Superman zoomed through the early evening sky, scanning the ground below. As he flew, he felt good about himself. How powerful it made him feel to soar above the earth. How great it felt to be so strong and invincible. How _s_e_x_y his tight, thin, form-fitting costume felt on his magnificent body. And how wonderful the air felt as it whooshed over his muscled frame. He knew he was the most powerful, most awesome hero on earth, that there was no situation he could not handle, and that nobody could beat him--unless they had Kryptonite, which seemed to have been in short supply lately. He felt proud to be the one and only Superman.
Despite his thoughts of exhilaration, he kept his eyes trained on the countryside below as he flew. He was looking for a particular house. He had been tipped off that some college kids were operating a meth lab in the house and he intended to put a stop to it.
Superman flew farther and farther from Metropolis, out into the country. Then he saw the house he had been looking for. The anonymous tip had described it perfectly. It was sitting by itself, shrouded by a densely wooded area, with only a narrow dirt road leading through the trees to give access to it.
The house was old and shabby. It seemed to have been painted yellow at one time, but now it was mostly gray. Siding boards were peeling off and floor boards on the tattered front porch were warped and pulling up. Almost all of the windows were boarded up. A likely place, he thought, for a group of boys with limited resources to set up such an operation. And one not easily discovered by law enforcement agencies.
But Superman was no law enforcement agency. He was the Man of Steel, and (with the help of the tip) he had had no problem in finding the house, as secluded as it was.
Without hesitating, Superman flew down toward the house. He decided he would take them by surprise, without bothering to knock. He knew it wasn't quite ethical, but--what the heck--he was Superman.
He reached the front porch and, without even touching down, continued flying toward the front door. He was only a couple of feet from the door when he put out his hands to push it down.
But an instant before he struck, the door opened and the man of steel went sailing through. It happened so quickly he didn't have time to react, or stop himself. He flew into the entryway of the old house and crash landed on the floor, splintering some boards as he hit.
The impact stunned him, and so it didn't register immediately that the awkward landing stung his face, hands, chest, stomach, crotch, and legs--all of which made contact with the floor when he slammed into it.
He was also stunned by the fact that he had smacked down in such a clumsy fashion; this had never happened to him before.
Superman was hoping that no one had seen his embarrassing landing, but this was quickly dashed when a hand grabbed hold of his hair and pulled him up. He was too groggy to resist, nor did he struggle when two sets of powerful hands took hold of him, each clasping one of his arms at the wrist.
Once on his feet, he saw the two strong boys on either side of him holding his arms. On his left was a tall, powerful, blond boy. On his right was another muscular boy, very handsome, of average height. From his vantage point, he couldn't see the tall, Latino boy with the swimmer's build and who still held him by the hair. He also didn't notice the young man who stood at some distance with a video camera, taping the entire incident. All seemed to be about eighteen or nineteen years old.
Still woozy and taken off guard by his situation, Superman allowed himself to be led into a room off the entryway. At this point the Latino boy let go of his hair and just pushed gently at his back to help guide him where he was being led. As his head began to clear slightly, he became vaguely aware that the grasps of the two youths on either side of him actually hurt his wrists a little.
This room looked like it had once been a library or study, only there were no books on the shelves--only an old, beat-up desk in front of the far wall and a few Bentwood chairs scattered about. Like the exterior and the entryway, this room was shabby and unkempt.
One boy, of average build with brown hair, sat behind the desk with his feet casually up on it. A number of others were scattered around the room. Superman didn't have the presence of mind or the physical freedom to look around and actually count them. But there were nine all together, including the ones who held him and the boy who was still videotaping. All were about the same age--late teens--and were dressed pretty much like boys that age tend to dress: lots of t-shirts and jeans and sneakers.
Still not thinking to put up a fight, Superman was guided up in front of the desk. The Latino boy grabbed his hair again, pulling his head backward so that the man of steel had to turn his eyes downward to see the boy at the desk. With his other hand, he reached underneath Superman's cape, grasping his belt, and pushed the Kryptonian's hips forward. The boys on either side pulled back so his arms were stretched nearly straight out.
In his befuddled state, Superman assumed that once his mind cleared altogether he would simply break free. It didn't occur to him that he was, in fact, weakened and quite helpless.
"Hello, Superman," said the boy at the desk, calmly. Superman had recovered enough by now to get a look at this young man. He wore a light tan t-shirt and ragged cutoffs. "I'm glad you could join us."
"I was told you boys were involved in some sort of drug operation here," said the man of steel, boldly. "I'm here to break it up." His boldness, however, seemed out of place for someone being held in such an awkward position. Any minute now, he told himself, he'd have to break free and get on with the business which he came for.
"Oh, come now, Superman," responded the boy at the desk. "We're not that stupid." Then he added humorously after a pause, "Well, Kyle here is," indicating the blond muscle-boy on Superman's left. Kyle grinned sheepishly, but held his grasp on Superman's arm.
"No," the boy continued, "That was just a ruse to get you here. We want you to help us out."
"That's what I do," said Superman confidently. "I help people."
"Good," the boy went on. "You see, we're all pledging the same fraternity. By the way, my name is Steve. I know yours.
"As you probably know, most fraternity initiations involve some sort of spanking. We weren't crazy about the idea, so we asked if there was any way for us to get out of being paddled and still get in the fraternity. Well, they told us there was: if we all spanked Superman and got it on tape then we didn't have to get spankings ourselves. Well, naturally, we jumped at the chance and devised this scheme to get you here and give you a spanking. You don't mind, do you?"