throw you over his knee again, so maybe don’t stand too close.”

On the other side of the room, Wolverine was having a hushed conference with Captain America. "This ain't good, Cap. More of us get picked off every fight. And every guy we lose ends up joining the other side."

“I’m aware of that, Logan. That's one reason I thought it imperative you and Wiccan remain here to work on severing the Handler's connection to his thralls. Has there been any progress on that?" Captain America's tone was icy. He didn't like that the two had directly disobeyed his orders, even if it'd wound up saving the team. Even Wolverine's cheeks clenched a bit under his glare.

“Uhh, before we get into that, I should probably check if Spider-Man is under the Handler’s influence,” said Wiccan.

Spider-Man pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Yes. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but... you did get punished by Thor for quite a while. And there were periods during the chase when you were out of sight. It’s possible the Handler could have snuck in and put you under his control during that time. One spank is all he needs.”

“Uhhh, okay. What do I have to do?”

“Well, you can start by uhh... pulling down your pants and bending over the back of the couch?”

Spider-Man stared at him.

“Tactilely is the only way I know how to check,” Wiccan admitted with a faint blush.

“We were all separated at one point or another tonight. We’ll all undergo inspection,” Captain America said quickly. “Spider-Man, if you’d go first?”

“Well… okay.”

And so, moments later Spider-Man was bent over the back of the couch with Wiccan slowly running his fingers up and down his toned butt.

"Sorry again about this."

"No, no, I get it. Just do what you gotta d—oh!" Spider-Man jumped as he got a slight squeeze. He wiggled his hips a bit and bit his lip. "So uhhh... anything?"

A few moments later, Wiccan shook his head. "Nothing, other than a few left over bruises in the shape of Thor's hand. The Handler never got to you." He awkwardly gave Spider-Man's bottom a brief pat of congratulations. "You're clean."

"Oh. Well... good."

“Alright, now the rest of us,” Captain America instructed.

One by one they each bent over. Captain America bore the touches stoically, while Iron Fist yelped a bit and blushed when Wiccan slid his hand up his inner thigh. Hulk snickered a bit and said, “Magic boy’s hands feel funny,” when it was his turn. And Hulkling was of course already used to his boyfriend’s hands running all over his ass.

“Alright, you’re all good. Looks like the Handler didn’t have time to reach any of you.”

“Except for Quicksilver,” Iron Fist pointed out.

“Right. First order of business is to start reclaiming our fallen allies. I'll ask you two one last time; have you discovered a way to sever the connection between the Handler and his victims?” Cap eyed Wolverine and Thor meaningfully.

The two looked at each other, and Wolverine gave a huff and folded his arms. "You may as well tell him," he said.

Wiccan nodded. “I think I have," he answered. "But, well... It might be better if I just show you.” He pursed his lips and went into his and Hulkling's shared bedroom. When he emerged he was carrying what appeared to be an ordinary ping pong paddle. Wolverine grimaced at the sight of it.

"What's with the toy?" asked Iron Fist.

Wiccan blushed again. "It’s not just a toy. I've been imbuing it with some of my magic. I believe it's possible to sever the Handler's connection, but it's very difficult. It's more like... overwriting it. You have to cover over the Handler's force with a stronger force of your own."

"Huh...?" Hulk scratched his head. "Hulk not understand."

Spider-Man was the first to get it. The corners of his mask crinkled up into a grin. "...We gotta spank Wolverine with that, don’t we."

The hairy man snarled. “Watch it, bub.”

"Uh—well, in so many words, yes," Wiccan said, his face growing even redder. "I’ve inscribed this paddle with runes that should eliminate any trace of the Handler’s influence…” he coughed. “Well, I think you get the basic idea. In order to erase the effects of one of the Handler’s spankings, we have to give a spanking of our own."

"Well, well, well," Iron Fist grinned as he leaned against the wall. “Isn’t that interesting. You ready to be punished like a naughty brat, Logan?”

“I said watch it!”

"Nice job, hon." Hulkling wrapped his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Gotta say, I’m enjoying watching you work.”

“I swear, this really is just where the magic led me.”

“Shhh, we know, we know.”

"Well. It sounds like our course is clear. You’d better pick out your, ahem, spanker, Logan," Captain America told him. His position as team-leader prevented him from outright chuckling at Wolverine’s sour expression, but even Cap’s mouth quirked up slightly at the sight. "Wiccan, assuming this works how many more of these paddles can you make?"

"I'm already working on a whole batch. If I go all night I should have one for each of you by morning."

“Excellent. Good work.”

“Maybe I should rethink my status as just a reserve member if this is what you guys get up to regularly,” Spider-Man joked.

“Yeah, and here I thought it was all tea and cake with Jarvis,” put in Iron Fist.

"Very funny. If you've got time to wisecrack, how about helping me contact the other teams?" Cap replied. He quickly put them to work.

Left to his devices, the grizzled Canadian mutant growled to himself. Pick his spanker? Not exactly his idea of a good time. But, understanding its necessity, he grimaced and looked over his options:

—Spider-Man? Nah, the guy would enjoy it too much. Plus, he’d never hear the end of it.

—Hulkling? Too young. Like hell he'd let some kid whip his butt.

—Wiccan? Likewise. Plus, he’d already touched his ass enough.

—Hulk? No. Just... no.

—Iron Fist? ...Maybe. But there was still one other option that rose above the others.

Sighing, he paced over to Cap and sullenly held out the paddle to him. "Ain't nobody else I trust to do it right," he told him, aiming a scowl at the rest of the room to cut off any remarks before they started. "Besides... you still owe me for those licks I gave ya earlier."

Captain America gazed at the paddle levelly. "That’s true,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet Wolverine’s. “I do, don’t I?" He took the paddle with a level of seriousness he usually reserved for official duties. He understood Logan’s choice, and took it as a measure of their respect for each other. He wouldn’t ruin the moment.

Besides, as he went to pull out a chair his bottom did throb a bit at the memory of Wolverine's rough hand impacting it so many times during their first run-in with the Handler.

"Guess it's time for a little good ol’ fashioned American discipline," he suggested as he sat down.

Hulkling merely bit his lip at the corny remark, but didn’t say a word. Is Captain America seriously going to spank Wolverine right here in our living room? His eyes locked with Wiccan's, and he could tell his boyfriend was thinking the same thing he was.

I am SO glad to be an Avenger sometimes.

The others were watching too, but no one said anything as Wolverine went over and stood by Captain America’s side. “Just don’t go easy on me, alright bub?” he said, maintaining his tough-guy attitude even as he leaned over and awkwardly placed himself over Cap's proffered knees. He wasn’t accustomed to willingly submitting to another man. Still, he duly planted his hands on the rug beneath him, then raised his hips and quite literally offered the Avenger leader his hairy rump. "Not in the mood to be mind-controlled again any time soon."

"I promise not to hold back," Cap replied seriously. While not how he’d expected his day to be going, he still wasn’t going to give Wolverine anything but his best. The man deserved that much. And Wolverine was hardly the first man, or even the first old war buddy, he’d ever had cause to discipline. Steve Rogers had been raised traditionally, and was a firm believer in the benefits of a good spanking when they were properly given. About half the Howling Commandos had felt his palm at one time or another back during the war. And even fellow heroes like Falcon or U.S. Agent had been put over his knee in more modern times when he’d felt it was called for. Then there was Bucky...

The number of spankings Bucky had earned over the years would fill a whole book.

WHAP!

His paddle landed solidly across Wolverine's backside. And it was clear from the very first that Captain America would be a man of his word. With that single whack alone Wolverine's rear-end blossomed with a pink paddle-print across the cheeks, and the man himself let out a startled grunt. And it didn't stop there. Cap immediately followed up with a second, third, and fourth blow. His strikes were soundly given and perfectly spaced out, that of a rigid disciplinarian.

Wolverine had to grit his teeth as the paddle walloped his ass repeatedly. "Rrgh! Nngh! Ggh!"

"Wow, guess we're getting dinner and a show," Spider-Man commented.

"Little man deserves spanks!" Hulk rumbled appreciatively. He'd tangled with Wolverine many times in the past himself and was particularly enjoying the sight of the grizzled man squirming.

Though slightly ashamed of it, Wiccan had to admit he was quite enjoying the view too, albeit for different reasons. He was also, however, watching the paddling on an additional level—through the spiritual plane. "You'll, um, have to spank him a bit harder than that, Cap," he said after a bit. "The magic's gotta penetrate deep into the tissue."

"What?" Wolverine spat, "Whaddya mean harder!?"

"Oooh," Hulkling snickered into his hand.

Cap also hid his own smile. “Sorry Logan, you heard the man,” he said as he gathered the short X-Man under his arm to get a better swing. The next CRACK! of wood on flesh managed to be loud enough to echo around the room.

"ARGH!" Logan roared at that one. His back arched as a bright red oval took shape across his clenching buns.

"Hey, you guys mind if I snap some photos?” Spider-Man asked brightly. “I bet the Daily Bugle would love this story!”

“Don’t even joke about that—AURGH!” Wolverine yowled as the next hit landed in the same spot. Then came another, and another after that. He started to buck and writhe over Cap’s knee.

"No holding back, remember Logan?" Cap said, with just a note of cheeriness. He smiled and raised his arm high again. "And I do owe you…"

The paddle whistled as it struck down over and over. CRACK! SMACK! WHACK!

“Arrrgghhhhh!”

Several minutes later, a teary-eyed Logan was stood up to a round of applause. He fumed under the attention and immediately grabbed hold of his fiery ass.

“Oh, I probably should have mentioned earlier. I also enchanted the paddle so it’d hurt a lot more on anyone under the Handler’s influence,” Wiccan informed him.

“Now you tell me.”

“Okay, that was fun and all but did it work?” Iron Fist wanted to know.

Logan nodded and, without needing to be told, went and flopped ass-up over the back of the couch. Wiccan placed a glowing palm on each of his punished buttocks and gave a slow squeeze. There was a soft humming. After a few moments he dug his fingers in slightly, and Logan winced.

"...Yes. There's no trace of the Handler's influence left. He won't be able to 'reclaim' you so easily again."

"’Bout time we had some good news," Logan muttered. He got up and limped over to the fridge. "You got any cold brews?"

“What for?" Spider-Man asked.

"What do you think?" Logan growled. He bent over and rooted around on the bottom shelf, muttering. When he straightened back up, he hissed as he pressed a cold can directly against his ass.

"Oh."

“Good work, Wiccan. Why don’t you start enchanting more of those paddles,” Cap suggested. The young sorcerer nodded.

“And make an extra-large one for Hulk. He’ll probably snap that thing right in half if he tried to use it,” put in Iron Fist.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ve already got an old fraternity paddle we’re gonna use for his.”

“...Why did you have an old fraternity paddle laying around?” asked Spider-Man.

“Uhh. Hey Billy, you better get started on those right away, huh? Here, I’ll lend you a hand!” Hulkling hurriedly shooed Wiccan into the bedroom. More than a few awkward chuckles followed in their wake.

Captain America got them back on task. “Alright. That’s one thing taken care of, but we've still got our work cut out for us. The next order of business is alerting other heroes to the threat the Handler poses so he doesn't get them too. There’s no answer at the Baxter Building, and we saw Thing and Human Torch running from the fight, so we can assume the Fantastic Four have been compromised. We’ve been having trouble making contact with street-level heroes like Daredevil and Punisher too. And Logan—do you have any idea why the X-Men aren’t answering their comms?”

“Huh?” Wolverine looked up. “They’re not?”

“No. I suggest you try any of your own communication lines just in case.”

A few minutes later, Logan came back shaking his head. “Nothing. I don’t like this. The mansion's never abandoned. But either nobody’s home, or...”

“Or the Handler somehow already got his hands on them as well. That would be disastrous,” Captain America said. “And if so, we’d have no choice but to turn to more… unlikely allies.”

“Huh? Like who?” Spider-Man asked.

“You won’t like it,” Cap warned him. “Let me think over our options before we make our next move. We'll get a good night's rest here, then head out fresh in the morning. In the meantime, there's one last thing we can do here.”

“Oookay. And what’s that?”

With near-perfect timing, Wiccan chose that moment to emerge again holding the next enchanted implement. It was the frat paddle. Cap took it from him appreciatively and looked it over, then tossed it to Hulk.

“Hulk, can you do all of us a favor?” he asked.

“Huh? What…?”

“Can you give Thor a good, hard spanking with that?”

The big green brute’s face split into a nasty grin.

“Hulk thought you would never ask.”

Chapter Text

"You were right. I do hate this," Spider-Man said as they made their way down to the docks the following morning.

"Consider it only a temporary alliance," advised Captain America. "With how many super-powered men the Handler's been snatching, they surely have just as much reason to fear him as we do."

"That logic might work on heroes like us, but these are villains we're talking about. Not seeing reason or working for the greater good is kinda their whole deal."

"If it helps, I don't like it either, bub," put in Wolverine. "But we've been overruled. Only thing left is to suck it up and take it."

Spider-Man put up his hands. "Alright, alright. Guys like Sandman or Kraven at least I can understand. But Venom?"

Captain America nodded. "Anyone who responded to the call would be invited to hear us out. We all agreed before we sent the message."

"That was because I figured most of 'em didn't have email," Spider-Man muttered.

The location selected for the meeting was an abandoned warehouse located deep inside the shipping district. Inside was a range of colorful characters who the Avengers were highly familiar with—albeit more used to putting them behind bars than fighting at their side. They were, to put it bluntly, bad guys.

Desperate times, however, called for desperate measures.

"I'm telling you guys, this is a trap!" Juggernaut bellowed, lumbering back and forth in agitation. The massive, muscular brute of a man was dressed in his trademark helmet, brown costume and heavy boots. "Shouldn't have even shown up. I say we all clear out!"

Beside the powerhouse, the man known as Kraven sneered. He was a world-famous big game hunter, whose prey included those of the super heroic variety just as often as they did tigers and African elephants. He was dressed in his usual gear of lion's mane vest and leopard-print pants which clung to his muscular legs. "And what manner of 'trap' do you think this is?"

"I dunno yet, but you'll see! Mark my words, this is some kinda... trick ta round us all up!"

The hunter shook his head. "That is not Captain America's style. It could be he is actually telling the truth and there is some truly dire threat which lead him to contact us. I, for one, am intrigued by his offer of working together." He looked to the others. "What about the rest of you?"

Venom stood there, wreathed in skin-tight blackness. A joined being, Venom was the combination of an alien symbiote with the human bodybuilder Eddie Brock. Two things drove them: protecting innocents—in their own twisted away—and getting revenge on Spider-Man. A painted spider symbol stood out in white on their muscular chest. In form, physique, and bearing they were reminiscent of Spider-Man as well—but larger, stronger, and far more dangerous. "All we want is to be left alone," they said, "However, if these heroes have a proposal which will lead to justice for innocents... we will listen."

Next, the criminal called El Aguila doffed his hat. "I have never known Iron Fist to employ trickery. He is an honorable opponent, you see?" he answered with a thick Spanish accent. Unlike the other villains, he lacked any kind of powers or a long history of conflict with any particular hero. He was more along the lines of a romantic cat thief or bank robber. However, he'd gotten an email just like the rest of them had, and he'd responded out of simple curiosity. The dashing man wore the colorful outfit of an old-fashioned swashbuckler, with the symbol of a golden eagle showing on his chest along with a red bandanna tied around his face to act as a mask.

"Yeah? Well why should we care what you say? Who the hell even are you, anyway?" the final villain in the room asked, glaring over at the fancifully dressed man. For his part, the last villain wore just a green striped shirt and jeans, though 'wore' might be an incorrect expression in his case. After all, they were simply molecules of sand arranged and colored to look like clothes—much like the rest of his body. He was Flint Marko, the villain known as Sandman. "Who're ya supposed to be... Zorro?"

"Ah! What an honor it is, to be compared to the great!" El Aguila flicked his sword forward, showing off a perfect fencer's stance.

"Bah!" Sandman looked back over at the others. He already regretted coming. "Look, this isn't my scene either. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm outta—"

"Hold it right there!" Captain America's commanding voice shot through the room, demanding the attention of even those he didn't lead. A small group followed him in as he entered the warehouse—Wolverine, Spider-Man, Iron Fist, Hulkling, and Wiccan. They ranged out in a line behind him, scowling at the bad guys as Captain America proceeded to the middle of the room. "You came this far, Flint. You can at least hear us out."

"Uh..." Sandman looked to his own associates for solidarity at the sudden arrival of the heroes. But when none was forthcoming he merely bit his lip. "Well... okay. Fine. Go ahead, Cap."

"Hah! Look how quickly he tucks his tail between his legs at the arrival of a stronger alpha male," Kraven mocked.

"Grr, shut it, you! Why I oughta—"

"Enough." Cap raised a hand for their attention. "You all know our history together as well as we do. Believe us when we say we don't come to you for aid lightly. However, in this case we have little choice. You see, the Avengers..." He chewed his lip, considering how best to put it into words. "...need your help."

There was a moment of dead silence. "The Avengers?" Juggernaut was the first to let out a loud guffaw. "Our help? Buddy, three out of the last four times I went to the slammer was 'cause of the Avengers! Why should we help you?"

"Our large friend does have a point," agreed Kraven. "I am not against being hired for my skills, but it does seem out-of-character in this case. What's in it for us?"

"Told ya they'd ask that," grunted Wolverine.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a genius," Spider-Man quipped back.

Wiccan stepped forward. "Have any of you heard of 'The Handler'?"

The villains raised their eyebrows at each other.

"No," said Kraven flatly.

"The 'Handler'? What kind of code-name is that?" Sandman laughed.

"Don't take him lightly due to his name," Captain America began. "He's—"

"We have heard of him," Venom interrupted. The others all stared at them. They shrugged brawny shoulders. "We have heard many things. Stories of heroes snatched in the dead of night. Then their wails echoing down dark alleys as they are... used by their new master." They slithered their long tongue slid out, coating their chin with saliva. "We chose not to interfere."

"Uhh," Wiccan stammered, taken aback by the row of sharp teeth he spied.

Captain America took point again. "...It's true what you've heard. He's already taken many of us," he confirmed as he straightened his posture. "Look, I'll be frank with you. You all have a bad rap and there's no lack of bad blood between us. But between the lot of you, you've all also been part of the Avengers, the X-Men, or at least worked alongside us on more than one occasion as well." He looked around the room, making eye contact with each man. They all either held his gaze, or looked away with a frown.

"Right now, a villain calling himself the Handler is going around... collecting super-powered individuals and placing them under his control. He's started with the Avengers, but he's made it clear he won't stop there. The X-Men and the Fantastic Four have been hit too, and I'd wager you're all somewhere on his list as well." His gaze hardened as he held their attention. "We've been fighting him on our own, but he's a slippery sort. Each time we tackle him individually we've failed and he takes control of more of us. By now he commands a good chunk of the Avengers, and it's clear he's aiming for a full set. He may even get it too. But if we work on this together, here and now, with overwhelming numbers, he hasn't got a prayer. In short, we need your assistance in taking him down before he grows too powerful to stop."

His speech ended, the villains looked at each other uncertainly.

"Too powerful? Hah! I've never been bothered by that type before," El Aguila bragged, "I am, how you say, beneath their notice. Why should that change now?"

"The Handler is different, Alejandro," Iron Fist cut in. "Trust me. It's tough to explain but he's definitely bad news. He's also already got Luke Cage and Hawkeye. You know, those guys you've fought and teamed up with multiple times?"

El Aguila blinked. "Do you speak true? Madre mía!"

"Pah! So he does what, mind-controls 'em?" Sandman crossed his muscular arms. "Guys have tried that on me and it never works. You can't control a brain made outta sand. Besides, how exactly do you plan to stop him? I don't see any of yer fancy-schmancy hero telepaths here."

"We've got weapons that can free a person from his command if they're struck hard enough with them," Hulkling explained carefully. "He needs to get in touch-range with someone to use his powers in the first place, so it should be easy to overwhelm him if we have enough people."

Kraven picked up on the vague language and raised an eyebrow. "...There is something you're not telling us," he said. "How exactly does this 'Handler' seize control of someone? And what manner of weapon do you have that reverses it?"

Venom crossed their brawny arms as well. "Yes. The full truth this time. We do not enjoy being lied to."

"We're not lying about anything!" Spider-Man said. He shuffled his feet. "It's just that... well... it's kinda... embarrassing."

The criminals looked even more interested now. Spider-Man looked to the others for backup. "Uh, should we tell them?"

It was Wolverine who answered first. "He spanks 'em," he said flatly.

Everybody looked dumbfounded.

"He what?" Kraven asked.

"You heard me."

"Wait, when you say he spanks 'em... ya mean spanks 'em?" Juggernaut mimed the motion with his hand.

"Yup," Wolverine deadpanned. "Just like when yer daddy took you out to the woodshed, Marko."

"No way," blustered Sandman. "There's no way in hell you're being straight with us. You're tellin' me this Handler guy's been taking Avengers and—"

"And making 'em ride his knee like naughty little brats. Yeah. Don't make me say me say it again, bub," Wolverine growled. "But we finally figured out a way to break his hold on his victims. You gotta spank 'em back—with one of these." Wolverine withdrew one of the special, enchanted paddles from his back pocket and waved it where they could see.

An overly long silence followed.

"They're, uh, magical," Wiccan put in, smiling awkwardly.

"You gotta be kiddin'—!" Juggernaut started, only for Kraven to interrupt.

"I'm in," he said.

"What?" Juggernaut whirled on him.

"Were you not listening? If we join forces we will get to punish and humiliate a great many superheroes. It is not often an opportunity such as that comes along. I, for one, do not intend to let it slip by."

"We are also in," Venom decided.

"You've all gotta be nuts!"

"I'm with Juggs," Sandman said. "This whole thing sounds like... I don't even know. I'm embarrassed just listening to it."

"Well think about how we feel saying it!" Spider-Man said plaintively.

"You really think we'd make something like this up?" Iron Fist said. "It's so ridiculous it's got to be true."

"That ain't the point! Spanking? Come on..."

"Well I for one am also quite intrigued." El Aguila said, smiling slightly. "But you can forgive us for being surprised, no? This is not exactly the direction we anticipated this meeting going in."

Sandman shook his head. "I'm still not buying you'd really let us spank some heroes."

"And I'm telling you it's the truth. So what's it going to take to get you onboard, Sandman?" Captain America asked, focusing his gaze fully on the single villain.

"Uhh..." Sandman withered a bit under that intensity. Unlike most of the villains called, he'd actually served as an Avengers member for some time. He'd been on the main team and everything. Due to that, he still respected Captain America a great deal. The down-on-his-luck man scratched his head, momentarily cowed.

"Hey hey, I got an idea!" Juggernaut let out a broad grin and clapped his humongous hands together. "Alright, you want us to paddle some heroes for you? Then we'll start—with you guys!"

Wiccan's jaw dropped. "What—"

"—the hell?" Hulking finished for him.

"Hmmm, that idea is not... terrible." Venom looked Spider-Man over in a way which made the web-crawler reflexively tense and shiver. "How else will we know they're serious about letting us do it to the others?"

"Now hold on." Spider-Man raised his hands. "You can't just—"

"Hell no," Wolverine said, more succinctly.

Kraven smirked at him. "Do you want our help or not?"

"Wha—you already told us you were in, bub!"

"I'm taking it back. These new terms are much more agreeable."

"Indeed," El Aguila said, now looking over Iron Fist in a way that made the martial-arts hero very uncomfortable as well. "It seems a fair price to me."

"Now—c'mon! Isn't there anything else you guys want?" Hulkling asked plaintively, backing away. He was one of the few heroes who'd made it that far without taking a spanking—well, a serious one anyway—and he'd been planning to keep it that way.

"Nope. If you really want our help, you gotta prove it."

"Ain't no way in hell I'm letting some two-bit thug take down my pants—"

"Then I guess you can forget about saving your teammates. Just how much are they worth to you?"

"That ain't fair!"

"If you ask me, the ones who deserve a spankin 'round here are you guys, not us—"

The crowded warehouse quickly broke into multiple arguments and shouting matches with no resolution in sight. That is, until one man brought order back to chaos. "ENOUGH!" All eyes landed on Captain America as he stared back at Juggernaut firmly and gave a nod. "Alright. I'll volunteer. You spank me, then you help us."

The musclebound lummox looked startled at Cap's ready acceptance, but then his face split into a nasty grin. "Deal!" he said instantly. An opportunity like that didn't come along every day. He stretched out his brawny arms, then loudly cracked his knuckles, one at a time. "Okay, 'Cap'. If you really mean it..." He smirked down at the Avenger's leader. "Drop the pants."

"You really don't gotta do that, Cap," said Wolverine.

Spider-Man's eyes had widened. "Are these guys serious?"

Kraven's lip curled. "That goes for all of us. We each spank one of you so-called heroes, then we're in."

"Oh c'mon!"

Wiccan was as speechless as his boyfriend. He simply looked to Captain America to see what he'd do.

Captain America chewed his lip. Ordinarily, he'd never permit himself to undergo such an indignity, especially in front of his team. However, there were his other teammates on the line as well. It was his fault Hawkeye had been captured, and he bore responsibility for all the others who'd been under his charge too. So, with total seriousness he undid his belt. He maintained eye contact with Juggernaut as he slowly peeled his scaled blue pants down in the back, revealing a bare behind still framed in its jock. "Fine," he said, "but leave the others out of it. You can all spank me."

At that there was a flurry of protests from both villains and heroes. "All of us?!"

"I don't want Juggernaut's leftovers!"

"Cap, you won't even have an ass left by the time they're done!"

"You think so?" Cap asked, cocking his head. "I've been tortured by better bad guys than these in my sleep. Trust me, I can take a couple of spankings."

With that he strode forward, and the other heroes got one last, lingering look at his muscled buttocks, flexing with every step. Even from the rear, he had a commanding presence. But after a moment, Iron Fist gave a tremendous sigh. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Iron Fist?" Wiccan questioned as the martial artist began undoing his own pants.

"Sorry Cap, I can't let you do it alone," he said as he pushed his pants down to reveal his own smooth and perfectly taut cheeks.

"Aha! So you are volunteering for tribute as well? Excelente!" El Aguila grinned.

"Uh huh, but not for you. For Cap," Iron Fist said as he stepped forward, leaving his pants behind.

A beat passed. And then: "Shit." The sound of a zipper being pulled, and then Logan's pants hit the floor as well. He was going commando underneath. "This better be worth it."

A few moments later Spider-Man was sliding down his spandex to reveal his own slim but toned ass. "It's gonna be one of those weeks, isn't it," he groaned.

"Whatever, let's just get it over with."

Hulkling and Wiccan watched with wide eyes as the butts of all their role-models and mentors popped out one by one. Then the men walked forward to each be grabbed by a villain in turn. Captain America was tucked under one of Juggernaut's massive arms. There was a brief scuffle as Kraven and Sandman both went for Spider-Man due to their shared history with him, only to be beaten to the punch by Venom. Sandman scowled and grabbed hold of Wolverine instead. Iron Fist got taken by El Aguila.

One at a time, all the heroes went bottoms-up. Wolverine grimaced as his hairy ass was put over Sandman's knee while the villain made a literal throne out of sand to sit upon. Iron Fist was made to bend over and grab his ankles like a frat pledge, jutting his ass into the air. Juggernaut chuckled as he turned around and angled Captain America under his arm so the man could watch everyone else's spankings while he got his own. His hand was so big it easily covered Cap's entire backside. Nervously, Wiccan and Hulkling eyed the last remaining villain, Kraven, who smiked at them.

"Well, it looks like it's just the three of us left. You young men wouldn't want to be left out of the fun, would you?"

Wiccan bit his lip and met Hulkling's eyes. "I guess this is part of being a hero too," he said, fiddling with his belt.

"I guess so," Hulkling admitted with a sigh. He reached down his spandex to bare his own green behind. "Hulk and Thor are lucky they opted for patrol outside rather than this."

"Uh-huh. But hey, at least there's two of us and only one of him. At least that means one of us will get off..."

"I wouldn't be so sure 'bout that!"

Every head in the warehouse turned. Framed in the doorway was none other than Sabretooth, the bestial and arrogant villain who'd stalked Wolverine for years. His large, muscular body was wrapped head-to-toe in skin-tight spandex, and his costume also sported his usual furred mane as he walked matter-of-factly into the room. He sniffed the air, then grinned ferally.

"Ahh, I love the smell of fresh meat first thing in the morning."

"Creed!" Wolverine yelled from where he'd been turned over Sandman's knee. "Who the hell invited you!"

"I invited myself, runt. Don't get yer panties in a twist," Sabretooth smirked toothily as he walked up. "Oh, but it doesn't like yer wearing panties, does it? Or much of anything at all." He grinned wide and delivered a sharp spank to his rival before walking away whistling, leaving Logan bucking and snarling with a hand-print left on his ass.

"Augh! I'm gonna—!"

"You're not gonna do nothin', remember?" Sandman said, and he formed sand-shackles to hold the bristling man down.

"The question remains though," Captain America said, his own bare bottom dangling from Juggernaut's grip. "You weren't included on the list, Sabretooth. So exactly how did you find us?"

Kraven narrowed his eyes. "We certainly did not invite you."

The villain shrugged offhandedly. "I got my ways. I've been hearing the same rumors as the rest of ya—stories about heroes getting abducted, stripped down... even put across papa's knee." He gave a snort. "When I heard about such a large gathering I knew it'd have to be related. And lookie what I find when I arrive." Sabretooth licked his lips as he surveyed all the tight, bare hero bottoms arrayed around him. "A bunch of boys gettin' taken out to the woodshed! Looks like it's true what they say: seein' really is believin'."

He walked up to the two remaining young heroes and looked them up and down. He smirked at their uncomfortable expressions. "And from what I overheard, you can't exactly refuse anybody's help for this one, can ya? Which means... you gotta decide real fast now whether or not to let me spank ya. That is, if I told ya I wanted to." He leered at them smugly.

Hulkling blanched. "Uhh..."

"Don't do it, kid!" Wolverine spoke up. "We don't need guys like Creed on our side! We can—Mmmphh!" His mouth was momentarily covered by Sandman's hand.

"Shhh," said the villain. "I wanna hear what they say."

"Well..." Wiccan slowly looked at his boyfriend. "It is true that we need all the help we can get..."

"Thought so," Sabretooth said as if that had been just the answer he'd expected. "In that case—" Suddenly, the grizzled man reached around Hulkling and gripped the young hero by his right butt cheek. He dug his clawed fingertips deep into the firm, round flesh. "I pick this one. I was hoping to get here in time for Wolverine, but I think he'll do just fine."

"Huh? Hey—!" Hulkling gasped in surprise as he was groped right in front of his boyfriend. He reached down to push Sabretooth's hand away, but in that moment his wrist was seized. The next thing he knew he was being manhandled right over the savage mutant's knee. "Gah! Hey! Oof!"

"Wait a second." Wiccan stepped forward. "You can't just—"

He was interrupted by his own pants being summarily pulled down from behind. "I am afraid you all lost your freedom to choose some time ago," Kraven said as he gripped Wiccan around the waist. "Sabretooth is right. You cannot refuse any of us, even him." In short order the young man was tucked under the hunter's arm, smooth bottom squirming in the air.

"Aah! Hey!"

"Quiet, unless you wish to earn yourselves extra."

And that was it. Six heroes, their rears upturned and bared, now at the mercy of six villains. It was not how any of them had envisioned the meeting going when they'd planned it. But even when the Handler wasn't around, it seemed spankings were starting to follow them wherever they went.

Sandman kicked things off, firing off a resounding smack on Wolverine's behind.

KRACK!

"Argh!" Wolverine let out.

Venom followed that up with a sharp smack of their own.

SLAP!

"Yow!" yelped Spider-Man.

Which was then followed by a hefty wallop from Juggernaut—

SLAM!

"Nngh!" grunted Captain America.

A vicious crack from Sabretooth—

SMACK!

"AH!" Hulkling yelled in surprise.

A lash of El Aguilo's belt—

KE-RACK!

"Aow!" yelped Iron Fist.

And lastly, a hard spank from Kraven.

THWHACK!

"Ooh!"

The villains all grinned as they met each other's eyes. This was a day they they'd surely always remember fondly... the day the heroes finally all got what they deserved.

The next time they spanked, their hands (and belt) all landed right at the same time.

SMACKCRACKWHACKSLAPTHWACKSPANK!

And the chorus of yelps, gasps, and grunts was likewise perfectly synchronized with each other.

"Ow!—Ooh!—Ahh!—Shit!—Ouch!—Gyah!"

But of course, villains never tended to work together for long. Within a minute, the spankings had all broken up into separate tempos. A competition soon broke out between Sandman and Juggernaut, both going faster and harder as they tried to outdo the other. Wolverine and Captain America could do nothing but grit their teeth and bear out their rivalry.

"Now this is my kinda slugfest!" Juggernaut jeered as he swatted his huge hand down on Cap's perfectly round and taut ass again and again.

"Aah! Just remember—our deal!" Cap reminded through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm rememberin'!"

Meanwhile, Sandman had formed his hand into a sandy paddle and was cracking it down repeatedly on Logan's twisting ass. "Yeah, take it!" he yelled.

"Rrrrrrgh! You creeps better enjoy this while you—Aaooww!—can!" Wolverine blustered, only to get swatted even harder for his troubles. "ARGH!"

"Man, I do not envy you right now, Logan," Spider-Man said. "Last time I fought Sandman I had sand in places I didn't even know about for weeks. You're probably gonna be itching right inside your—OW!" He howled at a harsh spank from Venom, who'd landed it right on his sitspot.

"You have your own punishment to worry about, Spider..."

"Ohh man, why do I get all the luck?"

El Aguila, meanwhile, was busily covering Iron Fist's rear end with stripes from his belt. "You know, this is a good look for you," he said conversationally. "You should come to us for help more often."

"Yeah, sure. Remind me to pay you back next time I catch you breaking into some idiot's house," Iron Fist shot back. He was soon paying for that remark with an even harder lashing. "Aah!"

Hulkling, unluckily, was probably taking the hardest spanking of all. Sabretooth was sadistic even by villainous standards, and he showed no mercy as he brought his calloused hand down over and over on the young man's green-tinted buns. "Aaoow, you can at least not use the claws!" Hulkling screamed.

From his awkward position, Wiccan had a good view of his boyfriend's ass twisting and bucking. While he'd always enjoyed the sight of Teddy's butt, unfortunately it was difficult to maintain the view as his own started to dance as well. "Owww! Not so—Ooh!—hard, Mister Kraven!" he yelped as the man's hairy-knuckled hand slapped down on his ass.

"Mister?" Kraven jeered. He connected another loud smack which made Wiccan's smooth cheeks bounce up higher. "While being punished, you will address me as SIR, boy!"

"Aa—aahhh! Yes, sir!" he corrected quickly.

Across the room, Juggernaut drew his burly arm up high to deliver the most brutal Thwack! yet. His palm was easily big enough it could cover Cap's whole ass. When the blow came down, it left Cap's entire backside red and throbbing.

"Argh!" he shouted.

"None of ya's can compete with me!" the hulking man bragged. "NOBODY spanks like the Juggernaut!"

Captain America soon regretted not establishing a time-limit to their spankings before agreeing to take them. The villains had a lot of repressed anger towards them; far too much to work through comfortably. Juggernaut in particular was really hammering his bottom with every strike, and 'America's ass' was on fire as he began to helplessly kick and jerk in the big man's grip. From the sounds of it, the others weren't far behind. "Steady, everyone!" he called out. "We've just got to last a little bit—ooh!—longer...!!"

Whether that was true or not, the heroes soon would have a reprieve of sorts. As the villains raised their hands once more to dole out a torrent of painful licks, a nondescript object floated gently down from the rafters above. It was a seemingly nondescript playing card. Nobody paid it much mind at first as it drifted to the middle of the floor. But, as soon as it made contact—

KA-BOOM!! It erupted with an earth-shattering explosion, scattering hero and villain alike.

"Argh! What?!" El Aguila said as he was flung against the wall. Kraven, Wiccan, and Iron Fist all slammed next to him.

"Who dares..." Venom snarled as the symbiote formed a shield to block the blast, their fun interrupted.

From out of the smoke and debris came the silhouette of several figures. "Bozhe moi," a thick Russian accent said in some amusement. "They have found a way to do our work for us."

"Indeed, but now it falls to us to finish the job," an equally thick Cajun accent replied. Another card lit up, showing the form of Gambit, as well as Colossus and several other familiar faces. He leaned forward on his staff, a smirk playong on his lips. "If it's all the same to you hommes, we'll be taking our prizes now."

"Huh?" a stunned Juggernaut said, resting his big hand on Cap's red-hot ass. "The X-Men? What're they doin' here?"

Next: Avengers VS X-Men!

Chapter Text

"Huh?" Juggernaut said, resting a hand on Cap's red butt. "The X-Men? What're they doing here?"

"Ain't you been listening, Marko!" Wolverine thundered, still draped over Sandman’s lap himself. "They've all been brainwashed by the Handler! Now let us go, before—" But it was already too late. A dozen more explosive cards flew into the middle of the room, scattering villains as well as red-bottomed heroes everywhere.

The attack had come unexpectedly. Worse, it came at the worst possible time. Each and every hero present was already nude from the waist down, their asses hot and stinging due to the bargain they’d struck with the villains. In their present condition the Handler would hardly have to spank them at all to assume control of any one of them.

But the same didn’t go for their newfound allies.

"You X-brats are always getting in my way!” Juggernaut roared as he charged straight for Colossus, helmet down to take the brunt of the impact. He’d been the least affected by the series of explosions. Each stomp of his massive feet shook the building’s very foundation. “I'm gonna enjoy this!"

The look on Colossus' face could only be described as exultant as Juggernaut came at him. He was eager to prove himself to his new master. The X-Man braced himself and, for all appearances, looked as though he was prepared to meet the unstoppable man's charge. But at the last instant he sidestepped and swept out a metal leg to trip Juggernaut up.

"Ungh!" Juggernaut went down in the surprise maneuver and landed with a boom. He shook his head groggily as he got back to his feet. "You're gonna pay for that...!"

"I would not be so sure." Gambit took the opportunity to jump in. Executing a perfect aerial flip, he dispensed a single slap to Juggernaut's sizable rear. "This is a fight with all new rules, mon ami. By the way, how fast can you take off those pants?”

"Huh?" Juggernaut sneered. "Now why the hell are you askin—AAGH!" He howled as his pants suddenly exploded right off his ass, sending him flying.

Wiccan gulped as he saw how vulnerable they all were. "Let us go!" he hissed to Kraven. The hunter looked grimly at the newcomers, before he gave a nod and set the bare-bottomed sorcerer down.

"Very well, but we will finish this later," he said, drawing his bolas.

The rest of the villains followed suit. A glint of steel drew the eye as El Aguila flourished his own weapon, a sharpened rapier. "I suppose all good things must come to an end,” he said apologetically to the welted buttocks of Iron Fist’s ass, which he’d just been enjoyably lashing a belt across. “But I’ll enjoy paying you more attention later.”

“Oh give me a break,” Iron Fist groaned, looking around for some pants.

“Hah! Now en garde with you, ruffians!”

Unfortunately for El Aguila, a weight suddenly fell on him from above. It was the reptilian Anole, winking out of camouflage, then scrambling over him with remarkable agility. His tongue quickly darted out like a whip to knock the sword from the man’s surprised hand.

“Who’re you supposed to be?” the young mutant snickered. “Zorro?”

“Why you brat! Do you not know the name of the great El Agui—Yaaahh!” El Aguila yowled as that same tongue then flicked out fast enough to rip through the seat of his pants and raise a welt on his left buttock. He was soon drawn kicking and struggling over the young mutant’s knee.

Everyone else was fanning out, either looking for an opening or scrambling for cover. Sabretooth was the only one still seemingly at ease. He simply smirked as he raised one hand, then brought it down hard and sharp across Hulkling’s ass again.

“Ow!” the young Avenger yelped. “Hey, Mister Creed? I realize this may not be my place, but don’t you think we should be worrying about the X-Men who’re all brainwashed and want to enslave us all?”

“Why should I?” Sabretooth drawled. “Who do ya think lead them here?”

Hulkling’s eyes widened. “Wait. You mean you--?”

“That’s right. When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you get a knack for pickin’ the winning side.” While he spoke, Sabretooth fished a circular device out of his pocket. He quickly fixed it around Hulkling’s neck. “Enjoy this power dampening collar, kid.”

“What?!! Aaahhh! Aoowww!” Hulkling howled as the man returned to simply spanking him while the fight raged around them. He kicked and twisted, but with his powers cut off there wasn’t anything he could do to get away.

“Creed!” Wolverine thundered, now free from Sandman’s lap. He had his claws out and was racing forward, not even bothering to pull up his spandex. “I knew you’d turn traitor, you stinkin’ piece of gutter trash...!”

"Guten tag, freund Logan," a familiar German accent cut in from directly behind him, right before the scent of brimstone hit. Nightcrawler had teleported in and was already slapping Logan’s ass before the man could react. The moment his three-fingered hand made contact, the blue-skinned mutant teleported both of them away.

"Everyone watch out! They've got a teleporter!" Captain America called out, inwardly cursing. Moments into the fight, and they were already down three men.

He quickly took stock. El Aguila was yowling as Anole swatted a scaled hand on his bared cheeks. Hulkling was bucking and kicking as Sabretooth sadistically attended to his green bottom. Logan’s snarls and angry yelps of pain could be heard echoing from somewhere up in the rafters. And, as he watched, he saw Colossus waste no time in following up on Gambit's explosive stripping of Juggernaut. The Russian mutant grabbed the big brute by one leg and swiftly rolled him up in a practiced pin.

"You might be unstoppable in motion, but like this? You are just a toy," Colossus declared smugly, and he slapped his metal hand down on Juggernaut's already scorched ass.

“OWW!” Juggernaut gaped in shock and fury. “Why you—I’m gonna—!”

SMACK!

“AOOWWW!”

Cap winced. Make that down four men.

Time to turn the tide and regain some momentum. Rolling, he scooped up his shield and threw it at Gambit in a single motion. If he could keep the X-Men off-balance they had a shot. More importantly, the real key to victory would be freeing their mutant allies from the control they’d been placed under. "Wiccan, the paddle!" he called, holding out his hand for the enchanted weapon.

“Oh, right!” Wiccan concentrated a moment, then sent the enchanted paddle flying to Cap in a magic sphere.

But a blast from Bishop's pulse rifle stymied those plans. The sphere ‘popped’ and the paddle went skittering across the floor. Meanwhile, Beast leapt at Cap with both feet outstretched. “Pardon, Captain. I’ve always wondered what your posterior would look like covered in red stripes just like your flag.”

The return of his shield was the only thing that allowed him to block the assault and repel his old teammate. Beast went flying. “Damn!” he cursed.

"Hit 'em hard and fast, X-Men!" Bishop shouted to the others, blasting away. "Most are already halfway to joining us!"

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d really rather not—Aah!” Spider-Man couldn’t even finish his quip, as his web-strand got cut by one of Bishop’s blasts and he had to quickly shoot another one to avoid going into free fall.

"Uhh, it’s okay, I've got more of them!" Wiccan shouted. "I just need to concentrate to bring them—Yow!" He yelped as one of Rockslide's stony hands flew by his butt, delivering a spank to break his concentration.

"Dude, this is so awesome!" Rockslide laughed to Anole as he broke his body into more hand-shaped pieces and sent them out to keep the rest of the heroes off-balance, harrying them with stinging slaps and wedgies. Soon Kraven, Iron Fist, and even Venom were twisting in his many stony grips, roaring as he treated their rears to a painful beatdown.

Meanwhile, Beast had switched off and was leading Sandman on a merry chase around the premises. His nimble, bouncing form kept getting teasingly close to being caught, but always evaded the villain’s sandy grip at just the right moment. “Oops! Almost got me that time!” he taunted as a massive sandy hand smashed into a barrier.

"Get back here!" Sandman shouted in frustration. As per usual, he was squandering his overwhelming force focusing on a single target. He summoned more sand and grew himself into a roiling avalanche, intent on nabbing the X-Man.

But Beast simply grinned and steered the dumb powerhouse right into the central area where his comrades were all struggling—and in an instant Venom, Kraven, and Iron Fist were all swept up into his avalanche, spitting and choking.

“Huh?” Sandman gaped.

"Arrgh! Idiot!" Kraven said as they all got buried.

"You are in our mouth!" Venom screamed.

Spider-Man had been in more than his fair share of big super-powered slugfests, but they’d never really been his style. While everyone else was duking it out, he decided to swing up and do something about Wolverine’s cries instead. He found the man up on the warehouse’s second story, snarling and writhing and pinned under Nightcrawler. A mysterious new foe in black and purple was repeatedly swinging his palm into his ass.

"Dammit, not again! AAARRGGHH!" Wolverine howled as his seriously red buns got even redder.

Spider-Man lowered himself down on a web to just a few feet away. "Hi there!" he interrupted. "Call me crazy, but I'm gonna take a wild guess... You're the Handler?"

"I am,” the masked man replied, equally cordially. “And you're who the Daily Bugle calls a menace."

"A menace?! Well that's rich, coming from the guy going on a super-powered spanking spree!" Spider-Man answered in a tiff. But something else was bothering him. For some reason his spidey-sense wasn’t going off in the man’s presence. Didn’t the Handler count as a threat?

He decided the best way forward was to keep the Handler talking and buy the others some time. "So hey, how'd you get your powers? Were you bitten by a radioactive paddle?” he asked. “You know, you might have the wrong occupation here. I know a few clubs downtown I bet would love—"

“Quiet, brat.”

“Excuse me?”

The Handler stood and dusted his hands off, then nodded to Nightcrawler. The blue mutant vanished again in a plume of sulfuric smoke. That left Wolverine sniffling on the floor. Other than him, it was just the two of them left up there. The Handler grinned at Spider-Man’s growing unease. "Unfortunately for you, wall-crawler, it doesn’t much matter what you think. You’ll soon be calling me ‘Master’ just like the others. Logan, if you would?"

His spidey sense did suddenly blare as Wolverine leapt up, and it was the only thing that allowed him to dodge in time. The grizzled man dove right at him with his claws out, snarling, and it looked like he was aiming to kill.

“Yow!” Though Spider-Man had twisted, those claws still scored a shallow tear in his costume. “Alright Wolverine, I know we haven’t always gotten along, but there’s no need to be so—”

"RRRGGHHH!"

“Well, shoot.” Spider-Man danced away to get some distance. He lobbed web projectiles, but Logan cut through most of them and then chased him like a bloodhound. There was nowhere to escape to, and there wasn’t much room to maneuver up there either in the limited office space. Spider-Man had to keep clinging to the walls and ceiling just to keep out of his reach.

“Alright Logan, what do I have to offer to get you to stop—Gah!” Spidey yipped. Wolverine had leaped up again, claws flashing. This time he’d left three parallel slashes right in his spandex seat. “Do you have any idea how much teasing MJ is gonna give me when she sees this?” he complained as his bare cheeks poked through.

But it was clear Wolverine wasn’t listening to reason. Spider-Man had no choice but to unload nearly all his webbing onto the raging man to keep him contained. He sighed as he set back onto the floor, watching Wolverine thrash and snarl in his sticky bondage, glued to a filing cabinet. “Well that’s one situation taken care of,” he said, scratching his head. “Now where did the Handler run off to in all that—“

Slap.

Spider-Man gasped as he suddenly felt a hand make contact with his firm bottom—his now bared, vulnerable bottom.

“I’ve been right here, Spidey,” the Handler’s pleased voice came from behind him. “Now, what were you going to call me again?”

“...Master.”

The battle below had broken into a series of isolated skirmishes. Most of the heroes and villains were trapped inside Sandman’s roiling sand body now. The earth elemental struggled to change back into his smaller man-sized shape and free everyone, but try as he might he seemed unable.

“Argh! Something’s stopping me from shifting!” he finally spat. “What’s happening?”

Beast merely pointed to a flashing device he’d dropped into Sandman’s body. “I didn’t have much notice, but was able to rig something that should keep you busy awhile. They don’t call me a genius for nothing.” He smiled. “This is called a bantam tectonic pulse generator. It sends out vibrational waves that are impossible to perceive on the general scale, but affect purely the sub-atomic. In short, it’s affecting the bonds your individual grains of sand form when you take on different shapes. But don’t worry, all your friends trapped inside are perfectly safe. They can just wait there for us to pull them out for their punishments.”

“It’s a &*%#^ing what?!”

The blue-furred mutant rolled his eyes. “Pointless to explain to philistines, I suppose.”

“Argh! Quit already!” Juggernaut bellowed. His beefy buttocks were still compressing under Colossus's whacks, then bouncing back with angry wobbles. His hide may have been tough, but even he couldn’t last forever against punishment from someone nearly at his own strength class. “You’re gonna pay for this, Tin Man!” He beat his fists on the floor. “You’re gonna pay!”

The big Russian smiled. “This is long overdue. We X-Men should have given you this many years ago.”

Elsewhere, Wiccan saw the trouble Sandman was in and began to mutter an incantation. “Don’t worry Sandman!” he called between verses. “I’ll have you free in a—“

Bamf!

“Perhaps it is yourself you should worry about, mein freund?”

Wiccan gasped as Nightcrawler appeared behind him and, in an instant, teleported them both away. He found himself appearing over Nightcrawler’s lap up by the ceiling, his pants fluttering to the floor and the blue mutant already treating him to a stinging spanking. “Aooww! Oww!” he cried as that three-fingered hand painfully slapped his rear.

And he wasn’t alone. El Aguila and Hulkling were both still yowling from their own spankings and looked on the verge of breaking. Neither of them had gotten any relief since the battle started.

Captain America grit his teeth as he heard multiple sounds of distress from his comrades. But there was little he could do about it while beset on two sides himself. Bishop was firing at him with his pulse rifle from one direction while Gambit swung at him with his bo staff from the other. He was able to defend himself from one without much issue, but two was pushing it.

“We may not always agree on methods, but you X-Men have always been heroes of integrity!” he told them, leaping over a crate to buy himself time. “Fight this Handler’s power!”

“Ah, but mon ami, it’s so much more fun to give in. Besides, I’ve always wanted to give the perfect butt of Captain America a good spanking,” Gambit said with a smirk, following close behind. “Bet I could make it glow.”

“As have I,” Bishop said, charging up another blast.

Captain America’s mind worked as he weaved and dodged. Were these the Handler’s desires speaking through them? Or was the villain's power merely tapping into something that had always been there, locked away, but was now being brought to the surface?

Before he could mull further, Gambit cut him off with another acrobatic leap. He twirled his staff about him, then surprised Cap by tossing it like a javelin. Cap was able to repel the weapon, right before Gambit landed and put both hands on his shield. The mutant smirked as the shield started to glow under his power. “Checkmate.”

Then his smirk faded as the shield’s native vibranium simply absorbed his power without any visible effect. “What is that thing made out of—Guh!” He grunted as he took a shield bash to the face.

Quickly shifting to Bishop, Captain America ran at him with his shield out as a battering ram. The frenzy of pulse blasts given at his approach almost sent him careening in the other direction, but he was able to stay on course—barely. He tackled the other man, and the two of them went down, rolling and punching.

“You can’t fight the power of the Master!” Bishop raged. “Soon you’ll serve him too!”

“I’ve heard that one before!”

In the midst of the wrestling match, Cap groped around on the floor for anything he could use as a weapon. When his fingers slid around a familiar handle, his eyes widened. It was the magical paddle… the one that had gone spinning away earlier. He tightened his grip, then smirked.

“Bishop, I think it’s about time you got a good spanking.”

Reaching down, he unbuckled the surprised man’s belt with crisp, fast motions. Then, with a burst of strength only a super soldier serum could’ve provided, he hauled the muscular and tattooed man across his knee right there on the floor. The man snarled and tried to stop him, but Cap managed to grab the waistband of his pants and pull down. Moments later a harsh Crack! rang out as he slammed the paddle right across Bishop’s bare ass.

“And those were Daredevil, Punisher, Moon Knight, and Doctor Strange’s last known locations I’m aware of,” Spider-Man finished. “With the exception of Strange they tend to move their safe houses often, so it’s difficult to pin them down.”

“Well, with this information you’ve provided I think we’ll have little difficulty pinning them right where they belong,” the Handler said amiably. “Before that though I have certain other plans I’d like to put into motion. Shall we check how the battle is going in our absence, Logan?”

The grizzled man gave a silent, gruff nod. Together, they moved to the window overlooking the main storage area. The bulk of the fighting had finally stopped, and now it was mainly punishments happening. But Handler ground his teeth at the sight.

“Oh phooey,” he said.

The first incident which helped turn the tide had been Bishop, freshly restored to himself and with a tear-streaked face, making a pin-point shot with his pulse rifle to disable the device keeping Sandman helpless.

Newly freed, Sandman had surged upwards, sandy tendrils lashing everywhere. Anole and Rockslide were both hit and wrapped up immediately. Nightcrawler was forced to teleport away, leaving a bare-bottomed Wiccan falling to the floor. Captain America had to bodily fling himself under the young man to break his fall.

“Oh dear,” Beast had said at the upset, and he flipped away. But though he was able to dodge the lashing sand whips with ease, he hadn’t counted on the thrown bola from Kraven. They wrapped around Beast’s ankles and sent him careening back to Earth where he landed hard on his chest.

The big game hunter quickly slid his knee under the captured mutant and raised him up, then slid his trunks down to expose a beefy blue butt. “I’ve hunted many animals. What’s one more?” he mocked as he raised his calloused hand up to spank.

“Kraven, stop!” Captain America called out urgently.

The hunter looked at him as if he were mad. “Fool! You may know him as a friend, but he is our enemy now!”

Cap shook his head. With a nice, underhand motion, he tossed him the paddle. “Use this.”

Kraven caught and looked at the implement curiously. Then he shrugged and whipped it hard across Beast’s ass.

“Aaaowww!”

Moments later Anole and Rockslide were both dragged up by sand tendrils and, kicking and struggling, had their uniforms peeled down. They were soon yowling as their bare butts got sand-whipped together. And seeing his teammates in peril distracted Colossus just long enough for Juggernaut to finally reverse their positions. He rose up behind him like a vengeful bulwark, slamming Colossus down to the ground. "Told ya I’d get even! Now let’s see how YOU like it!"

“Bozhe moi!” Colossus cried out as the back of his uniform was ripped away. He was strong but was no match for Juggernaut's sheer brute strength, and without the aid of his pin there was no way he could properly overpower him. Without hesitation, Juggernaut slammed his own palm into the muscular mutant’s metal cheeks.

“Gonna pay you back with interest!”

“Ohhh, stop!”

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Sabretooth growled as he saw where the wind was blowing. He delivered one final hard spank to the defeated Hulkling that sent the Young Avenger sobbing to the floor. Stepping over the young man, he turned tail for the door.

“Sabretooth! Too scared to fight like a man?” Iron Fist called.

“Pah! I told you bozos! I may be dumb, but I ain’t stupid!”

In exasperation Iron Fist looked to Captain America. The man gave a nod. “Go after him. The rest of us will handle things here.” The martial artist quickly took after the savage mutant, accompanied by Venom.

“Alright Avengers. The rest of us will get to work undoing the Handler’s powers. And remember, this is for the X-Men’s own good,” Captain America told everyone as Wiccan concentrated to summon more paddles. They soon popped into existence and were distributed to everyone who needed one. For his part, Cap sat his bruised butt on a crate with a flinch, then pulled the stunned Gambit across his knee and started working down his pants. “Wiccan, exactly how long do we need to spank them for?”

“Uhh... it varies.” Wiccan was catching his breath, not just from the strain of the fight but from casting so many spells at once. He slowly looked around—and only then did it dawn on him what he was seeing. There before his eyes were several of the hottest, sexiest X-Men he knew, all grimacing with their pants down around their ankles. Beast... Gambit... Colossus… even Rockslide and Anole. And Bishop was rubbing his ass off to the side. One by one, he looked over the assorted mutants, his face turning red. Their backsides were all mouthwateringly naked and vulnerable.

“To be safe, you should at least go until they’re in tears,” he finally said. “Maybe longer.”

There was nowhere you could look without seeing an X-Butt getting a good spanking. The Handler ground his teeth as he looked down. Rather than be unable to cooperate as he’d expected, it seemed the new hero/villain alliance actually had the situation well in hand. Worryingly, his surprise ambush may have actually solidified their partnership.

Beside him, Logan sniffed the air. "X-Men are done," he said, stating the obvious. "They lost."

“I am aware, Logan,” the Handler said. He slapped his palm upon the man’s hairy buttocks in frustration. Logan gasped, then moaned.

"Tch." The most troubling thing was the manner he saw that they were taking back his slaves. Magical paddles, and many of them. His own powers allowed him to enslave but one man at a time. An entire team armed with paddles like that could undo weeks of his work in an instant. He had to think of a way to overcome that obstacle.

