Sunday, 26 November 2017
The Sting of the Jungle - Boy's Return
The airplane was into it's thirteenth hour of the flight across the Atlantic, and Boy was now unbearably bored. True to form, he had also made himself extraordinarily unpopular with the flight crew and his fellow passengers with is arrogant and rude bad behaviour and constant demands.
It had reached the point where most of the other passengers had moved to seats as far away from this handsome, practically naked but chronically unpleasant young man.
Eventually, when Boy could not bare the boredom any longer he called out to the flight attendant “How much longer is this Goddam flight?!” he demanded.
The flight attendant looked at Boy with hardly disguised dislike “We land in Kinshasa in an hour … S ..” she gritted her teeth “Sir!”
“No you stupid moron!” snapped Boy “What time to we land at the Jungle airport?”
“This flight does not land at The Jungle airport” she replied “We fly over the jungle, direct to Kinshasa”
“WHAT!!” shouted Boy “I need to get off at the Jungle airport!!”
“We can not land at the jungle” replied the attendant “this plane is too large for the jungle runway!” she frowned with exasperation, this was the most infuriating passenger she had ever encountered “It is quite clear on your ticket that this is a non-stop flight, you will need to get a connecting flight back to the jungle!”
Of course, Boy had spent all the money he had managed with him when he escaped from the city, and could not afford a second flight. With characteristic truculance he decided to try and bully the flight crew into landing at the jungle stop.”I demand to see the pilot!” he shouted “I need to get off this plane in the jungle!!”
“You can't see the pilot!” sighed the attendant “He's busy … you know … flying the plane!”
“Take me to him!” snapped boy, leaping from his seat and turning towards the cockpit.
Realising that Boy seemed serious, the flight attendant called over two male flight attendants to assist her “This …..... passenger failed to read his ticket correctly, and is demanding we drop him off in the jungle!” she said.
The two male attendants had been observing Boy's rude and obnoxious behaviour, ever since he started acting up after about an hour into the flight, and new he was going to be difficult. However, at first they began patiently trying to reason with him.
Sitting in am aisle seat in the next row to Boy Herman Kettering had watched the scene unfolding. As a gay man, despite Boy's outrageous behaviour, he could not fail to be struck by how hot physically the young blonde hunk was. This was especially obvious given Boy's limited attire of only a jockstrap and a pair or white socks.
Herman was also a keen collector of male spanking videos and a fan of the JockSpank blog, so when Boy stood up his eye was immediately drawn to the lad's perfectly formed bare white bottom, framed with the straps of his jockstrap, and he began to imagine all the different forms of discipline he would just love to inflict of that tempting object.
It was the ongoing curse of Boy's life, that so many people instinctively wanted to spank him.
Meanwhile the two flight attendants were also both becoming drawn to the prospect of an act of violence against Boy. Even for two men so well used to dealing with difficult customers it was not long before they were both totally exasperated with this semi-naked but highly self opinionated youth.
Finally, their exasperation turned to anger, when Boy actually attempted to storm the cockpit demanding to speak to the pilot. The men grabbed hold of him and began to drag him towards the back of the plane. It was only then, too late that Boy began to understand that just maybe he had again gone too far.
“Okay fella'” snarled one of the men “You want to land in the jungle? Well, we can arrange that!!” he was so angry that, whilst his colleague held onto Boy, he literally ripped one of the attendant seats from the wall, leaving the back portion of the seat still screwed to the wall. The men then tied Boy to the seat in a sitting position, with his, jockstrap framed, bare bottom sticking out of the gap at the back where it had been pulled from the wall.
As Boy struggled against the ropes attaching his wrists and thighs to the seat, the men began attachomh a parachute to the chair arms. “What the fuck ate you doing?!!!” yelled Boy.
The men did not answer, but the look of thunderous fury on their faces told him, that, whatever it was they were doing, he was not going to like it!!
One of the men proceeded to turn a handle which opened a hatch door in the side of the aircraft and all three of them were hit by a powerful gust of air.
“You can't be serious!!” stammered Boy, as he suddenly realised what was being planned, but the men were deadly serious. If Boy wanted to land in the jungle, they were only too happy to accommodate that wish, however, the plane would not be landing there with him.
With a powerful kick, delivered to the centre of Boy's bottom, they sent him, attached firmly to the chair frame, flying out of the side of the plane into the open sky outside.
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It was lucky that the men had opened a hatch at the back of the plane, so he avoided the danger of being hit by the wing or sucked into the jet engine, but that was about the limit of Boy's good luck, as to the rest, his luck was very much erring to the side of bad!!.
The kick had been hard enough to send him beyond the tail fin of the aircraft as it zoomed past, but it had also been hard enough to be very painful, especially as Boy's bottom was still tender from the tennis ball bombardment in had undergone less than 24 hours before. As regular readers might have guessed, however, it would, of course, be a lot more tender before the day was out.
The aircraft was swiftly vanishing into the distant horizon, leaving boy falling through the empty sky, firmly attached to the frame of the seat to which the men had tied him.
