"Oh, was I ever this naive?"
Beast looked down at himself, caught in a trap. It was almost cute the way he struggled.
The young fool had been seized at the very edge of the perimeter around his mobile base. Lucky for him, the trap had been of the non-lethal variety. It merely bound him hand and foot in high-tensile cables, rendering him helpless. Another few steps and he might've lost his head, or worse.
Sighing, Beast reached down and seized the seat of the other Beast's trunks. With one rude motion, he pulled the tight-fitting material straight down. Out popped two beefy, blue-fuzzed cheeks. Round and wiggling.
If the clone was surprised by this development, he didn't react much. He just kept flexing and bunching his muscles in a futile effort to escape. Beast squatted down by him.
"They say that every cell of the body replaces itself over the course of seven years, making us, fundamentally, a different person," he noted. "We are all simply carrying on a life passed down to us from our predecessors." His large blue hand traveled down the tapered back, across those hapless globes. Digging in with his claws here and there. Squeezing the beefy bounty of flesh. "I wonder, is the same true of the mind? Thought processes are capable of great fluctuations and adjustment—is there anything at all similar between us anymore?"
The other him gave a snort. "Well I see I've at least pick up a penchant for grand, villainous speeches in my doddering years..."
SMACK!
A crack of palm on those full, upturned globes. His clone gasped loudly. "Very funny," Beast snapped. "But even with our famed loquaciousness, I still choose my words with care. You should do the same if you insist we're so similar."
"On the contrary, I'm not anything like you! I would never do—the things you've done!"
"Ah." Beast smiled at the sophomoric argument. In a way it was almost invigorating hearing such words spill from his own lips. It confirmed his notion he'd progressed far beyond his younger days. "But you already have, haven't you? Or should I say, I have. Not all of us have had the privilege to skip 30 years of history and conflict and show up to judge the survivors."
He deemed it time to get on with things. He knelt, and hefted his own form across his knee. His clone gave a show of struggling, but there really wasn't anything he could do. He was bound tight, and naked to boot, his speedo gathered around his knees. And even if he wasn't, there was no way he could overcome the gap of experience between them. Beast could likely leap circles around him in the Danger Room. He knew all his moves, after all.
But it had always been more about maintaining the show of resistance, hadn't it? Upholding that precious moral purity. That was why he'd so rarely truly accomplished anything truly meaningful in his life. Always focused on the means, rather than the ends. Or, at least, he'd used to.
"You see, I've made the hard choices," he said. "The hard calls. And I've been summarily vilified for it. I'm sure I'll be vilified for this as well."
He raised his hand, leisurely, and another hard crack met bouncy blue flesh. Beast cried out. That is, the other Beast.
Beast smiled down at himself.
He truly had a full, spankable backside, he reflected. He understood now why certain villains had never been able to keep their hands off it. Oh yes, he'd undergone his share of embarrassing punishments over the years. Omega Red, Mojo, the Nasty Boys... the list went on. But now it was finally his turn to dish it out. His own rump had grown slightly flabby over the years—working a desk job would do that to anyone—so it was good to observe a clean copy.
It wasn't his first time dominating his own self, of course. He recalled the stash of clones he'd made recently, the way he'd lorded over them as a feudal king. Yes, some of them had eventually rebelled and he'd been forced to dispose of them, but that didn't alter the feeling ruling had elicited. There was something truly ego-swelling about lording over someone exactly like yourself, but nevertheless your inferior. To tell the truth, it wasn't the only thing swelling.
This clone appeared to be working alone. Or as alone as working with Wonder Man entailed (and as for his former best friend on the Avengers? Simon was currently stuck in his own embarrassing trap. And thus awaiting his own embarrassing spanking whenever Beast got around to giving it to him)
The point was, his younger self wasn't working with any of the assorted X-teams. He’d suspected it was a ploy by X-Force to keep him distracted, but that didn’t appear to be the case. No, it was just Ma McCoy’s sweet boys present. Which meant he could take himself in hand for reasons all his own.
