|Havoc's Friday Evening
Author: Croup PM
Finding himself called into Mustang's office, Havoc is lectured on some discipline problems. But what the hell--the punishment is a spanking? UPDATE: Mustang isn't the only one blistering Havoc's tail.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor - Jean H. & Roy M. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,263 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 21 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 06-08-09 - Published: 03-14-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4130349
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This chapter (and the one before it) were written for y!gallery's annual "Havoc Week" which would explain some of the fic's inner meta. ;]
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April 27th, the dreaded day.
The worst of the whole week, in Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc's opinion. Not only was it the one in the middle, making it 'Hump Day', but the activity that took place during it . . .
Yeah, it was even worse than the 24th, where he always got somehow stripped naked, or "lost" his uniform, or have it spontaneously catch fire (and he didn't believe a word of it when his Colonel said that one was "an accident"), or . . . somehow he'd appear in public with no clothing. Embarrassing, but at least surviveable.
Or the 29th, where he got molested in his sleep (he needed to set up bars on his bunk already, all these horny officers around). Well, if he kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, he could go on pretending it was just a particularly vivid wet-dream and so avoid any awkwardness the next day. Even the 30th where he'd open his closet door to find ONLY a skimpy bunny-girl outfit (complete with mini-skirt) inside, or worse, wasn't too bad. After all, what man didn't love a good mini-skirt?
So yes, those days could be trying. But Second Lieutenant Havoc was a fun-loving guy. He could take it. And that didn't even count the days of the week that he LIKED. Such as the 26th, where always got a nice lunch (though once it was pumped full of aphrodisiacs). Or the 28th, where he invariably "got lucky" (though it always seemed to be with men . . . ) But back to the original point. This day was the worst.
Because today was the day Second Lieutenant Havoc always got spanked.
Oh, sure, it doesn't sound so bad. A couple playful slaps, a few light smacks to the rear and it's all over, right? Wrong. The things always hurt like hell, and left his butt-cheeks sore and tender for days. And just try explaining why you've got a red butt in the showers to other guys the following morning. Yep, he got teased bad, and by now every man in the branch knew just what this day meant for poor Havoc and his poor backside. Hell, most of them had started placing bets on who'd be performing the deed this year.
The first time it'd happened, it'd been the Colonel himself. He'd been called into his office, stood at attention, gotten a little lecture, nothing too out of the ordinary. But then, BOOM. Hoisted over Roy Mustang's lap with his pants drooped around his ankles, like he was a little boy on the farm again getting hand-spanked by Pa. He'd yelled and hollered and struggled to get loose, but his superior officer had held him down good and really burned his ass--literally, since on the last hit the Colonel had activated his array to add some heat to the swat. It'd left Havoc a very sorry young man, and his butt literally smoking just like one of his cigarettes.
It'd been the most embarrassing thing that'd ever happened to him in his life. And no, he could NOT explain why he still got a boner every time he thought about it.
But then the following year it happened again! This time it was his buddy Breda, for teasing him about his weight of all things. Well, Havoc would never tease him again after Breda tossed him over a chubby knee, yanked his pants off, and blistered his bare ass with a small, hard paddle. Why Breda was so sensitive that day to something he usually smiled and joked about himself was a mystery, as was why he'd "just happened" to have a paddle on his person in the first place. Only in later years would a suspicious Havoc place the date of that spanking on the same day as the one he'd gotten from Mustang.
The next year, it happened yet again. Big surprise, right? Maes Hughes gave it to him good that time, with the non-explanation that in case his next child was a son, he'd need the practice of punishing an unruly boy. The man's wife wasn't even pregnant yet! But all of Havoc's protests fell on deaf ears, and by the end of that spanking his ass had resembled a pair of red, plump, well-toned cherries. When he was done, Hughes had insisted on showing the teary-eyed Second Lieutenant a collection of photos of his daughter. Havoc had agreed fervently that she was adorable, afraid he'd get whooped more if he said otherwise.
But the year after that had been the worst, and most bizarre, by far. By that time Havoc had figured out the significance of the week, and tried to lock himself in his room until it was over. But that morning he received a summons from the Fuhrer himself, and there was no way he could refuse that. So he'd nervously trooped himself up to Central Command. He was let through into Fuhrer Bradley's office immediately, and he'd stood before the man shaking in his boots, wondering what was so important that he, a mere enlisted man, would be called before the leader of the entire Amestris military.
