Piccolo's Boot Camp (Manicorn)

[MelloMelon]

In the far, untouristed reaches of Earth, within a cluster of Islands than ran rampant with giant, bestial anomalies and creatures of myth and wonder, four heroes gathered before a giant of a man. At least at first glance it was a man, but as eyes focused, the green hue of his skin and pointed ears told of another world's origin altogether.

Piccolo stood before the four Z fighters that he had called, his dark eyes severe, his thickly muscled arms folded tight across his large chest. His white cape gave a shallow wave in the gentle breeze that blew around them.

He finally spoke in a deep, intense baritone.

"In answer to your fool questions, there's this:

You're here because you're the last defence this planet's got against the likes of Freeza, Cell, and any hostiles that decide Earth is their next big accomplishment," his narrowed eyes travelled over Son Gohan, Krillin, Yamcha, and Tien Shinhan, before he grunted, "And I wish that wasn't the case. But as it stands, each of you has a role to play. That means that you're gonna shape up. No ignoring your training because your head's stuck in books," he looked pointedly at his student, before shooting a glare at the shortest of the four, "no shirking your chi nurture because a some female is sapping your nerve," he looked to the scarred man with a frown, "no bar-hopping or... dress-chasing whilst your muscles turn to konjac," his dark gaze moved to the hybrid triclops warrior, trying to find fault and instead moved on.

"What's more, is that if I decide that you're not giving your best, or that you're falling short, flouting the rules that I've set..." he gave a short chuckle before nipping it off, "Hell, if I hear even one of you whine about it..."

Black eyes seemed to get blacker still, "There will be consequences."

Leaving that hanging in the air for a few moments, Piccolo finally raised a demanding question.

"Is that understood?"

Son Gohan's head was bowed meekly throughout his teacher's tirade, his fists at his sides as they clenched and unclenched in his youthful anxiety. Man. He was 18 now, and Mr Piccolo still made him feel like the little kid that he'd started off training as... Even now, when he was going through college and thinking about what career he was gonna go into! He'd probably have to start worrying about taxes soon, Mom said! Not that it made even an ounce of difference right now, out here...

It was almost as if he was back atop that narrow clifftop all those years ago, frightened and teary-eyed, until a pair of ripe red apples had appeared from the sky and filled the gnawing hole in his belly. It was only now that the half-saiyan realised the origin of the apple-enigma, and he raised his dark eyes up and smiled big and bright. But gosh, Mr Piccolo was the best~!

"GOHAN!" said Mr Piccolo barked, startling the kid out of his riverie.

"I understand sir Mr Piccolo sir!!" the young demi-saiyan shouted out, arms snapping to his eyes and his strong back straightening. He tried not to look around him at the three older man, his face reddening at his outburst.

Behind the others, Tien Shinhan gave his head a sharp shake, eyes (all three of them) closing in vexation. He trained tirelessly. He didn't falter, or shirk. He didn't chase women, or books, or anything like that... Tien was diligent. Not a bookworm, a robot's doormat, or some... playboy waste of space! His trio gaze returned as her surveyed the three other men before him, and then the venerable Namekian who scorned them all as though he were their honourable sensei. Tien frowned, thick arms folded as he stared forward gamely. He'd been a student for most of his adult life, so he managed a feigned subservience for now, "Understood."

[Manicorn]

From the corner of his eye, Krillin observed Gohan's instant transformation under Piccolo's stern yell. The kid was still enamored with the Namekian. Krillin was more conflicted. Piccolo had proved himself a stalwart ally for many years, yes, but part of Krillin still remembered his first meetings with the cruel Demon King Piccolo Sr. when he looked into that green face, and probably always would.

But he brushed those thoughts from his mind. He'd reported for the training regimen, same as everybody else. Sure, part of that may have had to do with his wife insisting he stop being underfoot for a week, but...

"Sure, Piccolo. None of us take our responsibilities lightly," he said. Well, most of us don't, he thought, giving a glance at Yamcha. "We've all been through the wringer more than once, you know. And we've faced more aliens than you can shake a stick at. But what do you mean... consequences?" He gave an uneasy chuckle. "From the way you talk, it sounds almost like..."