“Our time table will need to be accelerated,” he said. “Tell me, what technological super geniuses are available to me and... vulnerable?”

“Reed Richards is on a long-term assignment to the Negative Zone and won’t be back for months,” Spider-Man told him.

“And Stark’s been missing for weeks. No one knows where he’s holed up,” said Wolverine.

“Hmmm.” The Handler clicked his tongue as he thought of alternatives. “What about the mutant known as… Forge?”

“The inventor?” Wolverine cocked his head. "He shouldn’t be difficult to track down. Should be easy to make him submit too." He smirked and cracked his knuckles.

“Excellent. We’ll get started on that right away then. Nightcrawler, Spider-Man, your duties are to keep Wolverine’s ass nice and hot while we hunt. We know how difficult he can be when that pesky healing factor of his has time to work.”

The blue elf smiled. “Not a problem, master!” he said. To demonstrate, he delivered a firm slap to Logan’s bottom. Spider-Man responded with a spank in kind from the other side. The grizzled man bit his lip as they made their way up towards the skylight, accompanied by more spanks at each step.

“Hold it right there!”

They turned to see Iron Fist silhouetted against the moonlight. Sabretooth had eluded him, but on a hunch he’d gone up to the rooftop and arrived just in time to catch them making their getaway. “Alright Handler, I’m giving you one chance to release my friends, then lead us to where you’ve stored Luke Cage—“

He didn’t get any further than that. Nightcrawler had immediately bamfed behind him, then teleported him right out of his costume.

“Agh! Hey!” the suddenly naked hero blanched in shock.

The Handler smirked as the rest of his minions fell on the martial artist. Iron Fist was one of the most skilled of heroes, but even he couldn’t outmaneuver both Spider-Man and Nightcrawler at once. And the threat of Wolverine’s claws made things even more difficult. The hero was soon held securely, red bottom bent and presented.

“Rrgh… dammit guys, let me go!” he cried out, twisting helplessly as the Handler approached from behind. “Stop it!”

“Well,” the villain said as he raised his hand. “I may have lost the X-Men, but at least I have a few consolation prizes.”

SLAP!

A half hour later there was only the sound of broken sobs and hiccups from the assorted mutant heroes. They were used to unusual events in their lives, but this was a strange one even for them. They stood by, rubbing their asses and wincing.

Beast was no different. He stood before Captain America, ruefully massaging his beefy blue butt as he was brought up to speed on what'd happened since being placed under the Handler's control. He remained nude, as for some reason he hadn't been able to locate his discarded trunks. In fact, he noticed none of the X-Men had.

"I must say, Captain, I'm not sure which is more embarrassing. That we were all defeated by a spanking-themed villain, or that it took another, second, spanking from you all to break us free. Regardless, you have our sincere gratitude. And you can count on myself and the other X-Men to help any way we can.”

“Appreciated, Beast. And uh, sorry if we went a little too hard on you.”

“Even if we did enjoy it,” Kraven put in with a smirk.

Beast eyed the hunter warily as he rubbed his sore bottom. He was still coming to grips with the fact things were so desperate the Avengers had formed an alliance with known villains. But that would have to be a discussion for another time. “Not at all,” he said, “Better safe than sorry, as they say.” He winced, and shifted around on the balls of his feet. “More importantly, do we have any idea what the Handler’s next move might be?”

Cap took stock. They’d retrieved the X-Men, but Spider-Man, Iron Fist, and Wolverine had all gone missing after the fight. The only explanation was the Handler must have taken them in all the confusion. They’d gained more heroes than they'd lost for once, true, but they were still in a precarious position.

"Well, he's already targeted nearly every superhero organization in the city." Captain America pointed out, internally working through the Handler's plans. "To the best of our knowledge, his goals are to spank every hero he can. We don’t know why, or any of his other motives. But assuming he plans on sticking around NYC he'd either have to either start repeating targets or go after more solo heroes who might not be onto him yet. Moon Knight, Daredevil, Doctor Strange—maybe even villains, now that we’ve gotten some of them involved. He thrives on surprise and trickery, so anyone who's unaware of his methods would be a prime target."

“I see. So the quickest way to solve that problem would be splitting our forces to inform as many allies as we can. Yet, that also would leave us most vulnerable to further ambushes.” Beast pursed his lips. “A true conundrum."

“I say we play it safe,” Bishop said, stepping up with a grimace as he rubbed his own sore bottom. “Lay low and wait for him to make his next move. I don’t want to be put under his control again.”

“Sounds good to me,” agreed Gambit.

“But that would leave other heroes—our friends—in danger!” Hulkling pointed out.

“Listen kid,” said Bishop. “I care about them as much as you do. But if we all get caught, who do you think is going to rescue them then? We’ve got to think this through tactically—”

“Tactically!? For all we know they might be over his knee getting spanked right now while we stand around talking about it,” Hulkling insisted, puffing out his chest. “It’s your fault our friends were grabbed in the first place. The least you can do is help us get them back.”

“Listen kid, if you don’t watch it I might just put you over my knee…” Bishop started, but Captain America swiftly interceded.

“That’s enough! Save your anger for the Handler. He’s the real villain here. Or did you two forget?”

He maintained a three-way staredown with them, until both lowered their eyes. “True,” Bishop said gruffly. “I just don’t—“

Juggernaut chose that moment to stomp over, the floor shaking beneath his footsteps. He was still bare below the waist, and the others had to keep averting their eyes or be caught staring at his rather immense dick. “Well I don’t know about you guys, but before we do anything I’m gonna need a new pair of pants!"

Beast hid a smile. "On that, at least, we can all agree,” he said. “In any case, I'll take the liberty of informing our mutant brother organizations Alpha Flight and Excalibur exactly what's been happening, just in case the Handler decides to widen his sphere of influence outside the country. In the meantime…” He clicked his tongue. “It just may be we have another way of tracking him."

“You mean Cerebro?” Bishop asked.

“Yes. If his powers are mutant in origin, we may be able to locate him through Professor X’s device. But it would require us to send a team back to the mansion. And who knows what traps he might have left there for us, or even how many of our teammates might still be under his control.”

Captain America nodded. “Do it,” he said. “The more information we have on him, the better. Because right now, not knowing where he’ll strike next is making me very, very nervous.”

Next: Laboratory Infiltration

Chapter Text

The exterior of the building was nondescript. It could easily have been mistaken for an ordinary apartment complex. Inside however, the building was brimming with all manner of sophisticated machinery, even verging on science fiction. Numerous devices were strewn about with no clear indicator what their purpose was or how to use them. The group treated them with the utmost caution and avoided them wherever they could.

Despite the tight security, it’d been a relatively simple matter to gain access to the interior. The Handler had retrieved Hawkeye, an expert at breaking into secure facilities, for the task. Between his espionage expertise and Nightcrawler's teleportation powers it'd taken barely an hour for the team to break through Forge's defenses and into the rear of his lab.

But while Nightcrawler and Hawkeye were in charge of entry, it was Wolverine who caught onto an unexpected scent and signaled the others to halt.

His nose furrowed as he sniffed the air. He'd know the whiskey-scented breath and cheap aftershave of one of his favorite poker buddies anywhere.

Puck. From Alpha Flight. He’s unexpected. One of the few heroes shorter than even me.

But there was another, too. Logan's nose crinkled. That mixture of Earl Grey and... gym shorts...

Well, well, well. Just great. Brian Braddock, the good and uptight Captain Britain himself.

Puck shouldn't be too difficult to deal with—his powers were nothing but enhanced agility and acrobatics. But the leader of Excalibur was among the strongest heroes on the planet. It could mean trouble.

Puck chortled as he wandered down the metal corridor from the lab’s kitchenette, sandwich in hand. "Braddock! Seen the latest communique from Beast yet, eh?"

"I have..." the lantern-jawed hero replied, his handsome face fixed in a frown. "Quite troubling. We'll have to keep an eye out for this 'Handler' character and make sure he doesn't cause any trouble around here."

"Haw!" Puck hooted. "'Troubling', he says!"

Captain Britain blinked. "Pardon?"

"Well it's got to be a joke, doesn't it? Come on, Braddock. A villain who controls minds through spanking? This is McCoy getting our goat."

"But... he used the official emergency channel. That doesn't seem like something Beast would..."

Puck shook his head and gave a wink. "You didn't know him back in the old days. He acts serious now, but he used to be a real prankster. Almost as bad as I was! I guarantee this is payback for the time I switched his shampoo with pink hair dye."

"Heh... You didn't!"

"Oh, I did! He couldn't show his furry face for a week!"

The two men strolled off in the direction of the main lab, swapping stories. Both were completely unaware they were being closely observed by an elfen figure, hidden deep in the shadows.

“It is true, master,” Nightcrawler reported. “Both Puck and Captain Britain are on the premises.”

“Why the hell are they here?” Wolverine grimaced. “And what do we do now?”

"Hm..." The Handler considered. From everything he'd heard, none of his controlled pawns were in the same league as Captain Britain. While that did make quite him a tempting target to add to his collection, that also meant it was too risky to attack directly. Furthermore, the man was still a secondary target compared to the main reason they’d broken in: the inventor.

But at the same time, acquiring both would be quite the feather in his cap…

“Nightcrawler,” he said. “You served on the same team as Captain Britain. What are his weaknesses?”

“Oh, he has none,” the elf answered brightly. “He’s super strong, super dense, and invulnerable to pretty much everything."

The Handler frowned. “That’s not what I asked, slave.”

Nightcrawler shivered and his buttocks reflexively experienced a twinge of pain. “Erm… a general lack of creativity and an overdeveloped sense of pride?”

“Ah.” The Handler smiled. “Now that I can work with. How unfortunate for the good captain. Attacking men’s pride just happens to be my specialty.”

"...and if you think that's bad, that's not even counting the time we coated the seat of his trunks with hair removal cream!”

Captain Excalibur just shook his head with a laugh. "I can't imagine having as much fun on the job as you do."

“Oh come now, Captain," Puck elbowed the larger man. "Surely you had your share of practical jokes on that Excalibur team of yours. They’re like the British X-Men, eh?"

"Hmm... It was mostly Nightcrawler pulling the pranks back then." Captain Britain's face darkened. "But not all of them were funny. I remember on more than one occasion the two of us butted heads over proper—"

"Good, the two of you are here," Forge interrupted as they entered the main lab. Forge was a bit of an enigmatic man. He had powers just as steeped in Native American mysticism as they did in technology. He was a war veteran, with two of his limbs replaced with cybernetic versions he’d made himself after sustaining wounds in the line of duty. Currently he was dressed in his blue and yellow spandex suit from his old X-Factor days. Beside him stood the other member of their odd quartet: Black Panther, the King of Wakanda himself.

"As you all know, the experiment will be reaching a critical juncture soon. I want you to know that I truly appreciate all of you helping out like this. This entire facility could only be possible through a truly international effort.”

“Of course,” Black Panther replied. “Assisting in matters like this is all part of Wakanda’s outreach to the outside world.”

“Alright, alright, Forge. We get it already,” Puck cut in. “We in Alpha are as eager as anybody to see what you discover. And I’m sure the Excalibur and Wakandan boys feel the same, eh?”

Forge just smiled wanly. “Of course. By the way, did you notice anything unusual on your way in? The security grid had some odd blips on it earlier."

Captain Britain scratched his head. "Unusual? No, it was just the two of us the whole time."

"Hmm. There might be a bug in the software."

"Hah! Unless it was those dastardly spankers we keep hearing about," Puck joked.

Black Panther raised an eyebrow. "Spankers?"

“Yes, it’s—"

"Oh you hadn't heard yet?" Nightcrawler’s voice appeared before he himself did. The others in the room gaped up at the ceiling as the elf suddenly appeared out of nowhere holding Wonder Man and Luke Cage by the shoulders. He let go of the two men and they all tumbled downward. "Apparently there's some jolly pranksters around!"

Limbs splayed out, Nightcrawler landed with both hands as well as his three-toed feet on Captain Britain’s burly chest. “Wha—?” Captain Britain’s confusion was evident. "Kurt!?" he finally asked in astonishment. "What are you doing he—" But the next thing he knew he felt the cold draft of recycled air all over his body as the mutant teleported away—along with his suit.

“What?!” he gaped in shock.

"You're going down, big guy!" Luke Cage yelled as he and Wonder Man then dashed forward and grabbed Captain Britain by an arm apiece.

They weren’t the only ones moving. Every step of the plan had been pre-arranged before they’d made their first move. "Sorry ‘bout this, tech boy." Hawkeye emerged from an overhead duct, arrow nocked. It burst into a net that sought to engulf Forge. At the same time, Spider-Man swung down from the rafters, firing burst after burst of webbing at Black Panther. Only his fast reflexes and vibranium claws allowed the Wakandan king to keep from getting immediately bound. Likewise, Forge was only rescued by an automatic force-field that rose around him, sizzling the net into burnt scraps.

“Wh-what is this?” Forge demanded in confusion. “Why are you attacking us!?”

“Questions later.” Black Panther was quickest to react. He jumped up to slash at the webbed warrior with his claws. “Let’s make sure they can’t do any damage first.”

Before Hawkeye could let loose another arrow, Puck leapt up with his acrobatic skill and knocked the archer down to the floor. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “We at least know they’re trespassing, eh?”

A moment later Luke Cage and Wonder Man were flung into a bank of consoles by the outraged and naked Captain Britain. "They are indeed! Unhand me, louts!"

"Hah! Nice going, Cap!" Puck flipped over to join him. He couldn't resist sneaking a peek at the man's tackle however as he did so. His lips curled a bit as he fought to restrain himself from telling a joke... and failed.

"And they call me short?" he quipped.

Captain Britain blinked and his face colored. “What?”

“I don’t think this is the time for jokes,” Black Panther declared as he chased after Spider-Man. “...even if it’s true.”

Spider-Man rolled out of the way, pressed against the wall. “Well that explains why Brits always say to keep your pecker up,” he quipped, before dropping to the floor to avoid another slash of claws. “Hey! Watch it, you almost hit me that time!”

"Ah—Hey!" Captain Britain folded his arms in front of his crotch, blushing furiously.

Unfortunately, that set him up to be tackled right back by Luke Cage, who’d pushed himself off from the partially crushed console. "Damn man, aren't you supposed to be the pride of the UK?" he told him.

“E-even you?! Now that’s enough!”

"Well, at least his arsch is quite plump," Nightcrawler offered, appearing without warning behind Captain Britain as the two men struggled. He bestowed a stinging slap to his bare ass, leaving a three-fingered handprint across the cheek.

“Ah! Kurt, what’s gotten into you!”

“It’s just like Beast told us, Braddock!” Puck called, dodging more arrows, “It must not have been a joke after all! These are minions of that spanker character!”

“The who? And why do you keep mentioning spanking?” Forge demanded. “Aah! Logan!?”

Wolverine was the next man to dart from the shadows. He lunged at Forge's forcefield from behind. The barrier may have been created to hold off an invading army, but very few things could keep out sharpened adamantium. He soon managed to penetrate inside, only picking up only a handful of singes on the way. "Think that's pretty obvious Forge, don’t you?” he asked as he kicked the man’s feet out from under him.

Black Panther sought to come to Forge’s aid, but the next thing he knew a whirlwind suddenly rose around him. It lifted him into the air, where he hovered helplessly. “What is going on here? Why are we being attacked by our friends?” he shouted as he narrowed his eyes to discern the cause—and his superhuman senses revealed the mutant Avenger called Quicksilver running about him at supersonic speeds.

“Just have to overload your suit with enough kinetic energy…” Pietro told him with a smirk. “Then that fancy vibranium of yours will be neutralized, and you’ll be all ours.”

“Ooh! Hold on, fellas! I’m comin’!” Puck said, only to be stopped by yet another arrow passing inches from his nose. “Gah!”

"You're not going anywhere Puck," Hawkeye called, herding the short man with volley after volley. Puck wasn’t a serious threat, but he was a slippery annoyance. He had to be set up perfectly for the next phase of the plan. Because as soon as Puck was in the right position...

Wonder Man suddenly burst from the weakest part of the floor, catching Puck by surprise. He managed to scoop him up in his arms and toss him right into the air.

Puck was an expert acrobat and gymnast, with his flips and tumbles often putting even heroes like Beast and Daredevil to shame. However, he was unprepared for the multi-man routine he was put through as he flew upward. As if it were a circus act, a neat trick-arrow fired expertly from Hawkeye sang right between the rounded hills of his buttocks, slicing his spandex suit without making the slightest contact to the flesh beneath. The effect was the back of his costume splitting down the middle to show the fullness of his hairy backside. Puck gave a comical, almost slow-motion gape. "What in the f—"

No sooner were his cheeks released, than Nightcrawler appeared dangling from the ceiling above. “Oh, Captain Britain’s bottom may be quite fine and muscular, but yours is so much more rugged!” he complimented as he raised his hand. SMACK!

“Aoowww!” Puck was sent back to Earth yowling, an impression of the mutant's three-fingered palm showing on his rear.

“My turn!” Spider-Man’s webbing grabbed both of Puck’s hands and tied them together while also redirecting him through the air.

“Hey!” Puck twisted as he got ready to bounce away as soon as he hit the ground.

Unfortunately, he didn’t hit the ground at all. Instead, what he fell over was nothing but Wonder Man's hard, muscular, and outstretched knee. It was as if the whole routine had all been rehearsed solely to bare his hirsute rump and prepare it for punishment. Which, of course, it had been.

As Wonder Man demonstrated by raising his palm over those round, helpless cheeks and getting right to work:

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

"OW! Okay. I’m thinkin’ that message from Beast definitely wasn't a joke—AAOOOWWW!"

“Enough!” Black Panther managed to connect a vibranium energy dagger with Quicksilver, which sent the man sprawling. While it was true the speedster would eventually have worn down his suit’s defenses given enough time, for now the rapid blows had only made his suit stronger. “If you seek to sabotage our work here, you will find your efforts in vain. This is a secure facility, and—“

The rest of his words were cut off by the arrival of yet another mind-controlled thrall. The Handler had fully committed his forces to this attack and was holding nothing back. The street-level hero known as Iron Fist struck with the speed of the tiger from behind, instantly immobilizing Black Panther despite his vibranium armor. For all their strengths, all heroes possess a bevy of weaknesses as well. Unfortunately for Black Panther, one of his was magic—and the mystical forces of K'un-Lun qualified. With a gasp, he got pulled over the knee of its most pre-eminent practitioner.

“Too bad, buddy,” Iron Fist said with a smile as he looked over his catch. “Nobody defies the Master.” He raised his hand, imbued it with a touch of mystical power, then slammed it against Black Panther’s upturned ass. Beneath the suit, T’Challa jerked and gasped. To his shock, he felt actual pain from that swat, as if his suit wasn’t even present. It was as if Iron Fist’s hard palm was striking nude, uncovered buttock.

T’Challa had never been spanked by anyone but his father. Few would dare raise a hand to royalty after all. But Iron Fist’s punishment quickly surpassed any sting he’d felt before. He shouted out as he began to twist and squirm.

Captain Britain found himself in straits just as dire. Not only was he locked in battle with Luke Cage, but he had no uniform left to cover his pride with. That meant not only did his less-than-generous endowment continue to be exposed, but he had no protection whatsoever as Nightcrawler continually teleported back in to deliver sharp slaps against his ass. "Ouch! Kurt! Stop that! Ow!" he yelped angrily. The distraction was making it difficult to overcome his opponent. In fact, he felt himself slowly giving ground before him. It got even worse when Spider-Man swung in to aid the struggle against him as well.

And poor Forge? His mutant power was nothing but his endlessly inventive mind. He had no combative powers to speak of, and none of his high-tech weaponry was within reach. So there was nothing he could do to stop Wolverine from simply pulling his pants down and tossing him over a rugged knee, other than hollering and twisting as smack after painful smack started to land on his naked bottom. He hadn’t been spanked since his training with the shaman Naze as a boy. "Oww! Logan, stop! Why are you doing this?! Fight whatever's controlling you! Owwww!"

Wolverine smirked and raised his arm again. "No point fightin'. I serve the Master now. And soon, so will you."

SMACK!

“Argh!”

That was when the doors slid open, and the Handler himself made his entrance.

The villain grinned like a Cheshire Cat at the sight of so many heroes fallen before him like a row of dominoes. Now, this is more like it. Perhaps bringing in the entirety of his forces had been a bit overkill, but his pride still stung from the recent defeat of his team of X-Men. Besides, that was the pleasure of having a mutant with Nightcrawler’s powers on his side—he could deploy and redeploy his forces basically at will.

Puck and Forge were already down, their rosy butts bobbing in the air; along with the surprise addition of Black Panther. Even Captain Britain was struggling as he was finally dragged over a knee by the combined might of Luke Cage, Spider-Man, and Nightcrawler. He’d grown much weaker over the course of the fight. The man’s strength corresponded to his pride, and that had taken several harsh blows in rapid succession.

The only question now was: which hero should he spank first?

He decided to start with Captain Britain. Excalibur’s mighty leader would cause the most problems if he were to get loose. So he wandered over, his boots clacking against the polished, sterile floor.

"Well now, what do we have here?" he questioned as he looked over the nude hero. As though his very glance was affecting the battle, the captain’s bucks grew notably less pronounced, and Luke Cage had an easier time holding him.

“Argh!”

The Handler’s hands wandered over the pinned man. It was difficult to resist a body like that. "Strong pecs, of course," he pointed out as he gave them a squeeze. “Good. My slaves must be strong.” He tweaked his nipples while he was at it.

"A-aahh!" Captain Britain gasped. His natural prudishness worked against him for the moment. Never before had a villain been so brazen as to actually feel him up while he was captured. His instinctive twist away from those grasping hands only made it easier for Luke Cage to lock his arms behind his back and further trap him. He growled as he twisted impotently. "You won't get away with this!" he said staunchly, "We'll find a way to stop you!"

"Mmm. Such beautiful spirit.” The Handler’s hand slowly slid down the line of his back, feeling all the tense muscles along the way, until it finally cupped his ass. “Those are always the most fun to break.”

With a sudden move, he slapped down hard on the right cheek.

SMACK!

Captain Britain gasped as, with that single slap, his mind was flooded with images—him wearing a collar, him on his knees, him serving as the master's footstool—and once they cleared he realized his strength had been sapped even further. He wriggled helplessly over Luke’s knee, but there was no chance he could break out now. He barely had more strength than a regular man.

“A—aahh…! What was… What are you…?”

The Handler smiled and landed several more slaps. In all he bestowed a good dozen strikes to those tight muscle buns, well-beginning the process of enslavement. Then he pressed his hands firmly against the flushed globes, leaving a psychic imprint of his power across them. “There we are. Finish the job, Luke, and he’ll soon be one of us. His pride may be in tatters now, but he’ll learn there is much pride to be found in submission.”

Luke Cage nodded and raised his arm up high before bringing his palm down with a sharp crack. Captain Britain howled as, although one spanking had ended, a much harder one began.

The others were still kicking and squirming themselves. “Argh! Dammit! What do you even—Aooww!—want anyway!" Forge demanded as he received yet another swat from Wolverine.

“Oh, haven’t you guessed yet?” The Handler smiled. “Perhaps I’ll tell you one day. But first…”

He turned and made a beeline for his next victim. He hadn’t been aware Black Panther was taking part in the experiments they were conducting here, but the timing couldn’t be more perfect. The Handler’s head was already swimming with possibilities that would open up from controlling the ruler of Wakanda himself. With the resources of an entire country at his fingertips, there’d be no limits to what he could do.

Currently, the hero-scientist-king was twisting over the knee of Iron Fist. The martial artist had gotten him into a hold from which he could not escape, and was bringing the flat of his hand against the form-fitting seat of Black Panther’s special vibranium suit. The Handler had read of the suit and knew it was almost unbreakable. However, no hero was without weakness.

At his touch, that oh-so-rare vibranium quivered.

As he bade Iron Fist to cease his spanking for the moment, the Handler gripped where he thought a waistband of the suit ought to be. Responding to his touch, the vibranium molded itself to his wishes. He could hear Black Panther give a gasp at that. Then, almost reverently, he tugged down the suit in the back. That revealed two dark-skinned buttocks, glistening in their toned perfection. “Beautiful…” he breathed. “It seems almost a shame to rush a job as pleasurable as this one.”

“You will pay for this audacity,” Black Panther told him. “This is—“

Ignoring him completely, the Handler brought brought his hand down sharply across those firm, shapely spheres. SMACK!

“Ahh!” Black Panther thrashed as he tried to break free of Iron Fist’s hold. “Y-you dare treat me this way?!”

The Handler shook his head. “No longer a king. Soon you shall serve at my feet.”

His plans were on a tight schedule. There wasn’t enough time to thoroughly punished Black Panther as he deserved, so he did to him what he’d done to Captain Britain—a good dozen sound swats across those squirming buttocks, then a press of his hands to the slapped flesh. That imparted a piece of his power which any of his other spank-slaves could follow through on. He nodded to Iron Fist, and the martial artist resumed.

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

“Ahhh! Nooo! You will not... get away with this!” Black Panther cried out as he bucked and writhed. Each slap brought him closer to a gasping submission he’d never before known.

“Now then, where were we? Oh yes.” The Handler walked right by the captured Puck—who was still yelping and kicking his short legs helplessly over the knee of Wonder Man—and proceeded to Forge. The inventor was struggling in vain as Wolverine gave him his own spanking.

“Ooh! Ah! I don’t know what you goons want, but you’re wasting your time! My inventions here—they’ll be useless to you!”

"Oh, my dear Forge," the Handler taunted, crouching to be eye-level with the scientist. "I didn’t come here for your inventions, I came here for you. I’d like you to make something for me that’ll be entirely new.” He smiled as he stood, then raised his arm over that helpless bottom. “As for the others, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

CRACK!

“Oh!” Forge’s eyes flew wide as he suddenly beheld a whole new world. A world where he had no worries, no responsibility, and no cares… nothing but a hot, righteous burning in his backside, and to do what he was told.

“No!” he gasped out. “I… I mustn’t…”

“Mmhmm. Now, let me show you what you’ll be working on.” The Handler ignored his weak protests and planted more swats on Forge’s red, swollen rear. The inventor whimpered and moaned as plans and schematics flowed into his mind, driven by a pain in his ass. At the same time, he felt his will to resist growing weaker and weaker.

"Nightcrawler," the Handler called. "Grab everyone who’s not currently engaged in a spanking and take them to the next phase. We’ll join you when we're done here."

"Aye aye!" Kurt gave a dapper salute. He waited for the Handler to take Forge from Wolverine before the grizzled mutant padded over to him, along with Spider-Man, Hawkeye, and a limping Quicksilver. With a loud BAMF he teleported them all away.

“Aoowww! Please, stop already!” Captain Britain shouted, his red ass bucking under Luke Cage’s palm. “It hurts!”

But Luke Cage shook his head. “Spoiled rich brat born with a silver spoon in his mouth. You know exactly what to say to get this beatdown to end.” He swung down and delivered the hardest swat yet. SMACK! “So say it.”

“AHH! Very well!” Captain Britain whimpered as tears sprang to his eyes. “The Handler is my… master!”

Luke smiled and rubbed the swollen muscle butt. “Good boy.”

Black Panther was undergoing the same struggle. He tried to throw an arm back to block the blows, but it was swiftly grabbed and twisted behind his back. “Ahh! I will… never give in!” he cried. What would my ancestors think of me if I did? He imagined all the previous Black Panthers, going back through the history of Wakanda. The shame would be insurmountable if they were to learn he'd been defeated in such a way.

“Funny, I remember hearing that a lot lately,” Iron Fist quipped as he drew his hand back. “But nobody can beat the master. And I mean nobody.”

“Oh!” T’Challa cried as the most painful volley yet collided with his bare cheeks. It wasn’t the spanking itself that was truly painful, but the sheer humiliation of it all. He was meant to be a king. But the Handler had left some pulsing thing within his rear, some part of himself which kept repeating it would be easier if T’Challa stopped resisting… if he simply gave in and accepted defeat. And it grew louder with every sharp, humiliating spank.

Have I not been King long enough? This burden… Perhaps it is time I served another.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the notion. But no matter how he tried to fight it, he felt his will slowly ebbing. A tear ran down his cheek as he imagined his ancestors’ disappointment in him. But very soon the words were escaping his lips despite his every effort. “Rrgh! I serve only… the Handler!”

“There we go. I told you it wouldn’t be so bad, didn’t I?” Iron Fist said, giving his beaten ass a rub. Black Panther could only sink down and moan.

And across the room, slung over the Handler’s knee, Forge had already given in. He merely whimpered and promised he would build whatever his new master wished.

“Excellent. We may have lost the X-Men, but with these new recruits we should be close to equal footing again. Not to mention my plans for Phase 2,” the Handler said.

They all stood. The Handler, Luke Cage, and Iron Fist were fully dressed and in control, while Captain Britain, Black Panther, and Forge all had exposed asses and tear-streaked faces. They were all unified in purpose, however—the Handler’s purpose.

But it was only when they heard the sound of continuing slaps that they remembered there was one more hero left in the room. Puck was still squirming and jerking over the lap of Wonder Man.

“Ouch! Let me go, ya damn—Ooh!

“I suppose we should bring him into the fold as well?”

The Handler shrugged. “His powers aren’t terribly useful, but I suppose there’s no harm collecting him while we’re here.”

Puck looked up wild-eyed at all his approaching friends who, up until a moment ago, had definitely not been spank-slaves of some crazed kink-themed villain. Worse, it was clear he was next on the chopping block. "Oh, no!" he said, wiggling. "You might spank my ass red 'n rosy, but that's all you're gonna do to Eugene Milton Judd!"

Wonder Man curled his lips and raised his hand up again. But to his surprise Puck actually performed an acrobatic maneuver from where he’d been pinned. He bent forward, tucked his knees in, and flipped perfectly right off the muscular knee. It would have been impossible for a normal man but Puck pulled it off, albeit in an unusual way—by leaving his costume behind. Wonder Man was left confused and holding an empty suit of spandex.

“Get him!” the Handler quickly cried, but it was too late. Buck-naked, Puck dove into the nearest access shaft and swiftly wiggled his way inside. The other men chased after him but received only a long, lingering view of Puck's hairy, glowing cheeks clambering through the vents before he was out of their reach. All they heard echoing back was his rough, Canadian voice.

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll go and find some help, eh?”

Chapter Text

"I want him found. Now."

"He won't get far," Forge said, standing red-bottomed at his new master's side. "Ventilation shafts may run all over this facility, but we can port in a sleeping gas..."

"No. Too slow," the Handler shot it down. "There's five of you and only one of him. Wonder Man, Luke Cage, Black Panther, I want you three to pursue Puck and drag him back here. Any movement he makes through the vents should echo. Forge, you will show me what other security systems this place has."

The selected men rushed off. Meanwhile, a nude and red-bottomed Captain Britain silently stood guard while Forge showed Handler to the large computer consoles along the wall.

"What experiment were you working on here, anyway?"

"New satellite signals," Forge explained. "Wakandan technology mixed with funding from a dozen different countries. All we had to do was tie it all together. The new systems we're building here could revolutionize communication systems across the world."

"Really..." the Handler rubbed his chin. "Now isn't that interesting?"

The three men ran ahead, tracing the snaking air vent with their eyes and listening for the sound of Puck scrambling around inside. Luke Cage banged on the ceiling at regular intervals, seeking to shake Puck out like a rat from a hole. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

At a gesture from the Wakandan king, Wonder Man flew ahead to cut off Puck's most likely exit. Black Panther nodded as he listened intently for where the short man would tumble out. They'd boxed him in. At Luke Cage's continued strikes he heard a frantic rattling coming from one of the vents. He smiled as he got into position, his claws at the ready. "Now!"

Luke Cage and Wonder Man struck the vent in unison from opposite ends. From the shaft came a high-pitched yelp of panic, then the vent burst open to reveal... nothing.

The three men blinked. "Wasn't he in there?" asked Wonder Man.

"He was," Black Panther confirmed. "I heard him."

They were interrupted by a call from the other side of the chamber. "Over here, boys!" Puck's voice rang out. They turned to see the short man there, gripping his ankles and shamelessly mooning them. "Looking for these?" he asked, giving his own cheeks a slap.

"But—how?"

Puck chortled. "Holographic projectors, eh? Forge's lab is brimming with 'em! I can make you think I'm downright anywhere!"

"Yeah? We'll see about that!" Luke Cage charged for the naked, mocking man.

An instant before Luke's fist connected, T'Challa saw what was truly happening. "No Luke, don't!"

Too late, Puck shimmered away and Luke's fist entered the wall behind the projection—where a pressure tank was hidden. Immediately a burst of white-hot steam billowed into the room. It was enough to obscure their vision to only a few feet in front of them.

"Damn," Luke chided himself as he stumbled back. The impact had been strong enough to destroy half his shirt.

Black Panther frowned. "Puck is playing us for fools."

"Yeah," Wonder Man coughed in the mist. "And now it'll be even more difficult to find him."

Hesitantly, Black Panther touched his sore bottom. "Our mission remains though. If we fail, the master will not be pleased." Grimacing, the others rubbed their asses as well. They all rushed off to prepare the next trap.

Puck grimaced as he looked down the vent at his former friends running amok. He'd actually been quite close to the action—just a few more blows from Luke Cage's fists and he'd have spilled out in his altogether, hologram or no. But luckily they'd all split up, and he had enough other holograms to keep them busy for some time.

Now he just had to think up a plan.

You're really deep in it now, aren't you Eugene?

His primary goal was to escape. If he could get out of the lab, he could find some other heroes and warn them what'd happened. Then he could hopefully lead them back and liberate his friends. Sure, it'd be a little embarrassing showing up at the Avenger's front door without a costume on—or anything else for that matter—but hey, that was life, eh?

So the trick would be utilizing the holograms to keep the others busy and lead them away from the exits so he had a window to escape in—all without alerting them to what his true aim was. He scooted further up the shaft, chafing his butt along the top of it as he made his way to the next relay. He hissed in pain all the way.

Those boys are gonna owe me big for this. Not only did I hide controls for a majority of this facility's systems up here just in case of an attack like this, but I'm accessing 'em butt-naked! They better treat me to a six-pack of Moosehead, at least!

Maneuvering through the vents was slow going. Despite the regular distractions his holograms provided, he had to make several detours as the three worked to pen him in. To make matters worse, Wonder Man and Luke Cage were smashing vents left and right as they kept up the search. Puck bit his lip as he struggled to find a route that would still work as his options became more and more limited.

This is starting to look bad...

Just as he thought they'd find him, a different distraction occurred. An alarm rang out, blaring as loud as a hockey buzzer. He watched his three pursuers skid to a halt directly below his position.

"Another misdirection from Puck?" asked Luke Cage.

Black Panther shook his head as he accessed a terminal. "No. This one appears to be genuine."

"Yeah, and I thought it'd take you chumps all day to notice me!"

The muscular, spandex-clad form of Sabretooth revealed itself from out of the steam. The rough mutant swaggered up, his face locked in a permanent sneer. Slung over his shoulder was apparently an offering. It was the hero known as Daredevil bound and gagged, his red pants pulled down in the back to reveal a pale, so-far unpunished rear. The hero groaned and squirmed around in embarrassment. Despite himself, Puck scooted further up.

Well now, what have we here?

"Sabretooth." Black Panther frowned. "State your business. The master has not summoned you."

"That's right. I summoned myself," the mutant snarled back. He gave a squeeze to Daredevil's ass with his clawed hand. "I was only working with your 'master' in the first place in exchange for a certain payment. Since he hasn't paid up yet, I tracked ya down myself." He looked around with a sniff. "And no surprise, it looks like this operation's as bungled as the last one."

"Watch how you speak!" Wonder Man snapped. Sabretooth just smirked back at him.

"Or what, pretty boy? You'll go crying to your daddy?"

At that Luke Cage started forward angrily as well, but Black Panther raised an arm to halt his advance.

"Enough," he said. "What payment were you promised?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Sabretooth licked his lips. "Wolverine. I may not have mind-controlling powers, but I been spankin' him since before either of us can remember and I ain't about to stop now. His ass is mine."

"Wolverine is involved in several critical missions," Black Panther said. "Furthermore, he is not even here. Leave this facility now, and we will contact you when—"

"Ain't you been listening?" Sabretooth snarled. "I want what I'm owed, and I want it now. I even brought a little present of my own to sweeten the bargain." He gripped Daredevil's ass again, and the hero shifted and groaned. "But if that's not good enough, then we've got ourselves a little problem."

Luke Cage rolled his eyes. "Not so big from where I'm standing. What's to stop us from just grabbing you too, and bringing you all to the Master?"

Black Panther nodded. "Perhaps it was a mistake not taking control of you back when he first made contact. Perhaps he would not mind correcting that mistake now."

The mutant spat. "I'd like to see you bozos try!"

"Look, can we do all this later? We've still got our runaway to catch," Wonder Man reminded them. "We can debate all this once we've got hold of him."

"Runaway? You mean that hairy midget listenin' in on us?" Sabretooth said, pointing.

Up in the vents, Puck took a reflexive breath as everyone looked directly up at him. He hastily backed up in the chute, angling to slide himself down another shaft. Shit, shit, shit, shit...!

But it was too late. In no time at all Sabretooth swiped a claw through the metal separating them. A buck-naked Puck fell right out and landed on his sore ass. "Oof! Ahhh..." He winced and looked up at the sea of scowling faces. "Err... hey guys," he said winsomely. "Looking for me?"

They fell on him in a rush.

The Alpha Flight member couldn't put up much of a fight against four opponents, all of whom were more powerful than him. He was soon handily subdued. He grumbled as he was set over a shoulder as well, his hairy red globes squirming in the air. "You guys are going to regret this!" he insisted, "Dammit Luke, T'challa, snap out of it already!"

Sabretooth just rolled his eyes with a smirk. "No point even arguing with 'em. Face it shortie, your friends are nothing but slaves to their master now—that Handler guy."

"Grr, and what about you, eh? You think you'll get off light just because you're helping him?"

The mutant shook his head with a feral grin. "I'm just doing what I always do—looking out for number one. Nobody's gonna tame me, spanking or no spanking! I won't end up like these chumps."

His words would have carried substantially more weight if at that exact moment a star-spangled shield didn't come whizzing down the corridor. It slammed hard into the middle of Sabretooth's back and knocked him flat on his face. "Argh!"

"Actually, the real chump might be the guy making deals with the villain capturing every super-powered individual in sight."

The shield rebounded, clanged off a wall, then flew back to be caught in the firm grip of the man who'd thrown it. Captain America clasped it back solidly onto his arm.

"Captain America!" Black Panther gaped. "But how? No one should even know about this facility!"

Cap wasn't alone. From out of the mist hurtled the hulking form of Juggernaut. The huge man charged forward like a massive human torpedo, barreling through everything and everyone in his way—in this case Luke Cage, who tried to block his path. The Hero-for-Hire got pounded through several bulkheads for his trouble. "Ahaha, now this is what I'm talking about!" Juggernaut laughed as he finally came to a halt and then draped the stunned man over his big knee.

"Ungh... man, what is this... hey!" Luke shouted groggily as his pants were ripped from his body.

Wonder Man didn't get off easy either. A whistling noise was the only warning he got before the magic hammer Mjolnir flew at him. He had just enough time to dodge, but that in itself was a feint—he'd been perfectly set up for his ankle to get grabbed by a vengeful Thor. He was yanked down and then slammed into a wall several times over.

"Perhaps it is time you were taught a good lesson, Simon Williams!" the god of thunder declared as he pulled the struggling thrall over his lap. He tore a hole in Wonder Man's spandex seat to bare his ass.

"Ahh—dammit, where'd these guys even come from!" Wonder Man spat as Thor then set a glowing paddle against his cheeks.

"C-Cap!" Puck was too stunned to even properly cover himself. He'd fallen back to the floor, hairy legs spread wide. "Am I glad to see you!"

"Puck." Cap gave a hand to assist. Puck gratefully took it and got pulled to his feet. He blushed as he covered his groin.

"How'd you find me? I didn't get a distress call out yet. And I never thought I'd see the day you lead a rescue party with Juggernaut in it!" Puck said, watching in awe as the hulking villain raised a massive palm and slammed it hard into Luke Cage's upturned ass.

SMACK!

"Aowww!"

"Yes, well... let's say current circumstances have led to some strange bedfellows and leave it at that," Captain America said. "As for how we found you, it's simple. We learned Sabretooth was tracking this place down... so we tracked Sabretooth."

"And good thing we did." From out of the shadows stepped Gambit, clad in his brown trench coat and with his bo staff at the ready. He brandished it threateningly at Sabretooth, who was just getting to his feet as well. "Hmm. It seems you are not under the Handler's control Creed, but perhaps we ought t' paddle you all the same, non?"

"In your dreams, Cajun," the man snarled. He got back to his feet warilt and saw that Gambit, Captain America, and even Puck had all arrayed themselves against him. "Damn, this just ain't my day." In the blink of an eye he dashed down the hallway towards the far door. Luke Cage and Wonder Man's cries echoed in his wake.

Cap set his jaw. "Take care of those two!" he shouted to Thor and Juggernaut, "We'll deal with Sabretooth before he causes any more trouble."

"Hey, at least he presents a sight to follow," Gambit said, noting how skin-tight the suit Sabretooth wore was.

Cap pursed his lips. "Oh, and Juggernaut. Remember—you're supposed to use the paddle we gave you. That's what sets them free."

"Yeah, yeah." Juggernaut just smirked back at him as he continued to wallop Luke Cage's writhing ass with just his hand.

The Avenger leader shook his head, but there was no time to argue. He set off after the villain, flanked by Puck and Gambit.

"Y'know, it's funny, I feel like I'm forgetting something..." Puck muttered to himself as he ran.

That something turned out to be Black Panther, who'd camouflaged himself as soon as the tables had turned. But when half the heroes ran off, he chose to fade back into view. "Hello Thor, I think it's time you rejoined the Master's employ," he said as he got the bearded man into a chokehold.

"Ah! Only cowards attack by surprise!"

"Yeah—winning cowards," Wonder Man smirked. With Thor clawing at the arms around his windpipe, he was free to escape the god's lap. Rather than fly away though, he merely twisted around and ripped down the thunder god's pants. Thor was helpless to stop him.

"Gah! Thou varlets!" Thor said as he twisted around in a vain effort to keep his manhood and backside from being exposed. "Thy ilk shalt not... strip the God of Thunder a second time!"

"We'll just see about that," Black Panther said as he held on for dear life. Between the two of them, they were succeeding in preparing Thor for a spanking of his own. At least, until—

"Hey pal. Remember me?"

Red-clad arms wrapped around T'Challa's throat from behind, just as he'd done to Thor. It was Daredevil, the man they'd dismissed and left bound on the floor. Apparently he was more adept at escape artistry than they'd suspected. Black Panther gasped and clawed at his own windpipe.

Together the four men wrestled and fell to the floor. Shreds of spandex soon flew in all directions.

Chapter Text

Sabretooth sprinted full-speed down the corridor.

Damn those simps, showing up to ruin my fun!

All this just to get Logan as his personal spank-slave. It almost didn't seem worth it... except it was. Sabretooth licked his lips as he envisioned the things he'd do to his old rival. Oh, it definitely was. But before that he'd have to keep playing both sides against each other. Then he could simply take down whoever was left once the smoke cleared. Maybe he'd even make the Handler himself his bitch.

Sabretooth bared his teeth in a feral grin. Yeah. Cut the little twerp down to size, show him how a real man kept his pets.

But as he entered the central lab, he realized something was wrong. There was a whoosh of air beside him, then he was suddenly upended. Too late he found himself caught under the burly arm of Captain Britain, his spandex-clad ass upturned.

"I've captured an intruder, master," the man said. Even when he'd had free will, Captain Britain had never been the brightest bulb in the box.

Sabretooth snarled as he felt his pants pulled down by super-strong hands. He'd been going commando underneath his tights, as always. "Let go ya numbskull!" he shouted, "I'm on YOUR side!"

"Creed." The Handler addressed his angrily twisting buttocks as he was brought over. "I don't recall summoning you."

"Yeah, well, I came by to check on my investment," he snapped. "But now we've all got trouble. Heroes are right on my tail, and they took down the rest of your muscle on the way in."

The Handler shot a look at Forge, and the inventor quickly crossed to start security countermeasures. While he did that, the Handler reached out and firmly grasped one of Sabretooth's cheeks. The villain gasped. "Interesting that they arrive just as you did," the Handler mulled. "Perhaps you're trying to play both sides?"

"N-no... what are you... Stop that!"

The Handler smiled as he sent countless images of submission into the man's mind. His powers were growing. Sometimes just a light touch was enough to dominate another now, without even the need to spank his victim first. But he could tell just from the brief connection he'd established that Sabretooth was indeed telling the truth.

"Very well," he said, regretfully withdrawing his hand. "You still want Wolverine as your personal fuck-toy? Help us take down these other heroes."

"I-I don't take orders from you," Sabretooth spat back stubbornly. "Don't try and treat me like one of your flunkies."

"Alright, then I'll simply make you one of my flunkies," the Handler said with a shrug. He raised his hand high then brought it down hard onto the savage man's muscled ass. SLAP! "I don't have time to argue with overgrown brats."

"Aah!" Sabretooth threw his head back with another gasp as he suddenly felt an unerring desire to do as he was told. "I—I..."

"Will you do as I say?"

"Yeah... master."

"Looks like we're not the only ones who want to give Creed what he deserves."

The Handler whirled at the unfamiliar voice. "What—"

A sudden thrown card impacted on the closest console and it exploded in a shower of circuitry. Forge cried out at the loss of his equipment. Standing in the doorway was a team of heroes.

"Hard and fast, team!" Captain America shouted. "Take 'em down!"

"It's too soon," the Handler fumbled as he backed up. "They weren't supposed to find us so soon."

A thrown shield took out Forge before he could raise the high-tech gun he carried. But not everyone was that slow. The still-naked Captain Britain dropped Sabretooth to the floor and immediately flew at Captain America. His fists slammed into the man's shield with an ear-shattering ring of metal. "We may both be captains of our respective nations, but we both know who's stronger," he said smugly as his blow sent Cap reeling.

Gambit found himself facing off against a snarling Sabertooth. He used a combination of playing cards and his bo staff to keep the killer at bay. "So much for not being tamed, huh?" he mocked as he spied the clear handprint showing on the villain's ass.

"Grr, shut up!"

While they were fighting, Puck went and flung himself at the Handler. "Time for me to start pulling my weight! You're the ringmaster, eh?"

"Judd, no!" Gambit cried, but it came too late. The most vulnerable among them had practically gifted himself into the villain's hands.

"Indeed I am, Puck," the Handler laughed as the shorter man flew at him. All things being equal, he'd have soon been grappled down by the expert gymnast. But when all he had to do to assert control was a single touch to those hairy cheeks, it would take a fool to lose. "And you've just joined my circus."

"Oh... crap..." Puck's eyes glazed over as he felt a sudden slap on his buns.

Across the room, Cap had weathered the first blow against him, then the second and the third. But each hit to his shield sent his feet skidding back, and he had to brace himself anew for the next. It was uncertain how long he could last against Captain Britain's raw power. Worse, as he took the fourth blow he felt the bottom of his costume get ripped clean off, leaving him caught in the breeze.

"Hah! Is it clear yet you don't have a chance?" Captain Britain taunted him as he waved his pants in the air.

But Cap just stubbornly set his shield again. "You may be strong... but I'm not calling it quits," he said defiantly. He only had to buy time for reinforcements to arrive. At his opponent's next charge he rolled to the side, then swung his shield and connected it hard.

"Don't be so sure about that!" Puck suddenly hopped onto Cap's back from behind and swung around so his legs were wrapped around the man's midsection with the rest of him hanging down. That set him perfectly at eye-level with Cap's chiseled buttocks.

"Puck? What are you—Ow! No! Stop!" Captain America shouted as the shorter man started smacking his backside with both hands like he was playing a sadistic game of patty-cake.

"Now this is my idea of a good time!" Puck chortled.

"No, you've got to fight it, Puck! You've got to—Damn!" In his distraction, Gambit found his pants sliced down too. He tried to flip away, but underestimated how fast Sabretooth could be when he wanted. In mere moments the cajun was pinned to the floor by the evil mutant for a punishment of his own. He shivered as he felt a clawed finger-trip trace its way up his tight, vulnerable crack.

"Looks like you're all mine," Sabretooth said in glee. "Time to give what you need."

"Oh sacre bleu—Oww!" Gambit cried out as he received a hard slap.

Captain America was the only hero still standing and unturned, but his was a quickly weakening position. He couldn't knock Puck away without exposing himself to another charge from Captain Britain. But Puck's assault wasn't something he could just ignore either. He grunted with every sharp smack his ass took. "Y-you won't get away with this, Handler!"

"I don't think that matters right now, does it?" the Handler asked as he approached. He snapped his fingers. In the blink of an eye Cap's shield was struck from his arms by Captain Britain, then he was punched hard in the gut. The Avengers leader doubled over, which had the unfortunate effect of pointing his naked bottom right in the Handler's direction. Puck flipped off and grabbed his booted feet to keep them secure. At the same time, Captain Britain locked his arms. The hero was trapped, stripped, bent over, and vulnerable.

"I've always wanted to see how long a man with such legendary willpower as yours could stand against me."

The Handler didn't even wait for a response from the hero. He simply struck with his palm, fast and precise. His first blow nailed Cap's right cheek.

Cap just set his jaw and struggled as he found himself the Handler's latest victim. "You—GAH!—don't—AGH!—get it!" he yelled between strikes, trying hard to maintain his composure. "You may conquer me, or even all of us. But so long as there's one spark of defiance left in the world, you'll eventually lose!"

"A naive sentiment," the Handler told him with a chuckle. "But charming all the same."

He switched his attention to Cap's left cheek, and the heroic leader was soon gritting his teeth from that side as well. With every blow of the Handler's hand, he suddenly understood just why the others had given in so readily.

It was like a beautiful dream... a freedom from responsibility, from burden, from concern and worry. To let go of the heavy weights they'd bound around their lives and allow another to take the reins for awhile. But Cap knew all too well the twisted promises of men like the Handler. He'd fought against them all his life. The only reason they ever wanted you to abdicate power was so they could take it for themselves. And once they had it, they never gave it back.

"I will... not give in!" he shouted.

"Oh I'd be disappointed if you did," the Handler told him. "But we have plenty of time to get to know each other better, hmm?" His next swat ricocheted off the base of Cap's sitspots, making the man jerk and grunt despite himself. "We have you and your men contained here, and Forge tells me this installation's security is keeping the rest of your forces quite busy." He smiled smugly. "Oh yes. You'll be with us for a good, long time. Besides, who exactly are you trying to convince?" He slid a teasing finger into the recesses of the man's backside, going so far as to prod the edge of Cap's hole. "Me or… yourself?"

Cap gasped out as, with that action, more images flooded his mind than ever before. A tirade of himself naked and collared, begging at the Handler's feet. Of himself put in stocks and paddled before the entire world. Of himself belted and caned until he had as many red stripes criss-crossing his muscular backside as the American flag he so valiantly protected.

If it wasn't for his superhuman will, he'd have given in right then and there. As it was, it was all he could do to keep his jaw clenched and not beg for it to either be over... or to begin. What is happening to me? It was unlike anything he'd ever felt. There was nothing he could do about the boner he suddenly sported either, pulsing large and proud between his legs.

The Handler grinned wide at the sight.

And that's how things would have ended. Another troupe of heroes defeated, beaten, and submitted to a new authority. Even Captain America, the most dedicated hero of all, would have been shown to not be immune to the Handler's humiliating power. And, once he was defeated, the rest of the Avengers roster would have fallen all-too-soon. They'd be nothing more than a row of firm-butted dominoes behind their inspiring leader, just waiting to be tipped over.

The Handler had, for all intents and purposes, won.

Except for one thing.

"Hulk SMASH!"

A sudden wave of concussive force slammed into the room, bashing everyone inside into walls and equipment. In stepped the emerald giant known as the unstoppable Hulk.

He had on only the tattered remnants of his purple pants girding his waist, a remnant of the security systems that had stymied all the other heroes outside. But he'd been able to get through it thanks to his impervious skin. And now, thanks to his forceful hand clap, most of the men within the chamber were reduced to wearing tatters as well. Captain Britain was the first to recover. Gritting his teeth, he flew at Hulk as hard and fast as he could.

"Take this, monster!"

SLAM.

—Only for him to get pounded down through twenty floors of steel plating by the angry hero.

"Hulk not like this any more. Hulk tired of not knowing who is friend and who is... SPANKED!"

Sabretooth was up next, hopping up from the sobbing form of Gambit. But he was dispatched just as readily by getting shoved face first through a grating so only his lower body hung out. The evil mutant snarled as Hulk crushed the surrounding wall-plates around his midsection to keep him trapped tight, only able to wiggle his ass and kick his legs.

"WHERE IS HANDLER?"

Puck leapt at Hulk, but was swatted aside as easily as if he were a bug. Then Hulk came face to face with the master villain himself. He scowled down at him, his face barely visible over his immense green pectorals.

"Listen, Hulk." The Handler licked his lips. "Look. Maybe if you listen, I can—"

Then he was grabbed by the leg and, in a reprise of the time Hulk had gotten his hands on Loki—was bludgeoned on the floor enough times that he finally lost consciousness through sheer force-trauma.

Hulk dusted his hands off. "Hulk need to smash any more?" he asked, eyeing the bruised bottoms of both Gambit and Captain America.

"Uhh... no! No, we good, mon ami."

"Urgh... Quickly, where's... Forge?" Captain America managed, wincing with every move as he got back to his feet. He massaged his ass. He'd been in enough pain before Hulk's entry. Being thrown around the room hadn't helped. He hobbled over to look down the hole left in the floor. "And Captain Britain?" The impact marks far below of where he'd been were quite visible, but the Captain himself seemed to have vanished.

"I saw Forge teleport out. And Braddock probably used the chance to tunnel away. Let them go for now," advised Gambit. "Let's take our victories where we can, non?"

"Hmm." Captain America gazed down at the knocked out form of the Handler, sprawled at their feet. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Let me go, you mangy green idiot!" Sabretooth yelled out from his confinement. He kept trying to pull himself from the wall he'd been pushed through, but no matter how he struggled it was clear he wasn't going anywhere.

Gambit had also slowly staggered to his feet. "Hey... now ain't this a picture, it's Winnie de Pooh," he said, admiring Sabertooth's flexing ass as he struggled in consternation. "Gives one all kinds of ideas."

"Grrr, don't even think about it!"

Puck had thankfully been knocked unconscious by the assault and lay belly-down over a computer bank. From the distant noise of wails and pleas drifting in from behind them, it sounded like Wonder Man and Luke Cage's spankings were finally wrapping up as well. The two heroes would soon be returned to their old selves, if quite a bit sorer than usual.

Hulk leaned down to glower in Captain America's direction. "Cap still... Cap?" he asked, eyeing the reddened mounds of his butt suspiciously.

Cap had to smile. "I am... barely." He took a moment to look around the room. Yet another adventure that ended with close to a dozen men in the nude, all sniffling and sporting red glowing backsides. It was becoming a habit for them, but at least it was over now. "Thank you, Hulk. We would have lost without you. Why don't you grab a paddle and deal with Puck?" he suggested. Grabbing up the remains of his pants from the floor, he sank to his knees and then used them to tie the Handler up in a hog-tie, good and tight. There'd be no escape for him, and no more tricks either.

He had to take a breath as a wave of warm realization flowed through him.

The crisis was over. They'd... won.

Chapter Text

"You're sure we can't convince you to stay?"

Gingerly, Black Panther pulled the pants of his vibranium suit back up to cover his bottom. "With all due respect Captain, now that the mastermind behind all this has been apprehended I see little reason to. No, I think it would be prudent to return to Wakanda for a time. It would allow me to inform my council of what has occurred here, as well as give my... welts time to heal."

Captain America hid his smile. "You know you're welcome back any time, T'Challa."

"That I know well."

"How about you, Daredevil? We'd be glad to have you stick around."

The red-clad hero—the same hero, in fact, who was responsible for many of the welts on Black Panther's bottom—shook his head. "Thanks but no thanks, Cap. You know the Avengers Mansion has never been my kind of scene. In any case, I'd better get back to patrolling Hell's Kitchen. You may have caught that Handler guy, but his mind-controlled minions are still out there causing trouble."

"I understand. But know that you're—"

"Welcome back any time. Yep, got it." The masked hero favored him with a smirk. "Just between you and me? That invite might be better received if more of you had pants on."

"Uhh..." Captain America's face reddened slightly as he looked around at his fellow heroes. Hulk was wandering around completely naked, Luke Cage was groaning as he rubbed a bruised ass, and even Cap himself was wearing nothing but a jockstrap below the waist. "...Understood," he said with a small grimace. "We'll keep that in mind."

