• Category Archives fiction
  • It’s All Cupid’s Fault. By Funky Monster

    It’s all Cupid’s Fault

    By Funky Monster

    Valentine’s Day, again.  Brandon stood by the staircase window, watching couples stroll by, laughing, holding hands, and exchanging gifts. Meanwhile, he was as single as a dollar bill in an empty wallet. Every year, he prayed—begged—for love, and every year, he got nothing. Not a date. Not a romantic text. Not even an accidental love confession from a friend.

    “Maybe I’m cursed,” he muttered, sighing.

    Just then, a soft fluttering sound filled the air. A warm glow appeared behind him. Brandon turned, and there he was—Cupid himself, hovering mid-air, his chubby cheeks (both sets) glowing with divine radiance.

    “Hey, hey! No need to look so down, buddy,” Cupid said, flashing a grin. “Love works in mysterious ways, you know. Maybe this year—”

    Brandon sighed, nodding. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. Love is complicated. It’s not easy finding the right person. Maybe I just need to be patient, put myself out there more, work on—” He suddenly stopped, eyes widening as a realization struck him like lightning. “Wait a damn minute… this isn’t my fault at all!”

    His gaze snapped back to Cupid, now filled with righteous fury. “I’ve been patient! I’ve tried everything! But I’m still single because you aren’t doing your job!”

    Cupid blinked. “Whoa, whoa—hold on, pal. That’s not how divine matchmaking works! Love takes time—”

    Brandon wasn’t buying it. “Oh yeah? You’ve had years to do your job! Face it, Cupid, this is your fault!”

    Cupid gulped, sensing real trouble. “Look, Brandon, I know you’re frustrated, but let’s talk this out like rational—HEY!”

    Before he could escape, Brandon grabbed him, spun him around, and in one swift motion, bent him over the window ledge. With a quick tug, down came Cupid’s toga, pooling around his ankles, exposing his divine rear to the world.

    “Wait—WAIT! Let’s be reasonable!” Cupid squawked, struggling.

    Brandon cracked his knuckles. “Oh, I’m being very reasonable.”

    SMACK!

    “OW! Brandon, buddy, let’s not—AHH!”

    SMACK! SMACK!

    “You had ONE JOB, Cupid!” SMACK! “And you FAILED!” SMACK!

    Cupid flailed. “I—I tried! But love isn’t easy—YOWCH!”

    SMACK! “Not easy? NOT EASY? Then what are all these couples doing outside, huh? Playing Uno?”

    Cupid whimpered. “I can explain!”

    SMACK! SMACK!

    “No more excuses!” Brandon scolded, delivering crisp, sharp spanks. Cupid’s round cheeks glowed pink, then red, then deep red.

    “OKAY! OKAY!” Cupid yelped, his wings twitching. “I PROMISE! Next year, I’ll find you a partner! I swear on Aphrodite’s name!”

    Brandon paused. “Next year, huh?”

    Cupid nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes! Next year, you’ll be in love, I guarantee it!”

    Brandon narrowed his eyes. “And if you don’t?”

    Cupid gulped.

    Brandon raised his hand.

    “NOOO—okay, okay! I SWEAR! No more single Valentines for you! Just—please, my butt is on fire!”

    After what felt like an eternity, Brandon finally let Cupid go. The deity scrambled to pull his toga back up, rubbing his sore, punished behind.

    Brandon crossed his arms. “You better deliver, Cupid. Or next year, we’re doing this again—and I’m getting a paddle.”

    Cupid winced, flapping his wings. “Message received… loud and clear.”

    And with that, he poofed away, vanishing into the heavens—hopefully to do his job properly this time.

    Brandon smirked. “Happy Valentine’s Day to me.”

    =========================

    Funky posts regularly to his pages at Deviant Art (CLICK HERE)

    and to X/Twitter : (CLICK HERE)


  • Camp Redrear – Spanking Art and Story by Callum

    In the neon-lit 1980s, a group of cocksure college-aged jocks, sporting short shorts and headbands, venture into the desolate grounds of “Camp Redrear,” a long-forgotten summer camp with a sinister past. Ignoring local legends of a masked stalker, they arrogantly believe they’re untouchable. 