"Yeah man, what are you gonna do if we shirk off?" Yamcha filled in, a cocky smirk stretching his scarred cheek. "Give us a spanking?"

[MelloMelon]

Piccolo himself at times recalled who-no- what he had been years ago when he looked down (way down from his gargantuan height) at the young human whose life he had once taken, and a foreign, unsettling feeling like weight on his chest that would sink into his stomach. Whatever that meant.

That didn’t stop his narrowed eyes and tightening of his thick arms at the know-it-all response. Piccolo did not enjoy having to explain himself, nor did me enjoy being questioned once he had decided upon a course of action. Focusing punishment on the glute flesh and muscle wouldn’t impede their training regime, so if chastising was required, it wouldn’t cause more than a brief break. Again, Piccolo did not act on a spur of the moment, like the full-blood saiyans, and instead moved after fair thought and reason.

That is why it would piss him off so much when his resolve was questioned.

“Your responsibilities?” He murmured darkly, staring Krillin down, “When did you last train seriously?” He paused with gravity, “Beyond washing dishes and beating bedbugs out of your bedclothes.” it wasn't said in jest, as in his lonely surveying of the four over the past few months, that had been the length and breadth of the ex-monk's training regime. It had riled the Namekian up royally, in truth, seeing how happily the smart-talking Z-Fighter had adjusted to a life without bloodshed and Dragon Ball searching having found some hot piece of tin to live with.

When the query raised itself, however, Piccolo growing rage settled a tad, and the creases in his heavy brow straightened themselves out as he regarded the two.

“You're not as stupid as you look,” he smirked at Yamcha, finally unlatching his harsh glare from the smallest Z fighter, “Because that’s exactly what I'm going to do if you even THINK of slacking off,” he stated with grim firmness, ignoring the wide eyes and unhinged jaws, “Don't test my patience.” He had very little of that for them.

“Aw, haha, come on, Mr Piccolo--!” Son Gohan piped up right then, grinning and sweating, palms upraised as though trying to get his teacher to stop yanking his chain, “Don’t joke like that, hahaha!” Mr Piccolo couldn't be serious, right?! He-he'd just started college! He was a man now! He'd proved himself more than once that he wasn't a little kid anymore – Mr Piccolo had told him that! Well, not in so many words… but still! He could drive now! So that meant something, right?! The demi-saiyan looked to the other three men, his face draining of colour before filling with hot red. Krillin, Yamcha, and Tein Shinhan… were all way older than him… oh boy…

The triclops simply stared at the grim Namekian, and then towards the other warriors at his side. In his mind, this threat was not directed at him. Didn’t involve him. So he just waited for it to sink in and then they could get down to business.

[Manicorn]

Yamcha's jaw dropped at the admission. "W-wait... what? But I was just kidding!"

However, at Piccolo's piercing gaze a memory stirred within Yamcha. The time after that terrible battle against Vegeta and his big goon that'd cost several of the Z Fighters their lives. In the aftermath of it he, Piccolo, Tien, and Chiaotzu had all journeyed to King Kai's planet as a group. Along the way they'd stopped at a fancy palace belonging to a certain Princess Snake. She'd been drop-dead gorgeous, and Yamcha had instantly been smitten. So much so that when she'd offered the use of her hot springs he'd instantly agreed.

Well, the others had been quicker on the uptake and soon realized her true nature. While they battled her, Piccolo was sent to gather Yamcha from the spring so they could all escape. Yamcha, however, had refused to go, still believing a beautiful woman was on her way to make his bath more pleasurable. Finally, in a fit of frustration, Piccolo had yanked the nude Yamcha out of the steaming waters and thrown him straight over his lap. A dozen hard spanks later, Yamcha had learned the error of his ways and quickly agreed to follow the namek's instructions if it'd mean an end to the painful and embarrassing punishment. He'd pulled his pants on over a stinging pink butt and followed along behind the others as they all resumed their flight down Snake Way...

He'd never told anybody about that incident, but now, studying Piccolo's face, he couldn't help but gulp as he got the bad feeling he was going to relive it several times over.