The following day, Avengers Tower found itself full of more heroes than it had in a long while. With it's tight defenses, it was one of the few places secure enough to keep the Handler. They may have caught the mastermind, but his brainwashed thralls—including the evasive Nightcrawler and Quicksilver—remained worryingly at large.

But the tower wasn't just filled with its usual members. In addition to the gathered heroes there were also quite a few villains who'd joined out of necessity. Understandably, that was leading to more than a little friction. While there hadn't been any outright fights yet, everyone felt it was only a matter of time 'til one broke out.

In an effort to curb their growing aggression, Juggernaut and Thor had retired to the training rooms. They'd fought many times in the past, so a hard spar was almost like falling into old habits. That friendly spar shook the tower walls, letting everyone know how well they were getting along. The stern X-Man known as Cable was on hand as an observer, his cybernetic eye glinting.

A game of poker was quickly suggested to keep the remaining men occupied. Beast and Wonder Man took charge of that, and Luke Cage, Kraven, Puck, and El Aguila were recruited in as well. The conference room table was requisitioned as a game table, a pack of cards was located, and the game was on.

As they played, a buck-naked Sabretooth growled at them from his nearby holding cell. Nothing but a transparent sheet of unbreakable plastic separated him from the assorted heroes and villains. When the time had come to decide if he should be allowed pants back after his multiple betrayals, everyone had definitively voted no.

"You can't just keep me here forever," he sneered. "Sooner or later I'll break out. And then you'll be—"

"—wrestling you right back over our knee where you clearly belong, animal," Kraven said curtly. Sabretooth merely snarled in response.

In another room, Hulkling and Wiccan had convinced Sandman into playing a round of video games with them. The sound of blue shells and bananas drifted loudly down the corridor, along with the ex-con's delighted laughter.

"I never knew these things could be so much fun!"

As for Venom and Hulk? The two of them had always been loners. Venom had disappeared shortly after the Handler's capture, hissing only something about Spider-Man still not being found. Hulk had stomped away soon after that, mentioning something about ice cream. Nobody had been brave enough to try and stop him.

But there was one room where business was still very much being conducted. In a sterile interrogation room, the Handler sat in a beam of cold light. Captain America paced on the floor around him.

They were at an impasse again. Following the Handler's defeat, Wiccan had attempted various truth spells on him—to no effect. After that they'd requested Cable's assistance. But the grizzled mutant had no more luck figuring out what was going on inside the Handler's head with his telepathic powers than Wiccan had with his magic. It seemed the Handler was immune to most forms of mental manipulation. More off-putting, the more they tried, the more smug he became.

"For the last time, where is your base?" Cap demanded, glaring at the captive. The Handler was now bound to a chair, just watching Cap pace back and forth. "Where are the other heroes you've put under your control?"

"Like I told you before, I don't know. In the event I was captured, they were instructed to move headquarters," the Handler replied smoothly. "Even I don't know where they'd go."

"What other instructions did you give them? Will they come here to try to rescue you?"

The Handler just smiled.

"Are there any heroes you've taken that we don't know about yet? Any villains? Any other plans they might be carrying out in secret?"

The Handler's smile grew wider.

"If you cooperate, it's very possible we can reduce your sentence. Despite all the trouble you've given us it's true you haven't committed any serious crimes." Captain America grimaced. "All you've done is… humiliate us. So if you assist us we can—"

"It's true. I have humiliated you," the Handler interrupted. He cocked his head. "Do you remember it? The feel of my palm on that round, perfect muscle-bottom of yours? How red your flesh became? The cries you made?"

"I..." Captain America scowled. "That's not—"

"I bet you're remembering right now. Along with that beautifully proud erection you developed."

"Now look here—!"

"All those pleasurable images you still can't keep out of your mind... begging to be my play thing… begging to be my slave..."

Cap's fist slammed into a wall. The impact was jarring enough to reverberate through the tower. "You know what? You're clearly useless to us. We'll find our friends with or without your help. Enjoy your time in prison," he said coldly.

He seethed as he made his way back towards the door. Despite his best efforts, the Handler was getting to him. Despite being strapped to a chair in their fully-guarded headquarters, it was like the man was still in control somehow.

"Oh, now I never said that."

Cap stopped in his tracks. He turned and scowled, waiting for him to go on.

"I only said I didn't know where they are. But I may just know how to track them down."

He crossed his arms. "How?"

"Well, I don't think I should tell you that easily... How about a trade?"

"We don't barter with prisoners."

"Don't you even want to know what I want?"

Cap just turned back towards the door.

"I want to spank an Avenger."

Cap's breath caught in his mouth. He looked back and was about to say something, but then just closed his mouth again. It wasn't even worth entertaining the thought. He simply turned back around.

The Handler licked his lips as he watched that tight, muscled backside flex and shift its way out of the interrogation room.

Resist all you like. We both know what you want.

Cap sighed as he looked around the conference table. "It's no use."

"Still?" Kraven spat. "You've had him for days now! If the Sinister Six had had him for this long, we would have gotten everything we needed—"

"But you don't," Wonder Man reminded him flatly.

"Perhaps that should be changed!"

"Alright, alright." Beast rose to quiet the growing tension. "His physical examination came up negative as well. He's a unique specimen. Similar to the villain we call the Purple Man, but his powers work on a whole different wavelength." He shook his head. "Regrettably, as of yet none of my tests have shown precisely how they work. All we can be certain of is what we've observed with our own eyes." He sighed heavily. "For all we know, he might even be communicating with his thralls right now despite the shielded room we've placed him in."

"Well he's got to know something," Puck said around a handful of potato chips. "Ever since we captured him, all those heroes he took have laid low. It's like there was some pre-arranged signal. I'm not against searching the whole city, but..."

"But you think this mutant device of yours, this Cerebro can really help?" Kraven said to Beast, barely disguising his disdain.

"Well, it can track down mutants, so it should at least be able to find Wolverine and Nightcrawler. Provided nothing blocks it. Unfortunately, the X-Mansion is still not responding to our calls. We've sent a reserve team in though, and they should be arriving shortly." He reached back and rubbed his beefy bottom grimly. "Before he took the others, the Handler did mention something about, erm... booby traps. Ironically, they'd have been set by myself during my time as his slave. But since I can remember nothing of that period, all I can do is speculate on the deviousness of their hiding places."

Kraven just threw his hands up in disgust. "This is pointless. I am a hunter. It would be easier to simply track these heroes down myself!"

"If only the Handler wanted something we could trade for," Puck said, furrowing his brow. He gave a short laugh. "But the only thing he wants is to spank the living daylights out of us. Hell, maybe he'd talk if one of us offered up our rear, eh!"

There were several polite chuckles to that, but Cap just grimaced. After a moment, Puck noticed. Soon, the others did too.

"...Cap?"

"He claimed he would," Cap admitted after a period of awkward silence. "In exchange for one of our bottoms, he told me he could track down where all his remaining thralls have vanished to." He set his jaw, then glanced at the Avengers logo hanging over the conference table. "Not that I plan on entertaining that notion, of course."

"Of course not."

"Well I still don't know why we're not spanking him," said Wonder Man. "If we just use one of those magic paddles on him, wouldn't that break his connection to everybody else and set 'em free?"

"Too bad, Wiccan already said that wouldn't work." Luke replied with a snort. "Not that it's not still a tempting thought."

Cap shook his head. "We're not stooping to his level. Besides, until we know precisely how his powers work we'd best avoid any physical contact with him. It's very possible he could take control of you through your hand striking his rear as easily as the other way around."

"Hold on." El Aguila leaned back in his chair. "If one of our butts is all he wants, why not give it to him?"

Luke Cage's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"Well think about it. We're in the safest place we can be. Assuming he does take control of whoever it is, the rest of us will easily be able to paddle him back to his senses, no?"

"And what makes you think he'll actually keep his end of the bargain?"

El Aguila shrugged. "Then we'd have lost nothing of value. But it seems a minor enough risk, with the potential for mucho gain. As much fun as this all is, I would like to get back to business as usual sometime."

"Doing what?" Luke Cage asked, snorting. "Being a jewel thief?"

"Exactly!"

"Geez!" Wonder Man threw his hands up. "I can't believe we're even talking about this seriously."

"Gotta agree with you there," Puck said, giving a rub to his bottom. "One trip to the woodshed was quite enough for Eugene Judd!"

"Yes, if you're so keen on the idea why don't you volunteer?" Kraven asked El Aguila snidely. Though they were both villains, the big game hunter had never cared for the dashing and lighthearted rogue.

"Maybe... we should consider a trade," Beast mulled thoughtfully.

"WHAT?"

"Well, if it could lead to some answers—"

Puck shook his head. "Can't ya see he's just messing with us? Or it's part of some kooky escape plan he's cooking up, eh?"

Before more discussion could he had, there was a gigantic crash from below. Chips scattered everywhere and the hanging light bulb swung in its socket. Everyone remembered the wrestling match Thor was conducting with Juggernaut.

"...Maybe we should go check on them," sighed Beast.

"Let's," Cap agreed. "And we'll... table this discussion for now." He shook his head out as he lead the way to the hydraulic lifts. He knew he should've stepped into the argument sooner, but he'd been feeling distracted ever since they'd captured the Handler. Having the man who'd so effectively tanned his bottom under the same roof as them kept putting the strangest thoughts into his mind.

When they arrived downstairs, Cap realized he might not be the only man still dwelling on punishments.

"So, impressed with my strength now?" Thor asked Juggernaut victoriously. The burly villain's bare ass bucked under his palm, a number of vivid hand-prints showing across the beefy mounds. The thunder god was the apparent winner of their wrestling match, given that he had Juggernaut pinned over his knee with his pants pulled down.

"Aaauugghh! Let me up, ya jackass!" Juggernaut bellowed, thick legs flailing.

"Uh... Thor?" Wonder Man questioned, stopping short. The other heroes piled up behind him, all trying to look past him at the spectacle.

"Ah, mine friends! Our comrade Juggernaut here claimed he'd never have ended up under the Handler's control in mine place," Thor explained simply. He raised his palm and laid down another resounding smack on Juggernaut's butt that echoed throughout the room. "I am simply showing him the folly of his mistake."

"Owww! Alright alright! Enough already!"

"Well isn't this a sight, eh?" Puck said, laughing uproariously.

From the right-hand wall, Cable pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against. He was another time traveling mutant, similar to Bishop, but from an era even more dystopian. He was an older, grizzled man who sported a pattern of six scars over one eye, along with a cybernetic arm. "I tried to talk some sense into them, but they seemed determined to spank each other for some reason," he explained.

Beast grinned wide as he flipped up to the ceiling to get a better look. "Cruel and unusual punishment it may be, but as many times as Juggernaut has rampaged through the X-Mansion it does lift my spirits to see him get even the tiniest fraction of what he deserves."

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement, laughing and telling jokes. Only Cap continued to frown thoughtfully.

After a few more thunderous swat, Thor pushed Juggernaut off his knee where the villain cursed loudly as he hopped around before pulling up his pants "Ooh...! Yeah yeah, laugh it up. I'll get him next time," he said, steaming.

"How goes the interrogation above?" Thor asked.

"Well, ah..." Beast looked to Captain America, unsure if he should voice it.

"Poorly." Cap set his jaw. "We do have one possible option, but aren't sure if we should take it."

"Well, what is it?" asked Cable impatiently. "Every available lead should be pursued. Who knows what our friends could be doing out there while we sit around?"

"The Handler claims he can give us information to track everyone down in exchange for... spanking one of us," Cap explained, crossing his arms. "You can see why we're a little reticent to accept his offer."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, I can see that now."

"Perhaps. But it would still be easy enough to accomplish," Thor pointed out, rubbing his hands as he walked back to join them. "I, for one, am unafraid."

"You too?" Wonder Man grit his teeth at Thor's words. "You should know better than anyone that's a bad idea."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Thor's voice fell low in warning. "I simply trust my comrades. Any who succumb to the Handler's power will be swiftly brought back by our assembled paddles. That goes for me as much as for anyone."

"Excellent, it sounds like Thor is volunteering," Kraven said with a curl of his lips.

Puck raised an eyebrow. "What's with you and volunteers? Perhaps the volunteer should be one who hasn't been spanked at all so far. As I recall, you haven't been over any knees... yet."

"And if I have my say I never will, dwarf!"

"Well, perhaps we should discuss this calmly—" Beast started.

"What point is there in discussing it?" Wonder Man shot back at Beast. "Like I said, it's out of the question."

Cable rolled his eyes. "I have to say I agree. Allowing a villain to get the upper hand on you is never a good idea."

"I'm with them." Luke Cage crossed his arms. "This whole thing is nuts. Maybe if one of the villains wants to get his ass whupped that'd be one thing, but I've had enough."

"Well that's too bad, since I believe the Handler specified it had to be an Avenger's bared bottom," El Aguila chimed in. He pulled out his rapier to twirl it. "If none will volunteer, perhaps we merely have to persuade them, eh Kraven?"

"Hmm, that might be the first good idea I've heard from you," Kraven told him.

"Yeah? Just try it," Luke Cage challenged.

"I'm surprised at you, Luke Cage," Kraven smirked. "Of all of us I thought you'd be most eager to find the others, for the sake of your old partner Iron Fist if nothing else. But perhaps you don't really want to find him after all..."

Luke Cage started forward with his fist clenched. "Just try saying that again, you—" He was only stopped by Wonder Man and Beast.

"Easy, Luke!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," said Juggernaut. "More of you heroes should get spanked anyway!"

"I say again, I fear no mortal's power. If he wishes to attempt to steal my will again, he will find himself thwarted!" Thor raised his hammer.

Cable shook his head. "I expected the Avengers to be better than this. Instead we're falling to in-fighting just because this Handler guy said one word?"

"If you don't like it Cable, why don't you offer up your ass—?"

"Enough." Cap finally intervened. When the arguments continued unabated though, he found himself raising his voice. "That's ENOUGH!"

He looked around at them all. Several of them looked down at their shoes, like kids caught scrapping in the schoolyard. But more than a few—mostly the villains—met his gaze with a sneer. For once in his life, Cap didn't have a plan. The only thing that came to mind was a faint throbbing of his backside.

He worked his jaw. "Look," he said. "I don't have all the answers either, but..."

Schweeeet!

A loud whistle suddenly rang out through the group. Everyone looked down to see the diminutive Puck now, his fingers in his mouth. He took them out, then crossed his hairy arms over his chest. "I..." he told them with a shit-eating grin, "...have an idea."

"You know, I'm getting kind of hungry," Hulkling grumbled as he pulled in to the finish line in fifth place, victim of a last second blue shell. Again.

"More like getting tired of losing," Sandman joked, leaning back on the couch. He'd molded his sand into the equivalent of relaxed-wear for him—a tanktop and pajama pants. It wasn't often he got to just hang with the guys and engage in such wholesome activities. And after he'd played enough games, Wiccan hadn't even needed to pretend to lose to him any more.

Hulkling just rolled his eyes. "I'll go grab some popcorn and see whether the others have a plan yet."

"It has been a while since we heard anything out there," said Wiccan.

It was only a few moments after Hulkling left the room though that a strangled "What the HELL!?" from him had both Wiccan and Sandman running after him. When they arrived, it became bountifully clear why.

Ten grown men sat around a table without a single stitch of clothing between them. They were playing poker, with everyone's expressions fully focused on their cards.

Wiccan gaped, as the first thing he saw on entering the room was Kraven's hairy ass. Then his gaze slid to El Aguila toned cheeks. Then to Luke Cage's muscular buttocks. All the way down the line until he reached Captain America—and even he was naked, except for his winged helmet, sitting there with a resting frown. "Why—why are you all—"

"Don't ask unless you really want to know."

"It's a long story," Kraven groused, folding his arms over his hairy chest.

"And to be blunt, probably far too embarrassing to really explain," Beast concurred.

"It was Puck's idea," grumbled Cable.

"Hey, at least no supervillains have attacked while we've played," Puck said with a grin. His feet were propped up on the table, and a cigar dangled from his lips. "Now that'd be really embarrassing, eh?"

"Don't tempt fate," Cable said with a sudden worried expression.

"Uh..." Hulkling was still just stunned as he tried to get his words back. He didn't even want to know, but there were questions he needed to ask. "Does this have anything to do with the Handler's interrogation?"

"Something like that," Cap told them grimly. "He wants one thing in trade for the information, and you can guess what it is."

"Don't tell me..."

Cap nodded. "So the loser of this game of... strip poker is going to give it to him."

"I can't believe this. Ten hands and still no one's lost twice," Simon grumbled, still blushing a little from having to finally take off his own suit.

"Oh, come now. You've needed a new costume for years now, that outdated design," Beast teased him. "Perhaps you should try au naturale as a permanent look?"

"Very funny. But I think you're confusing me with you."

"Whatever, let's just get this over with," Luke said, his own ass hanging out from the hole in his folding chair. "Ugh, it's been years since I played this with Danny. He'd probably love this. Anyway, no way around it any more. This is the last hand."

"Indeed. Come now fellow Avengers, it is time to lay down our cards," Thor said, grinning as he raised a flagon of mead. "And let them fall where they may!"

One by one, the heroes and villains laid their hands down on the table. Beast hissed through his teeth as he had just a pair of fives. Next to him, Wonder Man easily beat that with two jacks. The tension slowly grew as each man showed their hand in turn. Everyone knew that the result of this final game would determine who paid the forfeit and would have to literally offer up their ass to the Handler.

Wiccan shared a secret smile with Hulkling and gave his hand a squeeze. He wondered if the others knew what a show they were putting on for the two of them. He knew he'd always remember this sight, at least. Behind them, Sandman was guffawing at the ridiculous sight and munching on the popcorn.

But it seemed Beast was destined to be the loser. As card after card was flipped over, his hand remained the weakest. He sighed and prepared himself for yet another humbling experience—until the very last player showed his hand. Cable uncharacteristically swore as he flipped his cards over, showing he only had a high ace.

"DAMN!" he said in Askani.

"HAH HAH!" Juggernaut hooted. "The X-Men's big daddy himself!"

"Shut it, Marco." Cable's cybernetic eye glowed with heat. "I knew I should have used telepathy to get better odds."

"Well myself and my own blue-furred posterior are quite grateful you didn't," Beast told him.

"Are you really okay with this, Cable?" Cap asked, laying a hand on his arm.

The grizzled man sighed deeply—but then simply nodded. He accepted the necessity of what he'd need to do.

"Yeah... but I sure don't like it."

Next: Sacrifice

Chapter Text

With the selection of Cable as the designated spank-victim, the other heroes could relax and rib each other once again. Only the grizzled mutant remained seated at the poker table, his arms crossed begrudgingly over his chest. That, of course, only made the situation funnier.

"So what now?" El Aquila asked, grinning. "Will we get to watch?"

"Ho ho, that ought to be good!" Simon said with a chuckle as he grabbed his costume up off the floor. Wiccan struggled to hide his disappointment as the assembled men started to dress themselves.

"Well... someone has to," Cap confirmed as he considered the logistics. "A group of us, at least. We need to make sure the Handler can't escape even with a mind-controlled Cable's help. Beast, can you make sure the place is psychically shielded?"

"Already done, but I'll redouble the protections."

Cable nodded grimly. "I recommend several of you observe, just in case. Once the Handler has me there's no telling what he might be capable of. You'll have to take me down hard and fast if there's any sign of aggression."

"Ho ho, think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" asked Puck.

Cable concentrated, and all of a sudden Puck, El Aguila, and Luke Cage were all lifted into the air and bent over in front of him. They were all still stark-naked. He dispensed a loud CRACK! with his metal hand to each of their upturned asses—adding enough telekinetic force to Luke's to make even him yowl—before dumping them back on the floor.

"Ooh... okay, yer point is made," Puck grumbled as he rubbed his rear.

"Yeah, but leave me out next time!" snapped Luke.

"I can also disable any one of you with a psi-bolt. You'll have to come at me as a group if you want to take me," Cable continued. He set his jaw as he made eye contact with Captain America. "And I fully encourage you to paddle me mercilessly until I'm back under control."

Owing to the seriousness of the situation, Cap set his jaw and gave a firm nod of his head. "You can count on it."

"Good. I'll also entrust my weapons to you." Cable laid several futuristic handguns on the table, along with his larger assault rifle and a host of grenades. He kept the holsters and pouch-lined straps on his person, but they were empty. Otherwise he wore nothing at all. He grimaced as he folded his hands over his groin, only a patch of gray pubic hair showing above them. "...Still can't believe I'm doing this."

The reason for their caution was valid. Cable was a powerful mutant, nearly an omega-level. His birth had been orchestrated by Mister Sinister to create the ultimate weapon—one capable of defeating Apocalypse, the oldest and most powerful mutant alive. He had powers over both telekinesis and telepathy that rivaled his mother's, as well as a mastery of tactics and military strategy that put his father's to shame. When allowed to let loose, he was capable of feats beyond imagining.

But... was he really capable of beating a whole Avengers team?

Captain America shook the thought from his head. They'd all agreed to the plan, and it was no use going back on it. When and if Cable was brought under the Handler's control, they'd be more than capable of dealing with him.

"Okay. Wiccan, your magic can work through walls, correct? You'll stay outside and observe through the glass." He looked around, making note of who else would be most useful. "Hulkling, Sandman, Thor, Juggernaut. You four are the strongest physically. You'll join me in being ready to take Cable down if need be."

Juggernaut grinned wide. "Sounds good to me."

"As thou sayst, Captain."

"Hey, what about me?" asked Wonder Man. "You're the insurance. If things go badly, you'll rocket in to the rescue," Cap told him. Wonder Man nodded, mollified.

El Aguila, realizing he wouldn't be amongst the observers, gave a tsk. Seeing the man's frown, Puck chuckled and bestowed a cheeky spank to his ass. "Don't worry, I know where they hide the monitor room. We can still watch."

"Ooh! Well that will do, then."

Cap nodded as he finished slipping his own uniform back on. "I'll be counting on you all to watch, actually. If anything should go wrong, I want the rest of you to come running too."

Beast gave him a salute. "Rest assured, Cap."

The others finished suiting up, Kraven shimmied his tight pants up his hairy legs and sneered at them all.

"I still say we should torture him instead."

The Handler sat silently as the Avengers slowly reentered the room, one at a time. They each sent the villain a glare as they took up positions surrounding him. The Handler merely stared back evenly at each.

Sandman and Hulkling were along the outer wall, neither breaking the silence. Thor prowled the outskirts, hammer whirling in hand to be unleashed at any time. Juggernaut simply pounded his fist into an open palm as he took his own place.

The Handler remained calm as Captain America entered next, his shield set firmly. It was only when the last man entered that he gave a visible reaction—a slight widening of his eyes. Even as foreboding as his situation was, the sight of Cable, the grizzled X-Force leader himself, walking in without a shred of clothing had not been within his range of expectations.

"I see you've agreed to my terms," he commented with a smirk.

"Before we begin," Cap began, arms crossed as he looked down at his captive, "Understand if you don't keep your end of the bargain, you'll be punished accordingly."

"You wound me, Captain," the Handler said, sarcasm dripping off every word. "I always keep my word. I'll tell you exactly what you're looking for... once I've had my fun, that is."

Captain America stared him in the eyes a moment longer before he bent down and undid the bindings on the Handler's hands. He then stepped aside, leaving the villain's feet securely bound to his chair. The others readied themselves, ready to strike at a moment's notice. But with his hands free, the Handler did nothing but flex the feeling back into his fingers and look expectantly at Cable.

After a few long moments, Cable approached, his bare feet padding on the smooth floor. Despite being bare-ass naked, he had a look of hardened resolve on his face. He was a man used to making hard choices, and well aware of the necessity of sacrifice.

A strong, powerfully built man with gray hair and stubble over his chin as well as his chest, he cut an imposing figure. As leader of the rebellious young mutant team X-Force he was used to doling out spankings himself when they were called for. But he'd certainly seen his share of them as well in his long, time-displaced life. In his nudity, his metallic arm stood out even more from the rest of his body. He also had a dimpled, muscular ass which was surprisingly free from hair. It clenched as he stood before the Handler.

"Before we begin," he said, glaring down at the man. "I just want you to know I'm not frightened of you. In fact, men like you disgust me."

"Is that so?" the Handler replied cheekily. "Well, men like you entice me." He slowly looked Cable up and down, drinking in the sight. Such a powerful mutant, about to be at his beck and call. He sat patiently, just waiting for Cable to offer himself up. "The gruffer they come, the more in need of discipline they are."

"Discipline?" Cable scoffed. "There's nothing disciplinary about this. You're just a sadist who gets off on punishment."

"That may be true," the Handler readily agreed. "What does that make you then?"

Cable gave a hard snort. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." He did bend forward though, and grudgingly laid himself over the Handler's lap. After a moment he raised up his muscled bottom a bit so the villain could get a good glimpse of what he'd be working with. Cable made eye contact with each of the other men in the room—Captain America, Hulkling, Sandman, Thor, Juggernaut—to make sure they were ready. Then he huffed and pressed both knuckles to the floor in front of him. "Let's just get this over with."

Instantly, the Handler brought his palm down sharply. CRACK!

That first slap echoed through the room as Cable jerked under the impact. And before everyone's eyes the Handler's palm came down again, so fast it almost seemed superhuman. The heroes were actually taken aback by the force. But it seemed if this was the only spanking the Handler would be allowed to deliver, he was going to make it count.

The pain of that first swat was intense; it took even the hardened veteran by surprise. But Cable was able to stifle his grunt at the first lick... barely. He was able to do so for the second, third, and fourth swats as well. On the fifth though, he arched his back and let out an aggrieved, "Augh!"

The Handler smiled wide.

That battle lost, Cable did what he'd been trained to do: assume a fallback position. He'd lost the battle not to grunt, but he'd at least win the battle not to squirm. The spanking went on with him keeping his muscled ass raised and perfectly pushed up.

He took the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth spank... but on spank number thirteen he gave a small wiggle of his hips—so slight it was almost imperceptible—in an attempt to alleviate the burn. He immediately clenched his teeth, but the Handler picked up on his weakness. He seamlessly switched to swatting directly at Cable's sitspots, capitalizing on the man's inability to defend himself and ensuring the small wiggle turned into a more pronounced kick.

"Auugh! Nngh!" Cable yelled as the spanking kept heating up. And soon enough, yes, he was squirming all over his lap—just like an overgrown kid. The Handler knew exactly what he was doing, and despite Cable's no-nonsense demeanor he was faring no better than anyone else had over his knee.

"Hmm, seems you're not as tough as you thought."

"Oww! S-shut up, you... Argh!"

Still, Cable knew the Handler's primary target would be his mind. Each swat was already implanting a need to debase himself for his new master, but Cable was used to resisting overwhelming authority in the savage future he came from. The Handler had never attempted to take control of a man with a mind as guarded as his. He put every bit of that psi-training to use now in resisting the impulses.

Won't... give in.

But with every spank delivered, it was clear that Handler wasn't messing around. The swats continued to land hard, fast, and intense. He'd delivered nearly a hundred in under a minute, as the Avengers simply watched dumbfounded. But the Handler knew he needed to push the punishment truly over the top if he wanted to seize control. So, starting with his next strike, he started adding a new idea to the spanks.

"Let's see what happens when I add this to the mix."

The next time Cable turned his head in his attempts to get free, his scarred, cybernetic eye widened in shock. It wasn't the Handler whose lap he was naked and slung over any more... but Cyclops's, the leader of the X-Men.

Despite his gruff demeanor, Cable had always had one notable emotional weakness—his estrangement from his father. Sent into an alternate timeline, his childhood had been spent in bombed out ruins and fighting alongside ragtag rebels. He'd never known Cyclops, either as a hero or a man, and especially had never gotten to spend any time with him bonding as father and son. Now in the present, he both resented Cyclops for what he'd done—and also longed to build a relationship with him for the first time. It made every interaction between them strained.

He blanched as he saw Cyclops's palm rise over his naked, unprotected buttocks. "Cyclops! What are you—"

SMACK!

Cable gasped hard as he felt the disciplinary swat of a father for the first time in his life. That was followed by several more. "Wh—wha—"

"Settle down, Nathan. This is what you've been wanting from me all along, isn't it?"

Something clicked into place. A psychological gap the Handler was able to fill almost effortlessly. Cable was still aware something was wrong but, as he squirmed helplessly over the lap of his father for the very first time in his life, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was any more. Something may have been wrong, yes, but something was also very right. Every boy needed a father to teach him right from wrong. It turned out Cable had just been waiting for his longer than most.

"Nngh... I'm sorry dad!" he heard himself say, and at that even his fellow Avengers watching raised their eyebrows. "I won't do it again! I'll be... I'll be good!"

"You're damn right you will, son. Because if you're not, you'll find yourself right back over my knee where you belong. We've got a lot of catching up to do together, which means a lot more spankings in your future."

Cable nodded quickly as the swats struck down even harder, making him groan and kick under their painful burn. He didn't have time to delve into what was wrong about the situation any more. He was too busy getting spanked by his dad. To everyone's mingled shock, he gave in to the Handler even faster than others who'd been spanked to tears first. He raised up his reddened ass and braced himself in a gesture of complete submission.

"Ahhh—Oooh—I'm sorry, Scott! I'll be good—Aaaugh, I'll be good... daddy!"

Juggernaut's mouth fell open. "Did he just say..."

"...DADDY?" Puck finished in shock, gaping at the screen.

The rest of the reserves were similarly shocked. Wiccan, El Aguila, and Wonder Man's mouths all hung open, and Beast had even dropped the bucket of popcorn he'd made for the occasion. Kraven merely sneered from the back.

"A cornered beast is always at its most dangerous..."

The Handler smiled as he squeezed one of Cable's sore, beefy globes. "Not quite master, but it'll do."

"Alright." Captain America's voice cut in firmly. "You've had your fun, now let him go."

But Handler simply smirked at him and then delivered another swat to Cable's ass, as though daring the Avengers to try and stop him. His hand met Cable's cheeks hard and firm, and the man gave a long moan.

Cap stepped forward along with Thor and Juggernaut. Cable turned his head to face them, and they could see he had tears in his biological eye. His cybernetic eye, however, was glowing pure white.

"Look out! That means he's using his—!"

The warning was cut off as several things happened simultaneously. Displaying a degree of control nearly unheard of in his normal state, Cable turned his telekinesis not on the heroes themselves—but on their clothing. Thor suddenly found his red cape wrapped tightly around his head and chest, blinding him and restraining his arms. At the same time, Juggernaut's belt buckle was undone and his pants dragged down, only to cinch around his ankles again as he tried to take another step. The effect caused the big man to fall onto his face with a startled curse.

"Oof! What gives!"

Cap had it worse. His costume was crafted in such a way it couldn't easily be used against him. However, he did feel a stirring at the back of his waist. He suddenly realized what it was just as his underwear was telekinetically yanked straight out of his pants. To his dismay he soon found the wings on his helmet made excellent hooks to fasten an atomic wedgie over, and he was blinded as well by the crisp white briefs pressing down over his eyes.

"Argh! Stop him quickly!"

Hulkling rushed forward next, but Cable was prepared for him too. He was the only one Cable's telekinesis manhandled directly. He found himself thrown off his feet—then face-planted right into Juggernaut's bared ass.

"MMMPHHHFF!"

"Ey... get that tongue outta there, kid!"

That left the only Avenger Cable couldn't do anything about: Sandman. The mutant cursed as he tried, but all he did was cut swathes through the man's sand body. Sandman just laughed at Cable's feeble attempts to stop him, then rushed forward as a pure wall of sand. He'd suffocate Cable until the man passed out.

But as he drew in range, a strike from behind suddenly blindsided him. It took a moment before he realized he'd turned back to his human form, standing there completely naked. Somehow he'd reformed with his bare butt facing the now freed Handler. He immediately tried to shift back, but the next slap of the villain's hand instead had him solidify more fully instead. "Hey!" he said in confusion, "What's the big idea!"

"Ah good. I was worried, but my powers can affect you."

Unfortunately, the ex-criminal formerly known as William Baker had never been known for his mental fortitude. In fact, it was one of his biggest weaknesses. So it was with quite a bit of shock he found himself not only stuck in his human form, but also pulled smoothly right over the Handler's knee. Somehow he couldn't turn back to sand at all any more. And his rear end was stuck out, seemingly just begging for punishment.

"Well, a large part of you clearly desires this, at least. Stuck in that sand body that can flow through everything, I bet you've secretly been longing for someone to put you in your place, haven't you?" the Handler taunted as he raised his hand over those buns.

"What? No, no I don't—AGH!" Sandman yowled as that swat struck down, and then another. He hadn't been spanked in years. But now, with the Handler easily sapping the willpower that fueled his powers, there was nothing he could do to prevent himself from finally getting one.

When Cap finally managed to pull the underwear from his eyes, he found himself shocked at how many of them had been subdued. Everywhere he looked he saw a man either stripped, spanked, or humiliated. This was exactly what he'd feared.

Yet he'd gone through with the plan anyway. Why?

Still suffering under the painful and humiliating wedgie, he tried to focus his thoughts on what needed to be done. He settled on hurling his shield at Cable. But the man simply snatched the disc out of the air with his mind and sent it back, twice as hard. Cap flew back with a hard grunt.

It did succeed in disrupting some of his concentration though. Pushing as hard as he could, Hulkling finally managed to separate his face from Juggernaut's beefy ass. "What the hell!?" he yelled, red in the face and taking big gulps of air. He tried to move towards Cable, but found his feet planted to the floor. Growling, he then grabbed Juggernaut instead and, in a moment of humiliated rage, threw the big bare-bottomed villain right at Cable.

"Oh c'mon!" Juggernaut complained as he sailed nude through the air. "How come everybody keeps usin' me as a weapon!" The tactic was successful though, as a surprised Cable found himself momentarily crushed under the big villain's midsection and, in fact, got his mouth stuffed full of Juggernaut's balls.

"MMGGHFF!"

"I'm never gonna live this down..."

But that wasn't the end of it. As the heroes freed themselves from the myriad pranks they'd fallen victim to (including Thor, who in effect had to rip his own clothing off in order to get loose from his predicament) they saw that the next man over the Handler's knee was, unbelievably, Sandman. His physical body was bouncing and bucking over the Handler's lap, and his bare cheeks were actually reddening under the blows.

"Sandman... what are ya doin', buddy?" Juggernaut asked, "Just turn to sand! He can't spank sand!"

"You think I hadn't—GAH!—thought of that? YOW!" Sandman yelled indignantly as he kicked and squirmed. "I can't!"

"It's because he wants it." The Handler smiled as he lashed his hand down again and again. "Just like you all want it. Even if you won't admit it."

"It doesn't matter—get to them, before he's turned too!"

But as the heroes charged a mountain of sand suddenly rose before them to form a barrier between them and the Handler. They were already too late. And they watched with mingled horror as countless sand tendrils emerged from the mass before them. Each had a paddle-shaped appendage attached to the tip.

All their asses collectively clenched.

Next: Sandman Lashes Out

Chapter Text

Hulkling was the first to eat a wave of sand as Sandman rose to defend his new master. He was engulfed completely.

Next was the mighty Thor. He hurled himself in on the tail of Mjolnir, but was swallowed up as well. Sandman smiled sinisterly as there was a churning sound from within him as the two heroes gagged and fought. When his sands receded, Hulkling and Thor were bound in sand manacles and bent over side by side. Their clothes had been literally sanded off them, leaving both naked and sputtering with Hulkling's green buns next to Thor's paler white cheeks.

Then the sand-whipping began, as the villain amusingly tried to turn both muscled backsides the same color.

"Huh? Hey, ow ow ow, that stings!"

"Ungh! By Odin's beard!"

That's when the reserves were called into action. Wiccan teleported into the room along with Puck, Beast, and El Aguilo. He blanched at what he saw. Though a pantsless Juggernaut had the naked Cable pinned, a short distance away Thor and his boyfriend were in helpless spanking peril from Sandman. Meanwhile, Captain America was the only one still free and he was going after the Handler. Biting his lips, he began preparing a spell to disperse Sandman and bind him to one form. "Hold on, guys!"

"To what? It's all sand!" Hulkling called as he struggled in place. With how many sand tendrils were holding him he couldn't go anywhere even with his shapeshifting.

"He means to steel thyself," Thor voiced beside him.

"No, that's Colossus, I'm Hulkling!" Teddy shot back, much to Thor's clear confusion. Each strike was like a whip crack across their bare butts, hard enough to leave red marks even across Thor's cheeks. "Ooh!"

Luckily for them, the others burst into action at that moment. Sandman had become a literal wall of sand full of whips and paddles that sought to punish any who approached. Puck quickly flipped in, acrobatically dodging tendrils while attempting to free Hulkling from the tentacles holding him. Beast did the same for Thor.

"Allow me!" El Aguila dashed forward and struck one of Sandman's tentacles with an electrified rapier to disrupt it.

Wonder Man flew in too, right past the tendrils that sought to grab him and instead went to punch his way straight through to Sandman's core. "Damn, this guy is annoying to fight!"

Behind the wall of sand, another fight had continued unabated. "That's enough from you!" Cap yelled as he rushed at the Handler to coldcock him.

But the Handler danced backward to avoid Cap's blows. He wasn't foolish enough to attack the famous hero directly. "Cable! I command you to do something!" he yelled at his downed thrall.

Cable had been flipped over Juggernaut's knees and was well on his way to being paddled back to his senses. "Nngh! Rrgh!" His already-blistered cheeks bounced and clenched as they took whack after whack. But at the call from his master, the last vestiges of control forced him to use his telekinesis on Captain America's pants. They shot down like a bullet and then wrapped rudely around Cap's ankles. While the man fumbled and tried to undo the bind, Handler seized the opportunity.

He dropped his shoulder like a linebacker and charged right into Cap's midsection. Though Cap caught him easily and forced him to a stop, it did put the Handler right in range of Cap's exposed behind.

Right where I most want to be. He raised his hand over those firmly muscled cheeks.

CRACK!

The hard spank cut straight through Cap's defense and he gave a gasp as he was returned instantly to the submissive headspace he'd been in the day before. It was like he was right back under the villain's thumb getting what he deserved—a punishment for naughty children while the rest of his team floundered around him. He felt like an unworthy man, just like he had on his first day of boot camp.

"You're mine!" The Handler followed up that first spank with several more. He poured all the power he had into them, landing fast, furious blows and imbuing each with an overwhelming desire for the Captain to submit. Everything hinged on it, and he knew only by giving his all could he hope to overpower a willpower as strong as Steve Rogers's.

"N-no."

Cap braced himself, trying to gather his thoughts long enough to stop the Handler.

"I'll never—"

He grit his teeth, attempting to push him away.

"—submit—"

But as the spanks overlapped he gave a sudden cry and sank to his knees.

"—to you, Master."

Captain America was a man who believed strongly in discipline. Discipline was what made a man strong. Owning up to your mistakes and learning from them. That belief worked against him now, as he jutted his buttocks out and begged for the Handler to punish him further so he could be improved as a leader.

Everyone else was too occupied battling Sandman to notice the outcome of Cap and Handler's skirmish. As Beast worked to free Thor, he got grabbed around the ankles by a sand tendril and lifted straight up. "Oh no.. not again! Ow! Ooh! Ouch!" He got a sand-lashing while he hung upside down helplessly. But he'd at least succeeded in freeing Thor, who was then able to assist Puck in ripping Hulkling out of his sand bondage as well.

Wonder Man, however, was another who'd made the mistake of directly attacking the earth elemental. He paid the price much like Thor had—swallowed up, then spat out with the rear of his costume sanded away. He then got the indignity of being aggressively sand-paddled on his bare bottom while the rest of the heroes regrouped.

"How're we doing, Billy?" Hulkling asked, pausing just long enough to give his cheeks a rub.

"Almost... there..." Wiccan was sweating as he watched Sandman go after El Aguila next. Despite the man's agility, the Spaniard was caught easily and soon was howling from a whipping as well. His pants were ripped off him along with Beast's trunks as they were spanked and paddled together. A short distance away, Juggernaut and Cable were both also grabbed and upturned.

Meanwhile, Thor was spinning his hammer in an attempt to fry Sandman with lightning. That effort proved ineffective against the living sand though, and only provoked tendrils to pour out in even greater quantities. "Do not worry, friends, I will see thee all—nngh—rescued!" he yelled as he fought off their many grasping clutches. He flew upward in an attempt to evade the sand, but gave a gasp as he felt a strong grip tying his ankles together and then found himself dragged back down. "Augh! How can sand be this strong!"

Wonder Man was yelling under his own sand lashing as he watched Thor flipped over and rejoin their group, all the heroes being paddled together. "I don't know, but someone better—ooowwww!—shut this guy down!"

Even the powerhouses couldn't keep their butts safe. It was utter pandemonium with heroes getting caught and punished left and right, their asses bare and bobbing. The Handler couldn't have wished for a better pawn than Sandman, who had such malleable abilities that could be turned to chaos.

Only Wiccan and Puck had managed to keep their rear ends covered, though it seemed a matter of when rather than if that would change. Hulkling had stopped his forward assault completely and was focused solely on batting Sandman's tentacles away from his boyfriend to buy him time. "Is that spell ready yet?!"

"S-soon!" Wiccan bit his lip as he concentrated on the very last part of the incantation. Unfortunately, Hulkling was proving a very distracting sight. The way he was defending them meant his bare ass kept waving back and forth right in Wiccan's face.

Puck noticed where the sorcerer's eyes kept straying and gave a scoff. He'd been young once too, but there was work to be done. "Keep your head in the game, eh!" he said as he gave Wiccan a firm spank himself, right across those pert cheeks of his.

"Oh!" Wiccan gasped. Then he cleared his head, aided by the tingling feeling given off by his bottom. "R-right!" Raising his hands, he completed the sorcerous incantation and a blaze of light shot out.

When it struck Sandman the villain gave a gasp and his body seemed to stiffen. The spell trapped the villain in a single shape—that of his earlier form when he'd been writhing over the Handler's knee. Furthermore, blazing rings circled his wrists to lock them together, and the same was done to his ankles. Sandman could only squirm and curse as the heroes he'd been punishing all dropped down to land on assorted chests and butts, and he himself was magically brought to his knees.

Sandman's size hadn't reverted back though. He was still an immense—and naked—man.

That wasn't a problem though. It just meant every hero could lend a hand.

Each man present grabbed a paddle. Thor shoved hard on Sandman's back to send his chest crashing to the floor, which coincidentally raised up his ass too. Then a mass-beating of Sandman's clenching cheeks began while he spat and twisted around. Half a dozen magical paddles slammed down on the massive sand-butt.

"I am reminded of a particularly apt chapter of Gulliver's Travels," Beast joked as he delivered a sound Thwack! from his place at the apex of Sandman's right cheek.

"Just focus on getting some payback, eh?" Puck suggested as he flipped in and delivered a hard whack himself. El Aguila smacked his paddle expertly against the large curves. Even Hulkling and Wiccan got in on the action, climbing the round hills of Sandman's butt to spank away while those cheeks clenched and squirmed under their feet. The real blows however were delivered by Thor and Wonder Man who'd stationed themselves right at the sitspots.

Under such an array of punishments, even Sandman soon began to wail. "Oooohhh! Okay guys, okay! I'm sorry!" he blubbered. "I-I'll be a... I'll be a good boy now!"

Wonder Man looked at Wiccan. "Does that mean we freed him?"

"Either that or he just really embarrassed himself," Puck put in.

"Keep spanking just in case," said Wiccan. He looked around the room, taking stock. "Wait a minute… where's Captain America?" His eyes went wide. "...And where is the Handler?"

At that very moment, two men were making their way towards the nearest exit. Captain America knew the tower's schematics better than his own hand, including even the secret passages that weren't on any maps, so Handler was having him run point. That had the dual advantages of allowing his newest thrall to handle any threats that came their way, as well as giving the Handler an appreciative view of his smooth, muscular buttocks flexing and bulging with every step they took.

They really were a work of art.

He knew they wouldn't have long before the other Avengers discovered his kidnapping of their leader though, so every so often he delivered a hard slap to Cap's cheeks to urge speed. Captain America moaned at each and thanked him.

But it wasn't an Avenger who stood in their path as they approached the secret exit. Rather, the big game hunter known as Kraven interceded himself between them and their destination. He folded his arms haughtily as he looked them over. It seemed not every member of the reserves had chosen to respond to the distress call.

"And what have we here?" he asked, his words dripping with scorn. "Captain, I at least expected you to be able to resist this pervert's hold. But it seems I overestimated the so-called leader of the mighty Avengers." Spinning two bolas in the air, he flung them at great speed. "Oh well, you will simply join my hunt!"

Handler was shocked as his ankles were bound and he fell flat on his face. Cap, however, bashed his shield into his incoming bolo and knocked it aside. "You'll change your tune once you witness the Master's power for yourself," he declared as he tossed his shield at the man.

Kraven ducked hard under the ricocheting disc, then sprang like a panther at Captain America and pulled a ceremonial knife from his belt. "We will see about that. In the heart of the jungle there are no laws and no masters." He swiped at Cap's belt with his knife and, with one harsh tug, brought his pants down to his ankles.

It was then he saw reflected in his prey's eyes the shield ricocheting back, straight for the back of his head.

Kraven narrowly ducked just in time to avoid the slam; the shield only glanced off his shoulder. Cap scowled at that, but could do nothing as Kraven flipped him over and pinned his arms. Next thing he knew he felt a paddle being lined up with his well-muscled cheeks.

"Wait, you—Argh!" he cried out as he took the first harsh smack.

"Why should I?" Kraven chuckled as he brought the paddle down again and again. "The ass of Captain America himself—a hunter could not ask for a better prize! This will be quite the trophy in my collection. Perhaps even something to mount on my wall."

Captain America could only bite his cheek and squirm as his firm buttocks bucked over Kraven's knee. But what Kraven had forgotten was he wasn't facing only one opponent. Just as he raised his paddle for the next whack yet, a pair of hands suddenly grabbed his ankles and pulled them out from under him.

"You should know better than anyone not to underestimate a trapped animal," a freed Handler taunted as he held down Kraven's legs.

Captain America wasted no time in reclaiming his shield and then dropped down with it on Kraven. The slam momentarily stunned the hunter, and Cap grabbed his wrists. Kraven's paddle was struck from nerveless fingers, as well as his knife. "I think you'd better tame this wild cat, Master."

"I couldn't agree more."

Kraven's eyes widened as he was brought down—like a wild gazelle between two lions. He had become the prey. "No!" he cried as he felt eager hands grasp his pants.

Gritting his teeth, he put his whole body into escape. He performed a forward roll and left his spotted pants behind in the Handler's grip. That brought him too close to Captain America's side however, and the Avengers leader was able to easily grab and hoist him under an arm. Now bare below the waist, the hunter cringed at the vulnerable position he'd placed himself in.

"If you'd like I'd be happy to do the honors, Master."

"Hmm... if you wish."

The Handler rubbed his chin as he watched the grizzled hunter thrash around in the hero's grip while Captain America calmly raised his hand, then brought it down sharply. Soon, handprints covered every single inch of Kraven's hairy, writhing buttocks.

"Let's see... motion alert near the south exit... there."

Beast flicked the control for the automatic camera, and the screens came to life before him and Wonder Man. Well, they'd definitely found Cap and the Handler. Unfortunately they'd also found Kraven, who was squirming and cursing with every open-palmed strike to his writhing ass.

"Well that's not good," Beast said worriedly. He flipped a few switches. "I'll alert the others."

Wonder Man shook his head. "No one's close enough. No one except..."

"Ah! Luke Cage is in the area."

"Yeah. Along with..."

Beast blinked as he caught a very familiar form approaching on camera. "Oh, my stars and garters."

Luke Cage cursed under his breath. He'd been the only Avenger in range and was approaching as stealthily as he could. It was an unusual play for him, but he wasn't about to get caught with his pants down, literally.

"Ugh, this was such a stupid plan. Never should've let Cable play that game," Luke fumed as he followed the path being fed to his phone.

He bent his head around a corner and caught sight of his quarry. Yep, there was Handler and Captain America, as well as Kraven, now slung ass-up over Cap's shoulder. They were wide open, too. Luke could probably take them all before they knew what hit them... except there was one other guy there too. A real big guy.

Ahead of them, Hulk had just returned to the tower. A relatively tiny ice cream cone was held in his huge hand. Luke cursed under his breath as he watched the big green behemoth look back and forth between everyone in clear confusion.

"I thought spank man was... bad guy?" Hulk said, scratching his head. His gaze drifted to Cap—then to the sore, hairy ass over Cap's shoulder. "And why hunter man's butt so red?"

Kraven groaned as he shifted in place, his buttocks sore and throbbing. He'd been humiliatingly tied up in his own bolas. "You fool!" he hissed. "Captain America has been taken! He is—" The Handler calmly reached over and quickly swatted his rump. "Ah!"

"This isn't the Handler," Cap lied smoothly. "Just his costume. Wonder Man is going to go undercover and find all our friends for us." He gestured to the hunter slung over his shoulder. "And Kraven here has volunteered to play the role of his captive."

"...Huh?" Hulk blinked slowly. "But Hulk thought..."

"It doesn't really matter what you think, does it?" the Handler interjected. He gave another swat to Kraven, just in case. "You just need to listen to what we tell you. Isn't that you usually do?"

"...It's true, Hulk," Kraven said a few moments later. He clenched his backside tight over Cap's shoulder, then relaxed it. "Everything is fine. This is the best way to draw everyone out. Then you can... smash, yes?"

Hulk seemed to puzzle that out. Then at last, he gave a nod. "Hulk like to smash," he admitted.

"Okay, hold it right there." Luke Cage stepped out of the shadows. "Hulk, don't listen to them. The Handler's got Cap and Kraven. They're under his control!"

"Huh...?" Hulk looked confused. "But they said—"

The Handler shook his head. "That's not true. This is all just part of the plan. He's been put under control of the Handler!" He jabbed his thumb back at Luke.

"What!?"

"Luke under... control?"

"No Hulk, I'm not!" Luke Cage started forward. "Stop confusing him, you lying son of a—"

"Eek! Don't let him reach me, Hulk!" the Handler squealed.

Hulk held his head in his hands. "Hulk... Hulk not know what to do! EVERYONE STOP TELLING HULK DIFFERENT THINGS!"

"Well, luckily for you in just a few more seconds it won't matter any more." The Handler backed away.

"Huh? What..."

"Ten, nine, eight..."

Something felt wrong. Hulk lumbered forward and picked the Handler up by his collar. "Hold on, spanky man," he said, his thick green fingers digging in. "You not going anywhere 'til you explain."

"I'm afraid not. And you'll be the one holding on, momentarily."

"Huh?"

Hulk looked down as he felt a sudden draft. Someone had just pulled his pants straight down to his ankles. But that wasn't the worst of it. As he looked, he saw a pair of slim hands rapidly reach under him holding a pair of steel manacles and, with an audibly metallic clink!, close them tight around his big, hanging balls.

"Hey, what is... AAAUUGGHHH!!"

Hulk suddenly flew back the way he'd come, yanked outside by the heavy chain now attached to his nutsack. His ice cream landed on the floor with a wet plop. The echo of his screams slowly died down as Quicksilver stepped lightly into view.

"The other end of that chain is attached to an 18-wheeler making its way down I-95. Pleased to be of service, Master." He bowed deeply. "As you wished, those of us in your service have been keeping ourselves hidden, and also keeping each other's bottoms warm in anticipation of your return. We are all quite eager to feel your one, true palm once more though. Shall I speed you straight out of here?"

Handler stepped forward with a bright grin. "Yes," he said, "I think that would be quite—"

There was suddenly an awful scraping sound from behind them. Quicksilver turned around with a start. There, framed in the doorway, was Hulk, his face contorted with pain, the chain attached to his scrotum now pulled absolutely taut. He took one step, and then another, as the chain groaned under the strain. Somewhere, a spank-enslaved truck driver was slamming on the gas to no avail as his entire vehicle was dragged down the expressway.

"YOU JUST MADE HULK VERY... VERY... MAD!"

"Oh, shit," said Quicksilver.

"Oh shit is right," Luke laughed.

"Get us out of here, now!" The Handler ordered, panic actually audible in his usually calm voice.

"You heard the Master!" Cap raised up his shield while still holding on to Kraven. The hunter only moaned as he was carried along.

"RRRRRGGGHHH."

Hulk tried to catch them, but could only move at a crawl while battling the opposing force tugging him backwards. Teeth gritted, he punched straight up at the ceiling instead.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

"Noo—!"

As debris fell all around them, Luke raised his arms to protect himself. There was a terrifying crash as the entire upper floor collapsed all around them.

When the dust finally settled, the bad guys were nowhere to be seen. Luke Cage and Hulk were the only ones still standing.

"Good job, Hulk!" he spat. "Thanks to you, they got away!"

"Hulk sorry." Hulk gingerly massaged his balls. "...Think others will be mad at Hulk?"

"Let's just say I wouldn't want to be stuck with the cleaning bill."

There was a groan heard from underneath the rubble. Hunkering down, Luke dug until he'd unearthed the unconscious form of Quicksilver. It looked like he'd been struck by a ceiling tile during all the commotion and knocked out. "Well hey," he said, "maybe you didn't completely screw up."

He swiftly put the speedster over his knee, then pulled down his spandex. Quicksilver found himself waking up to a flurry of painful paddle thwacks. "Aah! Ooh! Aoww!" He twisted furiously in Luke's grip, fruitlessly struggling to get away. "Let me go, you overgrown thug!" he said heatedly. "How dare you keep me from the—Owww!—Master! You'll be—Aaahhh!—sorry for this!"

"Believe me, you're the one who's gonna be sorry," Luke warned, dishing out a hard swat right to Quicksilver's sitspots.

"Aaaoooww!"

By the time the other Avengers arrived through the rubble, there was nobody there but a naked Hulk massaging his balls, a pissed off Luke Cage, and a quietly sobbing Quicksilver standing in the corner with his tights around his ankles.

But amongst all the debris was one more thing. A piece of paper, folded and neatly propped upright, with a hand drawn upon it in surprisingly artistic lines. Puck was the first to notice it. Bending down, he picked it up and then unfolded it in the light.

‘I do keep my promises. You might want to check the X-Mansion for any sign of my troops.

But watch out, you might also get more than you bargained for.

Best wishes, my delicious future slaves. Keep those buns warm for me.

- The Handler’

Chapter Text

The hum of the auxiliary Blackbird hovering in the sky reverberated throughout the grounds of The Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters. One of the X-Men's backup teams was aboard scanning the area.

Warren Worthington III, aka the high-flying Angel, shivered his wings as he manned the monitors. “Still don’t know why the ‘mighty Avengers’ couldn’t handle this themselves.”

“If the mansion’s been compromised, it’s an X-Men problem, boyo,” Banshee replied in his thick Irish brogue. “They contacted us and we agreed to check it out. Besides, do ye really want guys like Hulk or Thor trompin’ around the school grounds?”

“I guess not.”

"As for me, I still can't properly wrap my head 'round it,” Banshee said. "This Handler character... he sounds like something out o' a children's fable, not reality."

"I agree, Banshe," said Sam Guthrie, aka Cannonball. "It's hard to imagine a man like Wolverine, well... over a knee with his pants ‘round his ankles. And even harder to imagine the same for a man like Cable. What do you think, 'Berto?"

Cannonball’s best friend, Roberto da Costa, aka. Sunspot, cocked his head. They'd both been part of the original "next generation" of mutants, having first been members of the New Mutants and then the rebellious X-Force. Now, after many years and an Avengers stint, they were full-grown heroes in their own right. But they both still remembered what it'd been like to be "the X-Babies" and told to stay out of the adults' way.

"I think the whole thing is ridiculous," he finally replied with a roll of his eyes. "It's some wannabe Mesmero. How many people could it really take to beat him?"

"Considering what we've heard, I don't think it's a good idea to underestimate this guy," Angel told the younger man. "When was the last time someone other than Red Skull, Magneto, or the Phoenix got both the Avengers and X-Men to actually work together?"

"Technically, I did," Sunspot replied smugly, sounding rather proud of himself.

"That's not the point."

"Relax, Angel. No need to get so worked up,” Sunspot calmed him. He smirked as he snuck a glance at the form-fitting seat of the winged mutant’s costume. “Just ‘cause your prissy behind’s never had a spanking doesn't mean you need to worry."

"I–" Angel paused. "There is no good response to that."

Cannonball chortled, and even Banshee smiled wide at the turn the conversation had taken. Angel being flummoxed was a rare event to be savored. "Looks to me like ye won that exchange, boyo," he congratulated Sunspot.

