"Congrats, Bishop, you're a real, bonafide X-Man now!"
"Thanks, everybody. It means a lot."
The party had gone great. Jubilee had arranged the lighting and music for it, naturally, at least until Storm had put on some soft jazz records from her own collection. Then there'd been the food. Bishop was still getting used to 20th century food. In the future he came from it was mostly nutrient slurries. They kept the body going, but weren’t the most appetizing.
Here, though... here it was all different.
Foot-long subs, chicken wings, tuna salads… the list went on. The X-Men didn’t know how good they had it. Hell, even their milk impressed him each morning. It came from real cows.
No party could go on forever though. As time went on, the women drifted off. Storm was the first to go, claiming a headache. Rogue followed soon after. Jean had to go do something baby-related. And Jubilee, naturally, had other parties to attend with people closer to her own age. The last to go was Cyclops, saying he had an early morning training cycle to prep.
That left Bishop alone with ‘just the guys'. Wolverine, Beast, Morph, and Gambit.
And they were all... smirking at him. Somewhat unnervingly.
"Alright bub, drop 'em."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, rookie. Drop the pants. You've had the welcome party. Now it's time for the initiation."
Bishop frowned at them before remembering his last history upload. Ah, an initiation. Hazing rituals for new teammates which had been popular around the turn of the century. Fraternities, sports teams, even certain militaries had performed them, albeit usually unofficially. It seemed the X-Men were no different.
When he’d been younger, Bishop had read several accounts of hazing rituals in old texts, having no small amount of interest in that kind of history. They’d fascinated him. But he'd never thought he'd experience one himself.
"Ordinarily I'd have little interest in such blatantly homo-social rituals, but in this case even I must insist," put in Beast, dropping down from the ceiling with a wide grin. "And oh, if you feel any embarrassment about disrobing, don't worry. I'm a doctor."
“What Beast means is, we know it’s a little gay. But that’s what makes it fun,” Morph said with their usual snicker.
“Ain’t nothing gay about it,” Wolverine said a tad defensively. “It’s a test of manliness.”
“Suuure it is. You say potato, I say potahto,” Morph shot back.
"Now now, no need to ruffle any feathers. It’s just a bit of fun. Besides, we all go through it, non?" Gambit said with a slight smirk.
"And I don't suppose you'll let me... get out of it?" asked Bishop, getting a feel for the situation.
A universal reply of negatives came back to him. They were a united front.
So he undressed. What else could he do? They all insisted, and they were the heroes—the veterans. Legends. And Bishop could tell this wasn't about punishing him—not really. It was a team unity exercise, one meant strictly for men. And males bonded best through shared physical pain and exertion.
At least that was what he told himself. In this case, he'd be the one in pain and they'd be the ones exerting.
When he was down to just his jockstrap, Wolverine hooted and just patted his lap. Bishop frowned.
"Isn't it more typical to use a paddle?"
"What is this, a frat house? Don’t worry, my hand'll do the job just fine."
Bishop grimaced, but didn't see a way out of the embarrassing position. So he went and gingerly set himself in place over Wolverine's knee, muscular butt upturned. The others grinned and chuckled at the sight.
"That's right, just like that. Not your first time over my knee, is it?"
Bishop grunted. "I thought we agreed never to mention that again."
"Heh. Fair enough, bub."
Wolverine pawed at him, his rough hand hard and calloused. Then he got to spankin’. Bishop almost yelled out at the first blow. Wolverine wasn't holding back.
"Sorry bub! If I went easy on ya it wouldn't be a real initiation. We gotta go hard, to show we know you can take it."
Bishop nodded in understanding, even as the pain built up quickly. Not for the first time, he wished his mutant talent to absorb energy extended to physical impacts. If so, he might have taken the blisteringly hard swats Wolverine doled out better. As it was, he shuddered and jerked as the spanks picked up steam, getting harder and harder. He clenched his muscled buttocks as they were whacked like no tomorrow, only letting out the occasional grunt.
When it was over, Wolverine allowed him up. Bishop stood gingerly rubbing his cheeks.
