Soooo in trying to get my thoughts in order on a possible Gargoyles pic I’d commission, I...

Soooo in trying to get my thoughts in order on a possible Gargoyles pic I’d commission, I accidentally wrote 600 words of Thailog giving Hudson a spanking.  ._.

“Still think I’m just like Goliath, ‘Old Soldier’?”

In his long career as a protector of his clan and castle, Hudson had often been in charge of discipline for the next generation of gargoyles. That included even Goliath, whom Hudson had put over his knee many times. Even after the strong and strapping man had supplanted him as leader of the clan, Hudson still occasionally put him over his knee. His station as eldest still afforded him that privilege. Goliath was a good leader, but it was still important to show him he was accountable for his actions. Out of respect for his old mentor, not once had Goliath ever sought to switch their places.

However, in a pitched battle with Goliath’s evil clone Thailog, Hudson found himself tumbled over a knee as easily as if the younger gargoyle had done it a thousand times before. Held in a sure grip and with his loincloth shredded away like paper, Hudson’s struggles were ineffectual as his body was adjusted to Thailog’s liking and his bare, gray-haired bottom was propped up to become nothing but a rounded target. Having not been punished in such a way since finding himself in this new modern era, Hudson was at first understandably confused as to what his new position meant. But the first hard wallop across his backside was a revelation. Although he’d had a reputation in his prime for being tough as nails, to his dismay he found himself in this case letting out a yowl after a mere five blows. Thailog was just as strong as Goliath, if not stronger, and his spanks packed quite a punch.

“What’s the matter, Hudson? I thought you’d be much more difficult to break. You’ll serve as a bad example to the others,” Thailog told him sardonically.

“Others? What do ye mean others–youch!!” Hudson groaned as he wiggled his smarting cheeks, already reddening under the heavy blows.

As if to answer his question, just then came the sound of slaps from other corners of the battlefield, as well as assorted yelps which he recognized could only originate from his younger clansmen. Hudson craned his head in all directions and blanched at what he saw.

It appeared he wasn’t the only one who’d fallen victim to a surprise spank attack that night. Hotheaded Brooklyn was also pinned over a lap, in his case that of Hollywood, the clone of Broadway, and was twisting helplessly as the thick hand made contact with his own red bared cheeks. Broadway in turn was gasping and wriggling over Brooklyn’s clone Malibu’s lap, his chubby buttocks dancing and wobbling under the sharp whacks. Hudson’s own clone had captured Lexington and wasn’t even bothering to land from flight before delivering his punishment, slamming his palm against the pert rear held under his arm. Embarrassingly, Goliath had been taken down by the smallest of their enemy, Lexington’s clone Brentwood, who’d locked the large gargoyle’s muscled arms behind his back with some form of electronic manacles and was now amusing himself playing patty-cake with the outraged warrior’s caught buns. As Hudson watched, each of his kinsmen’s yowls grew louder as their punishments intensified, but he soon found himself the loudest of all as Thailog scorched his arse with the most painful of blows, somehow ensuring that each hit landed with maximum force and inflicted maximum sting on his old, thick buttocks.

“Now now, boys. Don’t make them cry just yet. The night is still young.” Thailog smirked.

Hudson panted as the spankings ceased. He’d been brought right to the brink of tears and no further, but he saw now through wet eyes that each of the clones were bringing out strong cords to tie the lot of them up. He had no idea what Thaiog’s plans entailed after this humiliating loss–whether this was done merely to embarrass them as part of some self-prescribed ego trip, or if this was but the first step in some more elaborate scheme. But one thing was clear; whatever happened next, he and the rest of the Manhattan Clan would still be nursing red, sore, and blistered bottoms until the sun rose that morning…