Cannonball also grinned. The banter was fun, like nothing had changed since the old days. He did wonder at Sunspot’s comment though. Growing up in a small town in Kentucky, Cannonball and his many brothers had been well-acquainted with their father's leather strap across their bare rears. At least, until the mining accident that’d tragically cut his old man's life short. He wondered if Roberto had been punished similarly as a boy. Roberto's father had been a rich Brazilian CEO though. It seemed unlikely he'd give his son a whippin’ himself. Maybe someone else had spanked him?

Knowing him, it’d probably just been one of his girlfriends.

“But so let me get this straight.” Sunspot began checking things off on his fingers. “About a week ago a spank-controlled Hank McCoy came to the mansion and captured a bunch of X-Men using the Danger Room. They were all spanked and mind-controlled by the Handler, then used to attack the Avengers. During that fight most of them were freed, and they headed back to the mansion to see if they could use Cerebro to locate either the Handler, or the other mutants who were still enthralled to him. Only, we never heard back from them once they got here. Is that everything?”

“That’s about the size of it, boyo.”

"Got it. Any word yet from the mansion?"

"None." Angel clucked his tongue and threw a series of switches for landing. "It's quiet as a tomb down there. We’re not picking up any other readings either. I don't like this one bit."

"Me neither... Guess we gotta check it out."

The four mutants disembarked and walked up the Mansion's front entrance. Everything was oddly silent as they made a trek. It was unusual not to see the front yard teeming with mutant students, or at least one X-Men team or another running drills. As they stepped inside however, they could just barely make out a faint noise—

The distant sound of slaps, coming from many different directions.

"Well, that's not good," Sunspot broke the silence.

"No, really?" Angel replied sarcastically. His wings were tense, ready to take off at any moment.

"You know what I mean." Sunspot walked to one of the nearby consoles, switched it on, and typed a few commands in.

“Anything?”

"Nope. No surprise, we’re locked out of the system here." His face darkened as he rubbed his jaw. “We’ll probably have to do a full system reboot to regain access.”

“That would require accessing Cerebro directly.”

“Yep, and that’s about ten levels down.” Sunspot strode to one of the heavy oaken doors leading to the dorms and opened it. The sound of slaps grew louder, and now they could hear grunts and groans as well. "In the meantime, we better start grabbing people. Maybe someone can give us a clue what other dangers we might face around here."

With that he rushed right in. While he wasn't currently the team leader, Sunspot's last few years as leader of one of the Avengers teams had him used to others simply following his orders. That, and he’d always been quite the hothead.

"Hold on, you need to be careful!" Angel called after him.

There was the sound of ignition, and Sam activated his powers to blast ahead and tug Sunspot by the arm. "Angel's right. This place is full of booby traps, right? One false move might have us—" There was suddenly an odd click as his boot pressed down on a floor tile.

Cannonball blinked. "Wha..."

Metallic cords burst from the walls and hooked into his pants, ripping them down in an instant. Others bound his legs. Sam gaped as he was lifted up by them, his now bare ass wiggling in the air.

"What in the—YEEEOOOWWW!!" he screamed as more cords came and started lashing down on his hapless buttocks like whip cracks. It had all happened so fast, no one even had a chance to react.

"Aaaoowww, get me down, durnit!"

Sunspot couldn't help but laugh at his friend's distress. "What’s that you were saying?" he asked as he turned pitch black activating his own mutant power, which granted him increased strength as well as solar energy.

But Angel has already flown up. Rather than free Cannonball, he flew to where the cords had emerged from the wall and tried to pull them out directly. Unfortunately, they just lengthened from that end, and soon the extra slack was coiling around him too. "Huh? Uh oh… let go!" he yelled. But much to his horror he felt his own pants pulled down, and soon metal cords were striking down on his freshly bared behind as well.

“Ow! …Ooh! Aah!”

At that, Sunspot just laughed harder. Angel grimaced as he struggled. The annoying part was, Sunspot had been right about him. This was his first time ever to be spanked, and he was quickly finding he didn’t care for it one bit. "GAAAAH, make it stop!" he yelled, his toned ass quivering and squirming.

“Aoowww!” Cannonball yelped in agreement, his own buns bouncing with every strike.

"Now this is just ridiculous!" Banshee said in disbelief. They’d barely been in the mansion two minutes and their two best fliers had already been caught in bondage. Banshee tugged Sunspot back before the young man could try anything foolish that’d result in him joining the pair, then he let out a keening wail and rose up into the air under his own mutant power–the power over sonics.

He didn't try to free his two teammates directly, but rather used his power on the trap itself. A focused sonic scream took out the cords all at once, leaving Cannonball and Angel to fall to the floor in a heap.

Sunspot smirked down at the embarrassed and sheepish duo. "Now will you look at that. Five minutes into the mission, and it sure doesn’t look like I’m the one sporting any welts on my ass."

"Owww... I know, we screwed up... Quit laughing, 'Berto, that hurt worse than my pa's belt!" Cannonball complained from the floor. Angel lay over him groaning. Banshee tutted and helped them both back to their feet.

"Hey, I was going to help, I promise," Sunspot said, "Eventually."

It was only the sounds of slaps still sounding in the distance that refocused the group as Angel and Cannonball pulled their pants back up.

"That was nothing compared to what our friends have been dealing with." Cannonball said briskly as he started to lead the way forward once more. “We should really free them, fast.”

"Right, but remember what Beast told us on the way here," Banshee said. "The reason the X-Men returned in the first place was to access Cerebro. Assumin' they got intercepted on the way in, that still remains top priority."

"So what should we do then?" Angel asked, rubbing his butt.

Banshee took a long moment to consider. "We split into two teams,” he finally said. “Angel and I head down to Cerebro. We have the most experience with the systems down there. Sam and Roberto, your powers are more physical. You go around freeing the others." Banshee raised an eyebrow. "Sound good?"

"I agree we should get to Cerebro, but do you really think it's a good idea to split up?” Angel asked. “That last trap did get two of us."

"And that's why you and Cannonball aren't going together. Great plan, Banshee!" Sunspot replied with a clap of his hand against Angel’s butt. The winged X-Man yelped. The Brazilian mutant grinned and wrapped an arm around Cannonball. "C'mon Sam, let's see who we can track down first." 

The two older mutants watched the younger pair head off towards the nearest sound of slapping. Cannonball gave a half-hearted smile and an apologetic shrug of his shoulders at them before they were both out of sight.

"I hope it's not a mistake sending those two off on their own," Banshee commented.

“Yeah?” Angel frowned and rubbed the seat of his spandex. “I’m kinda hoping they fall into the first spank trap they find.”

They were down the hall and around two turns before Cannonball could make Sunspot slow down. "Hey, ease up!" he said. "Like I said before, we've got to be careful."

"I am being careful," Sunspot replied. "You may not believe it, but I've gotten pretty good with electronics after everything that’s happened recently." He grinned and pointed downward. "Besides, I'm not actually stepping on anything." Sure enough, he was hovering perhaps a quarter of an inch off the floor.

Cannonball just rolled his eyes. “Showoff.”

By then they were in the male students’ dormitories. They noticed one door had been left wide open. From within they could hear the clear sound of smacks. Peeking inside, they saw the, well... the expected. It looked like Anole had been caught while sleeping. His pajama pants had been shucked down to his ankles, and more of those lashing cords were smacking down on his bare ass cheeks. He wiggled on the bed, helplessly tied down and unable to evade any of the spanks. His mouth was also gagged with a used jockstrap. Judging by the sheer size of it it had to be his roommate, Rockslide’s.

Anole's struggles only grew as he caught sight of them. “Mmmphh! Rrrmmfghh!”

"Alright, watch and learn, Sam. I've got this one." Sunspot confidently stepped inside the room so he could get a clear shot. He raised his arm and blasted one of the cables, knocking it away right as it was about to snap on Anole’s green buns again.

That cable was indeed knocked away... but then quickly retaliated by snaking around, seeming to grow in length with its rotation. Its speed took Sunspot by surprise, especially when it… SNAP! cracked against his tight ass instead.

“Ow!” he shouted, hands flying to his butt. Worryingly, he noticed the other coils quivering in agitation, like they weren’t sure whether to keep punishing Anole or to go after him, the newcomer.

That indecision only lasted a moment however. Then they were winding their way towards him, leaving only a skeleton crew to keep Anole squirming. And Sunspot's solar blasts weren’t enough to keep them all away.

“Heh. Looks like the only thing you did was draw their fire. Don’t worry, I’ll help ya out.” Cannonball stepped into the room too. That turned out to be a mistake. Before he could ignite his power, two more cords darted at him from behind. SNAP! CRACK! He got a painful whip crack to each cheek. “Yeow!” He hopped away, trying to evade more that were coming at him. “Now this ain’t funny!”

"You handle the ones in the air," Sunspot growled. "I'll go after the ones holding Anole. Just give me a window!"

Cannonball nodded and started rocketing around the bedroom. Luckily, he’d worked long and hard on controlling his powers since his early days in the New Mutants, and could now change directions in mid-air like a champ. As more cables extended towards him, he maneuvered so they tied themselves in knots instead.

Meanwhile, Sunspot ran for Anole. He shot the swarming cables with solar blasts, aiming for their bases so they couldn’t dodge. As Anole felt the cords loosen around him the reptilian mutant was finally able to wiggle free from his torment, slipping right out of his pajama bottoms in the process. Cannonball gave a triumphant whoop as he watched Anole leap away from the bed and towards safety.

All was not well though. Even as Anole dove for freedom, Sunspot felt a coil wrap around his own ankle. From there it managed to twist up his calf, and then wrap around his other leg too. He beat on it with his enhanced fists, but it did no good. Once the coils got hold of someone it seemed almost impossible to shake them off without help.

“Rrrngh! Crap! These things are… strong!”

Cannonball swooped in smugly behind Sunspot. "Looks like it’s your turn to get saved."

“Yeah yeah, gloating comes after the rescue, okay?”

Catching his friend by the armpits, Cannonball turned his power on full-blast to tear him loose. While he did so, he heard a conspicuous Rrrrrip! from the direction of Sunspot's pants. "Er... Oops." He chuckled as they hurtled out of the room. They crashed into Anole on the way out and the three of them blasted a short distance down the hall before all landing in a pile together. The coils writhed and snapped at the door frame, but they didn’t have enough slack to make it beyond.

"Ugh… thanks for the save, Sam. Although I think you pulled that last stunt on purpose." Sunspot looked down and saw he was practically naked below the waist. He groaned as he stood up, examining the scraps of his costume.

At least he was wearing more than Anole. The young reptilian mutant was straight-up in his birthday suit as he stood to join them, spitting the jockstrap out of his mouth. Apparently getting spanked by machines was one of Anole’s turn-ons, to judge by a certain physical reaction he was sporting. “Uhh, hey Anole," said Sunspot, "You’re certainly looking… chipper today.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Anole asked, being too occupied rubbing his welted ass to notice anything else. It was only when he saw where his saviors were staring that he looked down at himself. “Eep!” Anole quickly turned bright red and covered his groin. “Uhhh, sorry guys. Ever since that first time the Handler got us I’ve kinda been, well, reacting like this to any spankings…”

“It’s fine,” Cannonball said quickly, although if anyone blushed hardest at seeing a younger mutant’s rock-hard boner, it was him. The 'good ol boy's face was completely red as he turned his back. "We'll ahhh... just give you a moment to compose yourself," he said, nudging Sunspot to follow his example.

The Brazilian rolled his eyes, but followed suit. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "Is there anything you can tell us about what's going on?" he asked to fill up the silence. "Such as maybe where the other X-Men are?" They could hear more spanks drifting down the hall.

"Uh… not really. " Anole bit his lip and tried to will his erection down. He was also studiously avoiding looking at Sunspot’s own bare ass since that would only exacerbate his problem. “After we were all freed from the Handler’s control we flew back here. I was pretty bushed, so I went to bed right away. I woke up the next morning how you found me. I think Bishop said something about going down to use Cerebro though. I don’t know where anyone else is."

“Not even Rockslide?”

“He said something about food and then never came back. Maybe he’s getting spanked in the kitchen?”

“Hmm.”

By the time Anole finished his explanation, he'd settled down enough to not completely embarrass himself anymore. Regardless, he decided to walk in the lead. He'd rather them see his reddened butt than try to keep calm while looking at Sunspot's. "C'mon, I think Colossus is closest," he suggested, leading the way toward Colossus' room on the other side of the dorm.

"Y'know, as far as embarrassing things we’ve done, this is pretty high on the list," Sunspot complained, covering his own groin with a hand as they followed behind.

"Since when have you been modest?" Cannonball teased. He craned his neck to check out his friend's round glutes. "Remember when we used to go skinny dipping down by the lake?"

“Sure do. Okay, why don’t you take your pants off and join us then, Sam?”

“Hey, I said you weren’t modest, not that I wasn’t!”

The two friends’ gazes returned to Anole. The young X-Man had filled out over the years and was hardly the scrawny kid he'd used to be. In fact, with his broad back and firm butt, he might be one of the better-looking X-Men around. Sam coughed and tried to look somewhere else. "Though yeah... might not be a bad idea to find you guys some clothes," he said. He was liable to get himself into trouble following a butt like that.

Those sweet cheeks led them straight to Colossus's room though. Peeking inside, they found the Russian's living quarters to be a bit cluttered, but otherwise undisturbed. Paintings and art supplies covered most of the surfaces. From the direction of his bathroom however they could hear the sound of muffled cracks and groans.

Cannonball and Sunspot exchanged glances, then nodded in unison and crossed the room. They carefully opened the bathroom door.

Even though they’d been expecting to find the big Russian in peril, the view inside still made them gape. Apparently Colossus had been about to take a bath when he’d been captured. He was strung up over his bathtub, fully naked, wrestling with the same sort of wires that had been tormenting Anole. For some reason, he wasn't steeled up. His yells were muffled by a pink loofa stuffed in his mouth. On top of that, the cables had grabbed a brush and a rolled up towel. They were alternating between snapping the towel at his muscular butt and striking it with the back of the brush, turning both his squirming cheeks red.

“Rrrnngghh! Mmmphhgrrr!”

But, perhaps most sadistically of all, another cable had wrapped around his large balls and pulled taut. The heavyweight mutant definitely wasn’t going anywhere held like that. From the sound of his moans, he was barely able to put up a fight at all anymore.

"Oh, damn," Sunspot said, stopping just short of entering. "No way in hell am I getting stuck like that. We better be more careful this time."

"Yeah, you think?" Anole quipped dryly.

"Geeeez." Cannonball’s face had turned bright red again. "How do we keep getting into these messes?"

“Just lucky, I guess. For now we’d better brainstorm. First of all, why do you think he hasn’t steeled up?”

“I dunno, but until he does we shouldn’t attack recklessly. I mean, look at him. Even his balls are in peril!”

“Yeah.”

The towel snaps and loud thwacks of the bath brush continued as they discussed the problem. Anole found himself drawn to the sight the longer he watched. Colossus had always been big and muscular, but now he seemed wholly helpless to escape his plight without their help. Something about that was very... interesting. And the X-Man's strong, clenching buttocks were such a deep, solid red. He hadn’t known an ass could reach that shade of red.

“Anole?”

“Huh?” He snapped his eyes back to his teammates.

Cannonball sighed. "Anole, can you leap in there and use your claws to cut him loose? Then when the coils reach for you, we'll be there to, uh, run cover.” The lanky young man scratched his neck. “I know your butt probably wants a break, but we can’t really come up with a better plan.”

Anole looked back and forth between the two. "Well, I can’t think of anything else either." He took a moment to try and turn on his camouflage power. It was difficult to concentrate while his ass ached so bad. His cheeks were also a different color than they usually were. After a few moments though he was successful and he mostly vanished from view.

“Okay, but you guys better not leave me in the lurch.”

“Don’t worry, buddy. We got you.”

“Okay, here I go.”

He snuck into the bathroom as quietly as he could. Luckily it seemed the cords didn’t have heat sensors or any other way of detecting him. He stood studying Colossus’s torment for a few moments, looking for the perfect window of time. He found it in the instant between a towel snap and a brush crack—and made his move. One slash from him severed the most dangerous of cables, and Colossus's head sagged with relief as the pressure was finally released from his testicles. But the moment Anole acted, the cables realized something was wrong. They swerved in their path, hunting for him.

"We got you!" A powerful blast of heat sent the first metal arm flying back against the wall as Sunspot entered. "Keep going!"

“Right!” Anole kept focused and continued to slash.

Cannonball flew out to assist too, using his powers as he had before to divert the cables and make them follow him. But unfortunately there wasn't as much room to maneuver in Colossus's bathroom. He wasn't able to head off all the cables heading for Anole, and it wasn't long before a few had the guy cornered.

"Ah! Not again! How come they always go for me first!" Cannonball complained as one wrapped around his midsection.

“‘Cause you have a nice ass,” Sunspot said sarcastically.

Cannonball chose not to respond to that. He did turn his powers on full-throttle in order to break free though. But remarkably it seemed the mansion’s defense systems had learned from their last encounter with him. The coils released their grip and instead slid into the waistband of his pants. Cannonball gasped as he blasted forward right out of them—in effect aiding their attempts to strip him. "Oh, no!"

The bare-bottomed Cannonball was unable to maneuver properly in the tight confines of the bathroom and the coils herded him right where they wanted. He ended up flying right into Colossus and gasped as he slapped chests with the hunky Russian. More coils came instantly and wrapped around them both, tying them together. "Ah shoot, hurry Anole!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Anole shot back instead. “There's just too many of them!” The more that he cut through, the more appeared. It also seemed the coils had discovered some way of detecting his presence. Little by little, he was being forced back against the wall. "Sunspot! You wanna get in here and help?"

"I’d really rather not," Sunspot said honestly. Nevertheless, he slowly floated into the room, blasting away. However, that caution worked against him. While he was focused blasting the coils on the far side of the room so they wouldn’t get near him, he didn’t realize more were springing from the walls directly behind him too. In moments his waist was wrapped up and he was being lifted into the air. “Aaahh, dammit!”

By that time more towels were being picked up and rolled into rat tails by the machines. Sam yelped as they whipped against his buns one after the other. Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! "Ow! Ah! Yow! This ain't fun, guys! Ooh, help me outta this—MMPH!" His eyes widened as a loofah was summarily shoved into his mouth. He’d been gagged like Colossus. He looked into the big Russian's eyes as they were punished together, the towels alternating between their two naked and writhing butts.

"Mmmpphhh! Gmmmph!"

Meanwhile, Sunspot was yanked over the rim of the tub by yet more coils, his own bare and toned buttocks turned upwards in a decidedly vulnerable position. He didn't have to wait long for his own punishment to start as another bath brush lifted over his helpless cheeks.

SMACK! SMACK!

“OWW! OH, MERDA!”

With all his teammates in trouble, Anole quickly realized he was the only one left. He'd need to improvise fast if he didn't want to join them. But the question was, could one young mutant take on the X-Mansion’s whole security system alone?

Anole leapt into the air, literally bouncing off of the wall in his efforts to keep clear of the coils. The way they kept grouping and massing made it impossible to get close enough to help any of his friends. He was, however, able to notice something about Colossus on one of his passes. For some reason, the hulking man had an absolutely massive erection as he got spanked. But past that distraction, there was something else there too. 

"Cannonball!” he cried as cables started closing in on him from every direction. “You have to get that ring off him!"

Cannonball looked up in confusion. Ring? What ring? And more to the point, what would a ring Colossus was wearing matter? The next crack against his ass made the young mutant buck and groan against the larger man. He’d noticed Colossus’s boner, of course. Each lick sent it rubbing against him, even throbbing in time with the licks and cracks. But what made it even worse was that, as their spankings went on, Sam found himself unwillingly twisting and rubbing against the beefy man so that his own manhood responded in kind. His cheeks burned as his dick rose to join Colossus's like it had a dang mind of its own. "Mmpphh!"

The room was now full of mutants being spanked. Cannonball winced and wriggled in his bindings. Colossus’s body practically dwarfed his as he was pressed deeper into it from the swats. Below, he watched Sunspot get his share of punishment too. Any satisfaction he would have gleaned from that was stymied by his own ass stinging and burning. This was crazy! Their adventures weren’t really going to end here, were they?

Then… his eyes widened.

"Cannonball! You have to get the ring off his dick!"

He felt it now. As his erection reached its full length, it rubbed up against Colossus’s. Something ridged and metallic was there, right around the base of Colossus’s thick shaft. A ring! He’d found it, but now how to get it off? A cry was heard above him, and he looked up. Anole had been caught again. The reptilian mutant was spread-eagled above them with towels twisting into position. The young mutant yowled as his whipping started up right where his last one had left off.

Cannonball had to rescue everybody, even if it was the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done. Gritting his teeth, he started to push back against Colossus’s needy thrusts. He understood now why the beefy man had been grinding on him so desperately. With their hands tied behind their backs, that was the only way they could touch down there. They moaned as they humped and bucked, getting swatted on their sore, reddened cheeks, trying to access whatever the thing was, hunting for a release mechanism…

Cannonball thought he felt a button. Squaring his jaw, he pressed it as best he could using only the swollen head of his dick.

The moment it pushed in, metal started covering Colossus's body. In mere moments the large Russian man was fully covered. The protective coating caused the brush and towels assaulting him to just bounce off his beefy cheeks harmlessly. He yanked as hard as he could on the cables holding them. There was a shower of plaster as he pulled them directly out of the walls.

Without those anchors, there was nothing holding them in mid-air anymore. With a flailing of limbs, they tumbled right down into the tub below.

"Hey, watch it!" Sunspot yelled right before he got a face-full of Cannonball's balls. “Mmrghff!”

“Oops, sorry buddy,” Cannonball said as he scrambled off him. On the way, he looked for the ring that had been keeping Colossus’s powers at bay. He found it on the bottom of the tub, and his breath caught as he held it up. I don’t believe it! One of those power-dampening collars like they use on Genosha. But… smaller, so it can fit around a dick?

"Just get me loose already!" Sunspot’s powered up form made him more resistant to impact than a normal human, but it hadn’t been enough to keep his buttocks from turning a good shade of red under the bath brush. Up above, Anole was still yowling.

Colossus ripped the loofa out of his mouth as he stood, naked and glistening. One motion was all it took to rip the cords free from Sunspot. He bounded out of the tub. "I've got him, my friends!" he shouted as he rushed to aid Anole too.

Cannonball flushed just at the sight of the big guy. He knew there was no way to conceal his hard-on from Sunspot, so he didn’t even try. Then again, a quick glance showed he wasn't alone in that, either. It was Sunspot’s turn to blush as he covered up his dick, too.

“Look… this whole mission has been weird, okay?”

“Tell me about it.”

As Colossus ripped Anole loose, Cannonball knew it was time to take some initiative. They were all free for the moment, but that could change at any time. "Okay Piotr, you get Anole and I've got Sunspot!" he cried, suddenly slinging his surprised friend over his shoulder. The spoiled rich guy kicked and wiggled in confusion.

It was too risky to go out the way they'd come. Who knew how many traps were hidden in Colossus's room? No, there was only one sure-fire way to escape and confound the mansion AI at the same time.

Cannonball flew directly into the nearest shower wall. As long as he was blasting, he was completely invulnerable. That protection extended to anything he was holding onto, too, which in this case was his best friend's bare butt. When he burst out the other side he was firmly gripping Sunspot's rounded left butt cheek as the guy wailed in alarm. He blasted through into the next room as well, forming a path for Colossus and Anole to follow.

"Sorry about your bathroom, Piotr! This way, before they catch on!"

"I'm right behind you, tovarisch!" Colossus held Anole in his large arms followed in Cannonball's wake. His shiny metal ass flexed and bounced with every step. Not a single one of them had pants on anymore.

Soon they were in a space that seemed free to traps. He set the young reptilian mutant down and nodded to the others. “My thanks for your assistance. I was beginning to think my torment would never end,” he told them in a thick Russian accent.

“No problem, big guy. But uhh, point that thing somewhere else, huh? That’s practically a +1 mace.”

Colossus blushed right through his steel body and turned to the side. That didn’t help much though, as it only gave them a view of his sizable erection in profile instead.

“Uhhh, do you know where any of the others are? And just why is the system going haywire anyway?”

“I do not know. I was washing after a Danger Room workout when suddenly I was grabbed. Perhaps Bishop could tell us. He was going to check on Cerebro before all this madness began.”

“Bishop, huh? Well, hopefully Banshee and Angel run into him. They’re on their way down there now.”

Colossus frowned. “Someone else is attempting to access Cerebro?”

“Yeah. With any luck they’ll be—Uh oh.”

It was a familiar sound to them all now. A sharp thwack! of something hard striking a firm, bare ass, followed by a pained groan—and it was coming from somewhere close by. They all looked at each other with a mixture of reactions. Anole looked curious, Colossus was determined, Cannonball blanched, and Sunspot simply groaned.

However they felt about it, it was time to save another spanked mutant.

Chapter Text

While one team encountered countless obstacles, the other proceeded smoothly with its mission. Angel and Banshee descended through numerous sub-basements to draw closer to the level where Cerebro was housed. Their path had been oddly free of traps—as if they were being purposely herded in that direction. Neither man complained, but they certainly noticed, and both silently prepared for an ambush.

As they walked, Banshee kept sneaking glances at Angel's rear. "So... is it true what Sunspot said up there?" he finally asked, a grin playing on his face. "That was the first time your 'prissy behind' ever felt a good spanking?"

"I really don't see how that's any of your business," Angel replied icily, keeping his focus on the hallway ahead. His senses were greater than a normal man’s—especially his eyesight—and he was keeping a wary eye out for traps. "I doubt you'd care to answer it yourself, anyway."

"Ah, but you forget I grew up in a conservative old Irish family, boyo. There's nothing men like me enjoy more than sharing ol' battle scars." Banshee joked as they turned a corner. "Both me and my cousin Black Tom were well-acquainted with the leather tawse across our rear-ends as lads. It worked to keep me out of trouble, though I can’t rightly say it did the same for him. Still, can hardly say we didn’t deserved it. Got my share of hazing as a rookie in Interpol, too. Even gave out a decent amount of it myself."

He gave a crooked grin at his winged teammate as they walked. "If ya like, I'd be happy to give you a taste o' the tawse as well, once this is all over. Get you caught up..."

Whatever Angel's answer would have been, it was interrupted as they heard snaps and grunts up ahead that signaled another teammate was in trouble. They entered a wide, sterile room to find Bishop hanging upside down from the ceiling, utterly naked. His arms were bound behind his back and his own red bandanna covered his mouth as a gag. He was wild-eyed and trying to say something to them as cables endlessly slapped his red and bruised bottom with paddles.

"Mmmpggh! Mggff phmm MMGGH!"

"What in the—" Angel stared. He'd heard reports about what was happening from the others, but it was still something else to actually see one of his teammates strung up. But in the next instant additional cables snapped out of the walls, and his wings unfurled.

"Get him down!” he shouted, “I’ll run cover!" He didn’t have much space to fly, but exhaustive training sessions in the Danger Room had prepared him for such conditions. As the first cable blasted towards them, he deflected it with a powerful sweep of his wing, then swooped low over the floor.

"Er—right!" Banshee shook himself out of his own stupor and rose up on auditory vibrations to fly at their captive teammate. Several cables shot towards him but he repelled them with a sonic scream. Another scream loosened the cables holding Bishop aloft, and he caught the naked man as he fell.

A clump of cables remained around Bishop’s wrists and ankles to keep him bound, but at least he wasn’t being paddled anymore. The man was gesturing an urgent need to speak, so as Banshee set down on the floor he pulled the bandanna from Bishop's mouth. "What's so important boyo?"

"It's a trap!" Bishop immediately gasped, taking in a big lungful of air.

Banshee's eyebrows knitted together. "A trap...?" he asked—right before a hairy knuckle closed over his mouth from behind.

“Mmmpghh!”

The warning came too late for Angel, too. He was so focused on batting the cables away that he didn’t hear the tell-tale Bamf! of air right over him. Suddenly there was a weight on his back, and he looked to see it was the nimble Nightcrawler.

"Kurt?! Hey, get off!" Angel's wings swung back and forth to try and knock his teammate off. But Nightcrawler knew to stay balanced in the exact center of his teammate’s back to prevent them from reaching him.

“Mein apologies, Herr Worthington, but you are making this far too easy," Kurt teased, speaking right into Warren's ear as he groped his toned bottom through his costume. Angel gasped and lurched.

Unfortunately, what Angel didn't realize was that Nightcrawler was only a distraction. As he swerved and flapped wildly, he was unknowingly being herded back into the waiting coils of the metallic tendrils. With a hard Slap! to his buttocks, Nightcrawler launched himself off Angel and propelled him right into the nearest swarm.

Banshee watched as the cables quickly wrapped around Angel like constricting snakes and began tearing off his clothes. Unfortunately, his own position wasn’t much better.

“There we go, bub. Nice ‘an easy,” the grizzled voice of Wolverine said as he finished tying the straps of a dildo-gag around the back of his head. Just like old times, if anything the least bit obstructed Banshee’s vocal passages it rendered his powers useless. He struggled and fumed.

“Mmmphh! GRRMMPPFFHH!”

“It’s no use. Forge constructed this thing just to neutralize ya. Now where was I… oh yeah.” Wolverine smirked, and then there was a snikt of adamantium. One quick slash, and Banshee suddenly felt three parallel slices in the seat of his costume to expose his own firm buttocks.

"MMRRMPH!"

A hard whack sent Banshee sprawling into his own mass of cables, which soon strung him up in much the same position Bishop had been in—spread-eagled, gagged, and with painful-looking paddles aligned on either side of him. When his spanking then started, his stifled screams reverberated around the room.

The bound Bishop grimaced on the floor, expecting his turn to come next, but Wolverine simply stepped over him with a wink and headed towards Nightcrawler, who was having fun tormenting the now-naked Angel.

“Hey Elf, let’s switch. I got personal business with Warren.”

“Oh? But I am having so much fun listening to his reactions! Did you know he has never been spanked before today?”

The man growled. “Kurt…”

“Alright alright. But keep some for the master, ja?”

Nightcrawler bamfed away, leaving the two men on their own. Wolverine leered down at the naked, flustered, and tied-up Angel.

"You remember the first time we met, pretty boy? You pulled me off Jean 'cause you didn't like how I was lookin' at her." Wolverine slowly ran a hand down the curve of Angel's back. "Well, I'm gonna do to you now exactly what I wanted to do to you then."

Wolverine took the nude form of Angel and bent him over his knee. Then he raised his hand up good and high, and brought it down with a harsh CRACK! on those toned, squirming cheeks. The wealthy playboy had no idea how to react to the sudden pain and humiliation.

"What? Wolverine, that’s ancient–OW!–history! Let me—YOW!—go, you damn redneck!" Angel hollered, struggling to break free from the stronger man’s grip. For someone who’d never been spanked before, he was receiving quite the education in how much they hurt. Each wallop of Wolverine’s hand felt like a heavy cutting board landing on his smooth, well-muscled buns. He wiggled and squirmed, but found himself quickly giving in to the discipline.

While Angel was moved to tears, Bishop wasn't faring any better. Nightcrawler had pulled the bound man across his own lap and was simply continuing his punishment where the machines had left off. “Ah, I do love when a plan comes together smoothly, ja?”

“Kurt, you’ve got to–Nnngh!–fight this!” Bishop shouted, his moderately hairy ass cheeks bucking and clenching under the three-fingered slaps. “The Handler is–Aaargh!–controlling you!”

“Oh, I am well aware he is,” Nightcrawler said brightly as he kept bringing his palm down sharply. “But so long as he keeps giving such delicious orders as these, why would I ever fight them?” He wrapped his arm tight around Bishop’s waist, then raised his knee to lift the man’s beefy ass higher. With as much punishment as the time-crossed mutant had already taken, it wasn’t long at all before Bishop was letting out broken sobs from yet another spanking.

“Well done, all of you.”

A clap of hands echoed out over the room as the man himself chose that moment to enter. The Handler stepped with a spring in his step as he approached his newest batch of soon-to-be spank slaves.

Angel was fighting back tears as he drew nearer. “Y-you…! You’re him, you’re the…!”

SPANK! The Handler slapped his palm across his ass.

“Who am I?”

“My… master.”

“That’s right. Oh, under the proper conditions they do learn so fast.”

A similar routine occurred when he gave Banshee’s bright red bottom a good spank. Once the gag was removed from his mouth, the Irishman quickly swore allegiance to him. Then he approached Bishop.

“It seems we keep finding each other like this, don’t we Lucas?”

“How did you know?” the man spat. “How did you know exactly which mutants would be here? Wolverine had a gag specially prepared for Banshee and everything.”

“Hmmm, it’s possible I might have a few moles here and there in the Mansion and they… hear things.” The Handler grinned. “There’s another team up above. They don’t have the slightest idea one of them belongs to me.”

Bishop’s eyes widened. “You… bastard!”

The Handler nodded as he turned Bishop over onto his stomach, then raised his hand over that beefy butt. “That’s right.” And he brought it down, hard and fast. Bishop groaned as his free will was taken.

As his new slaves were set back on their feet, red-bottomed and docile, the Handler nodded to Nightcrawler. “Get them loaded up and returned to base. I’ll need them for the next phase.”

“And where will you be, Master?”

“Oh, I’ll be following along. I just have one more stop to make before we leave.” The Handler grinned as he headed for the elevator.

There was one last X-Team to collect.

Chapter Text

"Hey, I can walk by myself ya know!" Sunspot complained as he got hoisted over Cannonball’s shoulder again.

“Sorry Roberto,” Cannonball said with a tight grin. “You can hear those licks. Time is of the essence.”

And, to be honest, he just kinda liked the feel of Sunspot’s supple ass in his hands. He got a good grip on his buddy’s cheeks as he activated his powers, then rammed through the next wall. His powers kept them both safe.

Through that final hole they crashed somewhere in the rec room. The sounds of slaps and grunts grew louder, and the source was soon revealed to be Gambit. The Cajun mutant's clothing had been torn off him and was scattered all over the floor, while he himself was pressed over a pool table on the far side of the room. His hands were bound behind his back while his butt received a painful caning from a pair of robotic coils holding pool cues. His cheeks were already covered with red lines, to the point where it was difficult to pick out individual marks.

"Oh, geez!" Anole said as he followed them in. The hulking Colossus was at his side. Not a single member of the team had pants anymore, and most were still at least half-erect from the last ordeal they’d faced.

"Aah! Watch out, mes amies! These things are really—YEARGH!" Gambit howled as he got a harsh strike right to his sitspots. The cables that were punishing Gambit then moved to secure him over the pool table. They looped around his legs and torso to keep him helplessly bound as they moved to take on the new intruders—with the added humiliation of one of the pool cues shoved directly up his tight ass and left there. The naked X-Man groaned and squirmed, each movement making the stick quiver in the air like a conquering flag.

The sight drew Cannonball up short. “What in the—?” He was so stunned he didn't even think of setting Sunspot down on the ground. He could only stand dumbfounded with one hand clamped on his friend's perky rear. Beside him, Anole also gaped.

That worked against the young mutants. While everyone was distracted by the sight of Gambit’s speared hole, the cables went on the offensive. Anole found himself getting grabbed for a third time as he stared slack-jawed. "Aah, not again!" he yelled, clawing at the cables that were wrapping around his ankles and lifting him up.

Colossus charged forward, intending to settle things quickly. But a host of coils sprang up between him and the pool table, forcing him to battle through them in order to reach the groaning Gambit. At least his own metallic buttocks were impervious to the various slaps and whacks they accrued.

“Sam! Put me down already!” Sunspot yelled in Cannonball's ear.

"...Huh? Oh! Sorry 'Berto." Cannonball hurriedly moved to push Sunspot from his shoulders. Unfortunately, just at that moment a cable zipped over. With almost comically perfect timing it plucked his teammate from his fingers as if he were making a hand-off. "Huh? Hey!"

“Dammit Sam, why did you–Owww!” Sunspot was very quickly wrapped up and then received his own bare-bottomed cue stick whacking while the rest of the battle continued down below. “Oww! Ow ow owwww!”

Cannonball looked on guiltily as his friend got spanked due to his negligence. “Sorry ‘Berto!”

“Sam, I am so going to get you for this—Gyaaah!”

Unfortunately, that failure served to further distract Cannonball so that he wasn't aware another cue stick was being positioned behind him, its tip lined up with another tight, vulnerable hole—his own.

“YEOOOOWWW!” the young Kentucky man suddenly howled, as a part of him that’d never been touched, let alone played with, was suddenly fully penetrated all in one swift thrust.

There was a small explosion that sent expensive pieces of pool table flying everywhere. The team looked and saw Gambit groaning and getting to his feet. He’d used his power to destroy his bonds. "Alright, we gettin’ outta here!" he said. Colossus nodded as he destroyed the last of the coils between them, then proceeded to pick up the remains of the pool table. He threw it at the wall to create a passage into the next room. The two nude, veteran X-Men nodded to each other at the rescue—then looked back to see the younger mutants all getting spanked and molested in various ways.

Gambit spread his hands. “Kids these days, non?”

“You have no idea, tovarisch.”

Gingerly, the thief reached back and extracted the cue stick from his behind. He charged it up and threw it at the cables holding Anole like a javelin. Gambit’s power was the ability to unlock the kinetic potential in objects. The pool stick exploded, destroying both itself and the cables, and the green reptilian mutant dropped to the floor.

Thankfully, Anole spun at the last instant to avoid landing on his beaten butt and instead landed on all fours. He looked up to see Sunspot spread eagle in midair, yowling. The tendrils had grabbed the last two pool cues and were alternating strikes to the Brazilian’s squirming cheeks.

"Ow ow ow! Let me down already!"

Luckily, a quick slice from Anole granted Sunspot’s wish and he fell to the ground to land on his own bruised butt. He got up with a pained grimace, rubbing his rear. A low moan attracted his attention upward.

“H-hey guys, c’mon… don’t look, just get me out of this, alright?”

Cannonball had been strung up and bent over at the waist. One coil was in front of him, keeping his his arms wrapped tight. Another was behind him, pushing a pool stick in and out of his ass. His red cheeks quivered as he was penetrated again and again.

"Man, we gotta get out of this freaking mansion," said Anole, adjusting his erection that’d suddenly come back. He kicked off the wall and into the air where he slashed through the cable holding Cannonball aloft. It was only Sunspot's quick thinking that had Cannonball fall into his arms instead of onto his violated ass.

"Don’t worry buddy, this time I got you," he said as he slung Cannonball over his shoulder. The New Mutant leader could only whine as he was carried out like that, the pool stick leading the way like a ridiculous jouster’s lance. More and more coils rose up in their wake, all seeking to recapture them. Gambit covered their escape with exploding billiard balls as they ran out.

"No offense mes amies, but are you the only ones comin' to the rescue?" Gambit asked once they’d finally caught their breath. They were in a storage room off the kitchen. Cans and other dry goods lined the shelves, while a humongous cooler dominated the opposite wall.

"None taken. Angel and Banshee are here too. They went to check on Cerebro..." Cannonball's face was bright red as he knelt on all fours, wagging his ass in the air. "C'mon 'Berto, just pull it out already!"

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna do it real slow though, alright? You probably don’t want any splinters back here.”

Cannonball moaned as, inch by inch, the pool stick was extracted from his anus. “I swear to god, if you ever mention this to anybody…”

“Hey, I’m allowed exactly one joke about you being a tight-ass and then it’s forgotten, okay?” Sunspot gave him a pat on his abused rump. “What are best friends for?”

“While it’s cute seeing you boys gettin’ along so well, we still got some real problems,” Gambit said drily. “We’re locked in a mansion loaded with spanking traps set by one of the world’s biggest geniuses. All the doors are reinforced and all the windows are barred. And I left my cards somewhere in my other pants.” He gestured down at his buck-naked body. “Do we have a plan for gettin’ ourselves out of here?”

“Umm… we’re working on it.”

Colossus stood imposingly. "We do not like to leave X-Men behind, but under the circumstances an orderly retreat is the best move. We will come back with a better-equipped team, or deactivate the systems from the outside—”

“Wait." Anole held up a hand and everybody stopped.

Somewhere nearby, they could hear the tell-tale sounds of smacks. Yet another spanking was happening.

"You gotta be kiddin'..."

“Another one?”

Peeking around the corner, they saw none other than Rockslide, his heavy body draped over a kitchen counter. He was surrounded by dozens of super-heated metal spatulas, all smacking across his ass. Unsurprisingly, he was completely naked.

Above him was Iceman, hanging from the ceiling by his speedo. He was iced up, but the cables binding him had done so in such a way he couldn’t direct his powers at anything other than himself. Like Rockslide, he was being spanked by dozens of implements, in his case wooden spoons, which landed Crack! after Crack! on his exposed, ice-covered ass, making him swing back and forth by his spandex wedgie.

"Owww! All I wanted was a sandwich!" Rockslide howled, his rocky butt actually visibly red.

"Aowww, let me go already!" Iceman wiggled in the grip of the cables holding him, but found that only wedged his costume further up his ass crack. "What the hell is going on!?" He’d been away on a mission the last few weeks, so knew nothing about the Handler, the alliance with the Avengers, or any other recent developments involving spanked superheroes.

Anole stepped back. "Okay," he said. All of them had been running from one disaster to the next with no end in sight and were exhausted. He hadn't gotten proper sleep in days, and he doubted Colossus or Gambit had either. "Two more, then we escape?"

“Sounds good to me.” Cannonball nodded. “Follow my lead.”

He activated his powers and blasted into the room to free Iceman. However, the pool stick recently up his ass must’ve messed with his internal sense of balance. It took him a moment longer than usual to get his angle of velocity right, and that was all the coils needed to turn on him.

"Huh…? Oh no!" A whole swarm of cables rose between him and his target, and he wasn’t able to swerve in time. Cannonball ended up being engulfed by the writhing mass. When they finally cleared, he’d been lifted high in the air, the remainder of his uniform gone and his legs spread wide. "Man, what the heck’re they—!" he started, only for his eyes to go wide as the thick handle of a spatula approached from behind.

"No, nonono… AAAAAHH!!" the Kentucky boy yowled as the handle was forced, inch by inch, up his bottom in front of his whole team. Apparently the defenses had identified the act as one of his vulnerabilities, given how easily it’d subdued him last time.

“So when you said ‘follow your lead’, Sam, did you mean immediately get caught? Or was it the, uh, anal penetration—?”

“J-just stop talking and get me down!!”

"Everybody scatter!" Gambit dove on the counter as more coils extended towards them and he grabbed a handful of silverware. He charged them up and flung them at the cables to keep them at bay.

Colossus charged in as well, but the cables adapted to him too. A thick mass of them lunged straight for him. They didn't lift him up or try to restrain his limbs like they had the others. Rather, they shot straight for the big man's groin. Colossus didn't realize until it was too late what they were up to—when he felt the terrible pressure of another power dampening ring snap around his hard steel dick.

“Bozhe moi!” he shouted as he reverted back to flesh and blood. He was left standing there naked and helplessly erect, the cables not even bothering to grab him while they focused on capturing the others. "I cannot... get this off!"

“Yo Anole, is that you?” Rockslide said as he saw his green roommate flip into the room, dodging cables.

“Yeah, dude. Hang tight, I’ll have you free in a sec!”

“Heh, I knew you liked me!”

"I don’t care who does it, someone just get me down already!" Iceman yelled as he bounced in his wedgie.

"Alright alright, hold your horses!" Sunspot yelled. He blasted solar energy at the cables holding both Rockslide and Iceman.

"Whoa, hey, not so hot!" Iceman yelled as the heat melted a good chunk of his ice exposing, among other things, the upper half of his butt. Sunspot rolled his eyes.

But his blast had done its work. The cables glowed red hot, allowing Anole to leap and slice through the first one near-effortlessly. Rockslide unceremoniously fell to the floor and landed on his broad butt with a wince. “Unff. Thanks pal!”

"Yeah yeah. Okay, one more," Anole said. He leaped up to slice through Iceman’s cable. But just as he came within striking distance a cable snagged his ankle. It lifted him by the foot and dangled him in mid-air. “Ack! Leggo!”

"Oh, c'mon!" Iceman complained as yet another of his rescuers got nabbed before reaching him. But all hope wasn’t lost. Sunspot and Rockslide were fighting side by side together, and they were buying Gambit time to check out the high-tech cock ring repressing Colossus’s powers.

“Don’t you worry none, Piotr. I used t’ be the best lockpick in the Thief’s Guild. I’ll have dis off you in no time,” he said, spitting on his hands as he got to work.

“Oh, I do hope so,” said a new voice.

Anole gasped as he hung from the ceiling, wiggling urgently from a wooden spoon spanking. “Y-you!”

The Handler himself had entered the Xavier Institute’s kitchen. He smiled as he watched the chaos he’d wrought. Everywhere he looked was either a mutant getting spanked, or a mutant soon to be spanked. “Well. Looks like everything’s going according to plan here.”

“We’ll just see about that, mon ami,” Gambit spat. He completed his work and stepped back as Colossus encased himself in steel once more. “You beat us by trickin’ us last time. But this time, we know the score.”

“Oh? Are you really so sure about that?”

The sound of sliding metal behind him provided only a split second warning before Gambit was grabbed from behind. “Eh? Colossus, what’re you—”

"Apologies, comrade. But the Master has given his instructions," Colossus informed him as he lifted Gambit up and handed him off to a waiting cable. The Cajun gasped as it looped around him like it’d been awaiting his arrival, then hauled him up to join the yelping Iceman, Cannonball, and Anole.

“What?!” Gambit jerked as he got a mean spatula spanking along with the others. The flat metal implement laid a rapid beat across his red buttocks, reigniting all the welts from his previous caning. “Ohhh! I don’t understand. You were with us the whole time–YOW!”

Colossus did not see fit to answer his teammate’s questions. He’d already lowered his shoulders and was charging at Rockslide like a perfect linebacker. His blow caught the bulky earthen mutant around the midsection and bowled him over.

“Huh? Hey man, I thought you were on our side!” Rockslide shouted as he hit the floor. In the next instant the older hero simply scooped him up and tossed his big body into the air as well. Immediately, he was ensnared by waiting coils. “Owwwwwww, fuuuck!” he wailed as his spanking resumed.

It was Cannonball who put it together, hanging helplessly while he watched everyone else get taken down. "He's been under the Handler's control this whole time..." he said in dawning horror. "He was a plant set to trap any rescue parties!"

“Bingo.” The Handler smirked.

"I—Impossible!" Gambit gasped. "Nobody could think that far ahead!"

Sunspot was the only one still free. He got into a fighting stance and sized the hulking Colossus up, wondering if he could take him. But it was a moot point. Two separate cables swung by and whipped him—once on each cheek—making him hop and yowl. Colossus was able to easily catch him and pin him down. He didn’t toss Sunspot into the air like he had the others, but rather bent him over his muscular metal knee. He started delivering a quite painful hand spanking to the protesting and squirming young mutant while everyone else was punished above them.

And, just like that, the entire team was taken down. All it’d taken was a single betrayal. Iceman had never even gotten the chance to fight.

“Well done, all of you.” The Handler smiled as he paced around, listening to their yelps and watching their squirms. “It was quite fun watching you make your way through my house of tricks. But sadly it looks like your adventure is over.”

“Your house?” Cannonball whimpered as the spatula handle was pushed an inch deeper inside of him. “H-how did you know where we’d be! And how did you get here so fast?!”

“Oh, I’m not giving away all my secrets.” The Handler chuckled.

The villain held out his gloved hand, showing six more cock rings. Coils of metal came and dutifully picked up each one before securing them to a writhing mutant. For some reason, Cannonball immediately got a boner when his was put on. He also saw the darkness of Sunspot’s transformed form fade away, removing what protection he’d had from Colossus’s spanks. The others all had similar reactions. Iceman’s ice melted off to leave Bobby Drake very naked, and Rockslide could no longer project his limbs. There were also moans heard from their own assorted reaction to the rings.

"Man, this thing feels super weird around my, uh, stones," Rockslide groaned, looking down at the ring on his cock. A geological formation had actually taken shape down there to give him an erection. He groaned and wiggled as his spanking continued uninterrupted. "This is freakin’ messed up!"

“A little gift from your friend, Forge,” the Handler explained. “He’s been working on quite a few toys for me. The power dampening part was easy for him, but making the wearer involuntarily aroused was my own... special request.”

He smiled at the mix of reactions that brought to their renewed torment, wriggling and grinding their hard-ons as they were spanked helplessly.

"I’m sure he’ll be pleased when he learns they’re a complete success. But there is one other thing I need tested today as well," the Handler said, looking around at the defeated heroes. "And... you will be the one to help me test it." He pointed to Anole, who’d been too busy yelping up until then to be paying much attention.

But at a gesture from the Handler, all the spankings stopped. The cables lowered Anole down until he was eye-level with the man.

“M-me?” he asked.

"Yes. You.” The Handler smiled at him. “I'll be willing to let you go free, even warn whoever you care to about my plans, if you do just one little thing for me.”

“Whatever it is, Anole, don’t listen to him!” Sunspot said hotly. “It’s got to be some sort of trick. He’s—YEOW!”

Colossus had laid a ferocious slap of metal palm across his aching buttocks. “You will allow the Master to speak.”

Anole hesitated. Sunspot was right of course. It had to be a trick. But wasn't it also important to find out what their enemy wanted? “W-well… what would I have to do?” he asked.

The corner of the Handler’s lips quirked up. "It’s simple. All I want is for you... to spank each of your teammates."

"W-what!?" Anole replied, unable to comprehend what that meant.

“Until they break, preferably.”

"Hey, what's the game here, Handler!" Gambit demanded, his bright red butt wiggling in the air. “Leave the kid alone!”

"It's gotta be some kind of trick," Cannonball agreed with a wince. Although the spankings had stopped, the spatula was still getting pushed in and out of his hole. "Don't—ahhnh—listen to him!"

Despite their brave words however, it was clear the assorted X-Men weren’t in a position to bargain. Their asses were completely vulnerable to whatever the villain wished to do to them next. The only one who had any agency in their fate was the Handler—and by proxy, Anole.

“If you’re worried it’s some sort of ruse, don’t be.” The Handler smiled. “All I want is to run a test, and I require someone who’s not one of my thralls to perform it. But if you’re so against the idea, well…” He gestured, and the cable holding Anole turned him around. Now his green scaled butt faced the Handler, covered in welts. “I could always spank the lot of you myself.”

“N-now hold on! Let’s not be hasty!” Anole trembled. His ass had already taken so much punishment. He felt like even one more slap might be enough to make him break down into tears.

The Handler smirked and returned the mutant to his previous position. “You’re a clever young man. You know your friends are going to be spanked and humiliated until they break either way. What difference does it make if you’re the one to do it? It might even be a kindness if it came from you.”

Anole bit his lip as he looked up at them all. “I mean… I guess, but...”

The villain’s eyes sought Anole’s. “And besides... you kind of want to spank them, don’t you?”

Anole’s green face turned bright red. How could the Handler possibly know that? He hadn’t even told Rockslide that fact about himself yet. And yet, from the way the Handler looked at him, it was like he knew exactly what Anole had been fantasizing about for days. Ever since that first punishment-themed Danger Room sequence Beast had put them through.

Every night, he’d been dreaming about his teammates in various punishment perils… their pants pulled down and their red-hot bottoms arched and wriggling. And in at least one explosive jack-off session, it'd been Anole's palm he'd imagined as the one making them wail.

"I-I’m not like you," he protested weakly. The Handler just smiled and put a finger to his lips.

“Of course. I’ll give you one minute to choose.”

Anole was visibly torn as the coils lowered him to the floor, and he looked around at everyone. The Handler was clearly using him, that much was clear. But why? And maybe more importantly… did he actually have anything to lose by playing along? The Handler was right about one thing; no matter what he decided, his friends were all going to get spanked. The only real choice was whether or not he joined them.

Still, the clock was ticking, and out of everyone strung up nude and helpless there was only one opinion he really wanted to hear. "Hey Rockslide, uhh… what do you think?"

"Er..." Rockslide grimaced as he gave it some thought. As if reacting to an invisible command, the coils holding him lowered down until he was level with Anole—albeit turned around so his round rocky ass was in his friend's face. The big guy gulped.

"Uhh, I'm not too good at making calls like this, but... ya gotta admit this Handler dweeb's got a point. He's got our asses right where he wants ‘em. And, you know..." He coughed, and his buttocks squeezed together for a second. "I'd rather get spanked by you than him. Not in a gay way, but I mean... Aw, fuck. Just go for it man. Give me a spanking."

The others groaned, but they couldn't exactly fault the logic. Every attempt they made to struggle only caused the cables to tighten further around them. If Anole played along, at least there was the chance he could get away and warn the others.

Such an arduous decision. Was I ever like that?

The thought ran through the Handler's mind as he listened in, remembering some of the earliest spankings he’d given. He couldn't remember ever needing much convincing to follow his instincts. But everyone was different, no matter which side of the paddle they were on. He leaned against the countertop, waiting for the inevitable.

"Alright," Anole's face hardened as he faced the villain. "I’ll do it. But only if you answer something first."

One of the Handler’s eyebrows rose.

“Why pick me? To do the test?”

“Hmmm. You probably know why.”

Slowly, Anole nodded. It had to be because he was the only gay guy on the team. Maybe the Handler thought he’d enjoy it for that reason. He’d tried to leave his libido out of his decision, but… the fact remained all of his friends and teammates just happened to have round, perfectly muscular asses wrapped in skintight spandex that they constantly paraded around in front of him. What gay guy wouldn't do a little fantasizing?

Yeah. He could try to deny it all he liked, but at least one part of him was going to seriously enjoy what was about to happen.

“Uhhhh, is it that he’s gay?” Iceman asked from above. “Because I’ve actually been meaning to tell you all something about myself—YEOW!” He was interrupted by a hard slap to his cheeks.

“I take it you accept my proposal then?” the Handler asked Anole.

The young mutant blushed and nodded, trying to look braver than he felt. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

“Perfect.” The Handler pulled something out. It was a glove, made out of an unknown purple material. It wasn’t quite fabric, but it wasn’t quite latex, metal, or anything else either. He tossed it to Anole. “You’ll spank them wearing this.”

“Er. Do I want to ask why?”

“Probably, but you’ve already used up your one question.”

Anole grimaced, but slid the glove on. It felt… weird. Like it was part liquid, seeping into his hand. Bonding with him? He imagined this might be how the Venom symbiote felt.

The Handler nodded in approval. "Alright, off you go then."

He gave a light slap to Anole’s bottom, not to use his powers on him but simply as encouragement. Anole yelped regardless and glared at the villain. Rockslide’s ass was still in place though, hovering right in front of his face, so he chose to focus on that.

Rockslide’s mutation allowed his body to be molded into a variety of shapes to suit his needs, but lately Anole had noticed Rockslide giving himself quite the beefy bubble butt when coming out of the showers in the morning. Two round slabs of craggy rock lay before him with a canyon running between the cheeks. Anole wondered if the big guy could be exploring something about himself.

He slowly raised his gloved hand up, trying to figure out the best way to approach the task. Despite his recent fantasies he hadn’t done much spanking in real life. Well, not when he hadn’t been puppeteered by some spank-crazy super villain, anyway. On a positive note, everyone had already been so badly punished throughout the day he doubted it would take much to make them cry.

"Sorry about this, Santo!" he yelled, and he brought his hand down on Rockslide’s ass as hard as he could.

One thing Rockslide had neglected to mention was that, in actuality... he probably wouldn't mind getting spanked by Anole. Granted, definitely under different circumstances than these. But, honestly, he’d be kinda into his best friend giving him a spanking. That was a conversation the two boys wouldn't be having for some time however.

SLAP!

As the first spank nailed his left cheek, the rock-guy jerked up. "Ooh!" In addition to the expected sting, there was also another sensation. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He shook his head. "Don't apologize dude. We all get why you're—"

SMACK!

"OW!" The second spank struck his right side. Rockslide started to squirm. There was that same sensation again. What was it? It almost felt like...

CRACK!

"OH!"

It felt like his resistance was fading away. Wouldn't it be easier to stop fighting so much? It felt like he spent all his time fighting lately. It royally sucked butt. And, right now, Anole was giving him a spanking. Right on his bare ass. That meant he was in charge. Yeah, Anole was in charge...

SPANK!

"Ohhhhh!" Anole was in charge, and that meant Rockslide didn't need to fight. He could let somebody else make the decisions for a while. He could just relax and stick his ass out like a good dude. Man, it freakin' hurt! But it also felt right. Like... he deserved to be getting his butt beat. After all, if he didn't deserve it then Anole wouldn't be spanking him, right? And he wanted so bad to make Anole happy. The guy deserved a laugh every once in a while. Man, even the struggle to keep from crying was resistance, if you thought about it...

SMACK!

"Ohhhh...! I'll be good, dude! I'll be... be... bwaaaahhh!" To everybody's surprise, Rockslide actually started to blubber like a baby right then and there. With his red cheeks upturned, all his resistance and struggling vanished. He slumped in his bonds but kept his bottom raised high. "Man, I'll do whatever you say. I'll do whatever you want... I've been a total bad boy. I deserve it, bro..."