"Not bad," the grizzled man drawled. "Maybe you're X-Men material after all."
"High praise coming from you."
"Damn right, bub."
Beast cleared his throat. "If you two are done flirting, perhaps we can continue?"
"Hey!" Wolverine barked, "I wasn’t—"
"Easy, mon ami. We know that's how you talk to everybody," Gambit mollified him.
"Because he flirts with everybody," Morph said with a snicker.
Wolverine growled and unsheathed his claws. Before things could escalate further, Bishop cleared his throat loudly. "What exactly do you mean, ‘continue’?" he said, "I thought we were done! Don't tell me you're all going to, uh..."
"Apply corporal punishment to your upended hindquarters?" queried Beast.
"Er, yeah."
"Oh, yes indeed. And for your sake, I hope you get a break before climbing over my knee. If you thought Logan's hand hurt..." The big blue scientist chuckled. "Well, wait until you feel mine."
Looking at that heavy, simian-like paw, twice as large as a normal man's, Bishop had to say he wasn’t looking forward to that.
"As for me..." Morph’s form wavered, and a sharp military voice barked out, "It'll be my pleasure to tan your heinie, Officer Bishop!"
Bishop gaped at him. Where before had stood Morph now stood Commander Blitz, his old instructor in the academy, as well as commanding officer in the XSE.
"But... how?" he asked, "How could you know about—"
"Oh, I read your logs. You keep very detailed notes by the way."
Bishop frowned, not sure how to feel about that. But he did know that Commander Blitz was a man he'd never wanted to cross... and apparently that carried over even when he knew it wasn’t really him. He was struggling not to straighten up and salute in his presence.
"Aw, look at him! He's taking it so seriously!"
"As for me," Gambit said with a dry smirk. "We'll just deal the cards and see where they land."
He flourished a small hand-paddle and ran a charge of his mutant power through it. Gambit had been developing greater control over his powers lately. When he slapped the paddle against his palm, it released only a small explosion from its surface. Not strong enough to cause any real damage, but surely releasing force and heat... Bishop shuddered just looking at it and his ass cheeks clenched anew.
Whichever way it bore out, one thing was for sure. It was going to be one painful evening for him and his muscular bare butt. Especially if he had to brave each of their laps in turn to become a true X-Man.
"Still want to go through with it?" Wolverine asked drily from behind. "No shame in backing out now. Admitting you can't make the cut."
Bishop scoffed. He knew that was a test too. "Think again, old man. I'm not afraid of a little pain. Just reminds me I'm alive."
"Oh, yeah. That's the spirit, bub."
"Besides..." He charged his powers just enough to give a flash of energy. "If I take all this, I get to help haze the next guy, right?"
"Hah! You are definitely X-Man material!"
Bishop just returned his grin before walking over to his next spanker, white jockstrap framing dark, well-muscled ass, and flopping over their lap.
"Bring it," he whispered, right before the next swat landed, making him buck and twist.
And so it went, each hard swat a new flash of pain. A new fire lit in his ass. His new spanker was as merciless as Wolverine. If anything, he discovered that Wolverine had actually gone easy on him in comparison.
When he stood back up, his ass felt downright swollen. But he didn’t allow himself any rest. He bent right over his next spanker’s knee. The other X-Men murmured, impressed at his endurance. He was winning marks at least, even if he wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. The next spanking started up, and he couldn’t help but immediately start to kick and squirm.
“Unngghh! Aaaauh!”
This was worth it to safeguard the future, Bishop told himself.
He clenched his eyes shut as another sizzling whack landed and a single tear dribbled down his face. It wouldn’t be the last. He fought to hang on. Buns twisting and jerking with each new wave of heat and pain.
More importantly, it was worth it to know he was a real member of the team. No false niceties or pretenses. Once you were over another man’s lap, butt in the air, crying your eyes out, he had no choice but to later call you friend. Comrade. Brother....X-Man.
And if his chrono-predictions were right, the X-Men would need all the help they could get in the coming weeks...