    As they explore the abandoned cabins and overgrown trails, their bravado slowly crumbles when they realize they’re not alone. A masked figure, wielding a paddle instead of a weapon, stalks them with an eerie determination. But instead of delivering deadly blows, he opts for a bizarre form of punishment: spanking! 

    The jocks, accustomed to being the ones in control, find themselves in a twisted game of survival, with each spanking escalating in intensity and humiliation. Their attempts to fight back or flee only lead to more inventive and painful spankings, turning the once confident athletes into whimpering, terrified victims. 

    Amidst the chaos, secrets about the camp’s dark history unravel, revealing a tale of abuse and vengeance. As the survivors desperately try to uncover the truth and escape the relentless spanker, they realize that the real horror isn’t just the masked figure haunting Camp Redrear, but the sins of the past coming back to deliver

    a painful

    You can view and support Callum’s art at

    Kinky Callum at Patreon

    New updates almost every day

    reckoning.


  • Sore Bottomed Guys: “The Shaman’s Revenge” By Bruce

    As visitors know, we do not publish fiction on JockSpank, we don’t have the time and capacity to review and moderate lengthy text, there are other spanking fiction sites and most of our visitors prefer “visual stymulus”

    However, I am going to make an exception and recomment Bruce’s new illustrated story “The Shaman’s Revenge” over at the Sore Bottomed Guys blog.

    To whet the appetite of those who enjoy fiction , I am publishing the prologue below with links to the first chapter at the very bottom.

    If you do Visit Sore Bottomed Gus and Feel like leaving a comment, I know Bruce would appreciate knowing what you think.

    Now Read on

    The Shaman’s Revenge – Prologue

    It was a Friday morning in mid July 1980, and shaping up to be another baking hot day, as Goran Dragic shuffled painfully down the street, carrying a heavy paper bag. The old man was finding it increasingly more difficult to get to the local store, and it was even more difficult on his way home, as now, carrying his purchases. Since his recent illness, his aching body had begun to feel every one of his 82 years. He felt tired, and in need of some peace and quiet. Unfortunately for old Goran, peace and quiet were hard to come by in the fast paced American city where he now lived, an environment so different from the Southern Carpathian mountains of his old homeland.

    As he trudged on, his mind wondered back to the land of his youth, a land, which, at that time, was still behind what was then known as the ‘Iron Curtain’, where the legends and beliefs from an older time were only whispered about in secret. Goran, himself, had been the subject of many whispers at one time, for he was said to have inherited powers, known as the “Magija”, from the warlocks and Shamen in his family history.

    In the past, in the high and remote mountain villages, far beyond the reach of civil justice, his ancestor’s had used those powers to punish wrong doers, and and to impose natural justice.

    Those beliefs and practices had been suppressed under the Soviet system, until they had now largely melted into the mists of history. However, the fact that many had forgotten the old ways did not make the Magija any less potent. It was a new world now, but unlike his ageing body, Goran’s powers, and his mind for that matter, were still as strong and sharp as they had ever been. The powers had not been used in many years, but he still had them, and could call them up again any time should he need to.

    Thoughts of his homeland were suddenly knocked from his mind by a violent jarring impact to his right side, which sent him tumbling heavily to the ground. Knocked from his grasp, the paper bag of groceries smashed onto the sidewalk.

    Dazed and in pain Goran looked up to see a handsome young man, wearing only a pair of blue “Speedo” swimming trunks and rubber flipflops, looking down angrily at him.

    Jordan Draper, being late for swimming practice, had been running through the streets. Listening to his Walkman, a must have new invention at the time, and distracted by his favourite Punk-rock band, Jordan had not seen the old man, and had barged into him, Knocking Goran over and causing Jordan to drop both his dark glasses and the personal Stereo, the second of which had landed in a puddle of spilt milk from Goran’s bag.