“What the…” Gambit said in confusion.

"Oh, man!" Cannonball groaned as the coils then lowered them all down and formed a row of asses, starting from Rockslide. Anole now had a beautiful lineup of tight, muscular butts all bent over and awaiting his attention next.

For his part, Anole looked no less astonished than anyone else as he watched the bawling Rockslide get carried away. Rockslide had been taking it like a champ just a few minutes ago, hadn’t he? Or had he broken so fast because Anole had been the one spanking him?

It was Iceman's behind that reached Anole next though as the cables slid the line along. His tights were still yanked high up his ass crack in a wedgie, so Anole reached up and gently extracted them. Any relief Iceman felt was probably turned to worry though as Anole just kept tugging downward, pulling the speedo off his ass entirely. Iceman had a nice round, bubble butt, one that privately had taken frequent punishments from Cyclops, Beast, and even Angel back in their younger days when it’d been just the four of them on the original team. It quivered in anxiety now.

"Guys, I still don’t even know who this Handler guy is! Will someone please explain what's going on already!?" he yelled, bent over with his ass in the air.

Anole didn’t really want to get into it, so he just raised his hand and gave Iceman’s bottom a good, hard slap instead.

SMACK!

“YOW!”

"Sorry, Bobby!" Anole yelled as he started to strike the wiggling target over and over. He noticed Iceman’s rear were free of any hair whatsoever, probably due to his powers. Either way, it made for a perfectly smooth moon to punish. Part of him wanted to hold back and go easy on the poor guy but, well... that butt was too inviting.

"Ow! Come on, dude—"

SMACK

“OOOH!”

Blow after blow soon had Iceman squirming, and his rear end turned just as red as the other X-Men’s. It took only a handful of spanks before horny visions started to fill his mind, thoughts of submission he’d long both agonized and fantasized over. He suddenly wanted to give himself over completely, both to Anole... and to the strange masked man who urged him on.

"Alright, I'll do what you want!" Iceman yelled, his resolve quickly breaking down. "I'll do whatever you want! Just..." There were frosty tears in his eyes as his head fell forward. "Keep going. Please!"

Two X-Men down in as many minutes. Immediately, Iceman was pulled away. It was Gambit's behind that rotated to Anole next. The reptilian mutant was growing more and more anxious with each passing moment. Why were his teammates acting so strange once he spanked them?

On the other hand, his desire to continue was almost overpowering. The more butts he slapped, the more he wanted.

"Uhh, I'm not so sure dis is a good idea anymore," Gambit said suspiciously as he was lined up, his toned cheeks perched high. "Don’t you think the others are acting funny? And why did he make you wear that—"

SLAP!

The first spank cut him off. He gave a yelp, then his eyes widened as he had an unshakable desire… to push his ass up for more. "Wait!" he said. "I know what this is. This is—!"

SMACK!

"Oww! Stop Anole! It hurts so bad! It hurts so—"

CRACK!

"—it hurts so... good. And that the least of what I deserve after all the troubles I’ve caused." Gambit moaned and pushed his crimson buns up as high as he could so he could wiggle them in Anole's face. “I’ve stolen from my friends, I’ve broken hearts, I’ve… ohhhh…” Anole’s growing boner got even more pronounced at the sight of Gambit degrading himself so shamelessly. He wanted to keep on spanking, but the coils quickly whisked Gambit away to join the other conquered victims. Cannonball took his place.

The Kentucky boy gulped as his own bottom was raised up, his cheeks clenching nervously. At least the spatula handle had finally been removed. "Anole, something isn’t right here!" he said. "Don't you think everybody's acting weird?"

SMACK! CRACK! WHACK!

Apparently Anole didn’t care anymore, as Cannonball immediately received a torrent of swats. "Oooh, that stings!" he wailed. He was surprised at how skilled a spanker Anole had rapidly become. Each smack was precisely aimed and delivered in such a way that it maximized the sting. Even without the queer feelings racing through Cannonball's head, he doubt he'd have lasted long under that smooth, scaly palm.

But the queer feelings definitely were running rampant in him. He was soon bucking and moaning, begging for it to stop. Until...

"Oooh, please spank harder!"

...he started begging for more instead.

Cannonball was shuffled over to be placed with the other red asses. The only guy left was Sunspot now. And judging by how the others had fared, it wouldn't be long until the Handler had a full house.

Sunspot fumed as he was brought over and positioned. “Just go ahead,” he said, scowling. “We both know what’s going to happen.”

Anole nodded, not needing to be told twice anymore. He’d wanted to get his hands on Sunspot’s tight buns since the first moment he’d seen them, so beautifully bared in the mansion’s halls. Now, unbelievably, he had his chance.

SMACK!

"YOW!" Sunspot arched his back in agony as Anole slapped fully on his right ass cheek. The pain blossomed, unlike anything he’d felt before. "Hold on, stop! What is—"

SMACK!

The next blow was even more painful, sending a powerful moan out of Sunspot’s lips as he tried to recover. But before he could, there was a third slap, then a fourth. The spanking was taking on a fast-paced rhythm that only made his bottom burn hotter with every strike.

He tried to focus through the pain to figure out what was being done to him, but it was impossible. Not only was it difficult to think while getting his ass beat, but his boner must have grown an extra two inches from the punishment too. It was a combination of pain and pleasure the likes of which he’d never known, not even when he’d let various girlfriend use a paddle and fuzzy handcuffs on him. Even his tongue refused to work properly anymore as he yelped and moaned and ground his erection against the coils holding him, desperate to get off.

"I can't, I can't, ohhhh— PLEASE!" Sunspot's will slipped further as he wiggled his burning red cheeks. He no longer knew if he was trying to get away from the spanks or make his rear a more attractive target for them.

Barely a minute had passed before he was voicing the words of submission. "I'll do anything! Please! Master!" he yelled. He wanted to stick his backside up for more, but the coils had other ideas. He was whisked away, leaving Anole finally standing quite alone.

“Master?” Anole felt a little dizzy. Had he really just… spanked five of his teammates until they’d sworn obedience to him? That hadn’t just been a series of spankings he’d delivered, it’d felt like a downright spank orgy. It was all such a heady rush. He knew he had to focus on what came next, but in the heat of the moment it was difficult to think about anything else.

That was probably enough jack-off fuel to last me a whole year.

The sound of quiet applause drew his attention. “Well done,” the Handler congratulated him. Oddly, it didn’t feel mocking. “I couldn’t have done better at your age.”

“Uhh… thanks… I think?”

"Yes. And now a promise is a promise." The Handler reached down, and snagged the glove off Anole’s hand. Immediately the fuzziness vanished from his mind and he felt more like himself. Had part of the reason he’d wanted to spank his friends so badly been because he’d been wearing that thing?

He also noticed, for the first time, that the glove was the same color and texture as the Handler’s own hand.

Anole yelped as his wrists were then pulled behind his back and a pair of handcuffs slapped across them. The Handler walked around in front of Anole, studying him. For an instant, Anole thought he was about to renege on their deal. But then he simply cocked his head. "Alright. Off with you."

Anole just stared back, finally realizing his situation. He was free to go... handcuffed, buck naked, and with an erection that was still ever-present due to the ring around his dick. "H-hold on a second, you can’t just—"

"Oh, did you change your mind? Would you rather join the others?" the Handler asked slyly, gesturing to the five X-Men who were now being released from the cables one by one. They slowly took up position behind him, arrayed as his loyal slaves. "Maybe you’ve dreamed of one of these men punishing you? I can arrange it right now. I can even make you enjoy it if you want... or scream in heartfelt agony, bucking over his knee. The choice is yours.”

“I…” Anole stammered.

“Or perhaps…” the Handler continued, “you’d prefer to join me of your own free will? I do sense the drive in you. That was the real reason I selected you. And an apprentice spanker would be rather interesting to have..."

"W-what!? N-no, I—" Anole's face went from green to having most of its color drain away. That had to be one of the Handler's tricks too. He’d given him all those fantasies.

He couldn’t be like him... no way!

Anole turned and bolted for the door to find his way outside before any more disasters could occur. The sound of metallic whip cracks echoed back to the kitchen, from cables 'helpfully' spurring the young man on his way.

The conquered heroes couldn't help but bite their lips in jealousy.

Chapter Text

The next day found Anole laying over the conference table in the Avengers Tower, his perky buns embarrassingly raised up. Owing to the possibility of failure, a Quinjet had been set in place to monitor the situation around the X-Mansion. It picked Anole up as he ran out of the mansion, naked and sobbing, and took off on a pre-programmed flight back to NYC. Anole spent most of the trip trying in vain to rub sensation back into his raw, blistered bottom.

Now the rest of the Avengers were quietly gathered around him, looking over the Handler's latest handiwork.

“So, another team has fallen,” Puck said somberly, examining the welts criss-crossing Anole’s cheeks.

“Uh huh. Not only has the Handler reclaimed all the X-Men, but he took the backup team that went to investigate the mansion as well.”

“Green boy’s butt red.”

“Real red,” agreed Cable.

“Dammit! Now his forces outnumber ours!” said Luke Cage.

Anole blanched as he listened to them talk. Morale had reached an all-time low. The Avengers’ numbers had shrunk after every encounter with the fiendish villain, and they'd just suffered another major setback. It seemed like for every hero they reclaimed another two or three were stripped bare, beaten, and put under the Handler’s control.

The worst of it was that in the Handler's latest escape he'd even nabbed Captain America himself. Cap had been the heart and soul of the team, and thinking of him as just another moaning spank slave felt... wrong. Without his commanding presence, many had lost their direction entirely.

A glance around was enough to see another reason they all felt so hopeless. Most of the heroes were waiting for new costumes to be fabricated by the tower's automated resources and were standing around in the nude... or else wore gear that’d been heavily damaged in the fight with Sandman. Ripped spandex and bare butts were literally everywhere you looked, most of them still showing signs of welts.

"A cruelty indeed, making you choose between utter defeat or spanking thine own teammates," Thor told Anole, clenching his fist. "This Handler's malice truly knows no bounds!"

"I just wish I could remember anything from my time with him," Quicksilver said, massaging his buttocks which were still tender from his time squirming over Luke Cage's knee. "I feel like there's something important I should be telling you all. I just can't reach it!"

"What concerns me most..." Beast said somberly, "...is this glove the Handler made Anole wear. Tell us again how it affected the men you punished, Viktor?”

Anole nodded. “It was really weird. As soon as I started spanking them it was like... they became different people. They didn’t want me to stop. In fact, they started begging for more.” He blushed a bit as he remembered how his friends had moaned and pushed their butts up to meet his hand, and had even gotten throbbing boners from it. “They, uhh... they really liked it.”

Beast pursed his lips. “Much as we’ve witnessed many of our friends fare under the Handler’s punishments. It’s as if his spanks have an addictive effect. If I’m right—and I pray I’m not—this may be the next stage in his master plan. He's contracted Forge to come up with a way for his powers to work through... avatars. With this technology, it’s entirely possible he could spank numerous men at once."

“Wait, you mean when I was spanking Rockslide and the others with that glove, it was really like... the Handler was spanking them?”

“And putting them under his control. Precisely.”

Anole laid on the conference table, taking in what he’d done to his friends. “Oh, man,” he finally said.

“Don't blame yourself, Viktor. It’s not your fault. He would have tested his new device regardless. Recruiting you to do the honors was just yet another attempt to break our spirits.”

“Well it’s working,” Wonder Man said flatly. “Look at us, Hank. We can’t even keep our clothes on while this guy is running around. He anticipates all our moves, and pits our best friends against us. And now that Cap’s taken, we don’t even have a leader! I’m starting to think we don’t have a shot at this.”

“Speak for yourself, Wonder Runt,” Juggernaut stomped up, sneering. “As soon as we find where this Handler-dork is, I’m gonna cream him! There’s a reason I’m called The Unstoppable Juggernaut.”

“Really? Because every fight we’ve been in so far you’ve had your ‘unstoppable’ ass pretty much handed to you.”

“Hey! Take that back, chump!”

Hulkling was sitting naked beside his boyfriend, his arm around him. Ironically, Wiccan was one of the few heroes whose clothes had remained intact. “You doing okay?” he asked quietly, giving him a squeeze.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just feeling a little down like everybody else.”

“I hear that. But don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

“Maybe... Before anything else though, I think we need a leader to stop all this in-fighting.”

Looking around, Hulkling couldn’t help but agree. The conversation had devolved into a full-fledged shouting match between heroes. Everyone had splintered off into their own factions and was arguing with everybody else.

But who should take charge?

Thor was the only founding Avengers member left, but he was so rash and hotheaded. Following him didn’t seem like the right call. Quicksilver, Beast, and Wonder Man were the next most senior members after him, but none of them had ever sought leadership. And they certainly couldn’t trust any of the villains.

As for himself, despite being a prince who was supposed to lead both the Skrulls and the Kree into a golden age of peace, Hulkling had never been one to want to lead either. Hell, he’d spent most of his life running away from positions of authority.

"I say we return and take the mansion right now," Thor boomed, his arms crossed as he stared around the room. "The last time we won was when we went on the offensive. Let us renew that strategy. They won't be able to face us all!"

"In that mansion?" Wonder Man snorted. "Good luck with that. I don't think you know what you're getting into."

"I have stormed the gates of Hel before, no mere mansion can stop me," Thor snapped back while pounding the handle of his hammer into his free hand.

"Pal, I've stopped you before," Sandman pointed out. "You think you can take on all those traps? Not to mention your old pal Hercules. And Captain Britain. And Thing. And Colossus—"

"Together we could!" Thor insisted, rising up to glare at the villain. Even stark naked he cut an imposing figure. “If you lot weren’t so cowardly, we might already have this Handler knave in custody and be halfway to freeing our friends!”

"Well count me out of that plan," El Aguila chimed in. He’d been sitting quietly in a corner, contemplating the situation. After so many defeats his instincts told him to cut his losses and run before the whole group got taken. However, the idea of getting nabbed by the Handler as soon as he split off wasn't too appealing either. "I'm not crazy."

"Make that two of us." Luke Cage agreed forcefully. "What we need is a real plan to turn things around, starting with more numbers on our side. Is there anyone left we haven’t warned that the Handler’s coming after them? And is there anyone left to recruit and join us?"

"That's where I come in, gentlemen."

The doors whirred open, and in stepped a man they all knew well—whether they liked it or not, in many cases. Colonel Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D walked in, smoking a cigar and dressed in his organization's standard issue uniform—blue spandex which clung to every rippling muscle, along with a belt and multiple gun holsters. He looked around bemusedly at the assorted heroes.

"Why the hell are you all naked?"

"Ahem." Beast coughed once everyone had settled down from the surprise intrusion. "Apologies, Colonel. We've been having some umm, rather difficult times involving wardrobe—"

"Relax, McCoy. It was a joke. I know all about your situation with the Handler." Fury pressed a button on a remote and the large viewscreen on the wall switched to a view of Thor spanking Spider-Man, as had been reported on the 6 o'clock news. It then quickly cycled through multiple other spankings captured through satellite surveillance. They saw Wolverine getting spanked in a bar, Hercules sitting on Thor’s face to cheerfully paddle his ass, Hulk getting his pants ripped down, Hawkeye shooting a trick arrow right between Captain America’s butt cheeks, and even, inexplicably, Sandman getting group-paddled by the whole team which had happened right in those very walls. Many of the heroes flushed at the evidence paraded before them of their many embarrassing defeats.

Beast was one of them, blushing right through his fur. "Y-you mean, you've been watching us!?"

"We make it a point to monitor all Avengers business. Figured you'd know that."

Juggernaut gaped. "So you're tellin' me this guy's been spyin’ on us the whole time, getting his rocks off to our butts getting beat like some kinda perv—"

Cable cut him off. "So you're finally stepping in,” he said to Fury. “Does that mean you know where the Handler is?"

Fury shook his head. "Can't help with that yet. He's well hidden, wherever he is. But I've got my best people working on it. In the meantime, figured I'd come down here and lend you fellas my expertise."

"Expertise? Surely you're not suggesting we put you in charge?" Quicksilver scoffed.

"I can think of worse choices," Nick Fury said. He leaned back against the war table and took a long drag off his cigar. "You tried it Cap's way and look where it got you—and him. Bare-ass naked and a villain’s plaything. No, playing nice ain’t gonna do the job here. Seems to me that in a fight like this, you don't need a captain so much as..." Glancing around, he caught Anole's eye, then gave him a wink. "...a daddy."

Anole’s face turned bright scarlet. Most of the others grumbled and shifted at the insinuation too. Nick’s words had a ring of truth to them, but none of them liked the thought of him electing himself in charge.

"I do not follow," Thor replied, raising a brow. "How would a father help here?"

"Ugh," Wonder Man said with a roll of his eyes. He turned a glare on Fury. "Every time the government interferes in Avenger's business it makes things worse."

Nick Fury glanced significantly around at their disheveled state, not to mention all their bruised bottoms. “Doesn’t look like it can get much worse than it is right now.”

"Uh, Colonel?" Hulkling interjected, raising his hand out of habit. "What's your plan?"

Wonder Man whirled on the young man. "Weren't you just listening?"

"Well yeah. But we might as well hear what he has to say—”

“No. Trust me, he’s bad news.”

“I agree with Wondy. I don’t see what this Fury guy’s got that the rest of us don’t—” Juggernaut started.

"Takes some balls to saunter in here and try to tell us what to do, at least—”"

“I ain’t takin’ orders from no black ops flunkie—”

“How do we know this ain’t part of the Handler’s plan like everything else—”

"STOP!" Sandman finally roared, growing in size to tower over them all. His sand molecules roiled in agitation. With some effort, he managed to control them and revert back. "I ain't no fan of cops, but he’s right. We tried it Cap’s way and look where it got us. For my money, it’s about time somebody else took charge."

“I agree,” Wiccan said quietly.

Nick Fury blew a puff of smoke out from his cigar.

"Thanks, Sandman. And that's Colonel Fury to the rest of you. But since you asked, Hulkling..." Fury began circling the room, his footsteps slow and meticulous. "Ironically, Thor is absolutely right," he said, patting the thunder god’s bare shoulder.

“I am?” said Thor.

"He is?" asked Beast.

"Oh, not in the specifics. If you fellas tried to storm the X-Mansion right now you'd all be ripped, stripped, and your asses hung out to dry before lunch-time," he said offhandedly. "The place has been turned into one giant mouse trap to capture heroes, and run by one of the smartest AIs on the planet. Only a moron would fly into a place like that half-cocked."

An affronted Thor looked like he was about to interject something, but Nick patted him again on the shoulder to let him finish.

"No, the way Thor is right..." he continued, “...is you've got to go on the offensive. So far the Handler's had you all off-balance, unable to do anything but react to him. It's time for you to change all that. If you let him keep picking the times and places of your fights, you'll all end up his perky little spank slaves before you know it."

"So what are you suggesting?" Cable growled out. "His forces are in hiding and he’s somehow able to move in secret. The only times we know where he is is when he’s striking at us. If we can’t locate his base, we're sitting ducks."

Nick Fury shook his head."You're thinking about this the wrong way. What does the Handler want?" He let the question hang in the air.

"He wants... us?" Juggernaut said after a moment.

"What specifically?"

"Uhh... our butts?"

Fury smirked. "He wants to collect you all. So if I were you, I'd think about which butt you’ve got hanging around here that would be the most tempting, the most mouth-watering for a guy like him to catch and dominate. And then..." He re-lit his cigar and leaned back. "I'd use that guy as bait."

The various Avengers looked at each other, trying to view their fellow heroes from the Handler’s perspective. It was an odd exercise. More worryingly, for various reasons, on closer examination each of them looked highly spankable in at least one fashion or another.

"Well...” Hulkling thought hard. “The first person he went after was Thor, right?"

"And he would be a fool to try the God of Thunder again." Thor boasted with a glare at the younger hero. "The same cheap tactics would not work twice."

“No, but I just mean... he must’ve gone after you for a reason, right?”

Beast began ticking off attributes on his fingers. “Thor is strong, able to easily subdue most other heroes. He’s got a varied power-set with both physical might and energy control. He can fly, has access to other dimensions, has a unique weapon, and um... his willpower isn’t exactly known for being the most, erm...” He chose his words with care. “...unmalleable?”

El Aguilo nodded. “Plus there’s that high and mighty attitude of his. Take it from an ex-villain. He’s mucho spankable.”

“Ex-villain?” Luke Cage asked.

"For the moment."

"I told you guys not to listen to Fury. Now we’re debating which of us has the best ass," Wonder Man said with a grimace. But after a moment he, too, gave a nod. "It probably is Thor though."

“Do you... do you all truly think so?” Thor asked in some surprise.

"Hmmmm, yeah, I think I can see it." Puck tilted his head as he stood behind the thunder god, admiring the view. "They're firm, shapely, well-muscled... the total package! Haw!"

"And claiming a god would be quite a boost to one's ego..." Beast said thoughtfully, also caught in a stare.

"Well... okay. Assuming it is Thor, how would we use him as bait?" Wiccan asked with a slight blush. They were basically objectifying the thunder god, who was now standing there blushing furiously.

"Have him strut down 5th Avenue wearing nothing but a jockstrap?" suggested Quicksilver slyly.

"Be serious," Cable growled.

“I was.”

"HAW! Well sounds perfect to me!" laughed Juggernaut.

"And with access to Fury's surveillance network, the rest of us could keep watch and have Wiccan teleport us in at the first sign of trouble," Beast said.

After a moment, Cable nodded. "A trap of our own."

Thor looked around, his expression sober. "If you all truly think that I am the one, then... very well. I will lure him out," he finally agreed, the implication clear. He would be their Trojan Horse. Casting his ego aside, he could not find fault with their logic.

Wonder Man shook his head. "Hate to point out the obvious–"

"No you don't," Beast quipped.

"—but the tower's network hasn't picked the Handler up on any of his other attacks, and we're hooked into everything in the city. How do you figure the Handler won't get by your surveillance too, Colonel?"

"Because he has me."

The doors opened again, and every man in the room stared at the sudden arrival of what could only be called... a werewolf. He paced in, eyes slightly wild, his nostrils flared as he took in their scents. He wore a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform and, much like Fury’s, the skintight spandex bulged with muscle.

"Who the hell are you?" Sandman asked, smoothing his sand back down.

"None of your business," the werewolf answered with a growl.

Flummoxed at this, Beast simply looked to Nick Fury for explanation. The man rolled his eyes.

"This here is Vince Marcus, aka 'Warwolf'. One of my best men. You can consider him on loan to you for the duration of the operation.”

“Ever hear of the Howling Commandos?” asked Warwolf. “I run their current operation.”

“‘Howling’ Commandos? Is that some sort of pun?”

“No.”

Nick Fury cut in again. “Don't worry. Besides his charming personality he has certain other assets he can provide that no one else can." He flicked his cigar. "Let's just say I'd trust him implicitly to save my ass in a tight spot. I'd trust him to save the rest of yours too."

"Alright... Vince Marcus. Welcome aboard," Beast said, extending a hand to him warily. "'Warwolf', eh? Nice to have someone else of the furrier persuasion on the team.”

“Likewise. Let’s trade grooming tips sometime.”

"Whatever! Have those fancy Avenger fabricators of yours have finished up our pants yet?" Juggernaut asked as he scratched his huge, hanging nuts.

In short order a newly clothed Thor flew out to enact their plan.

"I still think we should have sent him out in just a jock," Quicksilver commented as they all settled down in the control room to watch. They were all back in their costumes and Puck had, once again, made popcorn.

Cable rolled his eyes. "No offense, but I've seen enough of Thor’s ass to last me a lifetime already."

"But if the point is to lure in the Handler..."

"I think that'd be a trifle obvious though Pietro, don't you?" Beast cut in.

They watched as Thor landed near where Wolverine had first been spotted on the run, back when he’d stumbled into Iron Fist and Luke Cage. They figured it had to be close to at least one of the Handler’s safe houses.

"How long this take?" Hulk demanded.

"Could be a minute, could be hours," Puck replied, putting up his feet. "So best be prepared for anything, eh?"

"Oh look, Cage. It's the spot where Hercules and Wonder Man ripped your pants off and gave you that first spanking together. Do you remember that?" Quicksilver smirked as he pointed at the street Thor was wandering down.

"Oh I remember it." Luke growled, glaring over at Quicksilver "I also remember how you ended up getting spanked by Wonder Man yourself later that night."

“Hmmm... touché.”

Both turned to glare at the man in question.

Wonder Man looked back and forth between them. "Hey come on, that was not my fault," he said, throwing his hands up in his defense. "I was mind-controlled! How about we just focus on monitor duty?"

“Hmph. Fine, but this isn’t the end of this conversation.”

"Man, stakeouts suck." Hulkling grumbled, sitting in a chair as they waited for something interesting to happen. "Why do they always look so much better on TV?"

“At least we’re not sitting in some leaky car somewhere.”

“Like Warwolf, you mean?”

Nick Fury nodded. “He’s tailing Thor as extra insurance. Even if the Handler can fool our satellites, he can’t fool Warwolf’s nose.”

They all settled back down with varying degrees of success. Still, it was nearly two hours before the Handler’s forces made their move.

Thor had set foot in a deserted construction site and was investigating the various girders and machinery. Suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, Hercules plummeted out of the clear sky. He landed on Thor with enough force to leave an impact crater. The Greek demi-god grinned savagely as granite dust and steel beams fell all around them. "Hello, friend Thor!” they heard crackle over the monitor. “I see thou art eager to return to the fold!"

Beast shot to his feet. "They've made their play! Quickly, let's move!"

But Puck waved him back down. "If we go in now, we only get Herc. Let's wait a bit and see how many more fish swim into the net, eh?"

On the monitor, a stunned Thor had been dragged out of the crater and tossed over Hercules's knee. A moment later his pants were hauled down to reveal those godly buttocks once more.

"Well..." Beast slowly settled down again, staring intently at the screen. "I suppose... just a minute or two won't hurt..."

They all watched Thor kick and struggle angrily over his compatriot’s knee, ass cheeks flexing and clenching, as Hercules once more raised his calloused palm over those perfect globes to give them the punishment they deserved.

"Right... just for a minute," they all agreed, as the first spank rang out.

Chapter Text

Hercules raised his hand to dispense the next mighty crack upon Thor’s bared bottom. However, just as his palm would have connected there was a terrific jolt of thunder. Mjolnir had flown to Thor's hand. The pantsless thunder god reared up, and the two men battled for dominance as they had so many times throughout the ages.

"Thou wilt not humiliate me this time!" Thor bellowed as he forced Hercules backward with a powerful shoulder tackle.

"Oh, thou thinkest thee can best me?” Hercules replied with a grin. “I won our last bout, and I'll win this one too!"

"Not. This. Time!" Thor let out a roar as he lifted Hercules bodily off the ground with both arms. With a great heave he threw the demi-god into a brick wall. Hercules crashed through, then the entire structure fell down around him. Thor huffed as he struck a heroic pose on top of the rubble. But the moment of triumph was short lived. As soon as he was finished dealing with one opponent, fire came raining down on him from another.

Human Torch smirked as he sent fireball after fireball hurtling from above to burn away the rest of Thor's clothes and armor. "We've missed ya, Thor! Time to come on back to the Master's service!"

As the thunder god turned to face that fiery attacker, yet another foe appeared from behind. It was the rock-like Thing, holding the pole of an uprooted stop sign in both hands. "Batter up!" he sang out, right before smacking the face of it directly into Thor's steaming ass with his full strength. "It's SPANKERIN' TIME!"

"By Odin's beard!" Thor shouted as he was sent flying. "I see thou at least knowest better than to face me alone!"

“That’s right. And soon enough you’ll be helpin’ us take down all your friends, too!”

Thor grit his teeth. He may have been outnumbered, his clothes may have been incinerated, and his bottom may have already been stinging like a fiend, but so long as he held his hammer he would fight on. Sparks formed around Mjolnir as he turned about in mid-flight and aimed a bolt of lightning straight at the group which assailed him.

"’Spankering’ time?" Wonder Man raised a brow at Thing's new catchphrase.

"Far be it from me to interrupt, but perhaps we should be helping Thor now?" El Aguila asked, spinning his sword in his hand as he watched the monitor. "I doubt he’ll make them summon much more reinforcements."

"Just a little longer," Hulkling urged, "What if Cap shows up next?"

Cable shook his head. "No, another minute and Thor will be overwhelmed. Then we'd have to deal with him and the others. Let's take what we can get."

"Bah! You're no fun," Puck groused as, on the monitor, Thor and Thing started wrestling around on the ground ripping each other’s clothes off. They were soon joined by a recovered Hercules.

Human Torch smirked as he hovered over the building site. Down below, Thing and Hercules had finally pinned the raging Thor down on his stomach so his buttocks were in a prime position to be seared. Human Torch sent flame-strike after flame-strike sizzling onto those bare, straining cheeks. "Yeah! Let's fry these buns!"

But his fun was short-lived. A wave of sand suddenly engulfed him from behind, smothering out his flames and leaving him gagging and trapped in a gigantic sandy fist which then formed out of it. "H-hey! What!?"

"Hey Johnny, been a while. Y'know, your new boss showed me a few new tricks recently," Sandman quipped as he held the Human Torch tight. “Wanna see ‘em?” His sand began whirling around rapidly, going this way and that until it literally sanded Torch’s outfit right off him.

The naked Human Torch was then flipped upside down, his bare butt wiggling as it got treated to a painful sand lashing. He opened his mouth to yowl, only for it to get filled with a sand construct that, on closer examination, was almost certainly dick-shaped. It pumped in and out of him as his bottom bounced and bucked, quickly turning a bright, burning red.

“Mmmpgghh!”

“Heh heh! Shoulda done this years ago!”

In the meantime, a triumphant Hercules found his fate quickly changed as well. He was hauled up from grappling Thor to come face-to-face with a pissed Luke Cage. "Ho! What sorcery is this!" he gaped, only to be pulled harshly forward. He landed hard across the man’s knee.

“This is payback for last time,” the Hero For Hire snapped as he ripped Hercules’s toga off, leaving the mythical demi-god wearing nothing but his Greek sandals. Hercules was soon bellowing and cursing as a hard beat was applied to his bare-naked bottom.

And Thing? A large shadow formed over him, slowly shrinking with a loud whistling noise. The rocky man glanced around, confused. “Uh oh, I got a bad feeling ‘bout dis...” Like a cartoon character, he looked up at the final moment—just in time for his face to meet Hulk's feet head-on. The green behemoth landed so hard he formed the largest crater yet, with Thing buried a few dozen meters below him under a host of girders. He stood grinning, massive arms raised in triumph.

"Hulk strongest there is!" he crowed. He looked down at Thor, laying groggily with his ass upturned, the buttocks red and steaming. "HAH. Looks like long-hair got spanked after all!"

“Urgh… In a manner of speaking. Lend me a hand, wouldst thee?” the thunder god asked with a grimace.

But a moment later Hulk’s expression changed from triumph to sudden discomfort. "Ugh!" He kicked and bristled as he rose into the air. Captain Britain had swooped in behind him and grabbed the back of Hulk's underwear. In short order he flew straight up and then away from the building site, hoisting the massive brute in a super-powered wedgie.

“Hulk! Hey, where ya going, man!” Puck shouted in his wake. Before the short man could run after him, a host of arrows suddenly flew out of nowhere. The first one gagged him with sticky fluid. The second bound his wrists together. The third did the same to his ankles. Hawkeye silently walked out as Puck flopped helplessly to the ground.

"Mmmpggh!" Puck flailed wildly as the archer simply grabbed hold of him and dragged him away from the action. His bottom clenched in fear at the indignities it’d soon be suffering.

But luckily for him, for once the Avengers had layered in contingencies. Beast appeared in a flash of light and went to tackle the archer. Hawkeye had to abandon Puck in order to keep clear of the bouncing blue mutant. He shot arrow after arrow at him.

“Ah, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” Beast quoted as he nimbly dodged each. “Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?”

“Shut up already!” With perfect marksmanship, Hawkeye anticipated where Beast would jump to and shot there, rather than where Beast was. The gambit succeeded and the X-Man was struck by an arrow that burst into expanding foam. Beast gasped as he was suddenly trapped within the hardening material, arms locked at his side, only his head and the tops of his furry blue pecs visible. He twisted and struggled with all his might, muscles bulging, but couldn’t break free. Hawkeye smirked as he walked up to him and Puck, now both rendered helpless. “Well well, two for the price of one—”

“Sorry, these are out of your price range." Hawkeye was cut off by a different furry form slamming into him from behind. It slashed at his quiver and tossed it away. It was Warwolf, snarling as he pressed Hawkeye to the ground.

"How many of you are there!?" Hawkeye yelled.

"Not so much fun when you're the ones being ambushed and surprised, is it?" Nick Fury asked as he appeared as well. He smirked and struck a match to light his cigar. "Good work, soldier," he congratulated Warwolf. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent threw him a quick salute before wrestling the archer’s pants down and throwing him over his knee. The sounds of a harsh bare-bottom spanking soon followed.

“Oww! Owwww!”

Up above, Wiccan panted as he hovered over the battlefield. He’d been teleporting people in as needed, but each represented a great deal of magical energy. He was becoming exhausted. With another burst of intense concentration, he teleported Juggernaut in to finish dealing with Thing. He heard them trading blows at the base of the building site hard enough to rattle the entire structure.

"Alright... any more surprises?" he asked, dazed. “Because I’m about ready to take a week-long nap.” His question got answered as—Thwip!—his mouth suddenly got covered by a web ball. "Mmph!" More webbing shot out, rendering him bound and helpless. Spider-Man swung in.

"So you're their teleporter, huh? You'll be a perfect asset for the Master," he said cheekily as he caught the mage mid-swing. He swung off with Wiccan squirming over his shoulder.

"Mmmph! Hrrmmmphh!" Wiccan called down to his boyfriend as he was taken. But Hulkling couldn’t hear him over the sounds of his own battle helping to take down Thing. None of the others could hear him either. There was no one around to help him at all. Wiccan’s pants were soon pulled down and his cheeks bared as Spider-Man settled on a construction girder high overhead with him placed neatly over his lap.

“Now remember, this is going to hurt me a lot less than it’s going to hurt you,” Spider-Man chuckled as he raised his hand high and then brought it down smartly across the young man’s smooth buns.

SMACK!

“Mmmmmmpgghhh!”

Rescue came from an unexpected place. A black, goopy web suddenly struck Spider-Man from behind. He gave a startled yell as he was yanked backward, leaving Wiccan to fall towards the ground far below. The young sorcerer struggled to get free in time to cast a flight spell. With extreme effort, he ripped the webbing out of his mouth. But the ground was rushing up so fast, he couldn’t—

Right before he hit the ground, Nick Fury dove underneath to catch Wiccan in his strong arms. The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. gave him a bit of a smirk as he held him tight. “You alright, kid?”

“Y-yeah,” Wiccan said. For some reason he was blushing wildly.

“Good. Try to be a bit more careful." Nick Fury advised Wiccan as he set him on his feet. He dusted him off, then gave him a light pat on the ass. “You left yourself wide open.”

Wiccan just blushed harder as he pulled up his pants. “Th-thank you!”

Chuckling, Nick Fury turned back to monitoring the battle site. Most of the fighting had already ended; he just had to make sure the area remained secure. He was pleased his plan had—by and large—gone off without a hitch. The sounds of punches and battle cries had already been mostly replaced by yelps and the clap of hands on buck-naked asses. He watched the beefy buns of Hercules contort and clench over Luke Cage's knee as the demigod bellowed under the Hero For Hire's paddle. He seemed taken well in hand.

Same for Human Torch, who was on the verge of tears under his non-stop sand whipping. Now that looks like it hurts like hell, Nick Fury thought. Not that he felt sorry for him. The hotshot playboy had needed it for years.

Down below, in the cratered pit, it looked like the battle with Thing had reached a healthy resolution as well. Most of their clothing had been destroyed in the fight, but Juggernaut had finally, with the aid of Hulkling, pinned Ben Grimm down over his thick thigh. He was now walloping those yellow-orange clay cheeks, bringing full-force blows down on them that continued to make the buildings shake around them despite the fight being over. Thing was appropriately yowling at the top of his lungs.

Across the yard, he saw Spider-Man kicking and twisting over Venom's lap. That hadn't strictly been a part of his plan, but was still within the realm of possible variables. And Fury wasn't about to turn away free aid.

"Oh c’mon, anybody but HIM!" Spider-Man begged as tendrils seeped into his costume and then hauled his tights down. His lean and toned behind was soon very naked and writhing across the symbiote's knee.

“Good job, Venom!” Fury called over. “Glad to see you back with the team.”

“We will hunt the Spider, wherever he goes.”

“Sure, sure.”

Nick Fury took another drag of his cigar. Now he just had to keep his eye out for any other baddies or mind-controlled heroes. There was still Kraven at large, as well as Iron Fist and Captain America. Not to mention the Handler himself and all those X-Men, or any other heroes or villains he might've gotten his hands on in the meantime. Yep, any number of things could still go wrong but, as things stood now, it was quite a victory.

They’d needed one of those for a while.

“Well that was boring,” El Aguila said in disappointment, several minutes later. “I didn’t even get to do anything.”

“The best kind of win. Be grateful we didn’t need you to,” Fury advised.

All around them, heroes were starting to be released from their mental holds. Hercules was the first: “Zounds!" he said with a sudden gape. "I feel as though—I have been sleepwalking for some time! AAH! Friend Cage, why do you chastise the Lion of Olympus so!?" His hairy buttocks clenched and bucked in confusion as Luke Cage kept on paddling them hard.

"Well well, looks like Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake." Luke didn't let up. If anything, the paddle came down even harder on Herc’s ass. Thunderous crack after crack landed, making the demi-god yowl. "You got yourself all swirly-eyed by some bad guy, and I'm breaking you free. So buck up and take it."

"Breaking me free? Through—Aoowww!—a paddling?" Hercules did not understand, but a quick look around saw many others in the same position as himself. He shook his head. "It seems madness, but if you speak truly then… Ooohhhh! Do not hold back!" He raised his backside up to meet the blows.

Meanwhile, Human Torch had awoken in a storm of sand. He bucked and struggled to break free. “Oooh! Wh-what’s happening?!” he said, spitting sand from his mouth. “Last thing I remember was heading to a baseball game—AooowwwwWWW!” His sand-whipping didn’t end either. No hero could be confirmed to be removed from the Handler’s control without a thorough inspection by Wiccan or, failing that, being spanked to absolute tears. In this case, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Spider-Man was next to be freed. Between one yowl and the next, he suddenly blinked. "OW! What the—? YEeEOOOWWW! Okay okay, I’m back now!" He kicked and wriggled as Venom continued peppering his ass with hard spanks, not seeming to care that the hero was back on their side.

From the far side of the construction site, Warwolf gave them a thumbs up that Hawkeye had been brought back to himself as well, though his paddling also kept going, as per Fury’s orders.

Hulkling left Juggernaut to the work of paddling Thing down in the chasm and sprouted wings to fly back up to where the others were congregated. “Everybody okay up here?” he asked, blinking as the first thing he saw was Spider-Man’s bare, red ass.

“Better than okay,” Nick Fury confirmed. “You fellas finally got yourselves a win.”

He left out the obvious—that the victory was due primarily to his planning and strategies. From the looks a few of them exchanged he knew they were aware of it, and that was all that mattered. They’d owe him some favors down the line.

But the elation of seeing their friends freed more than made up for the price they’d pay later. “We’ve got Herc, Johnny, Clint, Spider-Man, and Ben all back!" Wiccan said, laughing. He ran up and Hulking scooped him up in his arms. “This is incredible!”

“Yep, not a bad day to be a hero.” Nick Fury puffed on his cigar. “Once everyone's back in their right minds, we'll bring ‘em back to the tower. They won't remember anything of their time as slaves, of course, but a full-body cellular scan might give us some clues where they've been. We’ll plan our next move from there." He shielded his eyes from the sun. "And look." He pointed. "Here comes Hulk."

The massive hero began as just a tiny green speck in the sky, then quickly grew. After a few moments, Puck gave a chortle. "Looks like he forgot his pants," he said. Indeed, Hulk's massive form was in his birthday suit as he descended with both arms raised in his classic pose. He landed with a colossal crash right in the midst of them. He stood there, breathing heavily.

Fury nodded at him. "Good job, Hulk. Where’d you leave Captain Britain? We'll need to gather him up too, and—"

It was Puck whose eyes widened. He was the only one standing behind Hulk, and so was the only one who saw those huge, muscular green buttocks... had become tinged with red. “Oh, shit.”

"HULK MAD!" the behemoth roared, and he slammed the palms of his hands together with such force it created a shockwave of sheer, spandex-shredding force.

Every single hero and villain on the ground was thrown back by Hulk's attack. Sandman was dispersed entirely. Only those a good distance off kept their footing—or their clothing.

"Hm... I think I preferred boredom, actually," El Aguila said as he quickly scurried under some wreckage. He peeked out to watch a decidedly one-sided brawl break out. Hulk moved like a wrecking ball through the crowd of heroes, batting them aside like gnats and slamming them into walls. It didn't help that those who’d just been brought back from the Handler’s control were dazed and confused, of little use in a fight. They were all plowed through. The only thing that slowed Hulk down was when he reached Thor.

"Steel thyself, Hulk!" Thor yelled as he slammed against the immense green chest, forcing him to a standstill. He cocked his head. "Someone deal with him, quickly!"

"Right ya are!" Puck flipped into position, his hand poised over Hulk's rump. "Take this!"

SMACK!

Only...

"Ooowwwww!" The short man hopped away, clutching his swollen palm. Hulk's musclebound bottom was dense and invulnerable enough that even tank blasts couldn’t make a dent in it. “Ain’t no way I’m spankin’ that!”

“Then how’d the Handler do it?!”

“More to the point, how are we gonna do it?!”

The other heroes’ efforts were just as ineffective. Beast and Hulkling's palms rebounded off those hard green buns, and even Luke Cage's best slaps were shrugged off. Meanwhile, Thor had the misfortune of being selected as Hulk's primary target. He got plucked off the ground from his vain attempts at holding the behemoth, then tucked under Hulk's huge left arm. There he was subjected to a resounding series of spanks on his bare, flailing buttocks, harder than any he'd taken in his many centuries of life.

WALLOP! WALLOP! WALLOP!

“OOHHHH! By the very fires of Surtr! It hurts worse than even the Gods may bestow!”

The soon bawling and red-assed thunder god was thrown, slamming into Luke Cage hard enough to send them both careening. That was when a mostly-nude Juggernaut staggered up from the crater. His eyes widened at what he saw—then he smirked in delight.

"Hulk, huh? I'm gonna enjoy this!"

He charged right in. The two had battled many times in the past and had always been judged roughly equal to each other in terms of strength and size. But this time was different. Hulk caught him solidly around the waist and squeezed tight, bringing him in close. Then he slammed a round of impossibly hard and painful blows down on Juggernaut's burly cheeks. The big villain gaped at finding out the hard way he definitely wasn't invulnerable to a Hulk-level spanking.

"Oh, fuck! Oh god! Make it stop! NO! OH SHIT! PLEASE!! NOOO!!"

One last thunderous smack sent the humiliated Juggernaut flying, desperately clutching his swollen ass.

Other heroes who were strewn around the construction site in torn spandex struggled to get up, but they were already worn out from the previous fight. Fighting Hulk afterward was clearly too much.

The blue furred mutant Nightcrawler appeared with a poof over the dazed Thor. "Hmmm, I think you will do," he said, before vanishing with the vanquished God of Thunder. His hammer was left quivering behind.

“What…?” Spider-Man said as he witnessed the abduction.

"Shit. Colonel, we need to move, now!" Warwolf shouted.

"Tell me Fury, was there a plan for dealing with Hulk too?" El Aguila questioned, watching the rampage from a safe distance.

"Shut it, Aguila!" Fury growled. His S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform was ripped in a dozen places, exposing much of his rugged body. He was hunched over the unconscious form of Wiccan, lightly slapping his face. The boy had been knocked out in Hulk's initial assault, and needed to be woken up in order to port them away. "Start helping out before I spank you myself."

"If we don't turn the tables, we may all end up spanked," Beast noted as he flipped away from the rampaging Hulk. He'd stopped even trying to attack and had switched to pure defense. Hawkeye shot multiple glue arrows at Hulk, but they had absolutely no effect.

Hercules and Thing tried teaming up for a combined assault. However, they were both still considerably weakened from their prior punishments. Hulk's fists sent them both reeling, then he slammed them over a piece of rubble together, their bare asses facing up. Just like two rookie jocks who’d lost a wrestling match to the coach. Hulk’s palms made short work of their already tender backsides as they begged and pleaded for him to stop. Moments later they were sobbing.

"That's about enough of that!" Beast said, and he went in for a double-heeled dive kick that slammed right into Hulk's chest... to no effect. "Oh dear." He gulped hard as he was simply grabbed next.

"Kid! You still with us?" Fury asked as Wiccan's eyes finally fluttered open.

"And guten tag again everyone!" The cheery voice of Nightcrawler broke through the panic as he appeared above the downed Herc and Thing. "I'll be your friendly guide this evening!" He vanished with two more heroes in tow.

“They’re just snatching them back after it took so much to free them!”

"Everybody group up!" Luke Cage shouted, staggering back to his feet. He was still hurting from being sent through several walls, but with their numbers dwindling fast it was clear someone needed to take charge.

Unfortunately, that call for action only drew Hulk's attention. One final spank nailed the now sobbing Beast and sent him flying. Then Hulk bounded over to Luke in one massive leap. He was barely even a hero or a villain anymore so much as a raw force of nature. He grabbed Luke, ripped the tattered remnants of his clothing off, and threw the man over a massive green knee. Invulnerable skin or not, Luke Cage soon found the skin of his ass cheeks was no match for a Hulk-level spankdown.

WALLOP! WALLOP! WALLOP! WALLOP!

“Oh! Oh god! FUCK!”

Thwip!

The beating was momentarily stymied by a piece of webbing planted over Hulk's eyes. "Hey!" Hulk reached up to tear it off. "Hulk no like!"

"Alright!" said Spider-Man, swinging overhead. "I'm not too sure what I've missed, but Luke is right. We need to stick together or we'll be picked off one by—" He was suddenly cut off by Nightcrawler appearing, covering his mouth with one hand, and disappearing with him too.

"Nooo!" Venom raged. "He was ours!"

"DAMMIT!" Nick Fury swore. "Kid, get us out of here NOW!"

Standing shakily, Wiccan nodded. "Okay, it'll just take me a second..."

He spread his arms and began to stammer out a chant while Hulk's rampage continued unchecked all around them. Roars, screams, and howls echoed from each corners of the construction site as heroes of all kinds tried to stop his destructive tantrum, only to fail and pay the price. At least it was a simple spell to perform. But Wiccan gasped as his mouth was suddenly covered by a blue hand.

"Uh uh uh, can't let you do that," a German accent whispered in his ear. "Especially when the Master wishes for your presence by his side most of all—"

Zzzzt.

Nightcrawler gasped and jerked as he was tasered from behind. He collapsed, his back smoking, with Nick Fury standing over his unconscious body. He scowled at a pale-faced Wiccan, who merely swallowed and continued his spell. And...

With a bright flash of light, the whole host of naked, beaten heroes was brought back to Avengers Tower.

As one, they collapsed to their knees, cradled their blistered asses, and broke into heavy sobs.

Chapter Text

After being hefted and bounced nearly a dozen blocks on his highly stretchable underpants (a gift of unstable molecules Mister Fantastic had given him some time back) Hulk found himself dumped somewhere in Central Park. There, isolated from the other Avengers, Hulk faced a unified threat as the rest of the Handler's enthralled forces surrounded him. Soon the peaceful park more closely resembled a war zone as the sound of smashing boulders and falling trees rang out in all directions.

“Hmph! Puny heroes seek to beat Hulk? Hulk smash ALL!”

He snarled as he drew his fist back again, but Nightcrawler teleported away from his blow at the last instant. From behind, Captain America’s shield rebounded off his back. At his front, Colossus strained to hold him while Captain Britain swooped in at his side for another high-powered punch.

“Keep him off-balance! He can’t fight us all!” called Cap.

The team of thralls were doing everything they could to wear Hulk down, but even with so many working together they knew it was a losing game. Hulk’s strength was unmatched. Even with the best leader directing them, they could barely keep him at bay.

“You cannot beat Hulk! Hulk strongest there is!” Hulk raged as he lashed out again, this time at Iron Fist. The martial artist barely preserved his life by redirecting the fist into the ground with far less force than Hulk had used. While he did that Nightcrawler teleported back in, gave a swift kick to Hulk’s face, and grabbed the remains of his pants with his tail before disappearing again, taking them with him. Hulk raged harder as he was left fully naked, his thick green penis bouncing. Banshee swooped by and delivered a sonic scream, further throwing him off-balance. They weren't truly hurting him, but the enthralled heroes were frustrating Hulk from all directions. They just needed him to remain fully focused on them.

Because all the Handler needed was a single slap.

He sat in a prepared location, watching wave after wave of his thralls engage their adversary. Their teamwork was actually quite commendable; he’d noticed a sharp improvement since recruiting Captain America as field commander. But if this operation went as planned, the real feather in his cap was about to be plucked.

He saw his opportunity when Hulk, in a rage, backhanded Colossus into a tree, sending it splintering to the ground. Captain America dove in and grabbed the green giant around the neck in a choke hold. It did no good, of course, but it kept Hulk distracted as he clawed and reached for the man on his back. Just then, Bishop discharged blast after blast of energy he’d been conserving for just this occasion to keep Hulk from realizing what was happening. Between the massive booms of sound and light, the Handler rushed in.

While Hulk's huge, flexing hands were busy, the Handler drew his own palm back and struck it as hard as he could on full, green, rock-hard bare ass.

Smack!

The sting was slight, of course, so small Hulk barely noticed it... even if the Handler felt as if he'd just broken his hand. But every ounce of his power had been infused into that single blow, and he watched as it started a chain reaction cascading within the brute's simple mind.

Why Hulk spanked? Hulk wondered.

Hulk not weak. Hulk never spanked! Spankings only for weak men. Like puny Banner.

And Hulk not weak! HULK STRONGEST THERE IS!

But… what if Hulk was weak? Hulk did just get spanked…

If Hulk spanked, that means Hulk weak?

NO!

But… but then if Hulk spanked, he must…

He sucked in a huge gulp of air, confused. What had happened? He looked down at himself. Pale, pink skin met his eyes. His huge muscles were gone, replaced by a brain that thought—and felt—far too much. He was the Hulk no more.

He was Dr. Bruce Banner.

“Wh-what?” he asked in a daze. “Where am I? How long have I—”

Slap! The Handler’s hand met his ass again.

This time the sting was not slight. Bruce leapt in shock, his mind filled with vision of himself in chains. And not just him, but—the Hulk as well. He’d always dreamed of finding a way to cage the raging beast inside himself. In this case he was seeing it literally.

“Doctor Banner, I presume?” The Handler smirked as he caught the man by the wrist and dragged him forward. The confused Bruce stumbled, then fell over his lap with a startled exclamation. His feet dangled in the air and his bare bottom was upturned. He looked around and saw a host of other heroes around them, simply watching. What was happening?!

Then the Handler started to casually... spank him, just as if he were a bad little boy.

“Oww, oww! Who are you! Stop!” Bruce cried as he flailed. Slap after slap met his naked butt.

“So you’re Hulk’s other face?” The Handler mused. “Interesting. Acting on their own, my powers turned you back. It can only be because they couldn’t make him submit in that form. You, on the other hand...”

“S-submit? What are you–Aaah! Oooh!” Bruce could do little other than gasp and kick as the villain spanked him soundly, alternating between his squirming buttocks. He hadn’t been spanked since he was a boy. Not since his father… his father…

At the thought of his father, rage filled Bruce again. It was a familiar sensation, always heralding the transformation into his other self. This time however, he felt his anger subsumed. Each new spank shaped it, redirected it into something else. He gave a yelp as his cheeks bounced and reddened, and he didn’t turn back into the Hulk at all.

“What are you—DOING to me?”

“What you’ve always longed for someone to do to you,” the Handler replied evenly as his hand continued landing on round, supple flesh. “You want the Hulk chained so he won’t hurt people anymore? Done. But you have to be chained up too, and put under my control. Are you willing to make that sacrifice?”

“I…” Bruce swallowed, his bottom on fire. It was true. He’d searched for years for a way to restrain the Hulk, the part of himself that was by nature uncontrollable. But all his efforts had only ever made things worse. Could this stranger actually accomplish it? It seemed impossible, yet, somehow, all of his instincts told him... yes. But only if he offered himself up too.

“Yes,” he croaked. “Chain me. I give myself to you. Become my… master!”

SWAT. One final spank landed on Bruce Banner’s bare bottom, completing the pact. The next time the Handler lifted up his palm—it came down hard on hard, immense green buttocks. The sudden change in weight almost crushed his legs, and he cried out. His thralls rushed over and, with their aid, he was able to extricate himself from beneath the massive brute before any damage was done.

He stared. “Hulk?”

The green behemoth lay before him, completely motionless. After a few moments, it stirred. “Yes,” he said, much more contritely than before. He made no move to attack, but remained naked on the ground on all fours. He grimaced, then slowly arched his back to raise his ass. “Hulk has been bad. Very bad. Hulk has smashed too many things.”

The Handler couldn’t help but salivate as his vision was filled by that immense green butt. Slowly, he smiled. “I see. And what do bad Hulks get?”

“They get… spanked!”

“That’s right.” Handler raised his hand, then gave another hard swat. Despite his toughness, Hulk nevertheless groaned and wiggled his ass slightly under that slap. The Handler smiled. The strongest hero of all was actually submitting to him. He was vulnerable to a good spanking just like anybody else. And it felt good. Oh, it felt very good.

On some level, he hadn't truly thought he’d be able to do it. Who could imagine spanking a creature as powerful as the Hulk? But all men had a weakness buried somewhere deep in their psyche. They all felt, on some level, that they needed to be punished. Hulk’s weakness had simply been buried in, for all intents and purposes, a different psyche than his own.

He shamelessly groped those round, mountainous green butt cheeks. “And tell me, Hulk,” he asked, “Do you still want to smash?”

Hulk shook his head. “Hulk no longer want to smash.”

“No?”

“No.” Hulk’s eyes narrowed, and he looked back in the direction he’d been carried from. Back where all his Avengers friends still were.

“Now Hulk wants only… to SPANK.”

Chapter Text

The air was full of moans and sobs as the assembled heroes lay on the floor of the Avengers Tower. Nearly everyone was sporting a severely reddened backside, most of their costumes were torn off, and even those who hadn’t been beaten were still in rough shape.

“Now can we kick Fury out?" Wonder Man asked through his tears, massaging his heavily blistered ass. "That was our worst defeat so far!"

"It wasn’t his fault... I mean, it was still a pretty decent plan..." Hulkling tried to defend the man even as he moaned and rubbed his own welted butt.

"We clearly have very different definitions of ‘decent’!"

“As loathe as I am to admit it, I agree with the young Hulkling,” El Aguila said nonchalantly, buffing his sword among all the groaning men. “From where I stood, Fury reacted to changing circumstances as best he could.”

“Yeah, and where exactly was that?” Juggernaut said, grimacing as he slowly staggered to his feet. His massive bottom was welted and his face was streaked with tears. “Can’t help notice you ain’t naked and red-assed like the rest of us!”

“Indeed, amigo. Because, unlike the rest of you, I am not stupid enough to pick a fight with a raging Hulk.”

“Why I oughta—!”

“Alright, we can discuss my job performance later,” Nick Fury cut in sharply. “For now, we regroup and get our bearings.” Scowling, he handed an unconscious Nightcrawler to Warwolf. “Take care of this for me, agent.”

Nodding, the furry S.H.I.E.L.D. officer affixed a power-dampening collar around the mutant’s neck, then took Nightcrawler over his knee and pulled down his pants to reveal a firm, rounded blue bottom with a forked tail sprouting from just above the cheeks. He lined up a paddle and started to spank.

Just then, Anole ran in. “Hey, are you guys okay? Oh geez, what happened out there!” The young mutant was dismayed at the sight of so many heroes beaten and blistered. He was followed by Quicksilver, whose arms were loaded with aloe lotion and gauze. He began speedily applying it to the heroes most in need, most of whom moaned with relief.

“That’s what I’d like to know!” A very naked Human Torch demanded in the middle of them all, fanning his red-hot bottom. “I wake up getting sand-whipped by Sandman, then Hulk is on some kind of... spanking rampage? What the heck is going on!? Where did Ben go? And… and why is that guy spanking Nightcrawler!”

Warwolf cocked an eyebrow at him, then brought his paddle down soundly on Nightcrawler’s bare ass again.

