Author's Note: This blurb takes place during Season 5 Episode 8 'Changing Channels'. This is my take on what could have happened if the boys were dropped into a porn channel. This was written for the summer 2012 challenge over on spn_spankings. I'm on Team Disciplinary, but wrote this for Team Erotic.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and I'm not making any money from this story.

WARNINGS: Spanking, Bondage, BDSM, strong Wincest overtones but no actual Wincest. (For those who don't know, Wincest stands for Winchester Incest, i.e. Sam and Dean having sex.)

THE PORN CHANNEL

Clenching his jaw, Sam said, "I've got genital herpes," and hoped to God that the next show The Trickster decided to drop them in, would be less humiliating than this commercial.

Once the commercial's music ended, Sam and Dean instantly found themselves in a completely different setting. Jumping from scene to scene was jarring each time, but this time was worse.

"Oh fuck no!" Dean said, looking down at his nude body. He looked up over his head, and tried to yank his wrists out of the cuffs that held him in place against a sturdy wooden X frame. When that didn't work, he strained to pull his ankles out of their restraints as well.

"Dean?" Sam's uncertain voice came from behind him.

Dean craned his neck around, and had to blink a few times while taking in what his little brother had on. Sam was wearing black biker boots with silver buckles, tight black leather pants, and a matching leather vest with no shirt under it. Sam's shoulders appeared to bulge out of the vest, which was a couple of sizes too small. The vest stopped before Sam's low slung pants started, showing off a strip of muscled stomach, hip bones, and a small strip of hair that started at his navel and disappeared into his pants. But the thing Dean's eyes zeroed in on was the large black leather paddle in Sam's right hand.

"Herpes wasn't bad enough? Now we're in a porno?" Sam hissed with a scowl. He held the paddle up for Dean to see, as if he might have missed it. "A gay BDSM porno?"

Feeling slightly panicked Dean tried to take a deep breath, and failed.

"Are you going to punish him or am I?" A voice said from behind Sam to the left.

Both brothers snapped their heads around, and saw that there were two other men in the room with them. The first was a man in his mid forties wearing an expensive suit and holding a leash. The second was a naked young man in his twenties kneeling next to the older man's feet, and wearing the collar that the leash was attached to.

"Punish him?" Sam asked.

"Your insolent little sub looked me directly in the eye." The man in the suit gave Dean a withering glare before grinding out the words, "And he's still doing it. I demand reparation."

Dean's eyes opened wide with surprise for an instant, before turning his gaze to the floor once he understood who his character was supposed to be.

"So either you punish him, or I will." The man turned his eyes to Sam.

Sam's eyes darted between the man in the suit and the back of Dean's bowed head a couple of times. He'd never told Dean, but he knew quite a bit about BDSM thanks to Jessica. He rolled his head around on his shoulders once, and got into character. He took a couple of steps towards the man in the suit, and used his substantial height and build to intimidate the older man. "You won't touch a hair on his head. He's my property. I'm the only one who touches him."

Dean's head snapped back up. He stared slack jawed at the back of his younger brother's head.

The man in the suit swallowed once, fixed his tie, and said, "Of course. I didn't mean to overstep, but you did agree to punish him before we came in."

"On my terms, and in my way," Sam said with authority. "If you can't stay quiet for it, then I'll have to ask you to leave."

Dean started shaking his head, wanting to be anywhere other than in this strange universe where his baby brother Sammy was a freaking Top. He was going to enjoy killing The Trickster for this.

Sam turned around, and the brothers locked eyes for a moment. Sam's eyes narrowed, he took two large steps over to Dean, and slapped his brother's naked ass with the paddle.

"Fuck!" Dean yelped, and stared at his brother in shock, unable to believe what had just happened.

Sam leaned in and whispered, "Play the part if we want to survive, remember? Keep your eyes down as a show of respect, and don't speak unless asked a direct question."

Dean jerked his head back as far as it would go, so he could look Sam in the eye again, trying to understand how this was his brother. "Christo," he muttered.

Dean's hair was just long enough for Sam to tangle his fingers into it. He balled his hand into a fist, trapping the inch long strands between his fingers, and shoved Dean's head down to look at the floor.