Boy had antagonised many people in his time, but this time it had reached a point where the two flight attendants had been provoked to an act which put boy at risk of death or serious injury, and that, so far, was a first.
It was clear to Boy that those risks were significant, it was also obvious to him that he could not do a thing about it. The parachute the men had used was designed to take the weight of an average adult, however, the additional weight of the chair frame to which Boy was tied was beyond it's capacity.
As a result, Boy was hurtling towards the ground at an alarming speed.
The descent picked up speed as Boy approached the jungle canopy, before crashing through it, into the dark jungle below, tree branches whipping against the terrified youth's legs and exposed buttocks as he fell through that. “OWW! …. OUCH!! …. OWW!” he yelled.
Suddenly, about thirty feet from hitting the jungle floor, at what would have been bone shattering speed, Boy's fall was brought to a sudden jarring halt, as the parachute became entangled in branches, arresting his descent and leaving him dangling among the trees.
It took Boy a few seconds to realise what had happened, and that he was not a dead or, at least, shattered mess lying on the jungle floor, as the flimsy parachute had saved him after all.
However, before Boy was able to celebrate his good luck, an angry buzzing sound behind him brought with it the horrifying realisation that, as was usually the pattern of his life, his luck had not going to be as good as it might otherwise have been.
Looking back over his shoulder, with a deep sense of foreboding, he saw that he was hanging next to an African wasps nest, nestling beneath the tree branch from which his was hanging. To make matters infinitely worse, he was positioned in such a way that his exposed bare bottom was dangling mere centimetres from the entrance to the nest, from which angry buzzing wasps were emerging in battle ready numbers and a matching warlike attitude.
Having been attacked by African wasps in the past, Boy knew how painful their stings could be. A feeling of blind panic gripped him and he frantically began attempting to free himself from the ropes which held him trapped on the suspended chair frame.
Of course, as a cooler mind might have warned him, struggling frantically was the very worst thing he could have done, as it drew the angry, but short sighted, insects' attention to his exposed bottom, which was exactly what had annoyed the in the first place. They began buzzing around it making increasingly ferocious and alarming noises.
First one angry wasp, and then another landed on Boy's tender pink butt cheeks and jabbed their sharp stingers into his flesh, before injecting a tiny but agonizing stream of fiery venom in to the handsome but chronically unlucky youth.
Unlike bees, which lose their stingers when they sting, and can, therefore, only sting once, wasps stingers remain intact, enabling each wasp to launch more than one attack, which the feisty little critters did with resolute gusto.
As the almost unbearable pain being inflicted on his cute little bare tush surged through the handsome jungle boy's lithe young body, Boy yelled out in pain. His cries echoing through the deep green jungle to be heard, a mile away, by someone to whom that voice, especially when expressing pain, was very familiar.
Tarzan, who was busily repairing the damage to his tree-house, caused by a recent tropical storm, jumped to his feet uttering a single syllable “Boy!”. He took hold of a vine, and launched himself into the air, swinging through trees in the direction from which the yells and cries were coming.
Mongito, Cheetah the chimp's son, also recognised the voice, and after grabbing a certain wooden object, followed his master, vine swinging through the jungle branches.
Meanwhile, Boy continued to struggle with the ropes attaching his wrists to the chair frame, his writhing now even more frantic and urgent than before, spurred on by the singing insects attacking his exposed posterior.
After some further struggle, Boy's hands were free, and he hurriedly reached back in an effort to cover his behind with his now free hands.
Again Boy was to encounter the troublesome issue of his unfailing bad luck, for by the very act of urgently grabbing the now stinging and wasp venom peppered cheeks of his bottom, he had inadvertently spread those cheeks revealing his most tender, sensitive and private recesses nestling between the pert round globes.
This action unintentionally granted one especially inquisitive wasp access to that region of Boy's anatomy which any straight boy, such as he would prefer to keep to himself. This insect intruder made itself particularly unwelcome when it jabbed it's stinger into the puckering pink button of Boy's tiny anus and unleashed a stream of molten hot venom.
The shock of the wasp sting to his anus, sent an electric pulse through him, causing him to jerk with such violence that the remaining ropes attaching Boy's thighs to the chair frame broke, removing the final attachment which kept him dangling from the snagged parachute.
Of course, Boy had not thought through the consequences of detaching himself from the dangling chair!!! Suddenly he was tumbling from the tree towards the jungle floor thirty feet below. He braced himself for a heavy landing.
As a regular reader of Boy's misadventures will by now have gathered, fate and coincidence tend to feature large within his life, and in his case, both are, not to put too fine a point on it, a bit of a b#tch!
As fate would have it, there was a large patch of nettles at the foot of the tree, and Boy plummeted butt first straight into it. This proved to be a double edged sword, for whereas the nettles served to cushion Boy's fall and prevent serious injury, the sting of the nettles caused Boy's already wasp stung bottom to burn even more!