Whap!

“Calm down, Johnny.” Beast hopped across the room. “You’re safe now. Tell us, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Last thing? That was that lame baseball game I went to with Ben. Except we got ambushed there, by… by… by you guys!” He burst into flame as he pointed accusingly at Hawkeye and Luke Cage.

A tearful Luke Cage glanced at the burning fingertip, then slowly moved his hands up from massaging his muscled ass to crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You better put that matchstick out, boy,” he said, “Or I’ll put it out for you.”

“And hey, I’m as confused as you are,” an equally naked Hawkeye said. “Last thing I remember was Wolverine putting a weird call in, and Cap assembling a team. Something about running an operation against a new villain in town. Then I got caught, and…” He shook his head. “Have I been under his control ever since?”

Beast nodded. “I’m afraid so, Clint. Things have been a little, well… chaotic around here the past week.”

“I’ll say,” said Sandman, having finally assembled himself back together into a vaguely humanoid shape. “With how many guys have been gettin’ spanked into pervy minions, then spanked back to normal, then spanked again… I don’t even know who’s on our side anymore!”

Hulkling did a quick headcount. “Okay. All told, after this fight we gained Human Torch, Hawkeye, and Nightcrawler. And Venom’s rejoined too, I guess.”

“For now.”

“And we lost Thor and Hulk,” said Wiccan despondently.

“Our two heaviest hitters,” Wonder Man said bitterly.

“Not to mention heaviest spankers,” Puck muttered, rubbing his fuzzy bottom.

“Excuse me? We lost who now? You still haven’t explained what’s going on,” Human Torch interrupted. “Where’s Captain America? He'll give it me straight.”

There was a long moment of silence at that, as the men all slowly looked down to their feet. Beast sighed. “To put it simply, Mister Storm," he said, wincing as his hands returned to rubbing feeling back into his own ass. "You were put under the Handler's power for some time. The Handler is a new villain with the power to completely control someone once he, well..." He gestured around the room at all the groaning, red-assed men. "...spanks them."

“Geez. And I thought I was kinky.”

“Ahem. As you say.”

“Wait, so you mean Cap got…?”

“Right. He was taken just a few days ago. So you can imagine the straits we’ve been in since.”

“Alright, you can fill him in on the rest later,” Nick Fury interrupted. “For now, everybody follow me. This kind of talk is best handled in the command center.”

He strode out of the room without checking to see if his orders would be obeyed or not. It seemed that, for the moment at least, he was still assuming command. The rest of the heroes wiped the tears from their faces and looked around warily at each other. With weary shrugs they fell in behind the S.H.I.E.L.D director. The continuing sounds of Nightcrawler’s paddling echoed behind them.

Most couldn’t help but notice how the formerly skintight spandex which constituted Fury’s uniform now hung off him in tatters. It barely covered his rugged, well-defined ass.

Avengers Tower was a large building. On the way to the command center, the heroes broke into smaller groups for more private conversations.

“So uh… how many of you did I get?”

Beast raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Ya know…” Hawkeye gestured. “While I was under the Handler’s control. I don’t remember any of it. Was I a good minion?” He gave a lopsided grin. “Tell me my score.”

“Well…” Beast considered the question uneasily as a few of the other heroes shot the archer a dirty look. “From what Johnny tells us he was probably your first victim. You strung him up and used his bottom for target practice with your patented ‘spank arrows’.”

“Spank arrows?”

“Yes. Apparently you uh, made them special. They’re special arrows that, when you fire them at someone, deliver what feels like a hard paddle swat. You should have a few in your quiver there.”

Hawkeye took one out and examined it. “Damn. Sometimes I forget how much of a genius I am.”

“Ahem. After that you ambushed Captain America. You used a few trick arrows to bind him up, then you—”

“Wait.” Hawkeye’s eyes had gone wide. “I spanked Cap?”

Beast blushed somewhat, recalling the footage Nick Fury had shown them earlier of the archer ricocheting countless arrows off Cap’s helpless buttocks, including one that had even fully entered the man’s hole. He was sure Hawkeye would look up the footage later and see for himself. “Yes, well. After that we know you assisted in bringing down Puck, deep in Forge’s lab. And you would have gotten him again, and me back at that construction site if Warwolf hadn’t intervened.” Beast ruefully rubbed his bottom again, relieved it’d been spared that much at least. “So you’ve uhh, got a pretty good track record I suppose, all things considered. It’s quite possible you spanked other heroes and villains as well. Those are just the ones we know about.”

“Damn. I gave Captain America a spanking though?” The archer gave a smug, tight-lipped grin. “Nice.”

“Hey uh... Wiccan?"

Wiccan looked up from his troubled thoughts. The young mutant Anole had run to catch up to them near the front of the line. It looked like he’d found a pair of shorts to finally cover those red cheeks of his. "Please, call me Billy," he answered. "And you're... Victor, right?"

The young X-Man blushed at the recognition. "Yeah," he said. Then his voice dropped down. "Hey, so you're, uh... you're gay, right?"

Wiccan made brief eye contact with Hulkling, his boyfriend, who was walking beside him. He tried not to smile. "Pretty sure, yeah," he said. "So are you, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Anole blushed harder. It was natural for the various queer heroes to keep an internal catalog of each other, but he wasn't yet used to being quite so open about it.

Sensing the tension, Hulkling leaned over to Wiccan. "I'll go make a few rounds and check on everybody," he whispered. Wiccan nodded and squeezed his arm.

Once they were alone together, Anole gathered up his courage. "So Billy, uh, I just gotta ask, from one gay hero to another. Is it, uh... is it… hot as hell seeing your teammates constantly stripped naked in stupidly sexy ways and... and spanking each other?"

Wiccan glanced around. Close by, the cocky Hawkeye was walking beside Beast. Neither had any pants on, and both their tight bottoms had vivid handprints across them. A few feet further, Luke Cage was walking with Wonder Man. Likewise with no pants, and likewise with evidence of being spanked across their asses. Then there was Venom’s round backside, black and slick from the symbiote covering it. And Juggernaut’s big, beefy rump, bare and flexing. And Human Torch’s tight buns. And, of course, Hulkling himself. Dozens of heroes with fantastic bodies he'd spent most of his teens basically fantasizing over—and whose spanked butts he'd had to repeatedly fondle as part of his duties the last few days.

"Trust me, Victor," he whispered. "You have no idea."

"How do you deal with it?"

"With difficulty. I take it it's the same with the X-Men?"

Anole looked around carefully to make sure they weren’t being overheard, then leaned in. “The first time I saw Colossus squirming around I thought I was gonna nut," he confessed with a groan.

Wiccan hid a smile. "Want to know a secret?"

"Sure."

"I've been throwing a boner in my costume nearly the whole time. Haven't been able to help it. I had to transmute my costume into a baggier design just to hide it."

Anole looked at him with wide eyes. "Dude."

"And you know something else?"

"What?"

"We're not the only ones who've been having, uh... 'reactions' to what's been happening. Trust me. I haven't said anything because it's not my place, but since this business with the Handler started, I've seen… well—I've seen a lot from heroes I’d always assumed were 100% straight before."

Anole's face turned red again. Wiccan noticed a distinctive bulge growing in his shorts.

"Look," he said, "When this is all over, Hulkling and I usually get together on Friday nights. Why don't you join us sometime? That'll give us a chance to talk more freely."

"Sure." Anole nodded in a daze. "I'd like that."

Their passage through Avengers Tower led them past the holding cells where Sabretooth still lay occupied. The evil mutant wolf-whistled at the parade of mostly nude heroes walking past.

“Well lookie here. If I didn’t know better I’d say you chumps just got your asses handed to ya—again!"

“Shut it, Sabretooth,” Luke Cage said with a surly expression. “Unless you want us to come in there and show you what you’ve been missing.”

“Oh, I’d like that. I’d like that a real lot!”

Wonder Man placed a hand on Luke’s bare shoulder. “Ignore him. If anything, he’s probably just jealous we got spanked by Wolverine and he didn’t... right?”

“Huh? But I didn’t—” Luke Cage started, only for Wonder Man to throw him a wink. His expression immediately shifted in understanding. “Ooh, yeah. Those damn adamantium bones.” He turned his back towards Sabretooth’s cell and rubbed his bare, muscular cheeks ruefully. “Makes his slaps hurt like hell!”

“Tell me about it.” Wonder Man stood by Luke, rubbing his own blistered buns with a loud groan. “I never thought he’d stop!”

Sabretooth’s eyebrows drew together. “Wait, Wolverine spanked you? Both of you? But how—how could he—”

“Hoho, look at ‘im!” Puck pointed. “I think he’s jealous!”

“What?!” The villain turned on him with a snarl. “No I’m not! Shut it, runt!”

“Definitely seems jealous to me,” Wonder Man said. “He’s probably been longing for Wolverine to put him in his place for years.”

“Yeah. S’why he’s been acting up all these years.” Luke Cage gave a chuckle. “Damn. How much does it gotta suck to be that desperate for a guy to whup ya, only for him to spank practically half the Avengers instead?”

“It’s sad, Luke. Real sad.”

“Gahh, I don’t want him to—Hey! Where are you all going!” Sabretooth raged as the heroes just resumed their walk towards the command center. He flung himself against the transparent walls of his cell. “Come back here and—and tell me how Wolverine spanked you!”

“Ya hear that? Now he wants details.” Puck snickered.

“Sorry Creed. If you want it so badly, I recommend talking it over with him,” said Wonder Man. “Be honest about your needs!”

“Yeah. Healthy communication is key in any relationship,” said Luke Cage with a wide grin.

The menacing, hairy mutant raged as the heroes went on their way, chuckling. He clawed at the transparent glass in frustration, leaving deep gashes in it as the last of their red, flexing backsides disappeared from view.

"You invited him on our date night?"

"He needs someone to talk to. I figured you'd understand."

"I do, but... our date night?"

Wiccan grinned. Ever since their earliest team-ups, he and Hulkling had used their date night to indulge some of their raunchier fantasies. Hulkling would use his powers to turn into another hero or villain, and then Wiccan would get to roleplay 'capturing' them. Or he'd do likewise with the positions reversed. In fact, he was already looking forward to the next one they’d do once the business with the Handler was resolved. The view he was receiving of Nick Fury was giving him all kinds of ideas.

"I don't think going one week without fooling around with each other will kill us," he said. "Although, who knows..."

"What? Who knows what?"

"Anole would definitely be into some of what we've been doing. I can tell. Maybe he'd want to join us? I do have a very well-known thing by now for green butts."

"Oh man.” Hulkling put an arm up to his face dramatically. “My boyfriend’s trying to expand our relationship into a harem anime!"

Wiccan punched his boyfriend on the arm. Now he was looking forward to their next play date even more.

As they trooped down the last leg of their trip, Juggernaut’s stomps became even heavier than usual. El Aguila sidled up beside him.

“Problem, my musclebound friend?”

“Bah, it’s nothing. Just…” Juggernaut gestured around. “Walking around with a bunch of do-gooders. Still feels weird.”

“I know what you mean,” put in Sandman. “Hell, I was a member of the Avengers for a while, and I’m still not used to it.”

“In that case, why not form a group of our own?” El Aguila suggested.

“Huh?” said Sandman. “Whaddya mean, like a... new Frightful Four?”

El Aguila shrugged. “Sure, why not? They say birds of a feather should flock together. Besides, it might give us more bargaining power within this alliance if we act as a block.”

“I guess…” Juggernaut rubbed his chin as he considered. “It’d be kinda like when I team up with Black Tom…”

“Si. It is sometimes better to work as a group than act on your own, no?”

“Safer too,” Sandman muttered.

Juggernaut nodded and slammed a fist into his palm with a loud boom. “Okay then, let’s do it! I’d rather hang around with you guys than a buncha heroes anyway.”

“Okay, but there’s only three of us. If we wanna call ourselves the Frightful Four we’ll need one more.” Sandman’s gaze fell on the only other villain still among them. “Hey, Venom! Wanna join our new team?”

“Frightful Four. Sinister Six. The number does not matter, so long as it brings the spider to us.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“That settles it then!” Juggernaut raised his big arms with a whoop. “New Frightful Four, ready for action! YEAH!”

From up ahead, Beast raised an eyebrow. "Should we be concerned about the resurgence of one of our deadliest super villain groups?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," muttered Fury. "For now, let’s get everybody debriefed."

"Okay, I'll admit things could have gone better towards the end. But the operation was still an overall success," Nick Fury said, standing before all the nude heroes. They’d mostly gotten their sniffles under control by then, and were just tenderly rubbing their bruised bottoms. He also noticed absolutely none of the chairs were occupied.

"A success? But Colonel, weren’t you listening? We lost Thor and Hulk," said Wiccan.

He nodded evenly. "Right. And since they both had tracking devices planted on 'em, a whole array of new options just opened up to us."

Wiccan blinked. "They... what?"

"Ah, so that’s what it was," Hawkeye said. "Should’ve known you couldn’t carry out a mission without something underhanded in play."

“But when did you—” Hulkling started. “How? Where?”

“Trust me son, you probably don’t want to know,” said Fury with just a hint of a gruff smirk. “Suffice to say, I had more than enough time to plant one on each and every one of you before we left. Good luck finding them now, by the way.” He seemed to enjoy the various looks of discomfort that elicited. “Obviously, I had to keep that part of the plan a secret or the Handler would’ve caught on. But now that the operation’s complete, it’ll work to our advantage. Hulk and Thor don’t know about their trackers, so they can’t tell their new master about ‘em.”

“So you were planning on some of us getting captured,” Wonder Man accused. “You used us.”

Fury nodded without missing a beat. “Just like I would any soldier. This is the Avengers, son. The big leagues. You knew what you signed up for.”

"Fury, I am not altogether pleased with this gross violation of our personal—" Beast began.

"Understood, McCoy.” Fury fixed him with a hard glare. “But which would you rather do right now: give me a lecture, or go out and save your friends?”

“I…” Beast pursed his lips.

“Whatever, it’s done now,” snapped Hawkeye. “I’d probably have done the same thing in his place.”

“You would?!”

"Yeah, it's called being tactical." Hawkeye tapped his forehead. "Ever heard of it?"

“Well I ain’t okay with the government having a bead on me!” Juggernaut said angrily.

“Me neither!” said Sandman.

“Your objections are noted and you can take it up with S.H.I.E.L.D. after this is all over,” Fury said. “Now, do we want to see where our boys have been taken or do we want to stand around and keep arguing about it?”

There was no response for several long moments. Finally, Luke Cage huffed and gave a nod. “Like Hawkeye said, you’ve already done it. We can argue about whether you should’ve later. For now, let’s get their coordinates.”

Nick Fury nodded and crossed to one of the computers. Meanwhile, Quicksilver zipped out of the room and quickly returned with multiple costumes draped over his arms. “I took the liberty of having the fabricators working overtime,” he told everyone. “I had the feeling we might need some spares after the last few run-ins we’ve had.”

The assorted heroes all coughed out thanks and started to re-dress themselves.

“I’m afraid we don’t have one for you, Hawkeye,” Quicksilver told him when he reached the archer. “We weren’t aware you’d be joining us.”

“It’s fine. I know where the fabricators are.” Hawkeye paced out of the room, his bare buttocks flexing.

“Um… how about me?” Human Torch asked, standing there awkwardly.

Quicksilver looked him up and down. “I’m afraid we must’ve lost the pattern for your costume.”

“What? It’s just the standard F4 uniform!”

“Yes. Tragic, really.” Quicksilver sniffed. “But perhaps we can find you a pair of jockey shorts or something.”

Human Torch ground his teeth together. He and Quicksilver had been enemies for years, ever since they’d been romantic rivals over Crystal of the Inhumans. It didn’t surprise him in the least that the man was taking some personal enjoyment out of humiliating him.

On the other side of the room, Fury switched a viewscreen on. The bowler-hat-wearing face of his second-in-command, Dum Dum Dugan appeared. The man almost choked on his drink as he beheld his rugged boss practically naked, as well as the various superheroes changing in the background.

"C-Colonel?"

"The Handler’s just as dangerous as we anticipated, Dum Dum," Fury deadpanned. "What've you got for us?"

"I–uhh… Well, we've got a fix on Thor and Hulk's positions. And you won't believe where they are. Transmitting 'em to you now, Colonel."

There was a bamf of brimstone, and Nightcrawler and Warwolf joined them all for the news. Nightcrawler had tear streaks running down his face.

“You okay, Kurt?”

“Ja. But I just want to… apologize to you all. Thanks to my powers, this Handler has done so many terrible things, kidnapped so many—”

“No use blaming yourself,” Cable cut him off. “He used you. He’s the one to blame, not you.”

“And let’s just say you haven’t exactly been, ahem, alone in turning against your closest friends,” Beast said delicately.

Hawkeye patted him on the back. “Welcome to the club. Hey, I gave Captain America a spanking!”

Nightcrawler nodded a bit and smiled in gratitude. “As… as you say then, mein freunds. Thank you all.”

Meanwhile, the rest of the heroes gathered around Fury’s computer terminal.

"Okay. Where are we off to this time?" Puck asked after he squeezed himself into some new pants. "Let me guess, the Savage Land?"

"Nah, I'm betting he's in a pocket dimension like the Negative Zone." Hulkling shot back.

"It's probably just some abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn," Sandman suggested

"Just ‘cause you hang out in abandoned warehouses doesn't mean every bad guy does...”

The sound of Nick Fury swearing cut off their speculation. He banged his fists on the console.

"Umm... Colonel?" Wiccan broached carefully.

"The Baxter Building," he said. "They're in the &%@#*& Baxter Building!"

"What!?" Human Torch raced over, now dressed in a pair of tighty-whities. "Did you say they're in our home? Our home?"

"It does make a certain amount of sense," Beast said analytically as he studied the coordinates. "The Baxter Building is situated so one could strike at literally anywhere in the city from there. It also has a top-notch security system. It's even resistant to attacks from other dimensions."

"Yeah, but... we live there!" Human Torch said, exasperatedly. “That’s the Fantastic Four’s pad!”

“I’m guessing after he spanked you and Thing, you two probably begged to give him the security codes so he could move right in.”

"Which means… hold on.” Wonder Man snapped his fingers. “That means you might be able to deactivate the security too. Everything in the Baxter Building is keyed to you guys, right? And I’m guessing Reed encrypted those commands so deep not even the Handler can root out the programs."

“Hey hey, so this should be a walk in the park then!” Juggernaut said with a wide grin. “We can walk right in and bust some heads!”

"Uhh, well, I maybe could in theory," Human Torch said, not nearly as confident. "I’d have to get to the main database first. Er… but if I can get that far, I should be able to shut everything down. Reed showed me how to do it once. Er, I think."

"You think?"

“Hey, I’m not the tech guy!”

“This is kind of important, Johnny. We need you to be sure.”

“Regardless, he’s still the best shot we’ve got,” Nick Fury decided firmly. “We’ll ‘port him in, he’ll deactivate the security, then the rest of us will follow.”

Wiccan cleared his throat. "Except... I'm not sure how close I can teleport without triggering their sensors. Or if I can teleport for a while at all, for that matter. That last mission took a lot out of me…"

“And my own brand of teleportation is more of the er, short-range variety,” Nightcrawler said apologetically.

“I don’t believe the building allows teleportation from outside sources into it anyway, even the magical kind. Not to mention, don’t you think the Handler would expect an attack like that?” Quicksilver said. “Think. If that’s his base of operations—”

“...Then there'll probably be even more spank traps than the X-Mansion had," Cable finished for him grimly.

"Okay, maybe we need a different approach then," Hulkling said. "What if we don’t attack at all? Johnny, is there anything that the Baxter Building isn't built to keep out?"

"If experience is anything to go by, Skrulls apparently," Quicksilver joked, only to receive a glare from Human Torch.

"Well uh... okay. Um, just hypothetically, how did the Skrulls get in?" Hulkling asked, a ghost of a plan forming in his mind. Wiccan glanced at him.

"Mostly by turning into us," Human Torch said with a flush. "Or people the security system knew. Friends, family, other heroes. Uh... lovers…"

"Oh, I can guess which it was in your case." Quicksilver rolled his eyes.

“Dude, I do not need this from you right now.”

"Skrulls? Teleporting? Who cares about any of that?" Juggernaut cut in. "Let’s just head down there and crash right through the front door! Have you forgotten who I am!?"

"Right, right, we get it, you’re unstoppable. But how long do you think it’ll take Thor, Herc, and Hulk to stop the ‘unstoppable’ Juggernaut?" Wonder Man pointed out dryly.

“What’s THAT supposed to mean!” Juggernaut bristled, although just the mention of Hulk’s name sent his hands back to massage his welted bottom again.

"Heh, it might serve as a distraction at least,” said Luke Cage. “I say let him go for it. He can even take that new team of his.”

Suddenly, an orange-tan rocky palm collided with Human Torch’s butt from out of nowhere.

SLAP!

“Yee-OUCH!”

"Hey Hotshot, don’t worry. The everlovin' blue-eyed Thing is here ta get ya back home," came a familiar rough-hewn voice. "And ya ain't even gonna need ta’ put on pants fer it!"

The Human Torch gaped as he turned back to his old teammate. “B-Ben? But I thought you were captured by that Handler guy. How did you—”

Thing’s head suddenly changed shape. Where once it’d been the rocky face of Ben Grimm, now it turned into the smoother pale green of Hulkling’s. “Just me, I’m afraid. But it sounds like I was convincing at least.”

"Damn, I’ll say," said Human Torch, impressed and rubbing his ass. "You looked just like Ben. Even sounded like him!"

"And from every angle," put in Puck, down by Hulkling's shapeshifted rump.

“But… wait, why did you turn into him?” asked Wiccan suspiciously. “You’re not thinking of—”

“Yeah, and what was that about not needing pants?” asked Human Torch suspiciously.

“Let’s just say…” Hulkling grinned wide. “I think I’ve got a plan now.”

Next: Undercover

Chapter Text

“You realize this has gotta be one of the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Oh, believe me. I know.”

Hulkling heard Wiccan give a heavy sigh over his earbud. “Okay. Well since you’re so intent on following this plan of yours, just… be careful, alright?”

“Aren’t I always?”

A snort told him what his boyfriend thought of that one. “Once you’re inside the Baxter Building all contact between us will be cut off. You’ll be completely on your own. We’ll give you five minutes, then provide a distraction.”

Hulkling nodded. “Sounds good. If everything goes according to plan this’ll all be over in less than an hour.”

“Yep. And hey… Teddy?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Hulkling grinned goofily. “Love you too, babe. Okay, over and out.”

He took out his earpiece and crumpled it in his hand, then gestured for Human Torch to do the same. With a sigh, the Fantastic Four’s resident hotshot did so. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Touché.”

They reached the end of the block, then gave each other a nod. It was the closest they could get without being detected. Time to suit up, so to speak, for the mission. There was a stretching and a crackling of Hulkling’s form as he changed shape, growing squatter and more burly. His green-skinned features took on the texture and coloration of hard, earthen clay.

And Human Torch gave a sigh and started to peel off his costume.

A few minutes later a retrieval squad member approached the entrance to the Baxter Building. Formerly the headquarters of the Fantastic Four, now it was the base of the Handler and his force of heroes-turned-spank-slaves. The ever-lovin’ blue-eyed Thing stomped up, a bound Human Torch buck-naked and slung over his shoulder.

“Thing… back?" Hulk questioned, glaring at the approaching hero.

"Yeah. Who’d ya think I was, de tooth fairy?” ‘Thing’ replied with a snort. He gave Human Torch’s round behind a perfunctory pat. “Got a lil’ package here for the Master."

Internally, Hulkling quailed and tried to avoid looking too stupefied as he got a load of the forces Handler had set in place just to watch the front door. Hulk, larger than life and back in his ripped purple pants, along with two other heavies–Rhino and Colossus. Hulkling hadn’t known Handler had even gotten Rhino. Any one of them could easily take him in a fight.

Hulk narrowed his eyes. “Hulk… didn’t see Thing leave.”

There was a brief, heavy pause as Hulk’s words hung in the air. Finally, Hulkling spat and said, “Yeah? Well there’s probably lots that ya don’t see over those big green airbags ya got on yer chest. Now are ya gonna let me in or what?”

That got a mild chuckle out of Rhino. Colossus, however, shifted in place. “I, too, did not see you depart on any hunting/gathering missions for the Master. And were you not supposed to be on interior assignment today?” he asked.

Hulkling winced. Great, they kept tabs on each other. He rapidly recalculated the odds of carrying out his bluff.

The problem was, he couldn’t get physical with anybody like the real Ben Grimm would. Thing and Hulk had been rivals for decades. By this point they probably would have already started brawling in the street. But if Hulkling got into a tussle with any of these guys they’d quickly realize he didn’t have the proper super strength of Thing, or the durability for that matter. And then he’d be captured on the spot.

Luckily, Human Torch chose that moment to interrupt. "Screw you guys!" he yelled defiantly, playing his part to a tee. His red bottom bounced and squirmed over ‘Thing'’s shoulder. "Your master's just gonna burn his hand on this hot ass!"

To demonstrate that point, he burst into literal flame. The others reflexively stepped back. Hulkling, of course, had been hit with a fire-proofing spell before he’d left for exactly that eventuality, so he didn't take any immediate damage.

SMACK!

"Quiet down, Flamebrain!" Hulkling clapped Human Torch's behind with what he hoped looked like enough force to extinguish him. Human Torch yowled (somewhat theatrically) and collapsed back over his teammate’s shoulder with a big rocky handprint showing across his ass. He shook his head and tsked. "Anyways, de Boss hates when any of his boys break his control. I got a hot tip and went out and got Johnny here back. Now, do you want to explain to him why ya wouldn’t let me back in with ‘im?"

At that the trio of powerhouses fell silent, no doubt envisioning the punishment spankings they might receive if they displeased their master.

"Hmph," Hulk finally grunted, glaring daggers at Thing as he stepped aside. "Hulk deal with you later."

"Yeah, yeah. Dat's what you always say." Hulkling smirked as he swaggered past.

Rhino reached out and smacked Jonny's ass when it came within reach. "Heard the master's got a nice big punishment planned for anyone who deserted him. Hope I get to see it."

Johnny gulped nervously, but Hulkling just continued walking through the door. The first obstacle had been cleared. They couldn’t relax yet though. Any additional security they encountered would be a lot more difficult to trick than Hulk.

"Okay, which way now?" he whispered as they turned the corner.

"Straight ahead through the foyer, and then left at the first intersection. And did you have to smack me so hard?" Human Torch squirmed a bit as he was carried along. It felt exceedingly strange to go through the familiar corridors in such a state.

"Yeah, I did," Hulkling replied with a roll of his eyes. "You wouldn't have wanted Hulk to get suspicious and decide to take you in himself, now would you?"

Human Torch repressed a shudder, remembering how bad even one spank from Hulk could hurt. "No thanks. I'll take yours."

“Thought so.”

Hulkling kept a brisk pace as he made his way towards their destination. His eyes darted back and forth, keeping an eye out for anyone who might blow their cover. To his surprise and growing horror, he realized there were many more heroes under the Handler's control than he’d expected. In addition to the Avengers and X-Men members they’d known about, the Handler had gotten his hands on many street-level heroes. Just on their way through the atrium, Hulkling spotted Daredevil, Punisher, Moon Knight, and Shang-Chi. Many of Spider-Man’s rogues gallery were also hanging around, such as Scorpion and Tombstone. It seemed Handler had been keeping himself busy working through the criminal underground while the Avengers had regrouped. Hulkling thought he spotted the Wrecking Crew, too.

It made him sweat knowing what was about to happen in a few minutes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t warn any of his teammates about the additional hostiles that were waiting for them. He just had to hope they’d be able to handle themselves.

They quickly stepped through the foyer. Miraculously, nobody called out or questioned them. It seemed like hauling in bare-ass heroes to bring up to "the boss" was standard operating procedure around there. They stepped up to the elevator without anyone raising an alarm.

The doors closed. "Floor five," Torch said, before releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. "Geez, I can't believe this is actually working."

Maybe he’d spoken too soon. There was a light bell ring as they reached the second floor, and the doors slid open. Iron Fist and Kraven stepped in.

There was a pause as they all stood staring at each other.

"What are you doing?" Iron Fist asked.

Hulkling started. “Huh?”

Kraven sneered. "Aren't you getting off?"

“Oh, uh…” Hulkling thought fast. He wasn’t sure what was on Floor 2, but evidently they expected him to have business there. "Ah jeez, where’s my head at?" He rapped his knuckles against his cranium, producing a solid thumping sound. “I’d lose it if it wasn’t attached. Thanks fellas."

"No matter. I see you've at least done something useful and reclaimed another of our brethren," said Kraven, leering at Human Torch's smooth, red bottom, which had begun to sweat nervously. He delivered a rather harsh slap to that perky rear.

"Yeow!" he yelped.

"Eh? Grimm, why is your prisoner not gagged as the Master has instructed?"

"Uhh..." Hulkling blanked for a moment.

"Be at ease. I always carry a few spares."

Kraven removed a large ball-gag from his belt and fit it into the protesting Human Torch's mouth. The hotshot couldn't truly resist without giving away their game, so he just had to put up with it. He soon hung over Hulkling's shoulder grumbling.

"Mmphhmmph..."

"Grimm, you weren't giving him favorable treatment because he's an old teammate of yours, were you?" asked Iron Fist.

Kraven frowned darkly. "Because there are punishments for that, as well..."

“Huh? Uhh, hey guys, c’mon…” Hulkling backed away, but they were cornered inside the elevator. Kraven and Iron Fist pressed against him, not seeming to care at all that Thing should’ve been much stronger than they were. Perhaps as slaves of the Handler, they were all supposed to accept punishments from each other without question? Together they turned him around roughly, then he felt a hand reach into the back of his trunks and pull down, baring his broad rocky bottom. “‘Ey! I said not ta—!”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Yow!”

Human Torch looked down and saw Hulkling-as-Thing’s cheeks bouncing and jerking around under the surprise spanking. Unfortunately, Hulkling was too caught off-guard to react properly with his shapechanging. Thing’s rock-solid ass would never ‘bounce’ under a plain hand spanking. And in a few seconds Iron Fist and Kraven would no doubt notice too.

Luckily, that was the exact instant their planned distraction went off. Downstairs, there was the sudden crash of something large and heavy smashing through the front entrance. The entire elevator shaft shook.

"Now dat didn’t sound good,” Hulkling said, hurriedly pulling his trunks back up. “You two yahoos better get down there while I dump Hotshot here somewhere he can't get away."

"Right. Come join us as soon as you deposit your prisoner!" Iron Fist and Kraven quickly raced off to the source of the disturbance. Hulkling nodded and waited for them to be gone—then re-pressed the button for Floor 5.

As an olive branch towards cooperation, it’d been decided while planning out Hulkling’s operation that Juggernaut’s frontal assault idea could be folded into it too. The brawny powerhouse had insisted an all-out attack against the Baxter Building could work, and he even got to lead his own Fearsome Four team in the bargain.

Unfortunately, his group met a bit more resistance than they’d expected.

"Hah!" Hulk just laughed as Juggernaut slammed him into a wall, then bashed him straight through. "That the best you got?" Juggernaut charged after him through the hole he’d made and the two powerhouses collided with a literal earth-shattering crash. As they strained against each other, Hulk reached around and gripped the back of Juggernaut's pants. He hauled sharply upwards to pull the helmeted man’s legs into the air.

"H-Hey! What gives!" Juggernaut said through gritted teeth as Hulk gave his beefy butt what amounted to a massive wedgie. That set him up perfectly for the next step though, as Hulk drew back an enormous green fist, and—WHAM—sent Juggernaut hurtling right out of his pants and through a second wall.

"Unnghh..." Juggernaut lay dazed with his bare ass slung over a pile of rubble.

The others had better luck, at least at first. Sandman swept Rhino and Colossus away in a tidal wave of sand, then positioned himself to snare any other men who came in range. Spider-Man leapt at him from above, but was intercepted by Venom who came swinging out of nowhere and pinned him to the ground. "Oh no… not again!" the webhead yelled as he found himself dragged over Venom's knee and the back of his tights torn open.

"We will spank you as often as it takes!" Venom informed Spider-Man with a toothy grin, before immediately getting to work with their enchanted paddle.

“Ow! Ooh! Aah!”

In Spider-Man’s absence, Sandman found himself dealing with blasts of fire from a flying Sunspot. "Hey Sandman, I wonder if you've got a glass jaw!" the cocky New Mutant teased as he aimed a shot right at Sandman's face.

Sandman collapsed into a pile of sand and then reformed right behind the young hero. "Kid, I've dealt with way worse than you," he told him as he plucked him out of the air with a giant hand. In moments the seat of Sunspot’s tight costume was sanded away, then the mutant hothead was treated to a bare-ass sand-blistering that sent him yowling.

El Aguila was quickly put on the defensive as an unexpected foe dashed at him. The caped anti-hero known as Moon Knight swiped at him with a bo staff, which he parried with his blade. But before he could retaliate, he was pressed on his other side by the red-hooded hero of Hell's Kitchen, Daredevil. A billy club swung his way forced El Aguila to disengage. "Oh, I see you know better than to face me one on one. I'm so glad my name is spreading," he said glibly as he dodged.

They stuck with him though, not allowing him to maneuver. Every move he made was swiftly countered by one or the other. He quickly realized the only way he could win would be if he managed to lure Daredevil and Moon Knight to within range of Sandman's coils. Whether or not he could make it that far was another issue though, especially when a thrown blade from Moon Knight sliced away the seat of his costume to reveal his own pair of well-rounded buns.

“Que grosero!”

“Every time! Every time the alarm goes off it’s when I’m in da tub!”

Thing stomped down the corridor with just a towel wrapped around his rocky waist, intent on learning what the emergency was. But what greeted him when the elevator doors slid open brought him up short.

“Uhhh…”

It was his own face that stared back at him. The same ever-lovin’ blue eyes, the same craggy textures. Same bulge in the shorts, too. And slung over that handsome mug’s shoulder was… Johnny’s ass?

It mollified him somewhat that the other him seemed just as startled to be staring back at himself as he was. “Um,” his clone/twin/magical duplicate/hologram/skrull imposter/life-model decoy said. Real rivetin’ conversation.

Slowly, the ridges of Thing’s brows drew together. “Hey fellas.” He grinned. “Was dere a convention for good lookin’ bachelors in town and nobody told me?”

“Oh shit,” said Human Torch over the fake him’s shoulder.

“Noooo! Stooooop!”

El Aguila’s game of keep-away had ended in a clear defeat. Each time he’d tried to get the two heroes to within reach of Sandman’s coils, they’d cut him off. And when he was up against two heroes as skilled as Daredevil and Moon Knight, dodging one of them was difficult enough, much less two. In short order he found himself drawn struggling over Daredevil’s lap, then treated to a stinging bare-bottom spanking that sent him twisting and squirming. He wondered if the blind hero was using some sort of echo-location to find the most painful spots on his bottom to slap. “Aah! Ahh! Ooh!”

Venom had fared equally poorly. He’d finished spanking Spider-Man, but had then immediately been attacked by the Wrecking Crew. The four men came equipped with sonic blasters (no doubt planned for the very event of Venom’s presence) which sent the black symbiote splattering and then weakly oozing from Eddie Brock’s muscular body. He’d then been grabbed and spread over the laps of two of the Wrecking Crew, who started applying their thick palms to his bare, writhing ass.

“Ow! No! Stop! Argh!” he shouted.

Spider-Man had it even worse. Fresh from his paddling by Venom, he’d been freed from the Handler’s control. Unfortunately, that only meant he was grabbed by the other two Wrecking Crew members and put over their laps for yet another spanking. He was soon in outright sobs as his bruised bottom was given too much pain to handle.

“NOOOOO! No more! PLEASE! I’ll do anything, guys! Anything!!”

And outside, they could all hear Juggernaut’s wails as Hulk showed him once and for all who was really the strongest guy around.

Sandman was the only one remotely holding his own. He’d kept his grip on Sunspot and had even grabbed several other heroes as well to give them the same “strip ‘n whip” treatment. But it was only a matter of time until even he was brought down under the combined might of a dozen heroes rushing him at once.

As tears stained the insides of El Aguila’s mask, he only hoped their sacrifice had been worth it.

"A left, and then another left, and... it should be the third door!" Human Torch was breathlessly directing Hulkling down the halls. For his part, Hulkling kept glancing nervously behind them.

“You’re sure the real Thing won’t catch up with us?”

“Not for at least a few minutes. I tricked him into the trash compactor.” Human Torch snickered a bit. “He falls for it every time.”

They maintained their pace, even as they heard various booms and the sound of men shouting rising from the ground floor. They hoped Juggernaut’s team would be successful, but had their doubts how long they’d hold out. Time was of the essence. So when, in due course, they stood outside the main computer room, they took only a few seconds to catch their breath. "Alright,” Human Torch said as he was finally put down and his hands untied. “We'll have exactly one shot at this, so pray the Handler hasn't changed the passwords."

"Don’t even joke about that,” Hulkling said as he gripped the security doors and then pulled them apart with some effort. Inside was a darkened room full of glowing computer terminals. They stepped inside warily.

“Man, I can't believe it’s really this easy—" Hulkling's words were cut off as two silhouettes blocked out the light from the largest monitor. Two men slowly took up position, blocking the way between them and where they needed to go. "Oh no."

Before them stood Captain America and Captain Britain. Neither captain had a shred of clothing on, save for a pair of spiked collars and leather jockstraps. The two formerly proud leaders were now nothing but objectified eye candy serving as the Handler’s guard dogs.

"Well, you two certainly aren't supposed to be here," Captain Britain pointed out, folding his arms over his massive chest.

Captain America nodded solemnly and pulled out his shield—as well as a paddle. "And I’m sure you know what the punishment for trespassing in restricted areas is."

The bottoms of Hulkling and Human Torch clenched reflexively, and the two heroes gulped.

Next: Everybody Gets Punished

Chapter Text

Wiccan bit his lips as he paced the halls. It’d been nearly fifteen minutes since Juggernaut’s team of villains had charged into the Baxter Building, and another fifteen minutes before that since Hulkling and Human Torch had gone in. They’d immediately lost contact with all of them.

Locked in his cell nearby, the evil mutant Sabretooth licked his chops. “How’s it feel, boy?” he hooted, “Knowing that hunky boy-toy of yours is getting his pretty ass beat as we speak?”

Wiccan whirled on him. “Shut up, you!” he said. “We don’t know that. We’re just waiting on their signal to… to...”

“Hah! You know as well as I do those tight pants of his are already pulled down. He’s kickin’ and squirmin’, begging whoever’s caught him to go easy on his poor green ass. That is…” Sabretooth’s eyes assumed an even crueler look. “If he’s not already down on his knees, servicing his new master in other ways—”

Wiccan’s hands glowed with power, and he was only stopped from explosively blasting Sabretooth’s cell away by a white and blue blur. Quicksilver had grabbed hold of his wrists.

“Stop it!” he said. “He’s only trying to provoke you. It’s what he always does. It’s practically his fetish.”

“I know, but—but he’s also right. It has been too long,” Wiccan said. “They should have checked in by now.”

“Nonsense,” said Quicksilver. “You know the Baxter Building blocks all signal. The best thing to do in times like this is just—”

“Just what?” Wiccan snapped. “Remain calm? Sit back and relax while my boyfriend might be over a lap somewhere? Even forced to submit and... serve the perviest villain I’ve ever seen!?!”

“Well… yes.”

The man called Cable sighed gruffly as he also approached, followed by a number of other heroes. He laid a hand on Wiccan’s shoulder. “Take it from me, son. I know how you feel. Every inch of you wants to explode. The overpowering urge to act. But the best thing right now is just to maintain combat readiness. Any minute now we might receive Hulkling and Human Torch’s signal, and it won’t do you any good to be strung out when we do.”

“Especially since it’ll be your job to ‘port us all over there as soon as it's clear,” put in Puck.

“Ja, and more than likely pull your boyfriend’s buns out of the fire!” said Nightcrawler, appearing at his other side.

Next to the German mutant, the green teenager Anole gave him a hesitant but encouraging smile. They were all counting on him.

That, more than anything, made Wiccan step back and take a deep breath. He made sure to fill his chest with it completely before he let it back out.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s run the simulator one more time while we wait then.”

Cable nodded grimly. “‘Atta boy.”

Sabretooth just smirked and licked his lips as he watched them all return to the control room. His eyes flicked from taut backside to taut backside.

“Soon…”

Human Torch scrambled off Hulkling's shoulder just in time to avoid being splattered by the hurtling form of Captain Britain. The hero slammed into the faux-rocky man and sent him straight through a wall. He then hung in the air as he observed the rocks of Hulkling’s outer body retract back into himself and his skin take on a distinctly greenish tint as he lay groaning on the floor. "You’re not Thing,” he said. “Just who are you?”

“Uhh… would you believe the UPS guy?”

That left Human Torch with Captain America. The man glared at him evenly as he hefted his shield. “I’ll give you one last chance to surrender, Johnny. You’ve earned this punishment.”

Human Torch blanched as he backed away. He knew Captain America wasn’t in control of himself, so he didn’t want to harm him with his flames. However, he didn’t want to get captured either. “Just… back off, Cap!” He rose into the air and shot out a burst of fire to keep him at bay.

Perhaps Human Torch shouldn't have worried. The captain deflected the flames easily, then ran forward and knocked him to the ground. By the time Human Torch rose, Cap had grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher from the wall. "I’m sure the Master will want to discuss certain things with you, but let’s teach you a lesson on resisting authority first."

"Ack! No! Stop!" Human Torch sputtered as the chemical cloud engulfed him and extinguished his flames instantly. He fell bare-ass to the floor. "Ohh... crap! Uhh, Hulkling, a lil help here!?"

“Sorry Johnny, I’m a little—Nngh!—busy!”

Human Torch looked over and saw Hulkling had already been pressed over Captain Britain’s lap with his pants pulled down. His green cheeks wiggled helplessly as he struggled, but he was no match for the English superman’s strength.

“So, ‘Hulkling’, is it?” Captain Britain said haughtily as he brought his palm down soundly across those well-muscled buns. “I see you lack much of the durability of your namesake.”

“Yeah, it’s more of a red herring thing—Yeeooowww! Go easy on us, man, we’re trying to help you!”

“Pah! Any help you could offer is far too late. We’re the master’s loyal servants now.”

Captain America nodded in agreement as he proceeded towards Human Torch. “That’s right. And soon you both will join us. Two more rumps in his glorious collection.”

“Er—sorry, I’ve already got enough action figures of myself. I don’t need to be another!” Seeing nothing else for it, Human Torch abandoned his teammate and ran back towards the computer. Everything depended on him disabling the building’s security systems. If he could just do that, they could still turn things around.

But turning his back on Captain America was another mistake. As he ran nude, the patriotic thrall drew back his shield and let it fly. It slid right under Human Torch’s feet and made him pratfall almost comically. He groaned as he landed hard right on his butt. In the next instant Captain America sprang on him. "Time for you to get what you deserve.”

"NO!" Human Torch shouted as he was drawn over the man’s lap kicking and squirming. Without his powers he was no match for Captain America. The man was a literal living legend. And now Human Torch was where he least wanted to be—over the lap of that legend, his bare cheeks wriggling helplessly as they were set into position.

Time seemed to drag to a crawl as Captain America lifted up his palm.

"Cap, wait!" Human Torch shouted as the shadow of that hand rose over his ass. "Somewhere deep down, you've got to still be in there! You’ve still got to be you!" He watched as the palm reached its highest point. In the background, he heard Hulkling yowling and kicking. He bit his lip. "I know you can still fight it! You'd never surrender to uhh, tyranny!"

Human Torch squeezed his eyes shut just as that hand descended.

SMACK!

"OHHH! Computer!" he blurted, "Code 24H 98 Epsilon!"

“Nooo! Para! Please! Ooooh!”

El Aguilo wiggled, kicked, and squirmed over the knee of Daredevil. But no matter how he twisted, the hero’s hand found his ass and just kept on spanking. It was all he could do to keep from outright bawling under the ceaseless pain.

Beside him, Eddie Brock and Spider-Man were also in torment. They had the whole Wrecking Crew on their collective asses, armed with frat paddles and clearly familiar with their use. Spider-Man had broken into tears long ago, and Eddie was nearly there himself.

“Ahh—please! My other!” he screamed as another paddle swat slammed into his muscular ass.

“Haw! You mean your little blob here?” One of the Wrecking Crew, Piledriver, asked as he gestured at the roiling symbiote. Every so often they blasted it with their sonic gun to keep it from reconstituting itself enough to coat back over Eddie’s body.

True to form, he did so again with a laugh. The reverb from the gun splattered the symbiote into chunks, making it scream silently inside Eddie’s mind.

“Nooo!”

“Haw haw! Look at it wiggle! Just like jello!”

Suddenly, their torture seemed to ease. The Wrecking Crew gaped in surprise as metallic tentacles shot down from the ceiling and grabbed their wrists.

“Huh?”

“What the—”

“Whoa!”

In seconds they were yanked upwards, their paddles clattering to the ground. Moments later their belts followed.

El Aguila got a reprieve as Moon Knight and Daredevil were likewise snatched up. He looked up to see the two heroes struggling alongside the Wrecking Crew as they were wrapped up by some sort of automated defense system. In addition to subduing them it also ripped their pants down and lined its own paddles up to their bared asses. He staggered over to Venom and Spider-Man as the sound of harsh cracks rang out, along with a half dozen howls.

“Did Human Torch and Hulkling finally succeed in their mission then?”

“Perhaps. We don’t know,” Eddie Brock spoke as the symbiote flowed back over him in relief, joining them together once more.

“I just hope it means we can finally get a break,” Spider-Man moaned.

But his hopes were dashed moments later. More coils swooped down and grabbed them as well. They were lifted up unceremoniously into the air.

“Wha–? But hey, we’re the good guys!” El Aguila yelled.

“Um. I don’t think the Baxter Building know the difference.” Spider-Man gulped as a paddle lined up with his butt.

They weren’t the only ones either. They watched as Sunspot was grabbed too, plucked right from Sandman’s grip by the cables, along with Rhino and Colossus from the outside. When Bishop and iceman rushed over to help their compatriots, they were simply wrapped up too and their bottoms bared. Punisher, Scorpion, Tombstone, Kingpin… everywhere you looked another man was getting captured by the metallic tentacles that suddenly seemed to be everywhere at once. Dozens of heroes and villains were grabbed, comprising the bulk of the Handler’s forces.

Sandman was a ‘lucky’ one. The automated system couldn’t punish him properly, so an alternative method was used to deal with him. He was vacuumed into an airtight container he couldn’t break free from, then left to vibrate and shake in frustration.

Moments later, the most widespread spanking of a super-powered group of all time began. Paddles, canes, whips, and straps suddenly whirred into place and cracked across waiting asses. Those who lacked enhanced durability yowled almost immediately. Their backsides quivered as the implements drew back for a second strike.

“Yeowww! What the hell is happening?!” Piledriver wanted to know.

“Aaargh! It hurts!” cried out Daredevil.

“Have we done something to displease the Master?” Colossus wondered.

“I dunno, but–Nngh! If this keeps up, even I’m gonna start squirmin’!” Rhino shouted as crack after crack landed across his upturned ass. The other heroes and villains were much more emphatic about their own punishments. Even the most grizzled among them yelped and yowled as their naked butt got smacked around in front of their fellows. Those who’d already been punished—El Aguila, Sunspot, Spider-Man—broke into tears immediately. All except for Venom.

“Pah!” they snarled as their beefy backside twisted under a paddling. “We will not… give in so easily!”

But the Baxter Building had specialized defenses in place for Venom as well as Sandman. The next time a harsh crack rang out against their backside, Venom’s eyes widened.

"NOOO! Not fire! It burns!!" Venom yowled as red-hot burning cables whipped their bottom, taking advantage of yet another of their weaknesses. Reflexively, the symbiote roiled and fled from the source of contact, leaving Eddie Brock’s ass bare for the next sizzling swat.

”Yeeaaarrrgghhh!”

The only ones who weren’t affected by the sudden activation of the security system were Hulk and Juggernaut. They’d landed well outside the Baxter Building’s radius in the course of their brawl. That worked out well for Hulk but not so much for Juggernaut, who had to face an even worse spanking. Hulk just smirked and kept hammering his hefty green palm into Juggernaut’s helpless cheeks while the big guy wailed over his knee.

“Ohhhh! Okay! Okay!” Juggernaut bawled. “You’re the strongest! You’re the strongest!”

“Damn straight.”

Human Torch sighed with relief as cables shot out and restrained Cap's arms. In moments they'd wrapped around the rest of him too. A glance saw Hulkling and Captain Britain getting bound up as well. "Luckily Reed made all his computers take voice commands."

"Uhhh, Johnny?" Hulkling said as the machines finished ripping off all his clothes, then snaked around his arms and legs. Soon enough he was lifted up, his bare bottom prominently raised. "Johnny!"

"Oops, sorry pal!" Human Torch yelled as he stumbled to the computer. "The system's default is to apprehend everyone who's not on the active F4 roster. It might take me a few seconds to remember how to uhh, remove you from the target list." He started pressing buttons, trying to work through subroutines. That was accompanied by the sound of Hulkling and both captains getting loudly paddled, all three of them grunting and yelling.

At least his codes still worked. The Handler had clearly altered the security program in certain way—probably added all sorts of embarrassing stuff—but if he could just adjust the target settings it shouldn't matter.

"How's that?" he asked as he finished entering a command. But to his chagrin, rather than release Hulkling he saw the cables bring something else to bear: a large, slick, metallic dildo, aimed right between his teammate’s blazing cheeks. "Err. Okay, uhh, lemme try something else..."

“Johnny? What is it? What’s—Oooohhh!” Hulkling gaped as he felt a pressure at his hole. Before he could say more, a second dildo came around his other side. That one crammed itself into his mouth. “Mmmph!”

Helplessly, he started to moan as the dildos slid vigorously in and out of both ends of him.

"Un-friggin'-believable!" Thing stomped past teammate after teammate, trapped bare-ass in all kinds of embarrassing predicaments and getting their butts paddled raw. Iron Fist, Kraven, Banshee, Doctor Octopus… Had the Master decided to give them all a surprise refresher? Nah, he was more of a 'hands-on' kinda boss. It didn't seem like a test, either. It had to be the work of those two punks who’d given him the slip.

"That little brat Johnny! Usin' our own security against us, huh? I'm gonna clobber that kid!"

It didn't take Thing long to make it up to the security room. Being a premier member of the Fantastic Four himself, none of the machines tried to touch him.

A fact which seemed to take Human Torch by complete surprise as the doors slid open to reveal him standing at a computer terminal bare-ass naked. He turned to look at Thing in shock.

“Oh, crap,” he said.

“That’s right, Johnny. Didja forget I’m a Fantastic Four member too? Or maybe ya thought I wouldn’t make it outta dat garbage disposal any time soon?” Thing stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

Human Torch turned around to shield the monitor from him. “Uhhh, well I gotta admit, I might’ve been hoping...”

“Too bad, chum. Now yer gonna get it good. Just like old times.” Thing’s rocky face cracked in a smile. “After all, I been spankin’ ya since long before the Handler showed up.”

He barely spared a glance for the others in the room—Captain Britain and Captain America, groaning and moaning under swats from glowing paddles, or the shape-changin’ Hulkling getting machine-fucked in the corner—he had eyes only for his erstwhile ol’ teammate he was aching to put back over his knee.

But as Human Torch wreathed himself in flames and rose up into the air, he made it clear he wasn’t going to make it easy. “Sorry Ben. This is too important to waste time. I’m gonna—”

“Computer, Code XG7 Numbskull. Designate: Human Torch,” said Thing.

Human Torch gasped as fire extinguisher foam once more covered him from head to toe. He dropped down only to get caught in a metal coil that neatly wrapped him up and then bent him over, presenting his naked backside. “You–Did you just—?!”

“That’s right. I jes’ temporarily removed ya from the F4 roster. I’m not as dumb as ya think I am, Flamebrain. And now I’m gonna enjoy this.” Thing raised his rocky hand over Human Torch’s perky buns.

“Computer! Code 92 Epsilon! Designates Captain Britain and Captain America!” Human Torch yelled.

Thing just laughed as the coils released the two heroic leaders. “Did ya forget, Johnny? Those two are on my side! You just made things even worse fer yerself.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Grimm.”

“Huh?”

Thing gaped as Captain America calmly took up his shield and set himself between him and the bound Human Torch. Even completely naked and sporting a red ass, he struck an oddly imposing sight. Next to him, the beefy Captain Britain did the same.

“Sorry Ben, but we’re going to put you down right here. Our very freedoms are at stake.”

“B-but how…?”

Human Torch gave him a sly grin. “We switched their paddles with some magical ones Wiccan had given us. Figured, hey, if they were gonna be getting spanked anyway…”

Without need for further explanation, Captain America charged forward and threw his shield at Thing. Although it bounced harmlessly off the rocky hero’s chest, it served effectively as a feint. Cap leapt up and used the ricocheting shield as a springboard to launch himself right over Thing's head. As he landed behind him he reached out and grabbed Thing’s tights and pulled them straight to his knees.

“Uhh? HEY! What’re ya—”

But the pantsing was also a distraction. Where Cap had been, Captain Britain suddenly charged forward, utilizing teamwork as if it were a maneuver they’d practiced dozens of times. He slammed into Thing like a freight train. The force was enough to push Thing backwards—where he then stumbled over a bent-over Captain America and fell to the floor. Every stage of the attack was specially designed to keep Thing off-balance just long enough for the next to work.

The end result—a minute or so later—was Thing hog-tied in the bonds that’d previously held Captain America and Captain Britain. The two captains knelt down on either side of him, picked out a cheek each, and treated them to a harsh paddling while Thing angrily squirmed on the floor.

“Mmmph! GRRMMMPPHHH!!” he roared into his balled-up speedo, which had been turned into a gag.

"Don't hold back on him, guys. He can take whatever you dish out," Human Torch told them as he disengaged himself from his binds. “Geez, I can’t believe that worked. Guess I remembered more of Reed’s lectures than I thought, huh?”

He went back to the computer and tried to remember how to do the rest. “Okay, first thing’s first. Dropping the communications block... Uhh, like this?”

"How's the operation going, Torch? Can we move in yet?" the voice of Nick Fury immediately shouted over the room’s speakers.

"Uhh, hey guys. Give us a few more minutes," Johnny said as the sounds of Thing’s paddling echoed behind him.

“How’s Hulkling? Is he okay?” came Wiccan’s voice.

Human Torch spared a glance for his half-skrull teammate, who was still suffering the forced intrusions of thick robotic tentacles in his mouth and rectum. “He’s uhh. He’s fine.”

“Can I talk with him?”

“Little busy right now, Wiccan! Why don’t you chant some calming spell or something while I try and figure this out?”

“You told us you could do this!” thundered Fury.

“Actually, if any of you had been listening, I most emphatically said I probably couldn’t do this!”

“Johnny,” the calm voice of Captain America broke through the chatter. “Before anything else, can you run a scan and find the precise location of the Handler?”

“Uhh, probably. But why?”

“Just… do it.” Cap massaged his temples. “I don’t remember exactly why, but I have the feeling whatever he’s up to is no good and it’s... extremely important we stop him. Why else wouldn’t he have interfered by now?”

Human Torch nodded and input a few commands. After a few moments, he blinked. “He’s in the… missile control room?”

Captain America paled, and he got up and left Thing’s paddling to Captain Britain. He stood beside Human Torch, a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure about that?”

“Uhh, yeah. I mean, I think so. That’s what the scan says, anyway.”

"Can you get video there?” Cap asked urgently. “Or tell if the defenses have caught him?"

Human Torch could do video. He switched it over, and a strange view came on the screen. The Handler stood among a group of naked, yowling men. The absence of a few notable figures was explained as they saw Thor, Hercules, and Wolverine, along with X-Factor’s resident heavyweight, Strong Guy. They were all being vigorously paddled by the building's spank-defenses. Curiously, it looked like small tracker beacons had been planted on each of their butt cheeks, drawing the cables to them and leaving the Handler untouched. The Handler smirked into the camera. Beside him, Forge was working at a console, also unspanked for the moment.

"I see you've figured out my plan," said the mastermind. "However, it's far too late to stop me..."

Chapter Text

“Although, perhaps 'figured it out' might be giving you too much credit." The Handler smirked into the camera. "While you've been chasing each other's tails all over town, I've secured the one place I need to enact my plans. With the new international satellite system online and several of the most brilliant minds on the planet having worked it, it's time to launch my own little scheme into orbit. And I can do it right here from the Baxter Building.” He opened his arms wide. “Soon, my influence will be spread all over the world. Anyone I choose will be punished accordingly, and far more beside. And, once that happens, there’ll truly be no stopping me."