Sam put his lips right next to Dean's ear and whispered, "I'm not possessed you idiot, I'm playing along. I've seen your browser history, so don't tell me that you don't know how a submissive is supposed to behave." He relaxed his hand in Dean's hair, and rubbed the area gently. "Close your eyes, and pretend I'm a woman if it helps."

Dean's body automatically relaxed at the gentle touch while in restraints. He'd never told Sam about it, but he had done this type of thing more than once with different women. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but while he'd been a top more often than he'd been a bottom, he'd enjoyed being a bottom more. Every time he'd done it, he felt a deep sense of relief during those minutes where he didn't have to concentrate on anything other than obedience. He could forget that his choices would determine the world's fate, at least for an hour or two.

Sam cocked his head to the side and watched as his brother's body visibly relaxed. His eyes registered surprise for a second. He'd known that Dean would play along once he'd gotten past his panic, but Sam had pictured Dean defiant and angry while it was happening, not relaxed and willing. Seeing this side of his brother made him feel protective in a way that he'd only felt before when he was with Jessica.

Shaking that thought out of his head, he stepped back and examined the pink splotch he'd left on Dean's ass. In a firm tone, he said, "Five for looking directly at the gentleman across the room. I expect better of you. You will count them out and apologize to the man with each one. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Dean's voice rang out clear in the room. There was no hesitancy or shame in the words.

Sam felt an unexpected rush of empowerment, and even a hint of arousal. He swung the paddle with enough force to sting like hell, but not bruise.

A tiny gasp escaped Dean's lips before he said with calm, "One. I apologize for looking you in the eye, Sir."

Dean's gasps became more pronounced with each of the next four slaps, and his calm voice wavered slightly at the beginning of the last apology, but his body stayed perfectly still and relaxed through it all.

Feeling inordinately pleased at his brother's efforts, Sam gently cupped the back of Dean's neck with his hand, and said, "Good."

The affectionate touch, mixed with the restraints, and the warm burning on his ass caused Dean's body to react whether he wanted it to or not. The muscles in his shoulders bunched up with tension as his dick started to swell.

Sam removed his hand from Dean's neck when he felt the muscles under his hand straining. Confused, he stepped back, to take a closer look at his brother, and realized immediately why Dean was no longer relaxed. The brothers had a long history of not talking about awkward moments, so Sam knew Dean would hate to have his growing erection pointed out, especially since Sam was finding the whole experience arousing, too. Instead, he carried on as if he hadn't noticed.

"Ten for looking me in the eye. I want you to count them, thank me for each one, and tell me it won't happen again. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Dean's voice was softer this time.

Sam slapped the paddle down again, and waited.

"One, thank you, Sir. It will never happen again."

By the third blow, Dean's shoulders were relaxed, and his dick was standing at attention. By the eighth blow, Sam had to readjust himself in the restraining pants.

The tenth blow was slightly harder than the others had been, and a deep groan came out of Dean's throat before he said, "Ten, thank you, Sir. It will never happen again."

Both men were breathing hard when it was done. Again, Sam cupped the back of Dean's neck, squeezed it gently, and murmured, "Such a good boy."

Dean's entire head and neck turned beet red. He could hear the sincerity in his brother's voice, and a deeply buried younger version of Dean's soul that had been desperate to please soaked up the praise.

Sam stepped back, and turned to the older man. "Are you satisfied with the punishment?"

The man in the suit scrutinized the restrained man for several seconds, before finally nodding. "Yes."

Sam immediately turned back to his brother, reached up to undo the right wrist cuff, and said softly, "Let's get you out of these."

Before Sam could unclasp the buckle that held the cuff in place, both men instantly found themselves in yet another new setting. They were fully clothed, and standing side by side in a brightly lit kitchen, with glaringly colorful furniture.

Before he could figure out where they were this time, Dean leaned in and whispered, "If you ever bring that up…"

"That's never gonna happen." Sam assured him. "Now smile. It's a sitcom."

"A sitcom?" Dean asked, looking around.

Sam pointed to the ceiling. "Can't you hear the music?"

A cheesy theme song started, so Dean and Sam both plastered smiles on their faces, playing along until they could figure a way out of this nightmare.

The End