"I read of your crimes," his other self said defiantly, the effect only slightly hampered by his bare-naked bottom hiked in the air. "The things you've done in the name of protecting the mutant race. They disgusted me! I've never been so ashamed of—of my very name—augh!"
Another hard crack, of course, of palm on upturned muscle buns. It was both terribly fascinating yet oddly boring to carry on a conversation with himself. He'd already run through all these arguments on his own, after all. There wasn't truly anything to be gained by discussing them further. And yet, it was mollified somewhat by knowing he could derail his other self's thinking any time he wished with nothing so simple as a sharp slap to his derriere.
"Very noble. Very idealistic. But you see, the thing you won't allow yourself to think because, deep inside, you already know it's true?" His clawed fingers dug in, taking in deep fistfuls of ass even as he bent to his younger clone's ear. "The ends justify the means, always," he whispered, "And, of course, that the victors write the history book. I know that better than anyone.” He smiled. “So you see, there is no crime so heinous I won't commit it, if it will save further lives down the line. No action I won't take if it will lead to a prosperous future."
His past-self had a response prepared for that. Of course he did. But it was lost in another merciless volley of slaps and spanks. He yelped, kicked, and howled over his knee instead like a bad little boy.
WHACK! CRACK! SMACK!
"Oowwwwwww!!"
"Under that criteria, spanking your thick blue hide until it's red and aching... and you're in tears, blubbering for me to stop? That's barely a blip on my radar, m'dear. In fact, you should thank me for being so merciful. This is all to teach you a valuable lesson, you know."
He shook his head as he admired those reddening buttocks, wondering how swollen they might become if he punished them further. They could already barely squeeze into those tight trunks he liked to parade himself around in. He'd never had a rear-end that was small.
"No, if I were smart I would kill you and be done with it. But..." And here Hank McCoy allowed himself a moment of self-reflection. It was just a moment—any more than that and he ran the danger of true introspection. He shook his head violently. "But you've always been so stupid, Hank. So noble and honorable and full of bright ideals. You won't be a true threat to me until you undergo at least twenty years of cynicism and mistakes and ruining everything you love. So why not have fun with you first? Lord knows I went through it."
"D-don't you see?" Beast gasped. "You are perpetuating a cycle of abuse! You are merely passing along your pain to the next recipient, and this case it’s even more narcissistic than most because it’s yourself! You’re—"
"DON'T psycho-analyze me." Another hard crack met the pliable blue flesh, making his younger self throw his head back and wail. "Honestly, it's embarrassing. Like an old Macintosh trying to interface with an iPhone."
More blows, hard and crisp, met those bouncing blue cheeks. He almost had to grin as they squirmed and clenched and wriggled so openly under his palm. Yes, he really did have a truly magnificent set of cakes. If he couldn't connect with himself intellectually, he could at least admire himself physically.
But it was fast approaching time to wrap things up.
"For now, my sweet Beast, I must return to my own schemes. But don't worry, I'll hang your naked self out somewhere so X-Force can pick you up. I'll even drape Simon next to you.” He grinned. “Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell', after all. And I'll leave you something to remember me by."
His mind spun with possibilities. A vibrating plug which would mercilessly stimulate his anal cavity while he hung bound and helpless? Or even better, an adamantium cage to entrap his manhood and from which there was no key. He'd been saving that one for Logan, but this would make an interesting preview for him.
As he sat mulling however, the last voice on Earth he'd wanted to hear suddenly whispered soft and low in his ear: "Very nice. Sounds a lot like something I'd say."
The voice was his own.
"No!" he gasped, right before large, clawed hands folded over his eyes and mouth.
Unfortunately, he wasn't the only Beast running around the universe of 616. Many years ago, a dimensional refugee had also landed there. A cosmic twin to himself hailing from the aptly named 'Age of Apocalypse'. That Hank McCoy had been a mad scientist of the truest sort. Genetic experiments, inhumane treatments, gene combinations with no regard for ethics or consent—he'd committed every scientific sin. No one was safe from his machinations, living or dead. His cruelty had known no bounds.