With a yell which was close to a shriek, Boy leaped to his feet clutching his throbbing and now bright pink bottom. He proceeded to jump up and down making pitiful whimpering sounds through gritted teeth.
“Oh man! That hurt!” he groaned out-loud to himself “Why do these things keep happening to me?!!”
At least the worst was over, he was back in the jungle, he was on the ground, he had got away from the wasps and could avoid any more nettles, the sting in his bottom would eventually fade, nothing worse could now happen, or could it?
At that moment, fate again interrupted his thoughts, with an answer to his question, and not the one he was hoping for. A firm hand tapped him on the shoulder and a familiar deep voice said “So Boy return have he?!”
Boly swung round to find the tall and very angry looking figure of Tarzan standing behind him and knew instantly what that look on the face of the older man foretold.
“I....I …I!!!” he stammered, his usually sly but now strangely blank mind frantically trying to think of an excuse for leaving the jungle and flying away to another continent without permission or telling his guardian he was going. But none came to him.
The tender and caring side of Tarzan was deeply relieved that Boy was back safe and relatively unhurt, however, his more dominant disciplinarian, and, it has to be said, vaguely sadistic, side roared with furious anger that his ward had disobeyed him and put himself at great risk. He knew that a lesson had to be taught and learned.
Boy could see exactly what Tarzan was thinking and desperately tried to avoid the inevitable “Please don't spank me Tarzan …. sir!!” he stuttered, I have been stung on the butt by was .. er …. HORNETS and stinging nettles, my ass is on fire!!!”
“GOOD!” snapped Tarzan, “It's no more than you deserve!!” he grabbed hold of the unhappy Boy's arm “And it's about to get a lot worse!!”
With that, he dragged Boy to a nearby bank, sat down and the pulled the vainly protesting young hunk over his knee. “How dare Boy sneak off to God knows where, and not send word for months?!!” he shouted gruffly “Tarzan will teach Boy a lesson he not forget!!”
“No please Tarzan!” cried Boy “I've learnt my lesson …. I've really learnt my fucking lesson!”
“Boy Language bad!” growled Tarzan, he lifted a massive paw like hand and brought it down hard on Boy's bare wasp and nettle stung bottom with a resounding SMACK!!
AAAAOOOWWWW!! Boy's scream echoed through the jungle followed by a chattering noise not unlike laughter from the trees full of monkeys nearby.
Boy's scream was soon followed by many more as Tarzan proceeded to deliver a very hard, and in Trazan's opinion, well deserved bare bottom spanking. His large leathery palms whacking down repeatedly on top of still massively sensitive wasp and nettle stings.
Boy kicked and struggle, but there was no escape from the jungle man's vice like grip.
Boy has thought things could not get worse, but in fact they were about to get a whole lot worse as at that moment Mongito, the helpful chimp, arrived carrying Tarzan's favourite paddle. The clever little simian had correctly guessed that Tarzan might have use for the paddle now that Boy had returned to the jungle.
“Well done little friend!” cried Tarzan, reaching out and taking the paddle “You know Tarzan have need for this!”
At that moment Boy resolved that the monkey would die, as soon as the big guy was not looking, the ape would be history, and it would have a painful death that was for sure!!
Boy did not have long to contemplate his planned revenge on Mongito, as his mind was quickly occupied by something more immediate and painful, as Tarzan pushed him down on his back, lifted his legs in the air, placing him in the so called diaper position and proceeded to paddle his already spanked and stung bottom.
Boy yelled and protested in agony as the hard wooden bat delivered swat after swat to his well punished behind.
Then Boy made another of the many mistakes he had made that day, in the middle of yelling and shouting he suddenly let rip with a stream of obscene language and called Tarzan a very nasty name.
“WHAT BOY SAY?” thundered Tarzan
“I'm sorry … I didn't mean it!!” he gasped as the realisation of what he had done sunk in. But it was too late, Tarzan decided that Boy needed an even more severe punishment. He picked Boy up, threw him over his shoulder and carrying the lad like a sack, began swinging through the trees towards the edge of the jungle.
Boy looked around he recognised the direction they were heading in and the realisation of what was in store began to dawn on him.
“Oh NO!!” he cried “Not THAT!! …. not THE ANTS!!”
“It is what Boy deserve …. it is what Boy gets!!” replied Tarzan
Upon reaching the edge of the jungle, Tarzan made his way, on foot, out into the savannah, still carrying Boy, until they reached a massive ant hill, on top of which Boy was required to sit for all of ten minutes, while the angry ants bit and stung his well punished bottom.
Boy had only been punished this way once before, when he had been caught peeping on the village girls bathing, but he did not need reminding how painful it was of how long the sting would last. These African ants had a very potent bite, the sting from which would not even start to fade for for 24 hours.
Boy's bottom would recover to it's original cute, pristine and unspanked state, but he would be a very sore jungle boy for some while before it did!!
Boy was back home, his bottom was glowing like a little red beacon, everything in the jungle was back to normal!!