    Look what you did you stupid old fuck!” yelled Jordan picking up the Walkman, shaking it and attempting to dry it with his towel “It’s fucking broken!” Jordan was very proud of his Walkman, Sony had only release the first version the year before, and, as with most things, Jordan had the newest and most expensive model, now it was ruined. His anger was increased by the fact that his shades had also been damaged.

    you ran into me!” groaned Goran looking around at his new purchased groceries strewn around amongst broken eggs, spilt milk and a the shattered bottle of wine he had bought as his one indulgence of the week.

    You shouldn’t have been in my way you old Moron!”snarled Jordan

    Help me up please!” gasped Goran reaching out towards the boy. But instead of assisting the elderly man, Jordan just swore, and aimed a kick at him, his foot impacting painfully with Goran’s rib cage and knocking the wind out of his aged body. It was lucky that Jordan was only wearing rubber flipflops, had he been wearing shoes, such a kick would most likely have broken a fragile bone. Even so the kick left Goran moaning and clutching his side in pain.

    That’s for breaking my shades, you careless old fuck!” shouted Jordan “Old morons like you should be dead and not getting in folk’s way!”

    Goran looked up at the youth, and his long trained eyes saw through the handsome face and the firm, tanned and athletic body to the arrogant, spoilt and cruel hart beneath them, and he felt a rage welling in his body of a force he had not felt in many years. “You will pay for this!” he hissed “you will pay!”

    What?” sneered Jordan “Fuck off you demented old fool!” he aimed a second kick at the old man, this time bruising Goran’s stomach and making him gasp for breath.

    I will make you pay for this!” gasped Goran

    Jordan laughed cruelly and was about to kick his victim again when he saw two men walking down the street towards them “Fuck off, you stupid old fool!” he scoffed “You couldn’t even kiss my ass!” he turned his speedo clad behind towards Goran and slapped his butt cheek contemptuously.

    You will be sorry!” snarled Goran, his bony hands clutching into fists. “Just wait!”

    Jordan snorted derisively “You are deaf too? you old fuck for brains?” his lips curled into an ugly grin “I SAID KISS MY ASS!!”

    Then, clutching his broken cell glasses, and scowling angrily he ran off in the direction of the local college. He would have liked to give the stupid old fossil a proper kicking, but was anxious not to be identified, and perhaps beaten up, by the approaching men.

    Old Goran watched his assailant depart, his shaman’s eyes focused directly on the seat of Jordan’s skimpy swimming trunks, which the boy had insultingly invited him to kiss, and at the firm. Juggling young buttocks, which those speedos hugged almost lovingly.

    In his bisexual youth Goran has not been immune to the attraction of a beautiful male bottom, but now he felt only burning fury, and an insatiable need for vengeance. He might not kiss Jordan’s rump, but his had other plans for it! Through the roaring of his rage he felt the ancient power rising within him. “You will pay!” he growled “and you will pay with that little American bottom of yours!! You will pay and you will keep on paying, until I get my revenge!!

    He then spoke in words which no American would recognise, and which few in those far away and mysterious mountains would remember, but they were words which were instantly heard and recognised by other things in a different, darker, place. Things which had slept for a long, long time but which now began to stir.

    Moments later the two passers by reached Goran and helped the old man to his feet, as he continued to mutter incantations in an ancient and almost forgotten tongue.

    Meanwhile, as Jordan ran off down the street towards the college, he could have no idea of the mystical forces which his cruel and arrogant behaviour had unleashed and that those long dormant forces were now aimed directly at his tender and well rounded, Speedo covered, bottom.

    The old man had told Jordan that he would pay for what he did, and the old man never told a lie.

    TO BE CONTINUED

    CLICK HERE TO READ CHAPTER ONE OF THE SHAMAN’S REVENGE.

    WARNING: Sore Bottomed Guys explores the various means of giving deserving young makes a sore bottom, not only spanking. So if you are squeamish about wasps, needles and other unpleasant things to sit on, it might not be the site for you

    Sore Bottomed Guys Blog


  • The Sting of the Jungle – At Sore Bottomed Guys

     

    We don’t do fiction on JockSpank, but fans of Bruce’s photo-manip illustrated fiction might enjoy the latest instalment of of the ongoing saga “The Sting og The Jungle” at the Sore Bottomed Guys Blog

    Click here to read “The Sting of the Jungle – Boy’s Return”

    Warning Sore Bottomed Guys does not only feature spanking


  • Unlucky for Levi – Levi Johnston’s very public spanking

    Based on the results of the JockSpank poll: “Does Levi Johnston deserve a spanking?”

