Johnny wearily opened his eyes to his alarm clock's harsh red display. The snooze button's soft, comforting green light offset the angry numbers. He pushed it, and closed his eyes.

Nine minutes later, seconds before it went off again, he jabbed blindly at the button. After four more minutes of blissful silence, he opened his eyes.

Did the snooze button seem a little ... yellow now?

Johnny leaped out of bed. He flipped a switch on the clock, and tossed some clothing from his dresser onto his bed. He removed his pajama top, and just stuffed it under his pillow, when he heard a "click" from the door.

Johnny's heart skipped a beat. He froze in place. And the two mechanical arms with metal hands popped out of the alarm clock, wrapped around his forearms, and slowly but firmly pulled him forward, bent over the bed.

Johnny twisted his head to the side. The arms with wooden hands emerged from the clock, and he heard footsteps creep up outside his door. As he watched helplessly the hands unsnapped his pajama bottoms and pulled them down, and two slippers revealed themselves under the crack of the door.

The door rattled, but didn't open.

"Mom!" cried out Becca, "Johnny's door won't open. I can't watch him get his spanking!"

Mother's voice carried from downstairs. "Your big brother did better than last Monday. That means he gets spanked privately."

"Aww, that's no fun."

Johnny heard a soft thump as Becca pressed her ear against the door.

One wooden hand tucked his pajama bottom under the pillow; the other shot straight up. On the wall behind it was a heavy paddle, but it made no move towards it. It slowly lowered until it was even with his quivering buttocks.

Becca's soft giggles were drowned out by Mother. "Becca, come get breakfast right now! Or do you need an alarm clock, too?"

Becca stamped a single foot in frustration, and hurried away.

Just as Johnny heaved a sigh of relief, the wooden hand delivered a hard slap to the middle of his right cheek. He cried out as it delivered five more in a row to the seat of his pants. The other hand slid into position, facing away from the other.

Their thumbs locked together with a click.

They started turning around in a circle, making a cool breeze on his buttocks and exposed privates. Then they moved in. Stiff wood met soft skin, as they spun around and around, stinging each buttock, the blows a mere second apart. After ten spanks, he was already crying. Less than a minute later, there was one last tap on his right cheek. The cool wood rubbed his hot bottom, then abruptly, the arms retracted into the machine.

In the dining room, Mom tussled his hair and patted his bottom. "Hey there kid! This week's already starting out better!"

"I know, Mom," he sighed, as he stood at the table, and ate his cereal in silence.

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Afterword:

I don't normally write male submissive stories (I am a top). But this is a special case.

When I was about eight years old, my mom grew tired of waking me up in the morning, and gave me an alarm clock. It was a little rectangular box, covered with fake wood that might have been fashionable in the 70's, harsh red numbers, and a truly annoying high-pitched beep.

I viewed it as a parental intrusion into my room, my private sanctum. She explained the little switches on top of the machine, but not the shiny metal "SNOOZE" button mounted on the front of it, just above the display.

My first guess was that it you would push it if you wanted the clock to wake you up after a brief nap. But my paranoid little mind dreamed up a scenario where it could be programmed to sprout (cartoony) mechanical arms to pick me up and spank me. When she explained to me what it was for, I worked that function into my automatic spanking alarm clock.

And thus was born the most memorable spanking machine that I dreamed up in my youth. Ah, the pleasant fantasies I had about getting my female classmates into its clutches. And the irrational "fantasies" I had about getting put into one.

Doubly irrational, actually, since
a) I knew it was silly, and
b) I knew that my mom was strongly opposed to spanking.

Don't expect many more stories of this type. The only other spanking machine I remember inventing as a kid was the "Spankonizer," from when I started watching the original Star Trek.