A road map, as it were, for his own scientific journey later in life.
"But—how?!" he gasped as he was wrestled to the ground.
"With that little island of yours gone, I finally got up to my own devices again. Heard a bit about what you'd been up to, McCoy. Thought I'd pay you a visit."
Beast blanched. He'd fallen prey to his diabolical double once before, many years ago. Taking on the moniker 'Dark Beast', the evil creature had abducted him and put him in chains deep underground in his lair. He'd even assumed his identity among the X-Men and inserted himself among them. Unaware, the team had treated him as one of their own.
All the while, the real Beast had moaned with a new sex toy every night, each one taking him closer and closer to the edge but never allowing him beyond. For months. The most unspeakable bliss and torment, by one who knew his body even better than he himself did. It'd driven him mad. Now, he realized, he'd fallen into his clutches yet again. Him and his younger self both.
To his shame, the fight was over before it really began. Not only had Dark Beast taken him by surprise, but he'd always been eminently capable of predicting his actions. Yet another worrying similarity between them. In minutes he lay trussed up on the ground next to his younger self, rendered helpless in the same cables. And all his voice-activated machines and defensive countermeasures? Inside his base, of course, just a short distance away. So close, yet so painfully far.
"Wh-what are you going to do to us?" the younger Beast asked, wide-eyed. The whole situation must have been baffling to him. Unless he'd done extensive perusing of their personal files, it was likely he didn’t even know who Dark Beast was.
But it was clear from the way Dark Beast looked back and forth between the two of them, squirming so helplessly in their bonds, that he knew exactly who they were. Fresh meat. Men who were supposedly his equals, but in practice were anything but. His lips parted in a toothy grin.
"Well, first..." He reached down and seized the older Beast. The scientist groaned as he was set in place, exactly where he'd feared he would be. Right over Dark Beast's knee, his round rump hefted in the air.
He couldn't help but note the irony. Both in his similarity to his supposed evil counterpart, and to his younger self moments before. Perhaps some frightful need for dominance ran in his genes.
In any case, it wasn't his first time receiving a spanking from Dark Beast.
Slowly, his trunks were peeled down, revealing a full, round set of buttocks. He wiggled and squirmed indignantly. That only increased when, rather than bring his palm down, hard and fast across them, he instead felt Dark Beast's clawed fingertip poke right at the puckered lips of his hole and then... enter.
"A-ah!"
His young clone was staring up at him, a front-row seat for his comeuppance. Beast just snarled as, inch by inch, he was slowly violated. He helplessly clenched his blue buns around the intrusion.
"E-enough! You've made your point!"
His evil twin chuckled. "Have I? I remember how intoxicating your reactions were last time... Hank." Even his own name sounded degrading to his ears when said like that. "But now it's time for Phase 2 of your training."
Training? Beast thought. As if he were a house pet? Or—no, a slave. As if he were a slave. To himself.
Mercifully, Dark Beast pulled out then. It was as if he'd been waiting for that exact thought to occur to him. He laid his palm across those beautiful, bountiful blue buns and gave a possessive squeeze.
"I think I'll start by heating this ass until it's the same color as the other Hank's here. That's only fair, isn't it? Then we'll see where the rest of the evening takes us." Dark Beast smirked and raised his grey-furred palm. "We do have... so much catching up to do. And I've never had two of me at once before."
Beast clenched his eyes shut right as the first harsh whack clapped down. He managed to remain silent for the first dozen. But he could not prevent the yowl that escaped him on swat number thirteen. Or, even more embarrassing, the following whimpers.
Two Beasts was acceptable. But three? Three was clearly too many.
But, he quickly learned as the swats added up and his bouncing blue bottom heated to an agonizing degree, there was always a bigger, badder Beast.