    It was an arrogant and self satisfied young jock’s worst nightmare. “This can not be happening!!” fumed a deeply miserable 21 year old Levi Johnston as he nervously glanced back over his shoulder at the brightly lit television studio, packed with cameras from a dozen TV channels, all focused on his very exposed and very tender bare bottom, as was the 500 strong, specially invited, studio audience of people he had managed to offend and upset in his short life, all grinning from ear to ear, and the positively beaming CNN TV anchor man Anderson Cooper, who was acting as host for the event.
    But unlucky for Levi, it was happening

    It was not supposed to be like this, when he had agreed to participate in the TV poll “Should Levi Johnston be given his own Reality TV show, or should he be spanked live on National TV?”, he never imagined for one moment that the answer would be a resounding “He should be spanked live on national TV!”.  In his swollen headed arrogance he had been so certain that the nation would go wild at the prospect of a Levi Johnston show that he had invested what was left from what he had been paid for the PlayGirl shoot and what he had made from the sale of his book “Deer in the Headlights” together with everything he could borrow, into advance merchandising, none of which would now be sold, leaving him with huge debts, all of which would have to be paid back.

    As a result he had no option other than to go ahead and take the spanking in return for the paltry fee the TV studio had offered. It was either that or he would have to deal with some particularly unpleasant loan sharks, who would in all likelihood do considerably greater damage to a considerably greater number of his body parts.  At least after the spanking he would still be able to walk (and breath), if not sit down for some while.  

    He couldn’t believe that the chicks would not have saved him, and what about his legion of gay fans, surely they would prefer to see him in his own reality TV show rather than getting his bare ass spanked, …… gradually the flaw in that particular argument began to dawn on him.

    It hadn’t started too badly, East Coast Democrats in places like Vermont and Massachusetts, still delighted that he had pissed off Sarah Palin had voted for the reality show, but they were a rare exception not joined in any significant numbers until residents of the the crazier corners of California began to vote. Meanwhile, throughout the central fly-over states, the cry of “SPANK THE BRAT!” could be heard from sea to shining sea, growing louder as the states became redder. “Fucking Tea Party” snarled Levi under his breath.

    However, the vote was by no means split on party lines, America’s demographic is changing and in many multicultural urban areas, which would usually vote solidly Democrat, people voted in droves to see the white boy get his little pink butt spanked.  Likewise, cities with large gay populations like New York, Miami and San Francisco voted for the spanking, few gays may vote Republican, or be  fans of Levi’s one time mother in law to be, but they are first and foremost gay, and they had all seen that butt in PlayGirl.  If Levi had understood the power of advertising, given his low pain threshold, he would never have risked participating in a vote where him receiving a spanking was an option after posing for all those extremely spankable bare bottom pictures, or that shower video.

    When the results had come in they were devastating, and a clear indication that Levi’s high opinion of himself was not widely shared.  A gigantic 90% had voted to see him spanked, the reality show was the choice of a tiny, and primarily rather eccentric,10%.

    Bad news, they say, often comes in threes, and it was certainly so for Levi, firstly some joker had stolen his clothes from his dressing room while he was taking a shower, leaving him with only a small white towel similar to that he wore in the PlayGirl shoot, to cover his young naked body.                        
    Then ,when the security guards had finally dragged him to the studio, who should he see but Todd Palin wearing a huge, very smug, grin and tapping a large hairbrush against the palm of his hand.  It turned out the TV channel had asked if he would deliver the spanking, and he had waived his fee!.

    Thus it was that the handsome, but very unhappy Levi Johnston, one time school hockey jock,  D list celebrity, nude model and relatively unsuccessful writer, found himself face down across the knee of his one time prospective father in law, in a network TV studio, wearing nothing but a skimpy white towel.

    The towel did not provide protection for very long, as a gleeful Todd immediately reached down and firmly lifted it up revealing the very tempting target of Levi’s bare 21 year old bottom.