At his side, Krillin gave a short bark of laughter. "And here I thought you didn't have a sense of humor!" he told Piccolo with a wide grin. "Spanking? Wow! Sure, maybe guys Gohan's age still need that, but I'm a father myself now!" His chest expanded proudly at the new life he'd helped bring into the world. He gave another chuckle. "We're all a little too old for jokes like that, don't you think? Now come on, Piccolo, what's the real way you're planning to help us train?"

[MelloMelon]

Gohan nodded to the shorter, older Z-Fighter's reasoning, before he blinked and then turned in in whiny protest, "Krilliiin! What did I ever do to you, huh?! Geez, after I babysat the other week, too! Mom ragged on me for hours for that 'cause I missed out on chores!"

The relentless Namekian was at the end of his tether, and at the dismissive laughter of the shortest human there, it finally broke with an almost audible snap. It was as though he felt that his good intentions and purpose were being thrown in his face, that his teachings were akin to some get rich quick scheme that earthlings and otherworlders in general were so hot on.

As his narrowed dark eyes surveyed his 'pupils', Piccolo only got more frustrated as it seemed not a single one barring the three eyed warrior seemed to want to take it seriously. Would rather be home studying, playing house, or... other activities. A thick green brow raised at Yamcha not quite fathoming the interest from where he stood on that front, and then turned his gaze again to Krillin.

His firmly muscled arms unfolded, and in a blink he was in front of the ex-monk. Or rather, Krillin was dangling in the air, held by the back of his gi like it was nothing to the Namekian who held him there to their eyes met, "You seem to think there's some magical method that's going to give you the strength you need without doing the work that can get you there, Krillin."

Waiting for a response as his stern stare rode over each of the other men like prison search lights, he finally uttered with fearsome gravity, "Then so be it."

The giant of a man fell on one knee, and tossed the hapless ex-monk over his huge, purple-clad thigh, not giving the man even a pause to breathe and a white-clawed, green hand came down like a clamp right over his back. Krillin's body was adjusted using only that hand with ease until his round ass was his highest point and a perfect target for anyone who happened by at that moment. Or a massive, vengeful Namekian palm.

The hand did not start beating down, however, but a paid of sharpened fingers hooked into the back of Krillin's orange gi, "Here's a taste of the real magic that'll grant you the willpower to work hard. Close your eyes or the glitter and rainbows might startle you."

He looked over at the other warriors who stared back, slack-jawed. Gohan looked like he was trying to get some sort of protest out, but nipped it at the glare from his teacher, and gritted his teeth and stared with saucer eyes as the rounded rump of his dad's best friend was bared for all to see.

[Manicorn]

"Huh?! Hey, Piccolo, c'mon, you can't really, what are you--GAH!" Krillin spluttered in disbelief right up until the moment his pants came down. A thousand excuses had run through his head--Piccolo was just putting the fear of god in them, he was showing them he wasn't to be messed with, he was giving a warning--but as his pants and underwear sailed to his knees in one fell swoop, Krillin suddenly knew with unerring accuracy that none of them were true.

Piccolo actually intended to give him a bare-bottom spanking.

And in front of the whole group!

It was hardly his first time over a knee--just ask Master Roshi, Goku, or a whole host of his villains and adversaries over the years--but it'd been some time. Years! Not since way before he'd become a dad. And certainly not for something as juvenile as talking back to teacher. Krillin blushed red as he immediately felt like a naughty kid again, wiggling and kicking in protest. "Hey, this isn't funny any more, Piccolo! Okay you've had your fun, now let me up right now!"

His butt was round, smooth, and perky. Dimpled. And as the other guys watched it bounce and flex around, they saw it reflected the sunlight just as surely as his bald head had used to.

"Geez, is this for real?" Yamcha said, stunned. "I haven't been spanked as part of training since, well, ever!" He looked to the other guys to see their reaction. Krillin's bare ass was one thing, but he was more worried about his own.

[MelloMelon]

Gohan stared, blinking and almost intrigued, at his dad’s best friend, and, well… HIS friend kicking around and wriggling like his little brother would if he’d mercilessly tickled him. He wouldn’t say, but it was almost, kinda… sorta… funny? His cheeks were rosy, and bulging with the effort to hold in that thought. He’d obviously inherited a little more than his jovial father’s powers and love of food in his little moment of cheeriness at Krillin’s expense.