Well, Havoc wished he could say it was a surprise when the Fuhrer merely crooked a finger at him, set him over his lap, bared his ass, and began a brisk spanking. He wished he could say that he even took it well, to impress the Fuhrer with his stoicness. But no, he squirmed from the get-go, yelping, twisting, and groaning from the sting. The Fuhrer spanked with an almost inhuman strength and precision, and it wasn't long before Lieutenant Havoc's toned, trim backside of which he was so proud was once again reduced to it's yearly state of hamburger meat.
No explanation given afterward. He'd simply been dismissed to return to his quarters, rubbing a throbbing rump. Havoc had collapsed on his bed that night, convinced that he was cursed. What evil diabolical power was setting it up so that he, year after year, got these humiliating spankings!?
Whatever it was, it was clearly too much for an ordinary man like himself to fight. That's why, this year, Havoc didn't even bother trying to avoid his fate. He went about his day as usual, trying not to think about it, but knowing it was coming. Who would get him this time? Fuery? Falman? Black Hayate? Maybe even that twerpy Elric kid, Ed. Or his little brother Al. He could see himself across Alphonse's armored knee, the boy's metal palm clanging against his ass. And he bet that Edward could transmute some killer paddles if he wanted to . . . Havoc's butt twitched just thinking about the possibilities.
Thankfully, he didn't need to dwell on it past morning. It happened during his lunch break. There he'd sat in the the military cafeteria (grateful that he still could sit, at least for now), gulping down some almost-edible grub and bemoaning his fate, trying to ignore all the smirks and jibes of his fellow soldiers. But then who would come up behind him but Major Loius Armstrong, the "Strong Arm Alchemist". Havoc paid him no mind at first, but then started when a large hand fell on his shoulder.
"I've been told by a few of your peers that this day holds special significance for you, Second Lieutenant. Is that true?" asked the mustached man.
"Significance, huh? . . . Yeah, guess you could say that," Havoc replied grumpily around a bite of his sandwich.
The big man beamed. "Outstanding! I was afraid I'd missed the date. In that case, I have something I must give you."
Havoc blinked up at him in confusion. "Yeah?" he asked, "What's that?"
Without speaking another word, Armstrong unbuttoned the top two buttons of his uniform jacket. Whipping the garment off, he exposed his impressive upper body physique and quickly struck a pose to flex. Havoc found himself gaping at the man's gleaming, overly muscular chest. His bulging pecs and rippling abs--and at his strong, brawny arms. He had a good body himself, but it was nothing compared to the major's.
In a surprising move, Armstrong next picked Havoc up by his blue collar. "Apologies, Second Lieutenant! Had I known you were getting disciplined on a yearly basis, I would've done this much sooner!"
"Wh--what? Done what sooner?" Havoc asked. He was startled to see actual tears running down the emotional major's face as he replied.
"This!" Armstrong shifted his grip on the lesser-built man, and put a booted foot on the lunch table. Then, he casually draped Havoc over his outstretched knee, aligning him both so that his backside was prominently raised, and so that the rest of the men eating could get a good view of it.
"Uhh--woah! Wait!" Havoc tried to say, "I think you've got the wrong idea!"
"Nonsense!" Armstrong insisted as he yanked Havoc's pants down.
Right there in the crowded cafeteria.
"YEEOW!" Havoc didn't even have time to be embarrassed before several powerful blows exploded on his naked ass. He was immediately squirming and wriggling, trying to get away, but the big man kept him pinned easily, dispensing painful smacks to his backside as if he did it every day. They made quite a sight there, Armstrong with his naked upper body, Havoc with his naked lower body--and with his butt-cheeks quickly turning red.
"To think, all this time you'd been receiving sub-par discipline from other men instead of consulting with me immediately," Armstrong said, those passionate tears still pouring out as his muscles rippled in the course of his duty.
"Nooo! I don't wanna get my ass beat anymore!" Havoc moaned, twisting from side to side uselessly. He could feel his buttocks actually bouncing and jouncing from the force applied to them. The rest of the base guffawed and drank in the sight.
"And miss out on a true Armstrong spanking?" the big major said, "This punishment technique has been passed down in my family for generations!"