    At that very moment seismologists with particularly sensitive equipment would have reported a slight tremor running across the nation, as, in unison, two hundred million viewers moved closer to their TV sets, had they not all been watching their own televisions or live streaming at the time.      

    Levi hung his head in shame, his face glowing hot and pink with embarrassment, and with the horror of knowing his total humiliation was about to get infinitely worse.

    “Good evening Todd …and .. uh.. Levi!” rasped an unusually animated Anderson Cooper “Welcome to Network TV’s one off, 90 minute, prime time event “Levi Johnston Spanked Live”

    “Well Hello Anderson!” replied a cheerful Todd Palin, while a miserable, humiliated, and delightfully bare bottomed Levi just glowered silently.

    “As I say, this a 90 minute live show Todd, are you up to it?” asked Anderson Cooper raising an already arched eyebrow  
     
    “Don’t worry Anderson, I’ll fill that slot, with footage to spare” grinned Todd “When do I get to start?”

    “When you are ready!”

    Todd was more than ready and did not need to be asked twice. He immediately raised the hairbrush above his head, before bringing it down with a stinging “WHACK!” on Levi’s quivering pink butt cheek, followed within nano-seconds by a ringing “SWACK!” across the other inviting and equally trembling butt cheek.

    YAAAAOOOWWW! ….. AAAAGGGHHOOW!” yelled Levi “Stop, I’ve changed my mind!”

    But there was no going back, Todd Palin was not going to stop, and the TV networks had sunk too much money into the show to let an arrogant little twerp like Levi to wriggle out of his obligations.  Levi’s protestations were ignored, he was getting spanked like it or not.

    The blows continued to rain down on poor Levi’s exposed and vulnerable behind with a loud “WHACK!! ….WHACK!! …SWACK!” Levi was mortified, not only was he being publicly humiliated by being spanked naked, like some little kid, in front of a national TV audience of millions, plus a syndicated worldwide audience in numbers he could only guess at, but it also stung like fucking hell!!!!”

    By now Todd was really enjoying himself, he was 110% straight, yet few things in his live had been quite as pleasurable as was toasting Levi Johnston’s plump little tush, it was something he had looked forward to for a very long time, and he was going to enjoy every moment, with each blow he  paying back the good looking little jerk for each slight and slur he had inflicted on the Palin family, and compensating for all the hurt the young asshole had caused. This thought reminded him of all the things the young varmit across his knee had done over the last three years and Todd continued to belabor the swiftly reddening rump with added vigur.   “WHACK!! ….WHACK!! …SWACK! …WHACK!”   

    Then, with one firm movement he pushed Levi further over his knee so that the lower part of the young man’s behind was uppermost enabling Todd to concentrate his assault on that sensitive area where the young jock’s perfectly formed bottom reached the upper back of his legs, an area which as Todd recalled from his own youth was particularly tender.

    As Anderson Cooper watched Levi Johnston’s bare legs kicking in the air and the piston like rotation of Todd Palin’s spanking arm, he became aware of a odd, but not unpleasant sensation swelling in his lower body, which to his amazement he swiftly identified. This was most unexpected, he was a member of a particularly refined liberal social and political elite, a scion of a  socialist dynasty to the far left of the Democrat party, a debunker of birthers, a scourge of the Tea Party and, until now, a lifelong opponent of corporal punishment.  Yet, contrary to a lifetime of experience and against his better instincts, he was for the first time considering the possibility of being attracted to a Republican.

    It would  take months with his analyst before he was able to determine which of the two men in front of him, and which of their respective positions, Anderson found most desirable.

    Finally, Todd threw the hairbrush to the floor, however, Levi’s ordeal was far from over. A significant number of voters had chosen the supplementary option in the poll which said that Levi should be “paddled until he cried”, and Todd was determined that they should get what the voted for.

    He ordered Levi to bend over and then picked up a large leather paddle.   

                   
    Levi’s who’s, now bright red bottom was already burning as if he had been attacked by a hundred angry hornets, looked back over his shoulder in horror at the latest agonizing instalment of his ordeal and immediately saw the bank of cameras all focused on his upturned bare bottom. He realised, with a searing  rush of embarrassment, that now his most intimate parts were on full public display.
    In his horrified mind’s eye he imagined the image appearing on a hundred million TV screens across the country.