Obviously, he had blanked the fact that he might have to endure the same far from his mind as his teacher dealt with the student of Master Roshi with his usual gentility and grace.

“BE QUIET AND TAKE YOUR DAMNED PUNISHMENT LIKE A WARRIOR!” Piccolo roared, his deep voice resounding out in the wilderness and bouncing around all the mountain ranges and treetops, scattering animals and birds (and human and demi-saiyan) alike who were anticipating furious storms at the sound. He had been calmly surveying the human’s bare behind with a hidden appreciation when the demands and whines had set him off again.

He wouldn’t admit even to himself that the act of beating the bottoms of venerable warriors helped him get rid of his ever-living frustrations and even brightened his mood a bit… but he had honour, ever since taking Son Gohan under his wing, and he wouldn’t use his power to take advantage of the weak who hadn’t earned it. And in Piccolo’s narrowed eyes, they had all earned some tough schooling from his battle-hardened palm.

Krillin had just lit the fuse. He gave that bare perky butt another few gropes and fondles before he raised up his palm again and slammed it down with a furious SMACK right in the centre of the shining buns. The power behind it was so that the Namekian’s big palm sank deep into the warm human flesh, and when it raised back up, a huge, hot handprint sprang up as quickly as the round cheeks bounced back to their shapely spherical form.

Piccolo had decided years ago, having beaten Yamcha’s lazy backside on the winding road to King Kai’s, that both human and Saiyan body tones were tedious at times, and really benefitted from a splash of colour. Very much like his green, red, and pink tones. He enjoyed the variation. And maybe that was another reason that he favoured this method of training above others…

Nevertheless, the stubborn Namekian that he was, his frown was resolute, and no enjoyment showed barring the flash of excitement in his dark eyes as he began peppering the helpless ex-monk’s behind with a firm barrage of slaps as his comrades looked on. Tien gave a short bark of laughter at Yamcha’s comment, and shook his head, “THAT doesn’t surprise me, if your training discipline is anything to go by…” He then looked back to Krillin’s ordeal, and lowered himself into a cross-legged sit, arms folded, waiting in a warrior’s exasperation.

[Manicorn]

At Piccolo's furious shout Krillin actually ceased his struggles, if in shock from the ferocity of the roar if nothing else. He just held himself perfectly still, almost like a prey animal himself, his round, bare-naked cheeks upturned and trembling over the green man's knee. "P-Piccolo?" he asked, still in shock over what was happening. This had to be a dream. There was no way Piccolo had actually grabbed him, pinned him, pantsed him, and was about to--

SMAAAACK!

Krillin almost flew off the Namek's lap at the first swat. It was hard and fast, delivered with the power of one of the universe's strongest warriors. It almost felt like his cheeks had been branded with the imprint of Piccolo's stern hand across them, and Krillin wasted no time in informing everybody exactly how he felt about it.

"OOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs, even as his buns bounced back for more. Before he knew it he was taking a barrage of slaps, each one making his cheeks buck and leaving their own painful imprint across them.

"OOOH, Piccolo that hurts! Take it easy, willya??! Yeee-OOWWWW!" were just a few of the choice phrases that sprang to his lips, all as he wriggled, kicked, and helplessly squirmed. It seemed he was out of practice in more ways than one. Not only in training, but also in receiving punishment.

As he watched one of his good buddies get a comeuppance, Yamcha couldn't help but grin slightly. Piccolo's attitude may have been worrisome, but something about the fun of watching a guy holler while his butt bounced all around was eternal. He stood by Tien, the two of them taking in the view. "Hey, what's what supposed to mean? I'm plenty disciplined!" he said in mock-affront at Tien's comment. Then his head cocked. "Wait, don't tell me you've been...?"

[MelloMelon]

“QUIET! You’ve had too many years of taking it easy!” a white-clawed hand slammed across the tender flesh that Krillin used to sit,”You’re getting exactly what you damned well deserve, you little--!” Fangs bared and Piccolo gave his head a firm shake, deciding that he would ignore any further protests. There would inevitably be many more by the time he was through with this little instruction.

It would be harder than it had been with the other Z-Fighters to disregard them, so better to start now.