He paused to give a light chuckle. "You're welcome to try of course though. In fact, I’d expect nothing less from such brave heroes. But I know for a fact this site is electronically isolated to prevent rockets being hijacked. You’ll have to show up in person. And when you do, well, let’s just say I'll welcome the opportunity… with open palm."

With those final words, the screen burst into static.

"Dum Dum, get us eyes on the missile silo, NOW!" Nick Fury roared into his comms.

"Workin' on it, Colonel—"

"Johnny, I need you to add us all to the 'approved' list. If we're going up there we do not need to tangle with home security."

"Umm, which of you exactly—?"

"ALL OF US! Captain America, Captain Britain, while we're doing that I need you two to go through the Baxter Building. Paddle anyone you think might be useful to get ‘em back on our side."

The two respective captains eyed each other. Evidently, Fury had assumed command in their absence. Side-eyeing his compatriot, Captain Britain merely gave a nod. "Of course."

Fury turned back to the heroes he'd held back in reserve at the Tower. "The rest of you form up on me. Five minutes to prep, then we're teleporting in right on top of him."

"Are you serious?!" Beast protested. "You heard what he said, he'll welcome us 'with open palm'. This is a trap!"

"Better than giving him access to a satellite he can do whatever he wants with," Fury said resolutely. "Don't got a choice this time."

“Is it really so bad letting him have one satellite?” questioned Anole.

“You’re kidding, right?” said Luke Cage. “Even I know that’d be bad news.”

“But what can he do with…?”

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea to find out, do you?”

As other heroes weighed in on the plan, Sabertooth smirked from inside his cell, situated in the far corner of the room. He then, slowly and deliberately, dragged his claws down the surface of the glass panel enclosing him. The ear-splitting noise was enough to painfully end the discussions, and the heroes all turned to stare at him.

He gave a suggestive lick of his lips while he was the center of attention. "Now ain’t this gonna be fun,” he said, “You boys are all gonna get taken to the woodshed."

"Ugh. Can we take him with us?" Puck asked, speaking as if he were talking about a naughty pet. "I bet he'd really like to meet the F4’s security."

"Having a human shield along might not be such a bad idea," Hawkeye noted, checking over his arrows.

Sabretooth snarled. "Try it, and I'll slice open your gizzards, meat!"

"It's like watching a bunch of children," Warwolf muttered as he stood by his commander.

“Two minutes, people!” Nick Fury shouted.

As everyone else busily prepared for action, Nightcrawler approached Wiccan. "Will you be alright handling this many of us?” he asked.

With some hesitation, Wiccan nodded. "Yes, but I'll be entirely wiped out afterward. Whatever's waiting for us on the other side, we'll be stuck there with it."

"Uh huh, and likely with our literal and proverbial pants down. Don't worry so much, lads. We'll all be protectin' each other's cheeks, eh?" Puck appeared at their waists, giving Wiccan and Nightcrawler’s firm bottoms a pat each.

"Because that worked so well last time," Quicksilver said with a roll of his eyes. "Oh well. Better hurry and rush in before we change our minds."

Cable nodded more seriously. He emptied the magazine on his gun and inserted a new cartridge. "Locked and loaded."

Beast sighed as he stepped up last, alongside Anole. "Although I still believe this to be a serious error... I won't let you make it on your own. Count us in too."

"Awww, isn't that adorable?" Sabertooth made sounds of kissing behind the glass. Everyone looked at him in disgust.

After a moment, Nick Fury got a wry look on his face. "Hey, kid?" he said to Wiccan.

"Yes?"

"Bring him with us too."

"Yes, sir."

"Huh?" Sabertooth's eyes widened as a white glow formed around everyone, including him. "Hey! Hell no, you can’t just bring me with you to get my ass beat! You ain't—!"

Whatever else Sabertooth had been about to say was lost in a flash of light. When it faded, the Avengers Tower stood empty.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, the security system wasted no time wrapping up Sabretooth as soon as they arrived. A string of curses came as he was hauled up and the tight seat of his spandex pants ripped apart. “Oww! Argh! You heroes will–YEARGH–pay for this!” he roared as he was paddled soundly while everyone else stood gaping.

But he wasn't alone. Quicksilver, too, was instantly grabbed and hauled up by robotic limbs. It seemed Human Torch had ‘accidentally’ forgotten to include him in the guest list. “Oh, damn you Johnny!” he yelled as his tight buns got bared and punished as well. “Owwwww!”

Along with that, Wiccan also groaned from the depletion of so much magical energy in the teleport. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

But the plight of their comrades was lost in what else the Avengers saw upon arrival, almost unbelievable in its shock. In addition to Handler and Forge being there, along with their assorted spank slaves in the grip of the security tentacles, there were notably three others.

—On sabbatical from his homeworld of Kree and holding a massive hammer that could rival Mjolnir, the hulking figure of Ronan the Accuser stood at the ready, waiting to use his weapon upon the strongest of foes. He stood pantsless, his beefy buttocks red and swollen.

—The second figure was one known especially to the X-Men. A staunch believer in ‘survival of the fittest’ at the expense of all else, the harrowing ancient form of En Sabah Nur, aka. Apocalypse cast a shadow upon the room. His muscular blue bottom was also exposed, sporting quite a few blisters upon its surface.

—But the most surprising of all was the last, who longtime Avengers recognized with a start. It seemed impossible... but even the robot Ultron stood before them. And, somehow, even he was sporting a red, flushed backside of circuitry and metal.

The heroes gaped at the assembled villains. Ronan, Apocalypse, and Ultron. Any one of them could trounce an entire team of heroes. Indeed, they’d all done so in the past multiple times. Each was a global-level threat. To have all three gathered in one place, working together, was a nigh-impossible feat.

"Ah, you're all here right on schedule," the Handler said, smiling. They could see him standing behind a partition, giving him some protection from the chaos that was about to unfold. "Time for you all to fall under my spell for good."

"But... how did he..." Beast spluttered, "When did he...?!"

“You’re telling me spanked—a robot?!” Luke Cage said in shock.

"No time for that now. Everyone, give 'em everything you've got!" Fury barked. He raised his handguns and unloaded them into Ronan, who merely stood impervious to their effects.

Cable also charged in without any prompting needed. "I'm taking you down, Apocalypse. This time for good!" he swore at the villain of his dystopian future. His guns shot explosive bursts of raw plasma. Unlike Fury’s guns, his were enough to stagger his enemy.

As the fighting started in earnest, Quicksilver and Sabretooth had to suffer the indignity of being spanked together, along with Wolverine, Thor, Hercules, and Strong Guy. They all howled as they got paddled mercilessly by the Baxter Building security system.

"'Least we don't have to deal with that," Puck muttered, sparing them a glance.

The short Canadian suddenly yelped as he felt a sting in his left cheek. He looked down to see a small blinking transmitter had been fired directly into his butt by a rifle held by Forge. "What...?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Forge said, reloading.

All of a sudden, coils swarmed down at Puck from all sides. They lifted him up in the air and ripped through his spandex in moments. They then started lashing down on his hairy rear, hard enough to raise welts. "AHHH! SHIIIIT!" he screamed.

While everyone’s gazes were drawn upward to the sight, Forge took the opportunity to fire another tracker—this time at Luke Cage. Just as it would have struck however, an arrow knocked it aside with pinpoint accuracy. "Focus people!" Hawkeye yelled as he nocked another. "We can't afford to lose anyone else!"

He fired off a second arrow and it struck Puck's ass with the thunderous clap of a paddle swat. Luckily for him, punishing butts wasn’t the only thing his newly forged ‘spank’ arrows could be used for. In this case, the flat arrowhead crushed the chip on Puck’s bottom to bits. The system dropped Puck rather unceremoniously back on his bare rear.

“Oooh!” he yowled.

"Nice shot," Luke Cage said, giving Hawkeye a thumbs up. The archer returned the praise with a staunch nod.

Unfortunately, neither of them kept an eye on the chips after they hit the floor. As Luke Cage whirled to face Apocalypse, the chip that’d been targeting him sprouted tiny mechanical spider legs. It quickly crawled across the floor then crept its way up his lower body as he exchanged booming blows with the villain. Then it clamped right onto his behind.

"Sweet Christmas!" Luke yelled as he was suddenly gripped around the waist and hauled out of the fight. He was pulled upward by a host of metal tentacles who all gripped a different part of him and spread him in mid-air. Even his super strength wasn’t enough to prevent his pants being ripped off, or of him being bent over and his legs spread wide. Soon enough he joined the others in bare-bottomed punishment.

Puck, too, unknowingly had his chip clamp right back onto his hairy rump after it underwent a short repair sequence. He was swiftly re-grabbed by the security system. “Ohh, now THAT’S JUST UNFAIR!” he howled as his cheeks bounced under a hard paddling again.

Meanwhile, Nick Fury had taken a portable grenade launcher out in desperation and fired it at Ronan. The Accuser simply struck the blast with a swing of his war hammer, dissipating the resulting explosion with little effort. "I've judged all you humans to be wanton and worthless," Ronan intoned, hoisting his weapon onto his shoulder. "It's time for you to be disciplined."

The Kree warlord stepped towards Fury, only for Warwolf to dive in. The werewolf sunk his fangs into Ronan's arm, making him grit his teeth before he tossed him aside like a rag doll. Warwolf struck a metal wall hard enough to leave an impression in it and went limp.

Retreating, Fury looked around with a start. Unbelievable. He'd shown up with twelve men, and a full third of them were already stripped, spanked, and subdued. And that number was rising quickly.

Anole ran at Ultron. The young mutant had no idea who the robot was—he'd only been a kid the last time Ultron had tried to take over the world—and his lack of knowledge led him to foolishly charge. Ultron reacted faster than any organic being could. In an instant Anole was grabbed and hefted over the robot's shoulder where he received a powerful whack across his cheeks that instantly made him howl.

"Avengers. I have lost too much to you," Ultron warned, his eyes glowing red. "I have lost body after body, let power slip from my fingers, plans foiled and loves lost. Now, it is time for you all to pay." He ripped away the seat of Anole's pants, exposing bare green ass as he continued the boy’s punishment.

Nick Fury swore as he retreated from Ronan's advance, shooting clip after clip at him. "We need reinforcements!" he said through gritted teeth. "Now!"

"Already on it, Colonel!" Nightcrawler teleported up to where the four powerhouses were being punished—Wolverine, Thor, Hercules, and Strong Guy. Apparently they'd been used simply to keep the security system occupied, chosen for their capacity to endure punishment. They were all clenching their eyes shut and gritting their teeth between howls, but kept their asses perfectly raised. Nightcrawler raised his own special magical paddle and timed his hits to land between the security system’s.

Smack! Crack! Whack! Ker-Crack! Smack!

"I'M not under the Handler's control!" Quicksilver swore as he got a swat too.

"Oops, apologies mein freund," the X-Man replied cheekily.

Luckily, the other men's asses were already so sore and blistered it took only one spank apiece from the special paddle to restore them back to themselves. Their eyes fluttered open with gasps. "We are... returned!" Thor said.

"Ohh, and feeling like mine backside has served as the chewtoy of Cerberus himself!" Hercules wept.

“Uhhh, did I miss something? Who are all these guys?” Strong Guy whimpered. “OW!”

"%#&! Get us down from here, elf!" Logan swore as the blistering swats continued. Nightcrawler nodded and, after crushing the trackers attached to them, teleported them down to the ground. They all immediately crumpled to their knees and cradled their asses, unable to yet join the fray.

The rest of the fight continued apace. Apocalypse soon adjusted to the ferocity of Cable's assault and slammed him into a wall with a fist the size of a house and the shape of a mallet. "You still seek to oppose me, my forever-foe?" he asked as he ripped Cable's clothes from his body. "I, who will mold this world like clay into my own image?" He reshaped his fist into a long, thick, holed frat paddle and began lashing it down upon the grizzled man's bare ass.

“Argh! Augh, damn you!” Cable swore. “AAAHHHH!”

Wonder Man flew in to intercept Ronan but was immediately backhanded just like Warwolf had been, and his own costume was soon grabbed and ripped off. Beast tried to pull off a double-barrel kick jump on Apocalypse's back, but was instead instantly grabbed and slammed down next to Cable, simply leading to two X-Men being spanked rather than just one. Meanwhile, Anole had been brought fully to tears over Ultron's shoulder and the robot next turned its attention on Hawkeye.

Nick Fury swore as he did another quick headcount. Of the twelve men he’d brought with him, now fully three quarters of them had been stripped, beaten, and punished. And he doubted the rest, including himself, would hold out much longer.

But there was hope even in the darkest of battles. As the Accuser bore down on Fury, the ceiling above exploded in a cloud of rubble. “Someone call for backup?” Hulkling came down, accompanied by Thing and Human Torch.

“Yeah, and I’m sicka everybody makin’ me their spanky playtoy! It’s CLOBBERIN’ TIME!!” Thing roared as he hurtled down and slammed both rocky fists directly into Ronan’s face.

Wiccan had partially recovered from the mass teleportation. He staggered to his feet and gathered lightning around his hands. But he couldn’t use it against Ultron while the robot held the sobbing Anole. “Victor!” he called, “Get clear!”

“I-I can’t!” Anole blubbered, receiving another swat for his trouble. “OHHHH!”

“Just take the shot, kid!” Hawkeye urged as Ultron shot various high-tech projectiles at him, ripping away his clothes. “Agh!”

“I got ‘im!” Wolverine charged in, his healing factor having allowed him to recover the fastest out of those who’d been enslaved. He slashed Ultron’s shoulder, eliciting an actual cry of pain from the mechanical being, then scooped Anole up and dove for cover holding him in his grizzled arms.

“NOW!” Hawkeye said, and he shot electrical arrows rapidly. Ultron simply knocked them away with a scoff. The lightning from Wiccan’s hands, while they took every bit of his remaining power, similarly had no effect.

“Is that the best you Avengers can do?” the machine asked. “I calculate you’ll all soon be on your knees.”

"If you crave lightning my friends, allow me!" Thor spoke, and summoned a massive bolt which slammed directly into the robot.

Meanwhile, Nightcrawler bamf'd up to see if he could free Luke Cage, Puck, and Sabretooth like he had the others. However, another shot from Forge turned into an airborne collar that snapped around his neck in seconds. "Ach! Mein gott!" he said as he realized his powers had been neutralized. Very soon the coils had wrapped around him as well, and he squirmed as his pants were pulled down and the spanks started. Rather than free his friends he’d been consigned to join them.

"That's quite enough of that." Captain Britain burst through the floor right below Forge and relieved him of his weapons. He decided it prudent to give the inventor a good spanking as well, and soon Forge was twisting and yelping over his knee.

The group then had to contend with Apocalypse's advancement. His blows were overpowering, knocking them aside and hurling them out of their costumes and into each other. But they were soon assisted by Human Torch’s flames, as well a dozen other heroes who charged in to join them—lead by the returned Captain America.

“Cap! If you ain’t a sight for sore eyes right now!” Wolverine called.

“Even if he’s not exactly in uniform at the moment,” noted Spider-Man, swinging in behind him.

“Hey, are any of us anymore?”

"Tch." The Handler actually looked annoyed as the battle turning against him, but kept at his work on the panel. Through the thick steel partition, the sound of a rocket firing up could be heard. "Time to end this."

Just then the crackling of Thor’s thunder finally died down. Ultron was shown bent over, his eyes no longer glowing as his metal body sparked and steamed. But moments later, whirring was heard as he rebooted and stood up again, eyes burning red once more. "I ask again: Is that all you have? I learned to deal with you seven iterations ago."

He leapt forward, grabbed Thor, and forced him down to the ground, before he pulled the naked god over his knee. "I've been wanting to punish you for years, and the Master has shown me how to finally accomplish it."

“What? No! No! NO!” Thor roared out as the robot’s vibranium-reinforced palm started to make harsh and repeated contact with his upturned backside. “AaaAAARGH!”

As Thor felt the righteous pain of defeat, the entire floor started to rumble. A hole formed and expanded, then a wave of sand suddenly poured upwards through it to flood over Apocalypse. Venom followed in Sandman’s wake. "We will have vengeance!" they cried as they struck the blinded Apocalypse with a drop kick.

As more and more heroes piled into the room, it soon grew too chaotic to keep track of each other or of their chosen foes. But the sound of a rocket engine was also building, growing progressively louder.

“Uhhh, should we be worried about that?” Spider-Man asked.

“A bit too late, I’m afraid,” the Handler replied, and with a flick of a switch he caused a force-field to rise between him and the host of heroes who were only now realizing the threat he posed. He smiled and waved to them.

A wave of super-powered men rushed forward and a dozen earth-shattering blows met the shield, causing resounding impacts but otherwise no effect. “Keep it up!” Captain America urged. “His shield can’t hold out forever against our combined strength. Pour it on!”

“It doesn’t need to last forever,” Handler replied. “Just long enough. And you’ll find out why very, very soon.”

"Yeah, about that."

The feel of a gun pressed to the back of his head brought the Handler up short. Nick Fury stood behind him, having skirted around the edge of the action once more heroes had arrived, then slipped inside the perimeter just before the force-field had gone up. He grimly cocked his pistol.

He wasn’t a superhero. Unlike the Avengers, he was going to do whatever it took to finally end the villain’s schemes.

Chapter Text

"Back away, slowly," Fury directed, cocking his revolver. "Then put your hands on the back of your head and drop to your knees. I'm in no mood for games." In the background there was the sound of constant spankings, though it was unclear whether it was heroes or villains receiving them anymore. He could hear the husky voice of Ronan the Accuser roaring out, followed by a torrent of more booming slaps. "I'll give you to the count of three. One... two..."

Handler sighed and immediately complied. Without saying a word he raised his hands to the back of his head and fell to his knees. Beyond the forcefield, the sound of spankings kept up—if anything, they became louder. Fury glared at him. Stopping the Handler hadn’t stopped the chaos, nor had it stopped the sound of the rocket preparing for launch.

He flipped the switch to lower the forcefield. "McCoy!" he shouted. "Get your ass over here and stop this countdown."

Beast hobbled over with a wince, speedo gathered around his ankles and sporting a score of welts across his beefy behind. A short distance away, Apocalypse was wrestling with Hercules, Thing, Cable, and Wonder Man all at once and somehow holding his own. Human Torch kept flying around to shoot flame blasts at his rear. Meanwhile Ronan the Accuser was being held to the ground by sand manacles and had at least five sets of palms colliding with his backside at any given time.

After a few moments of quick typing, Beast paled. "I… can't," he said.

Nick Fury's face darkened. "What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean I can't. He's locked me out of the system."

"Well unlock it."

"I can't, I don't have access to—"

"There's got to be something you can do!"

There was suddenly a roar of ignition. They all looked up in horror to see a rocket shooting straight up into the sky. Nick Fury tore out his radio.

"Dum Dum, we need air interception before it—"

"We can't, Colonel. That’s a new line of rockets developed with Wakandan tech. It's too fast for us!"

Nick turned on the Handler. "What is that rocket going to do?" he demanded. The villain smirked back at him silently.

“Tell me, dammit!!”

"I think... I may be able to help you there."

They turned to see a teary-eyed Forge limping over, nude below the waist and his buttocks burning red, courtesy of a sound spanking from Captain Britain.

"Quickly," Fury said in a clipped tone.

"It's all a bit fuzzy but..." Forge shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. “He's launching a satellite that will spread his power around to, well… about a third of the planet for now."

“‘Spread his power’?” questioned Beast.

Forge nodded. “You know those gloves I invented? The ones that can confer his control, even if he’s not the one using them? Imagine that, but on a much larger scale. And wholly eliminating the need for bodily contact.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, it’d make billions of people spank-happy… as well as make them—and anyone they spank—into his slaves.”

"So turn it off! Now!" Fury slammed his hands down on the console.

"The security on this system was designed by Reed Richards," Forge shot back. "I’m smart but even I have limits. If we had a day or two I might be able to find some flaw in the firewall, but we have less than an hour before that satellite is at full strength!"

“And then what happens?”

"They’ve already told you," the Handler chimed in from where he knelt on the floor. "It’s all just a waiting game now. You'll be under the spanker’s moon soon enough, with or without me."

"So that satellite is, what, sending some sort of beam into our brains?" Human Torch asked.

"Oh shoot. And me without my tinfoil hat!" commented Spider-Man.

Nick Fury just growled at their helplessness. "Whatever you can do, just do it," he told the scientists.

Forge and Beast hunkered down together, looking over the data. For the moment, about the only useful thing they could do was regain control of the security system. Thus Puck, Luke Cage, Quicksilver, Nightcrawler, and even Sabertooth were set back down on their feet, rubbing their raw asses and grimacing. "Rrgh… shut it, you runts, it ain't funny!" the savage mutant raged at the numerous chuckles he received.

Conversely, the three bad guys were soon restrained in turn. Ronan had already been stripped, and he struggled angrily in his bonds, large blue penis flopping. Apocalypse's painted lips twisted as he was also held by the security tendrils in a bent over position, biding his time until a chance to escape arrived. And Ultron's capture finally brought relief to Thor, who slumped to the ground with perhaps the reddest ass of them all.

After that however, a feeling of tension slowly rose. The minutes ticked by, as Beast and Forge hammered away at the keys. The heroes kept glancing at each other, wondering if any of the others could feel the strange tingling slowly growing at the back of their minds.

“What’s the matter, boys?” the Handler asked with the hint of a smile. “Starting to feel a little… funny?”

“Ignore him,” Nick Fury commanded everybody.

“It’s true though,” said Spider-Man. “I do feel weird. It’s almost like, uhhh… like...”

Wolverine was the first to show outward signs he was being affected. He'd been thoughtlessly cradling Anole in his arms—a state of affairs the younger mutant hadn't exactly been complaining about—when he suddenly flipped the reptilian hero over a knee instead.

"Huh?" Anole said in surprise, "Logan, what are you—"

"Sorry kid. I'm trying to fight it, but..." Wolverine was gritting his teeth as hard as he could. But nonetheless, he raised his rugged hand... and brought it down solidly on Anole's bare and flushed ass.

SMACK!

"OW!"

SMACK!

"Ooh, Logan, stop!" Anole squirmed and kicked over Logan's lap. But he couldn't help but feel something at the back of his head too. Something that told him he was exactly where he was meant to be. Without a thought for those watching, he arched out his back and moaned.

“Ahh… harder!” he shouted, shocking even himself.

"LET US GO!" Venom roared as their upper body was suddenly bound and constricted by a barrage of webbing. They were then grabbed and pulled over Spider-Man's lap.

"I'll be honest, I probably should feel worse about this than I do," Spider-Man admitted as he raised his hand. He started peppering the symbiote's muscular bottom with sharp, stinging blows. "But the thing is, I really, really don't. Because this is what you've really wanted from me all along... isn't it?"

Grimacing, Venom refused to answer. However the symbiote, acting on its own, opened a portal in the rear to fully reveal the beefy globes of Eddie Brock. Venom hissed and groaned as the spanking then increased in tempo.

“Ohh! Ooh, aah!”

“Yeah. I kinda thought so.”

At that the others began to look around in worry, wondering who’d be next to succumb. A howl was the only warning before the next hero got grabbed. Wiccan found himself tackled to the ground and pinned by Warwolf. “Sorry kid,” the werewolf growled as he ripped down the younger hero’s pants. “I can’t… help it!” He struck at the smooth bottom with a hard and ferocious slap.

“Oww! Ohh, stop!”

Hulkling started forward. “Hey, you can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” Wonder Man asked as he caught the young man around the waist and bent him over. “Give you a spanking too?”

“Aah! Hey!”

"Y'know what?" Thing rumbled deeply, looking around the room. "Why fight it?" He scooped up the top-heavy form of Strong Guy and pulled him over his knee. As much as the X-Factor mutant had already been spanked, he could barely struggle as Thing started bringing his hand down hard on his blistered butt.

“AAAOOOWWWW! Hey, what’d I do!”

"Nothin’. Hah! It just felt time for me ta’ finally dish out a lickin’!"

“Fascinating," observed Beast as one hero after another gave in to the foreign urges. "The satellite's signal appears to be affecting those with the sorest bottoms first."

"But... we all have sore bottoms!" Human Torch said plaintively.

"Indeed... and soon the signal will start affecting every man in the city, whether they've been spanked or not," Beast mulled. He barely paid attention as, moments later, Human Torch was plucked from the air by Colossus, who was quite immune to his fiery powers. The Russian mutant pummeled Human Torch’s bottom good and hard as the young man kicked and wailed over his lap.

Meanwhile, Luke Cage and Iron Fist were looking each other over speculatively. It was their first time being both in their right minds since the whole mess had begun. But, under the satellite’s influence, they were now seeing each other in a whole new light.

"So...I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about busting your ass tons of times, Danny."

“Technically you already did once.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t count.”

"Okay. Well... I've fantasized about giving you a good dose of discipline too. And you deserve it just as much."

Another moment passed as they made steady eye contact. Finally, Luke dug around in his tight pants. He took out a quarter. "Flip for it?"

Iron Fist smiled. "You read my mind."

Most spankings weren't settled so amicably. A dozen scuffles broke out as, one by one, heroes lost the battle to resist the temptation of tackling down their teammates and further blistering their sore rears. Captain America looked on in shock as everyone began turning on each other. "Stop this!" he shouted over the din. "Before anything else, you're all still heroes! I know you can fight this!"

“Maybe we can, but why should we?” Hawkeye nocked an arrow, drew back, and fired. Rhino bellowed as it slammed right across his large behind. “C’mon Cap, join the fun!”

That was seen as a rallying cry for many. More and more heroes and villains gave in, and within minutes the gathering devolved into nothing more than a superpowered spanking orgy. And soon, seeing so many asses being blistered, even the ones who tried to resist couldn’t help but join in too. The Punisher grabbed Daredevil and pulled down his pants, Gambit found himself flipped over El Aguila’s knee, Quicksilver dashed by dispensing a dozen slaps to heroes and villains alike, and the Wrecking Crew, interestingly enough, all turned on each other first. It was a sight the likes of which had never been seen before.

One man, however, stalked forward with a singular purpose in mind. “I said it from the start,” said Kraven the Hunter as he grabbed the Handler by the arm. “That we should punish you before all else!”

The Handler grunted as he was pulled down across a knee, and before he knew it his pants had been shucked down. His bottom, like the rest of his skin, was a bright purple in color. He tensed as Kraven raised a hand. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“And why not?”

“You’ll see.”

“Pah! I’ll take my chances.”

SMACK!

The first blow left a mark on the Handler’s bottom and he grit his teeth. It seemed he wasn’t immune to his favorite form of punishment. Kraven nodded in approval and raised his hand up again.

The Handler, however, was not without defenses. Indeed, with the satellite starting to come online he had all the ammunition he needed. With a single thought he could control anyone with sore cheeks around him.

And that was pretty much everyone.

"Hold thy palm, villain!"

Kraven didn't realize the words were meant for him until Thor suddenly lifted him up, then surprisingly tumbled him over a knee in mid-air. "Wha—you fool! Let me down!” he yelled as he felt his tight pants torn away. “That was important!"

"Nay! It’s thine own backside that must suffer!" Thor started spanking Kraven’s hairy bottom, giving each slap the force of a thunderclap.

“AAAAUUURGGHHH!”

The Handler stood up and dusted himself off. “Well that handles that,” he said. But before he could collect himself, he found himself pulled right back over someone else's knee. “Argh!”

"Sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Nick Fury growled out as he pinned the villain down. As director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the one responsible for all agents out in the field, giving out spankings wasn't exactly an activity he was unfamiliar with—though he typically gave his agents more privacy than this. Still, he sneered at the wiggling purple buttocks, only showing a single light handprint across them. "I'd seriously consider giving up that password if I were you."

“Is this how you plan to interrogate me? Seems you’re feeling the effects of the satellite too.”

Nick Fury didn’t answer that. Instead he just raised his right hand and delivered the first Crack! across that vulnerable flesh. He was pleased to hear a yelp come from his victim, followed by a hand print rising. The Handler may have been able to dish it out but that didn't mean he could take it. "How're we looking on interceptin' that satellite, Dum Dum?" he asked as he landed smack after smack.

"Oww! Uhhh, good Colonel. Ooh!! Except, uh..."

Fury frowned. "Except what?"

"Except a few of our agents are acting—Aah! They're acting very strange, Colonel! They've pulled a mutiny on the helicarrier and they're—Oww! Quartermain, where did you get that paddle from?!"

The rest of the communication became taken up by yelps and yowls, and the sounds of bare flesh being struck. Nick Fury growled. Clearly the Handler's satellite was beginning to take effect everywhere, including aboard the helicarrier.

That meant he really did need to spank the password information out of the Handler, as ridiculous as that sounded. But his life had never been anything but ridiculous, ever since the ‘40s. Keeping his cigar chomped securely between grimaced lips, he began really dishing it out to the defiant villain. And as chaotic as the superpowered spankfest going on around them was, they went practically unnoticed by everyone else.

"Tch. I have to admit I’m impressed by your technique, but I’m afraid that won’t be enough," the Handler said even as his bottom heated. He fired off a smirk at Fury’s raised eyebrow. "What, you think I’ve never been spanked before? Sorry, compared to some of the professionals I’ve learned from, you're just no match. And I have a bit of resilience when it comes to this sort of thing too."

He made a point of stilling his squirms and just laying across Fury's lap with his ass temptingly stuck out. "Keep at it though. I'm sure you might get me talking at some point before the sun goes down."

Nick Fury's lips curled. "So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" He flexed his wrist—and suddenly a flat ceramic paddle snapped into place. He started applying it right to the taunting bastard's sitspots, causing much more sting and distress. Just because Nick didn't have super strength didn't mean he couldn't bring grown men to tears when he wanted. After all, he had to keep his agents in line somehow.

Snap! Crack! Pop!

But still, Nick fumed as he heated the Handler's globes. Each whack colored the skin just a little bit more and brought him closer to the answers he needed. But would it be enough? It was a race against time, and if he failed the whole world would be turned into helpless spank-drones. That meant a never-ending cycle of pain, humiliation, and ass-reddening torture for everyone.

Nick could tell he was getting closer though. The Handler had started to wriggle and squirm despite his taunts. Just a little bit more and he should have it. He just had to keep turning up the heat...

"That's enough of that, soldier."

A strong hand caught his mid-descent. Nick snarled and looked up. "Who in the—"

It was the man himself. Captain America. Lantern jaw set, eyes piercing with righteous anger. Perfectly poised despite his nudity. It reminded Nick of bygone days. Then the patriotic hero yanked him bodily upwards—and matter-of-factly pressed him over a bent knee.

Nick Fury gaped in shock, and suddenly it was like he was transported back in time to when he'd been a much younger man. He and his squadron of Howling Commandos had disobeyed direct orders for the sake of getting a job done. Well, that’d turned out to be a mistake—in breaking regs, they'd screwed things up for another operation down the line—and as a consequence, every single one of his men found themselves bare-ass naked before a punishment board. He’d been no different. As ringleader of the operation, he was the one chosen to make an example of first. He'd gone buck-nude over a knee as if he were a bratty kid caught stealing bubble gum. It'd been humiliatin' to do it in front of all his men.

And the knee in question? Why, the very war hero himself. The great and famous, not to mention handsome, Captain America...

The sudden memory was further strengthened as he felt Cap grip his pants and then haul them down to his knees, just as he’d done back then. They were tight regulation spandex now instead of fatigues, but the feeling of a draft on his firm, moderately hairy ass was exactly the same.

"Cap, wait!" he shouted. "You're serving the Handler now! He's got you under his control! If we don't get 'im now, we're all gonna be spanked like this—forever! AHH!" His teeth clenched as he received his first swat in years. The hard blow rebounded off his clenched buttocks.

“I think it’s time for you to focus on just doing your duty, soldier. Stop squirming and take what you’ve got coming.”

"D-dammit Cap! No! You're doing what he wants. You're doing—aahhhh—dammit, not again…!"

As Nick Fury found himself in a familiar world of pain, the Handler pulled himself up. After a single rueful rub to his bottom, he slowly drew his pants back up. To his relief, a quick look around told him everything was back under control. Every single hero within sight either had someone draped over their knee, or was over a knee themselves.

“Well,” he said, “they say no baptism can occur without a little fire. I suppose that was mine. But now that that’s finally sorted and all obstacles have been dealt with…”

A slow, sly smile came across his face. He leaned back and watched the show.

“Now I can just sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labors… as we reach the final countdown.”

Chapter Text

"Well, now to enjoy the fruits of my labor." The Handler smugly walked over to a console and sat down, if gingerly. The satellite had worked faster than expected. Having all the heroes already attuned to its influence had certainly assisted in bringing the sight before him into being.

His gaze shifted around the room, ranging from Quicksilver's panicked thrashing to Beast's helplessly squirming rump to Nick Fury's own rapidly reddening behind. All wailed under their paddlings. Dozens upon dozens of hot, naked, heroic men wiggling under humiliating punishments, all at the same time.

And it kept changing too. Even as he watched, several crying heroes were thrown to the floor. Their punishers grabbed others, or began fighting amongst themselves. The sobbing men were then either scooped up by a fresh spanker or allowed to recover before rejoining the fray. It was like an ever-changing tapestry of pain.

What a perfect show.

The cries, groans and pleas of heroes were music to his ears. But they also covered up the sound of heavy booms. The Handler didn’t even notice the rumbling until it started making the spankers bounce in place and look confused. Something was coming up the stairs. The Handler got up with a grimace and stalked to the automatic doors. "Now what—"

The doors slid open, and he was looking straight into enormous, bulging green pecs.

The Hulk had arrived. And he hadn't been picking his toenails since his battle with Juggernaut. After leaving the burly villain a sobbing mess his appetite for ass had been rekindled. Hulk had gone on another of his rampages of punishment, leaving a trail of blistered asses and bawling men behind him. The remnants of X-Men and X-Factor, Kingpin and his men, Crossbones, the giant butt cheeks of Ant Man—all had felt his hard green hand beat them mercilessly into submission. Now the trail had led him here, to the orgy of spanking that always formed where the Handler held court.

Hulk looked around and sneered. “So this where all the butts have been.”

“Er, yes Hulk. Would you like to partake?” The Handler waved expansively inside. “I’m sure you can find a few still unmarked. Well, if you look quickly.”

Hulk stood and considered. His healing factor was almost as potent as Wolverine’s, so his green bottom had healed long ago during all the fighting. But that didn’t mean what the Handler offered was anything to turn up his nose at. If he kept serving the Handler he could spank as many butts as he wanted—forever. But, on the other hand…

He plucked the Handler up by the back of his neck like he would a kitten.

“Hulk strongest there is. Now Hulk will be strongest SPANKER!”

“What!?” The Handler gaped up at him. “Now see here, brute. I call the shots here, and I command you to release me.” To his shock, the Hulk simply ignored his command. Realization came as he floundered in the Hulk’s grip. This close to ground zero, the effect of the satellite was actually overriding his powers. And the satellite was beaming only one thought into the Hulk’s feeble mind: to spank more ass!

"Oh no." Handler was at a loss for words as he was carried into the room. This was definitely not in his plans, but Hulk wasn't listening to his commands any longer. "Well—why don't you prove it against someone more your size. Like Juggernaut!"

“Bah. Hulk already spank Juggy. Made him cry like baby.”

“Well then, I’ll have to whip up some more partners for you!” The Handler concentrated, and several red-bottomed heroes rose to defend him. However, Hulk swatted them aside as easily as if they were flies. Even stronger heroes like Thing and Thor were spun around and given tremendous slaps across their backsides to send them away wailing. The Handler started to sweat.

"B-but what would spanking me prove? I'm clearly not as strong as you," he tried to reason with the brute. A spanking from Nick Fury was one thing, but from the Hulk? He wasn't sure he could handle that. He wasn’t sure anyone could. But the Hulk wasn’t listening.

The green behemoth simply grinned with child-like malice as he sat in the middle of the ongoing carnage and spread the purple man over his outstretched knee. He bent him forward to reveal the bare fullness of his rear-end.

"You spank Hulk once before," he said reasonably. "And it teach Hulk important lesson. Strength isn’t just muscle. You are the strongest spanker in whole world. For that, Hulk spank YOU!"

With that, Hulk made good on his promise. He lifted his immense green hand, which was fully capable of covering the Handler's entire butt all on its own, and delivered the first swat across those exposed cheeks. SLAAAM! The entire room shook. Hulk hit so hard, it felt almost like a sonic boom exploding across the Handler's ass. A Hulk-shaped hand print rose against the purple curves immediately. And that was only the first swat.

"OOOOOW!" Handler bellowed in response to the spank. Even if he hadn't been already worked over by Fury, he'd have been wrecked by the sheer intensity of the blow. As it was, he could barely think after just a single spank. How could he handle an all-out punishment from him?

"SOMEONE GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed desperately. More heroes rose in response.

It was Wonder Man who acted first. He gave one last swat to a blubbering Cannonball’s red cheeks, then dropped the young man and flew directly at the behemoth. But, instead, he found himself grabbed by the head and smacked on the behind. The blow was enough to completely shred his costume to pieces and send him flying through a wall. He fell to the ground many floors below, naked and red-assed. The paparazzi quickly surrounded him for pictures.

Colossus and Luke Cage tried next, but they were swatted away too as if they were nothing. They flew back into the mass of heroes, where they were quickly grabbed and their own spankings resumed. Others rushed forward too, but before they could close Hulk raised his hand and dispensed another booming swat—to the Handler.

SMAAAAACK!!

Handler's howl at a second blow landing on his already blistered ass made everyone slow down. Whether it was due to the Handler's concentration being interrupted, fears of joining his punishment, or simply the feeling of absolute dominance over them fading, the heroes were now hesitating.

In fact, as Hulk started to really give it to him, one voice was heard saying what many were feeling: "It's about time," quipped Spider-Man.

SMAAAAACK!!

"YEEARRGHHG!" The yells coming from the Handler's mouth hardly sounded human. And considering whose hands he was in, few could blame him.

Each thunderous blow shook the Baxter Building to its foundation in a display of pure domination. Handler's rear rapidly became redder than any of the heroes he'd dealt with over the past few days.

“Ohhh, NOOOO!” he shrieked. He tried to reach through his powers and seize control of the behemoth. All his powers required was bodily contact, which he was still technically getting—but the Hulk had resistance. As much as he could control every aspect of every hero he’d ever punished, there was one aspect he’d never been able to control–the Hulk’s anger. All he’d ever been able to do was redirect it. But now the entirety of that anger was focused entirely on him and his helpless ass. And it was slamming across his cheeks with a mind all its own.

“Handler very, very, VERY bad man!”

"ALRIGHT, I GIVE I GIVE!" he finally managed, in a small gap of coherency. "JUST STOP!"

The rest of the spankings in the room slowly came to a halt, as the Handler's wails drowned all of them out. They all gathered around, absently rubbing their own bottoms. Not a single hero present would be able to sit down for a while, but they all seemed mostly free from the Handler's control. Had the solution really been so simple?

"Will you give us the password then?" Nick Fury asked, glaring around as he also massaged his rear. "And shut down your satellite beaming out the enslavement rays?"

The Handler sniffled. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’d always known it would end like this. It was how so many villains’ plans were foiled, wasn’t it? All it took was one hero breaking free to make everything fall apart like a pyramid of cards. But still, he’d held them, and they’d always remember that.

He considered his options as everyone hushed to hear him speak. The satellite was still hanging in the sky. And now that Hulk had satisfied his rage, perhaps he could be controlled again. If he could somehow direct him against the others, then he still had a chance...

But as he measured his chances, Hulk got bored of waiting. He lifted one heavy green palm and swatted it firmly against the Handler’s welted bottom. SWAAAAT!! Even that simple blow was enough to shake the floor and make the villain scream. He moaned as he lowered his head in a show of submission. He was beaten.

"The password is… Alphas punish, heroes fall," he said reluctantly.

Fury nodded to Beast, who'd gingerly stepped back up to the console by then, rubbing a welted backside that was even redder than last time. The X-Man dutifully typed the password in one digit at a time. The screen cleared, and the men sighed as the mental voice urging them all to punish each other (or, in some cases, to give themselves up for punishment) quieted down.

“Man, I thought that would never end!” said Human Torch.

"Now, the question is what do we do with the Handler," Captain America said, crossing his arms grimly. "He's been the source of no end of trouble the last few weeks."

"I believe the Raft will have a lovely room with a view available for him," Beast said lightly. "Or perhaps the Negative Zone."

"Yeah, or maybe—"

"You won’t do any of that."

Everyone stopped and stared at Hulk, who glared back at them all. His muscles bulged and rippled. The heroes closest reflexively reached for their backsides, especially those who'd felt his humongous palm before.

"...The signal from the satellite has stopped, right? The Handler isn't controlling him anymore?"

"Er, yes it has. No, I think he just really wants to..."

Hulk raised his hand up high, then dropped it.

CRACK!!!

"...keep spanking."

The Handler's back arched as he was struck again. "No no no, I gave you the password, GET HIM OFF ME!" he demanded, looking wildly around the room. If he could just get a hand free, he could take control of anyone in range with a currently reddened ass.

But alas, it was not to be. Not a single hero responded to him. He had no allies left, and his former victims simply backed away… and left him to his well-deserved fate.

"So it's finally over... for real?" Hulkling asked, relief choking his voice. He was looking around for his pants.

"It's about time. Every single hero and villain in the tri-state area’s been pulled over someone's knee by now," Wiccan pointed out.

"Not all of them," Warwolf replied smugly. Looking over, the heroes saw the werewolf agent was the only one among them who’d somehow managed to go unspanked over the course of the conflict, not to mention was still fully dressed in his tight spandex S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. He gave a barking laugh. "Clearly, you all need better training."

"Is that so?" Hawkeye appeared at his shoulder. "How about we use you as our new dummy?"

Warwolf's ears drooped as he took a step back from everybody. "Hey, that wasn't a request!"

But like it or not, he’d opened his mouth at exactly the wrong time. He was jumped en masse, and soon enough his tights were wrenched away and his furry butt treated to a light-hearted—if still painful—spanking from every last hero in the room.

“Ow ow ow owww!”

Elsewhere, Fury was talking with Beast and Forge. "We sure that thing’s not going to re-activate?" he asked, pointing up.

"We'll add new security to it, at least until someone can bring it back down to Earth," Beast confirmed, looking over the console.

Forge nodded in agreement, "We don't want to risk the Handler getting back into our heads ever again." He raised his wristband. "Dum Dum, status?"

There was the sound of a sturdy Thwack! over the S.H.I.E.L.D. comm. "Everything's back to normal up here, Colonel. I'm just paying Quartermain back for a few of those whacks he gave me. Birds are in the air and should be taking care of that satellite in a jiffy."

"Glad to hear it. Keep me informed. Oh—and give Quartermain a few good ones for me, too."

"You got it, Colonel!"

On the other side of the room, Thing and Human Torch had regrouped and were watching Warwolf’s spankings. The werewolf kicked and tried to get away, but his tail was grabbed and he was hoisted first over Wolverine’s lap, then Cable’s. He yelped as each gave him a dozen firm swats before passing him along to the next in line.

Thing sighed as he looked the place over, still rubbing his own rump. "Geez. This place’s got more red butts than a high school locker-room the day after report cards. Whadda revoltin' development."

"Yeah, but it could be worse," Human Torch said brightly. "At least Reed and Sue were out of town."

"Yeah... speakin' of, you realize we gotta get the Baxter Building cleaned up before they get back, don'cha? Trust me, you do not wanna feel Stretcho demonstratin’ Newton’s Laws o’ Physics wit’ dose arms of his. Stings like a rubber band snap times a thousand."

A hiss came from the shattered wall as Venom crawled outside the building. "We shall finish this next time we meet," they told Spider-Man.

"Or we could, you know, just pretend it never happened," Spider-Man offered. "That’s what I plan to do."

"Watch your back," Venom warned, taking off down the side of the building.

"Somehow I think I'm going to need to watch a little lower than that," Spider-Man sighed.

"Oh come on Spidey," Sandman joked, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Technically, he saved your butt a buncha times during all this."

"And you're still here because...?"

"Hey, I don't have any standing warrants out on me this time. What are you gonna do about it?" Sandman gathered himself up and flexed out his sandy chest in challenge. “I was actually thinkin’ of trying the hero thing again!”

"Why do all the clowns always flock to me?"

Meanwhile, Anole had been prowling the room, searching for some certain heroes in particular. He finally caught sight of two of them, and he approached Cannonball and Sunspot. "So hey. I, uh..." he began, before finding himself at a loss for words. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the two guys moaning and thrusting their asses up to meet his gloved hand that day in the mansion. How could he apologize for spanking his teammates and putting them under a villain’s control?

The two New Mutants eyed each other, then gave Anole a clap on the back.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Sunspot said. "It was a crazy time for all of us. You did what you had to do."

"Yeah, and besides, after we get you over our knees we'll be even," Cannonball added, grinning.

"Thanks," Anole said in relief. It took a few seconds for their words to catch up to him. "Wait, what?"

Laughing, the two guys grabbed him, and soon Anole was another bare-bottomed spectacle for everybody to grin at as his red butt bounced under crisp swats. He groaned and moaned over their laps. Wiccan in particular smiled at the sight of his new friend getting a rather public punishment.

All across the large room, heroes were dealing with the fallout of the alliances and punishments dealt out over the last few days. And all the while, the rhythmic sound of Hulk's spanks continued, a constant booming drum beat that was punctuated by the Handler's cries.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Believe it or not, even the Hulk couldn’t spank forever. He eventually tired of the punishment and wandered off, leaving Handler sobbing on the floor. It’d be weeks before he could sit down again.

He ended up in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. With the Handler’s spirit seemingly crushed, it was easy enough to transport him onto the Helicarrier. He was fitted with high-tech rubber mittens that prevented him from spanking anyone.

The Handler remained silent as he stood in his cell, escorted to whichever prison they'd decide upon. The Raft, The Big House, The Vault, The Cube, even that mysterious Prison 42 he'd heard whispers about. It didn't really matter either way. Anywhere he ended up he’d be in complete control of eventually. At least... once his ass healed.

But no, that wasn’t what made him sniff in disdain. After all was said and done, the heroes were far too self-centered to realize that not all his plans revolved around them.

“Fools,” he spat. “They have no idea what’s coming.”

He could already feel it, slinking at the edges of his consciousness. Something was approaching from the furthest edges of the galaxy.

His brother, whose avarice and cruelty eclipsed even his own.

His satellite web could have shielded them all from what was coming. But hey, what did he care? The heroes had made their choice. Perhaps one day they’d realize the severity of their mistake. If they realized anything at all before the Dominator took them for himself.

The Handler closed his eyes and leaned back against the walls of his cell. He awaited the day he’d be released—whether by his brother, or by the heroes who feared him—and made plans for the ensuing spank war that would follow. But for now, all he had to do was wait.

And to wonder what ripples his actions had caused.

Chapter Text

The Handler may have been locked away, but that didn’t mean his influence was gone. Like it or not, the various heroes and villains had been changed by their shared experiences at his hands—some more plainly than others.

Surprisingly, the first to show signs was Spider-Man. He’d long been in the habit of leaving various crooks and muggers webbed up in alleys for the police, often in humiliating poses together. It was one of the personal touches he brought to crime fighting. But a few days after the ‘Handler Incident’ (as it came to be called) he started adding even more flair to the criminals who got on his bad side.

When the first photos came across his desk, J. Jonah Jameson nearly blew his top.

“LOOK AT THESE, ROBBIE!” he shouted, waving them around. “We can’t print these! They’re practically pornography! Spider-Man isn’t just a menace anymore, he’s a pervert!”

The Daily Bugle’s senior editor heaved a sigh as he beheld a professionally laid out photo spread... of a bare-bottomed spectacle. In addition to webbing his criminals up, Spider-Man had evidently pulled their pants down too. His hand-prints decorated their shimmying ass-cheeks. There were five male muggers of various ethnicity and ages, ranging from twenties to late forties.

“Call Parker back in here. We can’t pay for these! The FCC would be all over us!”

“We can’t just not pay our star photographer, Jonah,” Robbie reminded him patiently. “He got us pictures of Spider-Man just like he was assigned. It’s not his fault they’re a little more... sensational than usual.”

“Bah! Fine. Give him a pittance. Half salary. But it better not happen again!”

“You know, I wish I could say I was surprised, Jameson. A man like you, withholding pay from the little guy? Scrooge should be taking notes!”

“Eh? What in the–!”

To the newspaper owner’s astonishment, the window of his 20th floor office had opened up and Spider-Man himself had crawled through it. The hero gave him a jolly wave.

“Get the hell out of my office, you wall-crawling nightmare! You’re not allowed up here! I’m gonna call the cops! I’m gonna—”

Thwip!

“—mmph!”

“Oh I’ll be happy to leave,” Spider-Man told the now web-gagged J. Jonah Jameson. “As soon as I teach you a lesson on kindness to your employees. And I think it’s one that’s been a long time coming.”

To J. Jonah’s astonishment, Spider-Man then webbed his wrists and ankles together. A tug spun a desk chair to the center of the room where the nimble hero sat down on it. Another sent J. Jonah off his feet and dumped right over Spider-Man’s knee. In seconds he could feel his pants and underwear pulled down to reveal a round, moderately hairy ass.

“MMRRGGGGHHHGGFFPPHHHHH!!!”

Spider-Man gave the cheeks a pat, even as J. Jonah Jameson bucked and thrashed in rage.

“You’re welcome to stay, Robbie, but you might wanna draw the blinds. That is, unless you want the whole office to witness this,” he quipped. “Now then.” He raised his hand high over the newspaper owner’s buns. “Let’s talk about all the stellar photographers who works for you, J. Jonah, and how they deserves a raise.”

Spider-Man was hardly the only hero for whom corporal punishment became a new tool in his arsenal. Deep in the New Mexico desert, a super-powered beatdown was held between Hulk and his regular adversary, Abomination, who matched him in strength. This time though, when the dust eventually cleared several days later, the reptilian Abomination was discovered moaning over a shattered rock face, fully naked. His muscular and scaly backside unbelievably blazed a bright, searing red.

Reports came that the Punisher, aka. Frank Castle, was finally living up to his name too. He started carrying a paddle with his logo on it strapped to his thigh. Mafia thugs and corrupt cops alike soon found themselves on the wrong end of it, promising through their tears they’d change their ways even as their backsides blistered and burned.

And even the depths of space weren’t safe from the sounds of spanks, as the former Avenger called Starfox soon discovered.

"B-but I'm not a child!" Starfox protested, his face coloring at the suggestion. "I'm not even a real member of the Avengers!"

"But you are a probationary member," Captain America pointed out. "And as such, that holds you to certain standards. You admit your philandering has landed you in hot water yet again?"

The handsome Eternal scoffed. The Avengers had just finished rescuing him from a civil war he'd accidentally started on a far-flung planet due to his emotion-altering powers. Both faction leaders had reportedly been madly in love with him. "I could have talked my way out of it," he asserted. As Captain America stared evenly at him however, he lowered his gaze. "...Eventually."

Cap shook his head. He was seated on a pile of rubble. He spread his legs and patted one of his muscled thighs. "It's clear to me you need a good dose of discipline, Starfox. But I'll leave it to your call. Take a sound spanking, or your probationary Avengers status is dropped."

"Dropped?" Starfox paled. "You mean, if I get in trouble again, then—"

"Then you'd be on your own." Cap nodded, letting the sentiment hang in the air.

Starfox looked torn. After a few moments however, he scowled. "Fine," he said. "It's not as though you can punish worse than my father anyway."

He stepped forward and was soon draped over Captain America's left thigh, his bottom upturned. Some things were universal no matter what planet you hailed from. Starfox didn't even protest as Cap peeled his trousers down to bare his smooth, well-rounded cheeks.

He did, however, tease him with a slight wiggle of his hips.

Captain America frowned as he felt a tingling at the back of his head, and the first flowerings of lust settle in his groin. Rather than spank Starfox, he was suddenly more interested in doing other things to his tight bottom. He shifted a bit. "Just so you know, using your powers on a fellow Avenger is also strictly against our charter. If I were to find out you tried to seduce me to get out of a spanking, I'd give you to Thor to punish next."

"Er. Right. Of... course."

The lustful feelings faded, and Cap had to smirk slightly as he gathered the man up and raised his hand. Starfox was soon yelping and squirming over his knee, learning a sound lesson in bare-bottomed discipline.

Just like Falcon had learned the week before. And Black Knight the week before that. And Quasar the week before that.

The rest of the Avengers watched in approval. Little by little, their team were getting more disciplined in the face of adversity. It'd been long needed.

The more time that passed with the Handler imprisoned, the more clear it became the sudden interest in spanking wasn’t a lingering byproduct of his mind control. Rather, they were a new way of life for hero and villain alike. Or, in some cases, a return to an older way of life. That played out in the halls of the Baxter building just like always.

"Hey c'mon Ben, it was an accident! And kinda funny besides." Human Torch was on the run as an angry—and quite naked—Thing stomped after him.

"I don't see ya hitting Sue or Reed with your flames!" Thing shouted. "So get your flaming keister back over here, I ain't kiddin'!"

"My sense of self-preservation says uh... no." Torch hoofed it as he heard thundering steps behind him. "Besides, you've got a rock ass, what are you—"

Thing managed to grab him just as he turned the corner and hoisted him up into the air.

"Gaah! C'mon Ben, you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"Ya can bet your cheesy hairdo I am!" Thing threw down Human Torch over one knee and yanked down his pants. "Maybe if ya'd had a bit more o' this growin' up, ya wouldn't be such a brat now!"

"C'mon, at least don't do it right by the window!" Torch pleaded.

But the Baxter Building was soon filled with the sound of smacks as Thing's rocky hand lit the Human Torch on fire in a way he’d long thought he'd outgrown. And it wouldn't be the last time the tabloids caught the whole thing on film either.

Late one evening, Anole returned to his room at the X-Mansion humming and giddy. His roommate Rockslide was there playing X-Box. When Anole fell into bed, he took his headset off.

"Oh hey,” he said. “So uh, you went to see them?"

Anole nodded dreamily. "Yeah."

"How was it?"

He gave his rocky roommate a wide smile. "A gentleman doesn't tell."

"Heh. Well can I at least see the damage?"

Anole gave him a curious look, then shrugged and turned over. "Okay, but you’re not allowed to laugh." He slowly lowered his tights, just far enough so Rockslide could see his butt. Both cheeks glowed a rosy red. The guy gave a low whistle.

Hesitantly, Rockslide reached out his big hand and lightly touched the marks. Anole let him. He gave them a slow rub.

“Feels warm.”

“Well duh.”

“So are you guys like... an item now? You, that Wiccan guy, and Hulkling? You’ve been seeing them pretty much every Friday.”

Anole laughed. “No, we’re just friends. They’re cool though.” He shifted on the bed. “Since when are you interested in my love life?”

“Well I don’t know how the gay stuff works,” Rockslide said defensively. “And besides, I’ve always been interested. You’re my bud.”

“Well I’m currently still single for your information. But I’ve at least got some gay friends now.”

Rockslide nodded. An awkward moment passed between them, with both very aware that Anole’s bare butt was still out. He cleared his throat. “But so you’re like... into it?” he asked. “You like being spanked?”

Anole flushed at the turn the conversation had taken. “I... guess so? It’s kinda hard to put into words.” He thought about it. “I guess maybe I like it when someone cool is doing it.” He quickly aimed a scowl over his shoulder. “No making fun!”

But Rockslide raised his hands. “No, no! I get it dude. That totally makes sense. Actually, that’s uh... That’s a lot like... Well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell ya about.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Uhhh.” Rockslide paused.

“Well, what is it?”

Rockslide hesitated. Suddenly the whole thing felt like a bad idea. But since he’d brought it up, he felt obligated to follow through. He cleared his throat again.

“The last eight times I’ve jerked off it’s been to that time you spanked me.”

Anole wasn’t drinking anything, but he nearly did a spit-take anyway. “What??”

“I know, right? It’s crazy!” Rockslide said, “But I keep remembering how we were all captured together and like, you know, all helpless and stuff. Naked. With our butts raised. And you with that glove, and how you didn’t want to spank us, but then the Handler made you spank us, and it was so... it was so HOT! Geez, I finally said it! You spanked my ass ‘til I was beggin’, and it was fuggin’ hot!”

“Uhhh, I mean... I...” Anole’s face had turned an even brighter red.

Rockslide nodded emphatically. “But it’s like you said, right? It’s kinda cool when somebody cool is doing it. And I think you’re cool, dude. A few times I’ve even tried spankin’ myself pretending it was you, but it’s not as good.” He took a deep breath. “But uhh, what do you think? This doesn't mean I'm gay, does it? Because I still totally like chicks. I just really want you to beat my butt for some reason too.”

A few moments went by as Anole processed all the new information. After a few seconds though, his mouth slowly quirked up. “Maybe it means you’re bi?”