    “It make no difference kid” chucked Todd Palin guessing at the cause of Levi’s reaction, “They already knew you were an asshole, they are now just seeing the evidence!!”    

    With that he delivered a thunderous “TWHACK!” across the centre of Levi’s reluctantly proffered bottom, eliciting a highly satisfying yowl of distress from the miserable and bending 21 year old hunk in front of him.

    The show would rank among the top ratings hits of the decades, in state after state parks and town centres were empty, as from homesteads and apartments in every city every town and every rural community could be head shouts of “SPANK THAT BRATT!” … “LET HIM HAVE IT!” …. “WHOP THAT ASS!” Followed by whoops and loud burst of applause.  With the exception of a small number  of anti-spanking campaigners, and  sundry misguided do-gooders, the vast majority agreed that the networks had rediscovered a lost art of entertainment, and in general they applauded the deal the main television channels had made with HBO and various cable channels, enabling then to change established policy, and broadcast images of male nudity at prime time.

    At last the 90 minutes were over, and as Todd shook hands with with a highly impressed, and politically confused, Anderson Cooper, a naked Levi Johnston, tears running down his face jumped up and down clutching his stinging and seriously well spanked bottom.  In doing so, he unwittingly  exposed to the hungry cameras and cheering viewers that final part of his anatomy which he had kept hidden from view during his infamous PlayGirl shoot. By doing so, he ensured that his ongoing humiliation would be heightened by the endless comparisons and late night TV jokes he would be forced to endure, for months and years to come.  

    As Todd watched the sobbing Levi rubbing his still cherry red bottom, which resembled nothing so much as two little ripe tomatoes, he had the satisfaction of knowing that a not only well deserved but also long lasting punishment had been inflicted.  He smiled to himself reflecting on the fact that although the sting would eventually fade from Levi’s smarting young bottom, the sting to his ego would be an unwelcome companion for years to come.

    As an added bonus, Todd knew his wife would be in a very good mood that evening!!

    The End          
    ______________________
    The results of the JockSpank poll – “Does Levi Johnston deserve a spanking, which inspired this story, can be seen in the right hand column of this blog.

    Related posts
    Celebrities in need of a spanking – Levi Johnston
    Early poll results are bad news for Levi Johnston


  • In The Robotics Lab

    By the artist Franco

    At Robotron Robotics Inc., Dr Robert Smythe, senior fellow and Director Of Research is testing the new M-38 Robot.  Dr. Smythe stated that the new M-38 is currently sporting heightened and enhanced abilities, including a more advanced tactile touch comprehension, as well as greater speed, agility and strength. The new, robot also boasts improved reasoning and intuitive skills and compared to it’s predecessor, a much, more, efficient problem solver.

    For the test Dr Smythe gave the robot a one word command program instead of writing a list or a grouping of basic, functionary commands. This word (program) was known only to Dr. Smythe so as not to compromise the test in any way.

    The M-38 executed it’s task flawlessly, easily deciding the best methods with which to prepare and present the subject and volunteer assisting with this critical experiment; Junior Research Associate, Jimmy Orbbs, the youngest member of Robotron’s research team.  Mr. Orbbs was initially, quite excited to be part of this test.

    As the test progressed, the entire research team was  impressed with the abilities of the M-38.  Even Robotron’s previous model, the M-37 was able to follow and document the entire process with interest.  Dr. Smythe deemed the experiment a complete success!

    However, Jimmy was not at all enamored with the test and voiced his displeasure. As the experiment progressed, the usually cooperative, Mr.Orbbs became less and less willing to proceed and became quite adamant about halting the test.

    Resistance proved futile, as the M-38 responded to the junior researcher’s un-cooperative behavior by briskly applying, (at length), a wooden ping pong paddle squarely across Jimmy’s bare, upturned posterior, thus giving our junior researcher his first, spanking ever in his young, thirty one years.

    Of course, after the experiment was over, a smiling Dr. Smythe revealed the one word command program.