The Spanking Machine
The Spanking Machine, by Josiah Webster
Everybody gets a spanking!
Everybody lined up for a go at the spanking machine, or for it to have a go at them.
The machine was pretty simple: a robotic arm on a motorized hydraulic spinny thing, with a hand at the end of the arm. The hand was large and fleshy, with little fibrous hairs on its knuckles and lines on its palms denoting good omen, if you believe in palms meaning anything about the person they’re attached to. Of course, the hand wasn’t attached to a person, but in looking so realistic you could forgive folks for mistaking it for a real person’s hand. Maybe it was God’s hand?
Well, think what you will. The fact is, everyone was due for their spanking. And they were all very excited about it. Which is why they all lined up for it, not just around the block, but all the blocks; the line snaked and spiralled throughout the city, curling around all the office buildings, all the tenement blocks, all the stadiums and Jimmy John’s locations. The only people who weren’t in line were the guys who control the stoplights, because it’s a law that you have to do that. And the guys who pump all the sewage through the sewage pipes with their foot-pedal pumps. Otherwise, everyone was in line. Even the mayor was in line, and she was arguably more excited than most, because she had a lot to get spanked for.
The person in control of the spanking machine was a robot who kicked the machine in its fleshy butt-attachment every time it acted up. And the person in charge of that robot was another robot who said demoralizing things every time the kicking-robot performed at anything less than peak efficiency. No-one knew who kept the last robot in check, but it was widely theorized that that robot had more to be spanked for than anyone, and so it kept things rolling under the threat of someday being spanked wholly into oblivion. Like that, the spanking machine operated.
In line, a lot of people were chattering about how badly they expected to be spanked.
‘I’ve been a naughty Nelly this year,’ said Nelly. ‘So I’ll probably get spanked loads.’
‘Not as naughty as me,’ said Niles, who had indeed been very naughty. He murdered a homeless man. ‘I bet I get spanked at least ten times.’
‘Wow, you must be a really bad boy,’ someone said.
Niles looked proudly at the camera: ‘Yes I am a bad boy, and it’s time I get my due!’
A lot of people throughout the country thought that was pretty cool, and his mom, who lived back in Ohio, clapped. ‘That’s my boy!!’
Further down the line, a couple of guys who showed up late were sweating over whether or not the machine would have time to spank them.
‘I bet it cuts off just before we get there,’ one of them said. ‘We never should have stopped at Jimmy Johns.’
‘We can’t get spanked on an empty stomach, Brad. Anyway, if we don’t make it in time, I’ll spank you.’
Brad turned to his pal. ‘Gee, thanks Lucas! It wouldn’t be the same, but it means a lot to me.’ He smiled at his friend.
‘Anything for my best bud.’
Then they shared a blunt they had rolled ahead of time. A few other people around them took hits off it, and they all made friends.
Wichita, who had come here all the way from the reservation of his nondescript indigenous tribe, stood in the line a few blocks away wearing a ceremonial outfit. He did not seem very impressed by any of this. Wichita had wanted to have a few words with the spanking machine, but was nervous about getting it right, so he practiced his speech while he waited. When the cameras showed up, he waved them away, but they stuck around dropping in on him from a distance, translating his speech to the public as he mouthed it, unaware as to their spying. The translated speech was garbled and unspecific, but a lot of people saw it, and got a good enough idea of what Wichita had to say. They all voted on their phones and since they liked him so much, he became an instant favourite and got extensive coverage of his personal social media profiles broadcast over the web.
But there was something wrong with the spanking machine. It was spanking people too much. It seemed every person who came along got spanked more and more. Little Johnny, who was only nine years old and had only done one bad thing in his life, got spanked a whopping fifteen times! His parents stood behind him in line, at first excited, then worried, then horrified, as the spanking machine whopped and dropped him. His mom said something to the robot in charge of the machine, but since it was doing its spanking in record time, the robot merely shrugged her off.
When the mother went in, she got spanked twenty-four times. When the father went in, he got spanked thirty times. It’s true, he was an adulterer, but did he deserve thirty spanks? The whole family rubbed their sore butts and limped away from the venue, feeling very naughty indeed.