“DUDE! I don’t want you to SLEEP with me! I just want you to gimme a SPANKING!!”

Only after he’d shouted did Rockslide remember how notoriously thin the X-Mansion’s walls were. He clapped a rocky hand to his face. “The whole dorm just heard me, didn’t they.”

“Probably.”

“But uhhh... seriously, what do you think? Am I a freak?”

Anole considered. “I don’t think you’re a freak,” he said. “And I think you’re still straight, but it’s possible there’s other stuff you like too that you’re just finding out about.” He pulled his pants back up and then rolled over into his blankets. “But mostly I think we should talk about this later.”

“What, you’re bailing on me? I just like, totally bared my soul to you!”

“Yeah. But it’s also after midnight and we’ve got a training session in the morning.”

“Aw c’mon. It’ll be all awkward if we don’t talk about it now. Let’s just—” He tried to pull Anole’s blankets off, but his friend pulled them back.

“Dude, I said no! So unless you want me to bare something else you’ve got, then maybe settle you down with a sound bedtime spanking, you’ll let me get some sleep. Oh but wait, you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

Rockslide gave an almost primal groan as Anole settled back into bed. After a few minutes of listening to his roommate’s even breathing, he got up and lumbered into the bathroom. He desperately had to jerk off again.

“Hey Professor Rasputin, can I ask ya something?”

“Of course, Rockslide. You know I am always here for a student in need.”

Rockslide nodded. He’d decided to seek out a mentor figure to help him deal with his strange new feelings, and Colossus worked as well as any. He’d caught up with him in the front hall just as class was letting out.

“Okay. So uhh, have you ever secretly wanted a teammate to just... throw you across their knee and spank the daylights outta ya?”

Colossus suddenly had a coughing fit. Inadvertently, he raised his head and stared straight at Wolverine on the other side of the hall. Then he started outright choking.

Rockslide shook his head. “Man, some help you guys are. When I asked Dr. McCoy he did the same thing. Even looked right at Mr. Logan, too!”

That only made Colossus choke harder.

"But hey, my ass is spankable, right? Like, I know it's made outta rock and everything, but I still try to make it all round and muscly. I mean, if you were into spankin’ dudes you’d totally wanna spank me, right? Be honest." Rockslide turned around for inspection.

"I... why...” Colossus began, but then he actually did take a good look at Rockslide’s rear. Despite being made of organic rock, it did have a rather pleasing shape. “I... suppose,” he conceded.

"Yeah? Are you sure, prof?" Rockslide slid down his pants. "C'mon, I can take criticism. Give it to me straight." Unprompted, he gave the older X-Man a faceful of rock butt.

“Alright, I told you I was available for any student, but if you insist on making a mockery of this..." Colossus grabbed Rockslide and dragged him into an empty classroom. In a flash he sat at a desk and hauled the hulking young mutant across his knee.

"Huh? Hey, whoa man!" Caught by surprise, Rockslide tumbled easily over the more experienced X-Man's lap like the rookie he was. Those buns he'd been so happily exposing were soon wiggling in the air instead, in full view of any student or faculty who walked by the door. "Hey hey hey, I was asking your opinion, not a practical demonstration!"

"Mooning a professor counts as reason for a demonstration," Colossus dead-panned. He smacked his hand down hard on the stony ass.

CRACK!

“OWWW! Dude, c’mon!”

Colossus ignored him though, and got into a rhythm of hard, steady blows. Rockslide’s body was hard, but Colossus’s palm was harder. Despite the junior X-Man’s toughness, he was soon squirming and yelping under the strong impacts. After a few more minutes, he sounded close to tears.

“Ooh, okay okay! I’m sorry!” he wailed, “I won’t bother you anymore, prof!”

Colossus shook his head. “Have you not been listening? I told you I will aid any student I can. Now, if you truly want my advice...” He sighed, then gave another hard thwack of his palm across those bruised globes, making Rockslide yowl anew. “Go back to your room with your bottom in this condition and a bottle of stone polish. Then ask your roommate if he’d be so kind as to rub away some of the sting. After that...” He shrugged. “The rest will be up to you.”

“Duuuude,” Rockslide said in awe, hanging bare-ass over his knee. “That’s... genius.”

Colossus shrugged without self-consciousness. “There is a reason I was made a professor.”

“But hey, wait a second. I never told you Anole was the one I wanted to spank me.”

“Please give me a little credit, Santos.” Colossus patted his broad bottom. “Back when the Handler had us all in his power, you practically jumped at the pretense for him to discipline you. It was not hard to see.”

“Oh, uhh...” Colossus hadn’t known Rockslide had the capability to blush. He was seeing it now though. The student shook his head. “But dude! That’s the best idea ever! I’m gonna do it right now! Thanks, Prof Rasputin! I mean, thanks for the spanking! I mean, thanks for the advice!”

The X-Men’s heavyweight could only sigh as the young man stumbled from the room, too excited to even pull his pants up first. His stony buns raced off down the hall. He reminded himself to give Rockslide another spanking later for public indecency.

Or perhaps he’d just ask Anole to handle it.

"You will let me go this instant!"

Elsewhere in the state of New York, another punishment was about to take place. Sandman dragged Rhino up the side of a building. "So you can go on a rampage in downtown Manhattan?” he asked, “How do you think that'll go over with your parole?"

Rhino struggled in Sandman's grasp. His great strength made him fully capable of breaking free, but each time he did so he was enveloped by another wave of sand. He kept spitting the stuff out of his mouth. "That man insulted my mother! He deserved worse!"

"He did? What a jerk," Sandman said, “Now I kinda regret not letting you stomp the guy flat. Or, wait, no, that’d still be bad.” He shook his head. Sometimes being a hero was harder than it looked. "Look, you just need to learn to turn the other cheek."

"I will turn no cheeks!" Rhino declared hotly.

Sandman sighed. As usual, he hadn't thought through a plan before getting involved with somebody else’s problems. Now he had to corral a musclehead with anger management problems. Worse, he didn’t have a way to calm him down. They reached the top of the building and he spread his sand out to hold his friend, but knew it wouldn’t last forever.

But as Rhino continued to shout and struggle, Sandman caught a glimpse of the guy’s skin-tight suit. As usual, it was gripping his body so tightly it was like he was wearing nothing at all, particularly in the back. That gave him an idea.

Well, it’d worked on the entire super community just a few short weeks ago. No reason it wouldn’t work on Rhino again, right?

"Fine, let me give you an example of how to turn the other cheek!" Sandman suddenly roared. He pushed Rhino forward while pulling his legs out from under him, forcing the man to fall face-first into a pool of sand tendrils that held him down.

"Oof! Do not think you will be safe from my wrath, Marko!" Rhino's butt rose up and wiggled as he fought to get free. Sandman almost had to bite his lip as he watched the perfectly round buns bounce and flex. Well, he'd enjoy some of what he was about to do at least, whether it was effective or not.

Sandman formed a massive paddle out of hardened sand, then brought it crashing down on that gloriously beefy gray behind.

CRACK!

No reaction.

"How dare you, the Rhino is no child!"

"Then quit actin’ like one!"

CRACK! WHACK!

Each slam of the paddle echoed loudly and, while he only got mild grunts out of Rhino’s lips, he got quite a full show otherwise. The burly cheeks quivered and bucked at every strike, just as he'd hoped they would. In fact, with how tight the armor was around his meaty ass, Sandman had to wonder if it’d been purposely designed to show it off.

"Do not tell me you are under control of the Handler again?" Rhino asked as his bottom bounced. There was a slight note of panic in his voice as he recalled the villain who’d taken them all under control so easily. His time as the Handler’s lackey had been demeaning.

The question actually gave Sandman pause. Could the Handler somehow still be controlling him? He couldn’t have imagined coming up with the idea of paddling Rhino a few weeks ago. But the sight of the guy’s big buns wiggling around again made him cast those thoughts out of his mind.

"Nah, this one is just a normal NYC beatdown!" he declared as he brought his sand-paddle down once more.

CRACK!

"Tch, you are disturbed!"

“Maybe, or maybe I care about ya too much to let ya keep getting in trouble!”

Sandman wasn't sure if he imagined it, but the longer the punishment went on the more certain he became that Rhino was actually sticking his ass out. Could that be an after-effect of the Handler's control? Could the big lug actually be enjoying being spanked?

"Hey. You’re not enjoying this, are you?" Sandman asked plainly.

"Bah! As if I would ever admit to such a thing!" Rhino declared.

"You kinda just did," he told him with a chuckle. Still, Sandman had no intent of stopping. He formed a swarm of sand tendrils and set them to work coming down in continuous stinging smacks on Rhino's squirming behind. After a minute of that he started alternating blows of his heavy paddle in between them to really raise the intensity level. He was soon rewarded with the first grunts from the heavy-weight crook.

“Ooh! Ooh, ahh! Enough! Stop!”

Sandman grinned. He was pretty sure he was the first guy in history to make Rhino beg from a good butt-whipping.

By the time he finished, Rhino was panting on the rooftop and his bottom was glowing a dull red. It even showed through the gray skin of his suit.

"Are you done rampaging now?" Sandman asked.

"Da," he said through a groan. "That man is long gone."

"Good, cause if you start up again, we're going for round two."

"Perhaps that would be... for the best."

Sandman blinked at the unexpected words. Rubbing his bruised bottom, Rhino slowly made his way to the edge of the roof. He gave a heavy sigh. “If you had not intervened, it is likely I’d already be caught and on my way to prison,” he explained. “Though it is humbling, a... spanking is preferable to such treatment.” He set his jaw, then looked him in the eye. “It is possible I will need to be brought back to my senses again in the future. If so, I’d rather someone like you do it than some hero.”

“Huh? But hey man, I keep telling everybody, I am a hero now—”

But Rhino had already hopped down to the street below and landed with a heavy boom. Sandman scratched his head as he watched the big guy lumber down the avenue in the direction of Central Park. Like always, each of Rhino’s steps made the big mounds of his butt flex behind him. Only now, they were bruised a dull red.

Sandman slowly grinned as he watched the show.

Well, it seemed he had an open invitation for the future, at least. Sandman was fairly certain that meant it wouldn't be the last time he took big ol’ Rhino across his sandy lap.

And out in that same park, two very old friends met once more.

"Hail, friend Hercules," Thor loudly declared. "Art thou ready for our rematch?"

"I’d like nothing more." Hercules came to a stop with his arms crossed. "But I warn you. Once again, I shall win this bout."

"Hah! Last time the Handler intervened in thy favor. This time, I'll take thee across my knee in return! It’s been many centuries earned, and a god doesn't take lightly to the kind of stunt you pulled."

"If that is how it is to be, then you shall end up with a rump of red instead!" Hercules slipped off his toga, ready to wrestle once more in the nude.

Thor snorted, but followed suit. "We shall see about that!"

They came together in a naked clap of flesh and muscle. God or demigod, their fight could have only one outcome. And, for neither the first nor the last time, the echoes of divine ass claps would ring throughout the woods of Central Park.

Ben Grimm, aka. The Ever-Lovin’ Blue Eyed Thing looked around the enormous card table. Every month it seemed a few new faces showed up. Well, that suited him just fine. He took a puff on his cigar.

"Alright gents, I'll go over the rules 'fore we start,” he said. “Game's five-card stud, jokers' wild. No cheatin' or we throw ya out. First time ya get the lowest hand you take off your costume. That means everythin', fellas. Buck naked. Only exception iz ya can keep yer mask on. If ya tie with somebody, you both strip. Second time ya lose, you go over the winner of dat round's knee... den we put ya in the corner."

He grinned at the mix of reactions that statement brought. Some men blushed, some grimaced, and others set their jaw. It was a good crowd tonight.

Thing looked down the table at the regulars. Spider-Man and Wolverine were both in their usual seats, followed by Luke Cage and Iron Fist, then Wonder Man and Beast. They all looked ready to get things started. Hell, even a few villains were there that night, like Shocker and Juggernaut. That was okay too. It'd been agreed from the start the card table was neutral territory.

Then there were the new guys. One of those New Mutants was there—Sunspot—looking a lil lost but eager to play. Next to him was a guy Thing had never expected to see at the table. King Namor himself was sitting haughtily in nothing but that cute lil speedo of his, arms crossed over his chest. Had he even been involved in the incidents that'd drawn them all here? Thing didn’t think so. And then... yup, even Captain America had shown up, plunking his butt down at the far end of the table and scowling at the others as if daring them to say anything. None of them would though. They'd all gone through the same inner journey to get there.

Ever since the Handler had been caught, many of his former thralls had been, well... feeling like they were missing something in their lives. It wasn't like his control had changed them or nothin'. That'd be weird. But more than a few had realized they actually kinda enjoyed busting ass. Or maybe even having theirs busted. Or hell, maybe they just liked to watch. Thing didn't judge. But he’d set up the monthly poker game so fellas of all stripes could gather and, well, maybe figure it out. Call it a public service.

Table was startin' to get a little crowded though. At this rate he might have to switch to something else. Maybe a bridge tournament, or shuffleboard.

But at the moment, he took one last drag on his cigar, then looked around the table at everybody, already imagining how they'd look naked and bouncing over his lap. "You boys ready to ante up?"

He really, really wanted to give Namor a spankin'.

Chapter Text

"And that’s how I smote my rival's buttocks over and over, ‘til he was bleating like a lamb and his cheeks were redder than Elysium's most tender apples!"

Gil had to smile. "You're telling me you spanked Thor?"

Hercules sniffed. "You do not believe me."

His roommate gave a half-shrug. "It's not that. It's just, y'know... it's Thor."

"He kicks and yowls just as much as a mortal man when he feels the rightful palm of discipline upon him! Harder, perhaps, since he does not receive it nearly often enough."

"Okay okay, sure, I believe you."

Hercules narrowed his eyes at Gilgamesh. At the moment, his slovenly roommate was surrounded by a dozen pizza boxes, sitting on the same couch he'd occupied for the past several weeks. Gilgamesh was perhaps the oldest hero still living, with myths of his feats, strength, cunning, and sexual exploits extending back even further than Hercules's own. One would not know it to look at him now though. He was in a "slump" as the mortals put it. He was out of shape, unfulfilled, and in serious need of something to jumpstart his courage.

So far Hercules had been dealing him a "soft hand", giving him a place to crash and time to put himself back together. But despite those allowances he had yet to see any improvement in his friend. Perhaps he was going about things all wrong. Perhaps the hand Gilgamesh really needed was not soft, but… firm?

Indeed, what if he took a page from the Handler's book? That villain’s character may have been cruel, but that didn’t mean his methods couldn’t be productive if properly tempered.

"We have spoken before about your desire to get back in shape," he said, looming over him. "It is time to begin. Rise, friend Gil! We will begin your exercise regimen."

Gilgamesh groaned. "Now? I'm about to start the next season of Love Island."

"NOW, Gilgamesh!" Hercules's voice thundered through their apartment. It was startling enough that Gilgamesh actually obeyed without thinking. He stood at attention, looking at the demi-god warily.

Hercules smiled a bit as he paced around his old friend, taking note of all the improvements necessary to bring Gil's body back to the brawny proportions he remembered from his prime. His foundation at least was good. Gilgamesh may have gone to seed, but he still had the makings of a true hero. It would simply take time and effort to draw it out of him. In particular Hercules took note of Gilgamesh's round, rather protruding backside. A perfect sounding board for his planned teachings if ever he'd seen one.

"I have devised a method of training that I believe will be sufficiently motivating for you to see it through. If not, be warned though, there will be... consequences," he told him forebodingly.

"Consequences? I'm not sure I like the sound of that, Herc."

"Few men do, but they nonetheless accept them! Remember, you asked for my help. To start with, remove those." He gestured at Gilgamesh's sweat pants. "They are not fit for a hero of your caliber to exercise in."

"Uhhh, sure." Gilgamesh started towards his room. "Let me go change."

"I did not mention replacing them with another garment!" Hercules's voice thundered again. "I said to REMOVE them!"

"But... but Herc, I uh..." Gilgamesh's face colored slightly. "I'm not wearing anything under them."

Hercules's grin broadened. "Even better then!" With one swift move he strode forward and yanked Gilgamesh's pants to his ankles. The man gave a surprised gasp as his tackle flopped out into the open, and his buttocks quivered at the sudden exposure. Hercules rewarded them with a sharp slap.

"Youch! What was that for?!"

"For not obeying my instructions more quickly. When we are in training I am no longer your friend, Gil. I am your drillmaster! That means what I say goes!"

"Okay, okay." Gilgamesh stepped out of his pants and kicked them away, exasperated. "I'm naked. Happy now?"

"It is a start. Now on to the routine. For five minutes you will perform what the mortals call 'jumping jacks'. Your goal is to perform three hundred. Any amount you are under will result in a swat just like the one I gave you."

"Hold on a second, you're gonna... you're gonna spank me now?"

"As I said, I have been experimenting with this form of discipline and discovered it to be effective even on heroes and gods. So if it will motivate you to perform at your very best, yes, I will, as you say, spank you, my hero-brother!" Hercules put a hand on Gil’s shoulder and placed the other over his heart. "Fear not. I will make this sacrifice for you, noble Gilgamesh, in the name of our friendship!"

"More like because you've discovered some weird new kink you like," Gilgamesh said under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Uhh, Herc, look, I appreciate you doing this, but you can't just—"

"I DO NOT SEE YOU JUMPING THE JACKS, GILGAMESH! Do you want to feel the Lion of Olympus's palm on your backside so badly!? The timer has begun—NOOOW!!"

So Gilgamesh started doing jumping jacks. What else could he do? He huffed and did the ridiculous exercise, feeling more foolish by the moment, especially since his cock flopped around with every move he made. Hercules parked himself on the couch and seemed to enjoy the sight, at least. It was probably more entertaining than Love Island.

And when it was over and he'd only done 250, sure enough Hercules grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him right over his knee. An out-of-breath Gilgamesh fell with a grunt. He was already naked below the waist, so didn't even have any protection between his ass and Hercules's palm when the demi-god got going. Which he did—hard and fast, right off the bat.

"AAHH! Herc, at least give me a warm-up first—YEEEOOOWWW!!"

"I cannot, my friend, lest you fail to take this training seriously!"

Fifty merciless spanks later, Gilgamesh's ass felt like it was on fire. He lay over Hercules's lap, taking some pride in the fact he'd at least kept from breaking into tears under the onslaught. Barely. But little did he know his training was only just beginning.

"We will repeat this regimen tomorrow, and every day thereafter until I judge you back in fighting shape. And of course we will increase the number of 'jacks' for you to perform each day, too! I suggest you begin training in earnest if you wish to avoid being over my lap often from now on."

"Herc, come on. I'm a grown man. Practically older than recorded history. This kind of training isn't gonna work on—"

"Now let us discuss the slovenly manner in which you have treated this apartment!"

"Huh?"

He looked around the place, seemingly noticing the mess for the first time. More worryingly, Hercules was doing the same as he took a quick count. He turned back to Gilgamesh's red, blushing backside. "Hmmm. Five spanks for every stray pizza box left on the floor seems reasonable."

Gilgamesh's eyes widened. "Now hey, that wasn't part of the—YAAAAOOOOWWWW!" He howled as Hercules's palm returned to smiting his cheeks. He kicked, yowled, and pleaded, but Hercules was merciless. Sixty more spanks nailed the Mesopotamian hero's bucking buttocks before he was done. This time Gilgamesh couldn't prevent himself from giving in to tears.

After that, Hercules looked around again. "One spank for every soda can left out," he said. "Two for each beer bottle."

"Herc... please... you can't just... I'll clean them up, I will, I just need to—"

SPANK! CRACK! WHACK! SMACK!

"OOOOHHH! NOOOOO!"

Hercules's palm returned to its task with gusto. Gilgamesh immediately broke down into loud sobs. His broad, helplessly squirming ass quivered and bounced as it absorbed every hard blow. He had no choice but to take the spanking.

"And lastly..." Hercules raised a limp arm of Gilgamesh's and sniffed his armpit. His nose crinkled. "Ten spanks for each day with no shower."

Gilgamesh didn't even have the strength to protest anymore. He just clenched his eyes shut and prayed to the old gods it would be over soon.

An hour later Gilgamesh lay face down on the couch, an ice pack held to each swollen buttock. He'd been spanked to tears and then to whatever lay beyond tears. At least the apartment had been cleaned up.

Hercules nodded in approval as he looked around. "Much improved! We will repeat this cleanliness check at noon tomorrow. Perhaps I will come up with new rules by then to curb your other excesses as well. There is this mortal device called the 'vacuum'."

Gilgamesh considered telling Herc exactly where he could stick his training methods, but a fresh throb of his rear convinced him to play it safe instead. "...Yes, coach."

Hercules favored him with a smug grin. "Do you believe me now that I gave Thor a spanking?"

"Right now I'd believe you spanked the whole pantheon of Sky Gods."

The Olympian demi-god laughed again. But after a few moments his look turned somber. He lay a hand on Gilgamesh's shoulder. "Gil, you know that... I am doing this for your own good, don't you? It pains me to see you so listless. I wish only to help recover your true spirit."

The Mesopotamian hero sighed. "I know," he admitted. "Worst part is, it's probably exactly what I need. I've been in a real rut lately. That’s hard for guys like us to admit. Y’know… heroes. Sometimes we just need a kick in the ass to get moving again.” He paused to ruefully rub his butt again. “So thanks, I guess, for giving me that kick. Or spank. Whatever."

Hercules nodded. "I... may know more of that than you suspect. About needing something but not having the words to express it. Of manly pride preventing you from getting what you truly need."

"What do you mean?"

His burly friend sat down on the couch beside him. "You recall the week recently where I disappeared without explanation?"

"Sure. You and most every other hero in town. The place was real quiet without you."

The Lion of Olympus gave a deep sigh and leaned back. "Let me tell you of what occurred during that time. Of my time at the mercy of the one called... The Handler," he said, wrapping an arm around him. "And of how I learned a thing or two about myself whilst under his tender care."

Chapter Text

In the wake of the Handler's defeat, heroes were free to disperse back to their preferred locales. For some, that meant taking the 'A' train up to the Bronx, Queens, or upstate NY. For others, it meant anything from a shuttle into deep space, a trip on a time machine, or a portal to another dimension.

Eugene Milton Judd, aka Puck, occupied a happy medium. All he needed was a plane ticket back to Canada.

He hummed a jaunty tune as he boarded his flight. The plane may have been crowded, but at least he had plenty of leg room! And since he was returning to the land of his birth, he'd been determined to bring a certain gruff friend along with him too. He nudged the guy as they took off, and only received a grunt in response.

Puck grinned. This was going to be fun.

"So Puck, we're glad to have you back and all..." Sasquatch began, his voice rumbling in his large, muscular chest.

"Especially hearing about your difficulties with this 'Handler' character," Shaman put in, in his quiet way.

Sasquatch nodded. "Right. That sounded nuts. Our only question is, uh... why'd you bring Logan along?"

They looked over at the fourth member of their little quartet. Wolverine was leaning back against the cabin wall smoking a cigar. He had a long, troubled history with Alpha Flight. They'd been his first proper superhero team back in the day, but he'd left them when government work started troubling his conscience too much. They'd tried to get him back more than once—even outright hunted him down on a couple occasions—but he'd always stuck with his gut and remained with his new team, the X-Men. Nowadays he was on better terms with them, but there was still that underlying tension.

Which had made him the perfect person, in Puck's opinion, to help teach them all a good lesson.

Puck grinned broadly at his two teammates. "Well ya see," he said, "we had a bet over a card game..."

"The dwarf cheated," Wolverine put in.

"Won fair and square actually. And it's a good thing I did, cuz if you'd won you'd have wanted me to help track down some of your villains for you, instead of just having a bit of fun with my teammates."

Wolverine just grunted.

"A bit of fun?" Sasquatch rumbled, trying to follow. "What did you have in mind?"

Wolverine stubbed out his cigar. "Let's just say, I'm here to help teach y'all some manners."

"And show you what you missed out on in NYC," Puck put in, "Why should we have all the fun, eh?"

The two Alphas looked at each other in slowly dawning alarm as Wolverine cracked his knuckles and Puck hunkered down to wrestle. Were the two men really implying what they thought they were?

They didn't go down without a fight, of course. Sasquatch had the size and strength of his namesake, while Shaman had the ancient wisdom of his tribe as well as access to a medicine pouch full of mystic artifacts. The magic man found it difficult to cast spells however when Puck performed a kick-flip right off his chest, then kept attacking him from other angles, bouncing off any nearby object. He was soon dragged protesting over the short man's knee, his backside perched in the air.

Meanwhile, Sasquatch gave it his all, but he was up against the best there was at what he did. Even in his beastly form it was a foregone conclusion who would win out. Soon enough, after destroying their share of the furniture and smashing their way outside, he was pinned down on his massive chest, that fur-covered ass of his wiggling temptingly in the snowy air.

"Now Walt, I'll leave it up to you if I'm spankin' ya as a beast or as a man. It’s no skin off my back either way. But if it's as a beast... you're gettin’ a shave back here first," Wolverine told him, his claws hovering over the two hairy mounds.

With a groan, Sasquatch shifted back to his human form of Walter Langkowski. Wolverine smirked as he gathered up the muscular, very naked man and pulled him back inside. In addition to being a brilliant scientist, Walt was a former football player. He had a very beefy butt.

After that, there was nothing else to do but dish out a good ol' double spanking.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Nngh... aah!"

Shaman tried to take it silently at first, but jokesters like Puck had ways of getting even the most stoic men to crack. The nimble hero pulled down his teammate’s pants and then spanked him erratically, making it impossible to predict where his hearty palm would fall next. Despite his best efforts Shaman was soon letting out small cries and yelps, squirming as his firm bottom turned red.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Ooh! Owww...! Youch!"

Surprisingly, Walter took it less well. The large man was unused to pain, at least in his human form. His muscular butt clenched and jerked at every stinging smack Wolverine delivered. For his part, Wolverine enjoyed putting the man in his place as a fellow 'creature of the wild' and showed little mercy. Walt was soon yelling and hollering for it to stop.

"C'mon Logan, this is ridiculous! We're grown men! Ease up already! You can't just show up out of the blue and—Aoooowwww!"

"I can, and I will," Wolverine told him with a smirk, along with another harsh crack of palm against bare, wriggling ass. "And believe me bub, we know it's ridiculous. That's the whole point."

“We all got it, more than once!” Puck put in. “Only fair you do too, eh?”

And in that fashion Shaman and Sasquatch were indeed spanked until they couldn't take anymore. After they'd finally given in, spanked to tears and moans, they were placed sniffling up against the mantle. They shifted in place, feeling annoyed at their defeat as well as extremely humiliated. Neither was given any pants.

"Hoo hoo! Pretty as a picture, eh?" Puck asked with a chortle.

Wolverine nodded. "That's the whole point. Now remember the plan. Wait for it..."

Right on schedule, their remaining teammate Northstar arrived. Gifted with both flight and super speed, the elfin man was noted for his arrogance as well as his sarcasm. But one thing that could stop even the supersonic speedster in his tracks was the sight of two of his teammates completely naked, their well-paddled rears mooning him in all their redness. He froze at the sight.

"What... what in the world happened to..." was about all he managed before Wolverine grabbed him by the arm. In seconds the stocky Canadian had yanked him over his knee. Northstar fell with a startled cry, his bodysuit as usual clinging tightly to every part of him, especially the two rounded globes of his rear.

"Hope you enjoyed the sight, Jean-Paul," Wolverine drawled, "'Cuz your haughty ass is about to join it!"

"Logan?! What are you—Oww!" Northstar cried as the first spank fell on his spandex seat. He started to energetically squirm and kick as many more followed. "Oww, oww, stop that! Ohh!"

While the speedster loudly complained (as usual) about his plight, Puck sidled up to his old drinking buddy. "Still pissed I dragged you up here?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Wolverine glanced down at him, the beginnings of a scowl on his face—but before long it broke into a grin. "Nah. Maybe I needed a trip home. Get some of my old house in order."

"Good man."

The X-Man finished up Northstar's spanking (naturally pausing halfway through to pull his tights down in the back to expose his ass) before setting the man with the others. Northstar sniffled and grimaced as tears ran down his cheeks, but at least he wasn't complaining anymore lest he receive more. Shaman and Sasquatch shifted on either side of him, their butts glowing too. Wolverine and Puck relaxed with beer and cigars to enjoy the sight.

"Not too bad for a day's work, eh?" Puck asked with a grin.

"Not bad at all," Wolverine concurred. “Thanks for getting’ me out here. It’s good to go back to my roots once in a while. Remind myself who I am.”

The shorter man nodded, and the two drank in companionable silence for a while, admiring the blistered bottoms in front of them.

"But ya know, Puck..."

"Yes?"

Wolverine stretched out. "When you won that poker game, the terms you gave were that we'd give all the men of Alpha Flight a spankin'."

It took a moment for Puck to understand what he meant, before his eyes widened. "Oh, no! You know full well I've already taken my licks!"

He tried to bound away, but Wolverine was faster. Puck only managed a single hop before he was snatched right out of the air. "Sorry Eugene," Wolverine said with a tight smirk as he carried him underarm back to his chair. "If I came all this way, I'm not leaving the job half-done."

And that's how Puck ended up slung over Wolverine's knee too, his fuzzy buns wiggling and jerking under a good, hard slapping. About half an hour later he joined his team lineup, his bottom just as red as theirs, sniffling with both hands on his head.

Wolverine smirked as he took them all in and lit up another cigar. Now that was a beautiful sight. One he’d treasure til the end of his days.

It didn't quite excuse the times Alpha Flight had tried hunting him down... but it was a start.

Chapter Text

The attack, when it came, was one Venom was utterly unprepared for.

It caught them off-guard as they swung over the rooftops. The sting of a high-speed projectile puncturing their outer body—the black symbiote—then a zap almost like electricity as something coursed through the dart which'd lodged itself into the small of their back. "YEEARGGHG!"

But whatever it was hurt worse than electricity. They tumbled from the sky and crash landed onto a nearby building. They'd been web-swinging, responding to a police bulletin—an armed robbery, innocents in danger—ready to mete out their own warped sense of justice on the perpetrators. But now their thick body just steamed in the NYC night air and they shook their head, trying to get their bearings. Something had changed. The symbiote felt... odd.

"Well, looks like this hunt's already over."

Venom twisted, recognizing the smug and grizzled voice. Kraven. The infamous big game hunter who hunted the biggest game of all—superheroes. "You..." they hissed. Kraven had hunted Venom once before, and the attempt had lead to blood on both sides before they'd forced him to retreat. They hadn't thought him foolish enough come after them again, but evidently the hunter had not learned his lesson. There he stood, leering at them bare-chested in his tight leopard-skin pants, a lion's mane flaring out from his open vest as if he were a jungle cat himself. He tossed aside the high-powered dart gun, then withdrew two pairs of weighted balls, each connected by a cord. Bolas.

Venom almost had to laugh. While Kraven had a well-earned reputation for skill and tenacity, he was still just an ordinary human without any special abilities. There was no way he could capture Venom via such low-tech means. Not when they had the strength and power of the symbiote to draw on. They prepared to extend slick blackness from their arm like a scythe to slice through the thrown bolas, then leap upon Kraven and put their slavering teeth to good use...

That's when Venom became surprised for the second time. The symbiote did not shape itself to Eddie Brock's thoughts, but remained clinging to his muscular arm. It seemed almost as though it couldn't leave their embrace. Then the bolas were on them, wrapping around their upper body and strong thighs. Their muscles surged and bunched as they felt themselves constricted, the bonds tightening... Adding insult to injury, a third bola came after the first two to bind their ankles and send them to the rooftop in a heap. "Argh! What...!"

A dry chuckle came as Kraven approached. He tapped something against the palm of his hand. "Good. It worked. Too often, weapons designed to beat you are made to separate that human self of yours, Eddie Brocks, from the symbiote you're wrapped in. But see, today I'm not hunting Eddie Brock. And I'm not hunting the symbiote, either. This hunt is a special one, and it's for Venom alone."

Confused, Venom writhed on the rooftop. With effort, they flipped onto their back. "The dart!" they hissed through rows of pointed teeth."Something in the dart makes us unable to..."

"That's right. Rather than break your connection to that suit, my paid researchers found a way to strengthen it. Something about chemical bonding. The point is, you can't even web-swing right now. No part of that symbiote can bear to part from you."

I-I'm sorry, Eddie! I'm trying, but it's like I'm stuck to you tight.

It's alright, love. We'll figure a way out of this.

But that didn't look likely any time soon. Whatever was in the dart had for all intents and purposes neutralized Venom's powers. The symbiote was still connected to Eddie, but they couldn't lash out at Kraven, or even break the bolas which confined them. The tendrils which ordinarily flowed from them on a whim were simply too... attached. It was as if the symbiote itself had become a strait jacket which constrained Eddie's muscular form. They growled and grimaced as the hunter strode over and then squatted before them, watching their struggle with a smirk. "You will pay for this, Kraven," they hissed, "When we break free, we will—"

Kraven grabbed them by the arm. He was surprisingly strong, and able to lift their bulk easily. With a growl Venom found themself dragged several feet and then flipped over Kraven's lap as he sat on a low wall encircling the rooftop. Their upper body dangled off the edge—the busy street surging some twenty stories below—while their strong legs got pinned down under Kraven's, drawn over top of them. Their rump became the highest point of their body.

Eddie! What is happening?! This is like when the Handler...

He... can't be serious...

Venom tried to break through the linked bolas, but they held fast. Then they felt Kraven tap something hard and flat against their broad backside. It was... a paddle. So it was true. Kraven was actually planning to spank them. The symbiote, seeing the concept anew in Eddie's mind, was somewhat... curious about the sensation. It had been curious ever since their first run-in with the Handler, if it were to be honest. But it also saw that Eddie was angered and embarrassed at the treatment, so they immediately tried to buck off Kraven's lap instead, lashing and writhing around. But the hunter held them fast. "What the HELL do you think you're—!" they started.

But the only response was a whistle of air as the hunter raised the paddle high over his head, then brought it down with ruthless efficiency.

THWACKKK!!

"AAOOOOWWW!"

Something in the paddle was specially treated to take advantage of the symbiote's weakness. Heating elements. Electricity. Some sort of sonic blasters built into the business end. A combination. Whatever it was made the symbiote cry out right alongside its host as their combined rear got wallopped. Normally the symbiote might react to the pain and instinctually flow away from the struck area, but due to the chemical from the dart that wasn't an option. It was stuck in place exactly where it was: hugging Eddie Brock's tight, muscled globes like a second skin.

"Are you still under control of the Handler?! Fight it, Kraven! You are—AUUUGH!" Venom howled as they were struck again.

The hunter shook his head. "No one is controlling me. I told you, did I not? This is a special hunt." He smiled mirthlessly. "And I doubt you will ever guess who hired me to take it."

Crack after crack echoed over the rooftops as Kraven continued bringing the paddle down. Venom kicked and arched their back. "Aaarrrgghh, it hurts, you... AoooOWW STTOPPP!" they wailed as their fellow villain smacked the fiendish paddle into their flexing and bucking butt over and over again. It was a sight most people would have never thought possible. Venom, scourge of the streets, the Lethal Protector, receiving an old-fashioned spanking like a naughty child. But getting spanked they were, and all they could do was twist and writhe under the humiliating—not to mention agonizing—punishment. "NO! NOO! NOOOO!! YEEAAARRGH."

And, from the next rooftop over, Spider-Man hummed as took a bite out of his bagel.

It had taken a good chunk out of his paycheck to hire the hunter but, Spidey decided as he watched Venom kick and yowl, it had definitely been worth it. Especially with the discount Kraven had given him.

He raised his camera up to his eye and snapped another picture as he chewed. "Best. Bugle. Story. Ever."

Chapter Text

Black Tom Cassidy poked a big, red, beefy buttock and felt the heat radiating off the naked flesh.

"Let me guess. Ben Grimm again?"

Juggernaut shook his head somberly. "No, it was Hulk. He got me good this time."

"Oh, Cain. When are you going to learn to stop messing with them?"

"Who, Hulks?"

Black Tom sighed, then aimed a slap of his own at his partner's rump with his shillelagh. "Heroes, ye dunce!"

In its current bruised state, even someone without super strength could get Juggernaut to bellow. "YOOW! Hey, I'll get 'em next time!"

Black Tom Cassidy rolled his eyes. That was what his partner always said. But ever since the 'Handler incident', Juggernaut had yet to beat the odds and take down his old foe Hulk in a single fight, or any other hero for that matter. Rather, he'd been coming home more and more often with his own buns roasted, so red and swollen they didn't even fit in his pants anymore. No mean feat on someone super strong, not to mention supposedly invincible.

If it wasn't also unbearably sexy, Black Tom might even have been jealous.

Alright, maybe he was still jealous anyway.

"C'mon, Tom." Juggernaut wiggled his ass in his direction again. His pants were down and he only had a jockstrap framing his beefy cheeks. "Rub some of that plant gunk on me like you always do. Please?"

Seeing Juggernaut like that made Black Tom's pants tighten, but he kept himself under control. He was an old-school druid and such tantric spectacles wouldn’t get to him. Still, despite having seen his partner in numerous states of undress over the years, something about him having been spanked made the view even hornier than usual. The last few butt-rubbing sessions had been fun, but he wasn't in the mood today. He pushed the big red rump away.

"It's called salve," he corrected, "And why should I? You're just gonna go off and get yourself... spanked again."

Ye gods, it made him hot just saying the word. And it was even hotter thinking of a big brute like his partner actually being beaten in such a crude, sexy way. Folded over a knee, his beefy arse up, banging his fists on the ground like a big ruddy baby as he got his just desserts. Tom reminded himself he was still annoyed at him.

"Aw, I can't keep losing forever!"

"Hmph, at least Hulk is at your strength level," he continued irritably. "Now getting spanked by Colossus. That's embarrassing, boyo."

"Hey, I got him back in the end!" Juggernaut defended himself staunchly. "I had him beggin' for mercy!"

"Sure ye did. Tell me again the time the entire Avengers team rushed down when they felt their tower shaking, only to find you kickin' and wailing over Thor's knee?"

Juggernaut's eyes widened. He'd told Black Tom that story in confidence once back when he'd been drunk. "That—that was—hey, c'mon! He's a frickin' GOD! You know he gets a pass!"

Black Tom sneered. "Oh, of course. The God Rule."

"And I have spanked heroes! Lots of 'em! You know that! I spanked Luke Cage! I spanked Cable! Hell, I even spanked Captain America once!"

"And I'm sure those were quite satisfying, boyo. But face it, any time you pick on someone your own size you get walloped," Tom said, returning to testiness. "Shall I bring up Hulk again? How many rematches have you had with him now? And each time you get your pants ripped off and your rear upended. Yet you keep going back... almost like you want this beefy bottom of yours blistered." He gave it another whack of his shillelagh, just to see Juggernaut wince. "Then there's all those other humiliations you've gone through. Gambit making your pants explode. Your own ass used as a tool to subdue Hulkling. That time you and the whole team all got spanked by Sandman..."

Juggernaut flushed in anger, not to mention embarrassment. "Now that ain't fair. Those... those were... there were extenuatin' circumstances behind all those! And I bounced back from 'em all, didn't I?"

"Oh, because that's much better. My partner, known far and wide as a heroes' punching bag. Next thing ye know they'll be sending out rookies with paddles to train themselves on you! But hey, at least you'll recover in time for the next batch, so long as you ask nicely enough for me to rub you better."

"Man, why are you being so bitchy today? It's not like I get spanked on purpose."

"Could've fooled me."

"Now that ain't fair!" Juggernaut rounded on him. "I've been bustin' my hump for us, going out for capers, even...even getting my ass bistered for ‘em! And you've just been sitting here on on your butt all day judgin' me for it! How would you like it if... if..." He blinked. After a moment, that look changed to a frown. Then after another, his eyes widened. "Oh man, I'm so dumb! You're... you're mad at me, ain'tcha!"

Black Tom glared at him evenly. "You're only just getting that?"

"No, not about me losing fights! Well maybe a little about that. But no! What you're really mad about is... is..." He slowly turned so that his battered buns fully faced Black Tom again. The Irishman couldn't help but get caught staring at them. "Is that I keep gettin' my butt beat without ya."

He huffed. "Well... we are partners," he allowed. "Aren't we supposed to do things together?"

"Babe, it's not your fault you were stuck here in Scotland when all that stuff with the Handler went down! And I told ya all about it, didn't I? Well, most of it. The good stuff."

That was true enough. Juggernaut's descriptions had been lurid enough for a solid month's worth of wank material.

"Maybe. But it's not the same as being there," Black Tom said curtly. "And you haven't exactly been working to include me since I got back. You just keep coming home expecting me to... to... massage your arse before you head right back out again!"

Juggernaut smirked, suspecting Black Tom didn't dislike that quite as much as he let on. He flexed his muscled cheeks and then relaxed them, practically hypnotizing his partner with the motion.

"I just didn't know you'd be into it, that's all," he said. "But alright, cross my heart and hope to die, next time I go out and get myself into a big ol’ smash fight with Hulk, or Thing, or the Wrecking Crew, or whoever, I'll bring ya along. Happy now?"

"I... maybe."

"And win or lose, we’ll share in the consequences. Hey, who knows. With your help I might even win a few once in a while!"

"Hmph. Well it certainly couldn't make your record any worse."

"Oh yeah?" Juggernaut turned back with a smirk, slowly pulling his pants up over his ass. "Okay. In that case, before any of that we gotta get you all caught up. Startin' right now."

"Get caught up? What do you mean—agh! Cain, let go of me!!"

But Juggernaut had finally read his partner. If Black Tom felt like he'd been missing out on the fun, he was gonna show him exactly what it was he'd been missing. Juggernaut threw him onto the enormous bed in their shared apartment, then bore down on him. There, he carefully ripped all Tom's clothes one at a time off before setting him over his knee. Black Tom had a well-muscled otter's build, and was hairy all over. He swore and struggled the entire time of course, but a certain part of his anatomy was reacting in such a way even a guy as dense as Juggernaut could tell he liked it.

Ever since they'd met, he and Black Tom had looked out for each other. Shared everything. Toasted their successes as well as bemoaned their defeats. They were true partners—in crime, as well as in every other sense of the word.

So Juggernaut raised his big hand over his boyfriend's bare, squirmy butt with a wide grin, and started givin' Black Tom that spankin' he really wanted.

"Nothin' doin', Tom! If you're not gonna rub salve on me then you're helpin' me train instead! Startin' this week, we're setting up a daily regimen of spank wrasslin' for ya! It’s a whole new form of combat." He grinned wide. "Then once we master it we're going after the Hulk!"

As he kicked and squirmed, Black Tom could only moan in happiness.

Chapter Text

"Ouch! Ooh! Ow! Stop that!"

Warren Worthington III, aka the high-flying Angel, was being chased through the air by a swarm of metal paddles. He yelped as they slapped and swatted at the tight seat of his spandex wherever he flew.

The source of his plight became clear as smoke cleared to show the X-Men facing their oldest foe—the mutant terrorist known as Magneto. With a gesture he sent waves of paddles at the rest of them too with the aid of his mutant power: control over the primal elemental force of magnetism.

ZWAAAAP!

Most were knocked aside by a blast from Cyclops's visor. The X-Men’s leader turned his gaze on Magneto next, but the villain blocked the assault with a magnetic force shield.

"Remember your training!" Cyclops shouted to his team. "Keep up the pressure and he'll go down!"

"Oh, will I?" Magneto asked archly. He sent a cascade of metal their way, this time aimed at Colossus. The large Russian had no choice but to shift to his metallic form to prevent any injury to himself.

Mistake.

The bolts and assorted gears pinged off him harmlessly, but that hadn’t been the real goal of the attack. Colossus suddenly found he was unable to move. "Oh... no!" he cried in dawning dread. Magneto's control over metal had grown ever stronger over the years, and it now extended even to his transformed state. With a lurch, he moved forward. He tried to fight it, but he found himself unerringly drawn to his closest teammate—the Native American mutant known as Warpath.

"Huh? Piotr? What are you doing?" Warpath shouted as he was suddenly grabbed and shoved over Colossus's knee.

"I am sorry, James! I am unable to... stop myself!" Gritting his teeth, Colossus ripped a hole in the seat of Warpath's spandex suit. Warpath's power was super strength, and so he kept his body in peak condition. His muscular cheeks wiggled in consternation as Colossus resolutely raised his palm over them. Colossus tried to turn back to his flesh and blood form, but found he was unable to do that either. Magneto's control was too absolute. Instead, he found himself repeatedly slamming his metal hand onto Warpath's bare-naked ass.

"Oww! Quit it, man! This isn't funny! Aahh!" Warpath yelled.

"First Angel, now Colossus? Something ain't right, Cyke," Wolverine commented as he watched. "It's like Magneto ain't trying to beat us, he's trying to humiliate us."

"I'm aware of that, Logan! But unless you have something useful to say, keep those lips shut!"

Wolverine just snarled in response. He and Cyclops had never gotten along, whether in or out of costume.

Sensing that division, Magneto turned his attention on the two of them next.

"Huh? Oh, hell..." Wolverine suddenly found himself unable to move his body either. His adamantium-laced skeleton made it almost childishly easy for Magneto to manipulate him however he wished. "Watch out, Cyke! I can't—"

"Logan! Logan, what are you doing!" Cyclops shouted as he too was grabbed and thrown bodily over a knee. His wrists were gathered up and restrained behind his back, preventing him from reaching his visor. That meant he was all but helpless as Wolverine reached for his yellow tights and pulled them straight down, baring a well-muscled bottom. "Stop it right now!"

"Whaddya think I'm trying to do, bub! I'm tryin', but..." It was unclear how hard Wolverine really was trying though, as he beheld Cyclops’s firm butt and took a moment to palm it before raising his hand high. The two of them had fought for years, whether over women, the right to lead the team, or even the last beer in the fridge.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd privately fantasized about a moment like this many times.

Without another word, he brought his hand down hard and fast across the upturned cheeks of Cyclops's ass.

"Oww! Logan!! Fight harder!"

Without Cyclops's leadership the rest of the fight quickly fell apart. A shard of sharpened metal pierced the rear of Beast's tights as he hopped around—right above the waistband—and it drove itself into a nearby wall to leave him hanging in an embarrassing wedgie. Another metal paddle came along to teach him a lesson about opposing the Master of Magnetism.

"Ohh! Ooh! My m-mortification aside, does this remind anyone of another villain we've faced recently?" Beast yelped as he swung from whack after whack like a blue-furred piñata.

"He's right! it's like when the Handler got us all—Yow!" Iceman yelled as a tube of metal flew around his upper body to pin his arms against his sides. Another paddle came along to spank him too, and he ended up hopping around the battlefield yelping, his speedo down around his ankles.

"Could the Handler have gotten Magneto too?!" Bishop shouted, "Influenced him?"

"I believe you mean ‘inspired’."

A sheet of metal flew under Bishop making his feet almost comically fly out from under him, like he was performing a pratfall. He was soon wrapped up and de-pantsed too, wiggling and twisting on the ground as paddles laid into his muscular butt.

Gambit and Cannonball were similarly dispatched when they sprang to help. One by one, the X-Men were being caught, restrained and stripped. Wolverine and Colossus weren't spared once their usefulness came to an end. Magneto simply overpowered them with brute force, then they also yowled under a searing spanking. Banshee, Nightcrawler, Sunfire, Cable—the list went on. They all fought valiantly, of course. They were X-Men. But in the end there could be only one conclusion.

When the battlefield was finally quiet again (other than the sound of muffled tears), Magneto looked over his former adversaries. Previously his greatest, most erstwhile foes, now they were nothing but a row of bare, bobbing bottoms, writhing in his grip.

And such a range they were, too. Blue butts, slim butts, hairy butts, metal butts… all manner of colors and variations. Mutation truly was a gift. But there was one thing they all had in common with each other, and that was that they all needed punishment.

Privately, he and Xavier had always seen the next generation of mutants as their children. Now that metaphor was becoming ever more blatant, as he found himself in the not-entirely unwelcome role of fatherly disciplinarian.

You always did have a soft hand, Charles, he thought, How unsurprising you force me to be the iron glove.

"In the past, I've tried many times to convince you of the rightness of my methods," he told them as they grimaced and struggled uselessly. "I've tried words, deeds, even resorted to combat. Now I'll try a new method."

He smiled slightly as larger, much thicker metal paddles floated down and positioned themselves behind the brave heroes. They resembled frat paddles more than anything. There was soon one assigned to each and every X-Man's backside. All the mutants gulped. They were about to learn a truly valuable lesson.

And, knowing Magneto, it wouldn’t end until the entire team was in tears.

He gestured, and twenty hard paddle swats rang out along with a plethora of pained grunts, cries, and roars. Sweet music. A rising crescendo of pain. And it was only just beginning. Magneto’s smile widened as he gestured again. Then again. And again.

"Now we'll see if a good spanking will get through to you all."

Chapter Text

"Y'know Rhino, ya gotta be the villain with the biggest bubble butt in all Manhattan," Thing said in wonder, taking a moment to give the burly cheeks a pat. "And geez, willya look at this suit of yours! It's so glued to ya, it's practically like yer... naked!"

Rhino grit his teeth. It was humiliating enough to have been wrestled down by the Fantastic Four member in broad daylight. He didn't need to respond to his taunts, too.

Especially while he was so brazenly clapping his rocky palm across his ass.

SMACK! CRACK! WHACK!

"OWWWW! Will ya quit it already, Grimm! You win, okay!" he bellowed.

"Aw, no. We're just gettin' started," Thing said with a grin, adjusting his knee so Rhino was hoisted higher. Those round gray buns of his were humiliatingly hiked up. "Y'know, the Daily Planet did an exposé on us recently that put our strength levels around the same? I didn’t wanna say nothin’ at the time, outta gentlemanly modesty you understand. But I figger they’re gonna do some rewrites after they getta load of this!"

Rhino roared out as he got another harsh crack. His rhino suit, which was biochemically sealed to his body, boasted a nigh-invulnerable hide. It was rare enough for him to even feel most blows. But unfortunately for Rhino, Thing's own super strength was proving itself equal to the task.

"Besides, you got nobody but yerself ta blame fer this." Thing shook his head as peppered the beefy rump with swats and slaps. "A bad guy walkin' around with all this butt. Who wouldn't wanna spank ya?" He gave the cheeks another good, hard smack. "Ya just need somebody ballsy enough to take ya in hand. Bend ya over like ya deserve."

"I’ve got somebody who—YEARGH!"

The booming wallops echoed out all over 5^th Avenue, hard enough to make him squirm. Rhino grit his teeth. The sad part was, he knew how ridiculous his costume looked. Yeah, he was fully aware of how defined his ass was in it. It was like wrapping two overinflated beach balls in tight gray saran wrap. But he had no control over that! He’d had a thick behind all his life. Besides, he hadn’t designed the suit.

He’d just been the bubble-butted goon stupid enough to put it on. And once he had, no pair of pants had been big enough to fit him ever again.

"Man, ya know your tush is blushing red right through your suit?"

"Probably cuz it's as pissed as I am!" he shouted, rearing up, "Will ya let me go already! I didn’t even do nothing!"

"Aw no. I've got some aggression to work out. Y'see, I fought Gorgon of the Inhumans last week and got my orange butt clobbered. So beatin' on a dumb mook like you? That’s just the thing to restore balance to da universe."

Rhino had some choice words to say to that, but unfortunately was unable to voice them. A hard shove forced him back over the hero's knee, followed by another round of hearty swats that had him yowling despite his strength and size. He felt like an overgrown baby over daddy’s lap. Worst of all, there were reporters everywhere and he just knew they were getting closeups of his tear-streaked face as he wailed for mercy. That was just what life was like when you were a career jobber like him.

“Say, this is pretty fun! Maybe I oughta do this to all the villains I catch from now on.”

“Do it to whoever ya want! Just—AOWWW!—quit doin’ it to me!” He beat his fists on the street, cracking the pavement. “I’m tellin’ ya Grimm, I can’t take no more! AAHHH!”

“And like I told you, horn-face, this is only over when I say it’s—”

"Grimm, what the hell're ya doin'?"

Both men looked up. "Huh?”

“Oh, hey Sandy!" Thing said, like he was greeting an old buddy.

That was because he was. Even before Sandman had turned over a new leaf as a hero, he and Thing had always gotten along. Maybe it was their similar nature as two de-facto earth elementals that did it. More likely it was because they both appreciated a cold brew and a good hockey game. Thing had been one of the key figures who’d helped Sandman turn his life around, way back when.

Right now, Sandman hovered over them, his lower body a veritable whirlwind of sand like a medieval genie. "Don't 'hey Sandy' me!” he snapped, “What're you doing to my buddy Aleksei here?"

"What, you mean Rhino? What's it look like I'm doing?" jeered Thing. He wound up and gave the guy another hard slap across the caboose. Rhino cried mournfully. "I'm just givin' him the attitude adjustment he's been needin' for years."

"Oh yeah? And what'd he do to earn it?"

"Earn it?" Thing asked. "What'd ya mean, earn it? He's a villain! He’s gotta be on a dozen wanted lists in Queens alone.”

Sandman leaned down and poked a finger against Thing’s rocky chest. "And in case you forgot, I used to be a villain too. So have you. At least once. Probably."

"Pshhh, me, da idol of millions? No way!"

"Well In any case, hands off. Rhino's my responsibility. If anybody's gonna spank 'im, it’ll be me."

"Don't I get a say in—" Rhino started.

"NO!" both men shouted at once, along with two hands slapping his swollen bottom at once.

“OHHHH!”

"Whaddya mean 'your responsibility'?" Thing demanded.

Sandman folded his arms across his green-striped chest. "I've been assigned his parole officer. Wanna make something of it?"

"P-parole officer?!"

"That’s right. I've been reinstated as an Avenger, remember? It was Cap's idea that I focus my efforts on helpin' my old buddies on the villain side reform, so I'm startin' with Aleksei here.” Sandman looked over his sniffling client fondly. “He's been making good for a couple weeks now. Learnin’ the ropes. All due to my guidance, of course. So I'm gonna ask you one last time." He leaned down until he was nose-to-nose with Thing. "Did my client actually do anything to merit a patented Ben Grimm Butt-Clobberin' Session, or did you just jump the gun, as usual?"

“Uhhhh…” Thing scratched his head. In all honesty, he'd only spied Rhino stomping down 5th Avenue in that suit of his. He'd assumed he was on his way to rob a bank, so he'd jumped 'im. But he hadn't actually witnessed the guy committing any crime.

"I guess not," he finally admitted. "But you can't expect me to keep track of which villains are bad and which are good week to week! You guys switch it up all the time!"

"Yeah, speaking of switching..."

"WHOA! Hey, what're ya—?!"

Multiple sand tendrils had slithered around Thing’s ankles while they’d been talking. With one quick move they hoisted Thing into the air and turned him over. As he struggled, they slid into his trunks and pulled downward. Thing gaped as his broad, rocky buns were exposed to the crowd of onlookers, followed by about a dozen camera flashes in quick succession. "HEY! I better not see any of those in the papers! Dis ain’t no peep show!” he railed behind him. “What gives, Sandy!?"

Sandman grinned down at him. "An eye for an eye. That's kosher, right? You spanked Rhino, so now I spank you."

"Now that ain't funny!"

"Sounds about right to me!" Rhino cut in, picking himself up and rubbing his bruised bottom with a grimace. "Only way it'd be fairer is if I got to do the honors myself!"

"Heh, keep working within my program and maybe you'll get your shot one day, big guy,” Sandman told him. “And you quit makin’ a fuss, Grimm. You can’t even try to claim you didn't earn this one. Besides..." Sandman's voice dropped so only they could hear. "Rhino’s not the only one with a big honkin’ bubble butt ‘round here."

Thing stared at him, then just groaned and hung in the air, rump upturned. "Oh geez, what would my Aunt Petunia say?" he grumbled, right before the whipping started. And though he tried to hold out for appearance’s sake (he did take his reputation as an idol o’ millions pretty seriously, especially around kids) it wasn’t long before he was yowling out even louder than Rhino had, all up and down 5^th Avenue. Especially when Sandman utilized literal sand waxers on his orange rump to make both cheeks burn with friction. “OooooohhhHHH!!!”

What a revoltin’ development!!

He was picking sand outta itchy rock butthole for weeks after, not to mention other places. But hey, from then on he always checked the weekly Avenger memos before picking fights. So, lesson learned.

From that point on, Thing started a spankin’ policy of his own for villains he nabbed, too. Hey, if it worked for Rhino how many other bad guys just needed a good trip to the ol’ woodshed to turn over a new leaf? Probably plenty. And Thing was gonna find every last one of ‘em, one patented Ben Grimm Butt Clobberin’ at a time.

What was that phrase again? If they won’t join ya, beat ‘em?

He was pretty sure it was somethin’ like that.