Note - This series is dedicated to the original master of jocks-getting-their-dumb-but-cute-asses-humiliated-and-spanked stories, Jerry Berry/Jake.
The van screeched to a halt. Joey and I were lifted again. We'd arrived at our destination. None of us had any clue as to what was going to happen to us. All we were told was that we were going to be playing something called "paddleball", and the leotards that they dressed us in were our "paddleball uniforms".
The back door of the van opened, and sunlight made us blink - there they were, our pledge masters - Dean, Rick, Matt, and the seriously sadistic electronics/mechanical genius Evan. Evan was the inventor of such wonderful torture devices as the winch that Joey and I were currently hanging from, the remote control vibrating buttplugs (more on those later), the pop paddles, and the ever wonderful spandexshrink body bags. When I got to be a brother - and after all the humiliation I had suffered, I intended to - I was going to beat the ever-lovin' _s_h_i_t_ out of Evan. He was the mastermind behind most of the horror they had put us through. And to think, it was only two weeks into the pledge period.
But I digress.
"Ready, Butts?" Dean bellowed. Point of Interest - Us four pledges were collectively known as Butts, and we each got our pledge period names....I was Buttplug, Joey was Buttcrack, Spike was Buttpie, and Gil was Buttface. Charming, eh?
The four of us chanted like Marines. "Yes MIGHTY BROTHERS, sirs!"
They untied the four of us, and led us out into the sunlight. Thankfully, we seemed to be in a deserted parking lot, outside what looked like a large school. No one was there to admire our body suits that hugged every inch of our muscled bodies, and our blushing red faces and butts. The brothers pulled up me and Joey's tights, practically wedging the material up our crevices - and smoothing the bullseyes over our buns. Matt's hands rubbing my butt ensured my hard-on was here to stay, seeing as my butthole was still tingling from the absence of Gil's face.
"You're gonna need this target, Plug. You'll see." Matt whispered into my ear and slapped my ass - making my buttcheeks quiver. As you can guess - the tight, thin nylon was absolutely no protection against slaps, spanks, paddles, etc. They liked to put us in tights alot - mainly because of the humiliation, but also because of the thin material. Rick's sister worked in a dancewear shop and was also a seamstress - hence the scary pledge uniforms that the bitch was only happy to provide. The four of us kind of squirmed and tugged at our wedgies and pulled at our crotches. Our _c_o_c_k_ and balls were kind of squashed into huge mounds by the too small tights that we were forced to wear.
Gil and Spike were still panting and squinting in the sunlights. Their faces were bright red, and thankfully bore no telltale signs of their ordeal. Still, I wasn't looking forward to my turn on the receiving end of face-sitting. Matt and Evan pulled nylons over Gil and Spike's faces and slapped them each on the cheek and tweaked their noses, all in good fun.
"Follow me, pledges! Double time!" Dean yelled. We got into our "Butts to Nuts" formation and jogged through double doors, with the mighty brothers dopeslapping us on the back of our heads and hand-smacking our bullseyed butts, chortling and screaming at us to lift our legs higher, move faster, etc.
We passed through a set of large double doors into a large, sparkling gymnasium. Typical elementary school length. The wood floors were so polished that they gleamed. At either end of the gymnasium, were two hockey nets. These looked different from your average hockey net, though. There was something about them that had Evan's touch. I noticed at the top of each one were hinges as if the nets themselves could be snapped closed. Maybe they could be folded or closed for easier transport?
Leaning against the wall nearest us were four what looked like hockey sticks, except the blade on the botton was thicker and wider, made for an outrageously large puck. Then I noticed it, each one had a slim covering of what appeared to be vinyl. Pop paddles!
"_s_h_i_t_, those are pop paddles! Some kind of _f_u_c_k_ed-up, new version!" I whispered to Gil. He froze like a deer in headlights.
"Oh man, they're gonna spank us with those things..."Spike whined and Joey elbowed him to shut him up. Spike was stocky, and tended to whine a lot despite his name. One time the brothers dressed us all like babies and Spike was the only one they actually put into Pampers Plus Size. He didn't take the hint.
"Okay, Butts! Welcome to your first game of Paddleball!" Rick began. The others were sipping on forties they had brought. They had all slipped on elbow and kneepads, and black batting gloves. They looked ready for business and my everpresent hard-on actually wilted a bit.
"Paddleball is a favorite game of the brothers here, and you will learn to love it! Dean and I are the Pink team and Matt and Evan are blue. Our goal? Dean and I have to get both Buttface and Buttplug into the pink net at the same time - and The Blue team has to get Buttpie and Buttcrack into their net!"
"Oh, great - we're gonna be human hockey pucks.." Gil hissed to me. "What are they gonna do? Pick us up and throw us in?" I whispered to myself. My answer would soon be forthcoming.
"Your goal in this? Well, the four of you will start off center-court, if one of you is able to make it out the double doors behind your respective nets - you get to ride up front with us on the way home. And the first of you two in the nets are hereby the losers - which means you two are going to get to test out some new furniture that Evan here has designed..."
Our buttcheeks clenched collectively. Anything eluding to Evan and "furniture" usually means our buttholes getting stuffed in some creative new way.
Joey raised his hand. His voice sounded like a scared little boy's.
"So, uh, how are we gonna be put in the nets?"
Evan walked over, collected the four hockey sticks/paddles and passed them out to the mighty brothers. Not saying a word.
"You'll see, Buttcrack. Pledges on your marks!"
They moved us into the middle - back to back and butt-to-butt, side-by-side with our teammates. Gil and I faced the Pink net and Joey and Spike the Blue. I could feel Spike's buns already wriggling against mine in anticipation. I think we had already figured out how the brothers were getting us into the nets. You see, the gym floor was polished beyond belief. We were entirely dressed in almost frictionless nylon, including our feet. Remember when you were a kid and liked to slide on the polished linoleum kitchen floor in your sock feet? Magnify that slippery floor and frictionless material by ten.
O _s_h_i_t_, I thought.
"I don't know about you _d_i_c_k_heads," Gil said,"but my already swollen ass is out those double doors. I am sure as hell not going to experience any more of that homo Evan's _f_u_c_k_ing Spanish Inquisition torture devices today!"
The rest of us murmured agreement as the whistle blew. Let the games begin!