By the time Nelly and Niles had made it to the spanking machine, a lot of the nation was concerned. See, it had, over the hours, portrayed the tendency to spank everyone too many times, and a little too hard, and a lot of people weren’t so happy with how they’d been spanked. Nelly mounted herself onto the machine, remembering how she’d announced herself as fairly naughty, and in the instant before the hand clapped her butt, felt oddly remorseful for the bad things she’d done. But she wasn’t remorseful because she felt she’d done true wrong, she was remorseful because of the fear of the pain… she thought she must be in store for an awful shock, and that it probably wasn’t worth it.
Well, the machine hit Nelly almost fifty times. She remembered crying out after the first few claps, because it was hitting her so hard. This wasn’t like any year before. Before, the machine had been far gentler. It understood that people had reasons for things. Those reasons may not always be righteous, but they were reasons, and it understood that. Now, it didn’t seem to understand anything aside from pain. When she was done being spanked, Nelly crawled off the platform and wept quietly in a dark corner of the venue. Next in line was Niles, and he was excited because he thought he really ought to be spanked a lot. He was concerned with getting spanked more than Nelly, because he liked her and wanted to prove to her that he could take more pain. Y’know, macho man stuff.
He hopped on it and mouthed the words ‘do your worst’.
The spanking machine spanked him fifty-three times. By the time it was done, his butt was fully broken. He dragged himself over to where Nelly was crying, and wanted to say something cool, but only managed to curl into the foetal position and weep alongside her.
At this time, it was noted the third robot, the one in charge of the one in charge of the spanking machine had begun to whisper certain things into the second robot’s robotic ear. No-one knows what it said, but it is known that after that, the robot in charge of the spanking machine got off its butt and began kicking the spanking machine in its butt quite frequently, its eyes astrobe with a strange, fearful glow, as if its full existence depended on kicking the spanking machine. And as the next few people mounted the spanking machine, the machine spanked them harder, faster, more… The third robot whispered more, the second robot kicked more, the spanking machine spanked more.
By the time Brad and Lucas were in view of the spanking machine, it was past midnight, and everybody felt worried about how badly they would get spanked. Although it didn’t really matter because by the time the two friends were about ten from the back, the spanking machine whirred and heaved, and on its digital display the words ‘Low Battery’ appeared. The second and third robot stood up and waved their arms around, announcing that the spanking machine was done for the day, and that everyone should go home.
‘Aww gee,’ Brad said.
‘Yeah…’ said Lucas.
‘What a waste…’
‘Not entirely a waste,’ Lucas pointed out. ‘We got an experience our own, waiting in line here, didn’t we? We made a few friends. And anyway, now we can go home.’
‘Do you want to come back to my place for some mac and cheese?’ Brad asked.
His buddy grinned. ‘I sure would. And maybe while we’re there, I can spank you and you can spank me, and then we’ll both have got our dues.’
Brad smiled shyly. ‘I would like that.’
Both guys went home, rolled another blunt, ate some mac and cheese, and spanked each other friendlily before falling asleep at opposite ends of the couch while Rick and Morty reruns played on TV.
Wichita, who was back in line from the two of them, was shocked and appalled to find the line dispersing before him. He ran up and looked into the venue. Inside, the robots were all packing each other up into a box, for shipment to the next city. He yelled, but they didn’t respond. Then he banged on the window, and one of the robots took notice. It came to the window.
‘What do you want?’ it said.
‘I want a word with you!’
‘Spanking time is over,’ the robot replied, and turned around.
‘Wait,’ Wichita exclaimed. ‘I came all this way, just let me say something!’
The robot ignored him, continuing with its task as if the man didn’t even exist. Soon, all three of the machines were safely tucked in the box, and the box closed.
Wichita beat his head against the glass. Then he turned around and sunk onto the ground, holding his head in his hands. He couldn’t fathom returning – not without saying his piece first. But if he couldn’t even say it, then what?
He fell asleep after a while; he must’ve been more tired than he imagined. He dreamed of spankings. A dream where everybody gets their turn. Where everybody gets something.
When he awoke, he felt hollow, and the robots were gone, off to the next city, to the next broadcast, and he would never be able to catch up with them.
He sighed, shaking his head. His butt felt sore from sleeping on the pavement.
It’s true, he thought, as he walked back to his car. Everybody gets a spanking.
Josiah Webster’s favourite place to dwell is the uncanny gulch between the real and the perceived. He also dwells in Portland, Oregon. Check him out on Twitter and/or Instagram for more.