Krillin was one that he felt obligated to stand in front of in a battle. Just as he had in the battle with Freeza. When Vegeta had gained his sudden surge of power after a near-death experience, he had gone all out, flinging his ki around like a madman at anything and everything in hopes of hitting the evil alien – he, Krillin, and young Gohan had been targets in this, too. And he had been forced to grab the two like idiot brats as they both stared like rabbits in headlights as the light came upon them. He’d been furious – both at the Saiyan prince and his smaller comrades, particularly the Z warrior who had a world’s experience over his young demi-saiyan charge. He’d been so close to tossing him over his knee right there, tearing off that skintight black spandex, and setting a more localised fire across that thoughtless bare butt than Vegeta’s galick gun had threatened.

At that point, he’d settled on just throwing them both down like potato sacks when he’d flown a safe distance. The bawling and crying would have only piqued the interest of their cruel alien enemy anyway and potentially given him ideas beyond just crushing them in an honourable battle.

He felt an annoying need to protect that grated on the big Namek’s nerves. It was the same sentiment that he had experienced with Gohan as a child – a small, chubby cheeked weakling that bestowed a disgusting need to nurture and protect within his battle-hardened body that had never been there before. Only, Krillin was a full-grown human, with a compact, well-toned and muscled body, fully capable of defending himself and damned well should be training with fervour every day to protect both himself and the damned Earth he lived on rather than spending every waking moment lazing around playing house or shopping, or working odd jobs at his mate’s whim and—

With these thoughts, Piccolo’s palm rose and fell with greater and greater intensity, the snaps and smacks of his rigid hand and long fingers threatening to cause the very mountains around them to shake (or so it felt to the onlookers who had their own asses to fret about). The ex-monk’s bare buns bounced under the intense schooling of the Namek’s hand, as they grew ripe red and shiny like a succulent pair of cherries. Piccolo’s hand was enough to almost cover both of the Z warrior’s cheeks, but he still divided the effort between each, assuring that not a patch of smooth flesh was left unscathed.

“Under my old Masters, I’d get a few lashes of the cane now and then. Usually for Chiaotzu.” Tien Shinhan murmured, looking away for a moment, anticipating a backlash for his caring nature due to his harsh upbringing, but that would never have come from a nice, but lackadaisical guy like Yamcha. After a moment, he looked back with a grin, “So in answer, this kind of child’s punishment isn’t meant for a warrior like me,” he nodded to himself, confident, before considering the scarred man at his side, “it should work for ‘plenty disciplined’ guys like you, though,” he advised, smirking playfully.

“…A few slaps are nothing.” He finished, his trio of eyes staring at the scarlet bottom of one of the strongest earthlings on the planet with less assurance than his words conveyed.

[Manicorn]

Of all the guys' eyes feasting upon his comeuppance, Krillin was most embarrassed about Gohan's. He'd always seen himself as something of a mentor to the boy and a "cool uncle". On their journey to Namek together they'd gone through thick and thin, and only come out okay through their teamwork. Well, mostly okay. Now of course Gohan was full-grown, a man in his own right... But still, much like Piccolo, part of Krillin would always see Gohan as the wide-eyed boy he'd first gone on an adventure with.

Now that same boy was watching his bare-naked cheeks quiver and dance, each swat of Piccolo's hand practically blasting the skin off them. Krillin couldn't believe how quickly the punishment had ramped up. He was sure his ass looked like two ripe tomatoes already, and yet Piccolo continued to swat on. It was all Krillin could do to keep from outright wailing, but that didn't mean he kept totally quiet.

"Ohh! I-I'm sorry Piccolo! I'll do better! I'll--OWWW!--train harder! I won't slack off anymore! AAAHHH, PLEASE! I'll do whatever you say! OoooOOOOooohhHH! Oh Kami, it HURTS!"

Just a few steps away, Yamcha considered Tien's words. Maybe it was due to watching Krillin's punishment, but he couldn't help but picture Tien in that same position. Only, no, his butt would be lined with marks from a cane instead, right...? He shook his head to try and clear it. "Alright Mr Tough Guy," he said. "You might be a big strong warrior who's above getting spanked, but does Piccolo know that?"

"...and that's a few slaps?" he asked, just as Krillin broke into outright tears, begging and bawling for the punishment to stop. His cheeks were as red as a stop sign.