Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 61
by Chadlad

copyright 2007 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
[email protected]

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 61: And So It Begins

Tommy Henson squirmed in his chair. His butt ached ferociously, not surprisingly considering the sheer number of hands and paddles that had struck it repeatedly in the last few days. No matter how he shifted his weight, it still rested on several welts simultaneously. His butt hole itched, and the urge to reach in his pants and scratch it was almost irresistible. And just inside his butt hole, his rectum still burned dully from the pepper lotion that had been on the peg of the peg chair. Boy stuff inside him hurt. What had Naomi the artist called it? His postate gland? Phosphate gland? Something like that. It felt pinched and swollen at the same time, the product of too many ejaculations in too short a time period. His penis itched, too, yet he knew it would be sensitive to the touch if handled. And somehow, knowing it was painted bright red with mercurochrome made it feel different, somehow, like an alien thing in his pants. How in the world was he going to pee like that? Boys always glanced surreptitiously at other boys at the urinals. He'd have to time it so that he was there alone, and that would be tricky. If he was anywhere else, he'd just go stand at one of the toilets in the stalls, but standing at the toilets was forbidden to boys at Miriam Webster (too messy and unnecessary, the teachers said). And he couldn't go sit down and pretend to be taking a dump – the janitor had removed the stall doors after a boy had been caught smoking in there last year, and sitting on the toilet he wouldn't be able to hide his painted genitals at all.

How was he going to get a picture of a boy and a girl looking at his painted genitals for Beth? He could feel the small digital camera in his pants pocket, a constant reminder of his appointed task. He'd almost certainly have to do the boy and girl separately, which meant twice the chance of getting caught by a teacher or seen by some other student who might report him. Where could he take such a picture that was out of sight of prying adult eyes? And who did he approach? He glanced around the room, looking for a boy he trusted, rejecting one candidate after another. He didn't really have a close relationship with any of them, he realized, certainly not close enough to share a humiliating thing like this with them. His eyes fell on his cousin Dakota, sitting in her new seat several seats up from him to his right. He wondered just how mad she was at him at this point. He had hoped she'd feel they were even after she'd smashed his balls last night. Okay, he'd hurt her brother. Heck, he might as well admit it to himself, he'd butt-fucked her brother. Butt fucked him and enjoyed it, he now realized, just as he'd enjoyed doing the same to Jesse yesterday. Admitting it made him feel less dirty and guilty than it had in the past – he wondered what that meant. So he'd hurt Gabriel, and Gabriel had every right to be mad, and he knew it and he'd take his medicine from Gabriel until his younger cousin felt they were even again. But Dakota's wrath had surprised him, and her grip had been ruthless. His balls were still slightly swollen and tender to the touch even now. He'd thought, or maybe just hoped, that the crushing she'd given him last night was enough, but then there was the remark she'd made this morning, that she might squeeze the juice out of his cajones every night this week. Or do something worse, she had said. But what could be worse than the pulverizing his balls had taken at her hand? He almost didn't want to know.

He suddenly snapped to attention as he realized the teacher was looking directly at him expectantly and a bit impatiently. He realized, belatedly, that she'd asked him something. "I – I don't know," he stuttered, hoping that this all-purpose answer would do the trick.

Mrs. Johnson put her hands on her hips. "You don't know if you need to go to the bathroom? I would think a 6th grade would always know the answer to that question. I only asked because you were so active back here that you were distracting your classmates."

Tommy realized, belatedly, that his uncomfortable butt had made him shift around like a boy with a full bladder. "Uh, no ma'am. I'm just having trouble holding still." A sudden thought occurred to him. Boys had to go to the bathroom in pairs now, because of the tendency of single boys to get into trouble. "I mean," he backtracked. "Um, yes ma'am, I'd like permission to go to the bathroom please!"

"Well, which is it?" she asked.

Which is it? Why was she asking that? Tommy thought to himself. "I have to pee," he said finally, flushing a bit. The teacher frowned as several kids laughed. "I wasn't asking what you wanted to do in the bathroom. Too much information, as you children say. I was asking which of your answers was accurate, the one where you said you didn't have to go, or the one where you said you did. But I guess you answered my question." She glanced searchingly around the room. "Wayne, go with Tommy to the bathroom."

Wayne. Well, that wasn't too bad. He and Wayne got along okay. Wayne wasn't a close friend, he really didn't have any close friends in this class, he'd realized only a few minutes ago. But Wayne was funny and not hostile to him, at least. Shorter than Tommy, brown haired, a bit wall-eyed. Probably as good a boy as any to try to get in the embarrassing picture he needed to satisfy Beth. But how was he going to approach the subject? You couldn't just say to a guy, "I need a picture with you with my nuts hanging out – you don't mind, do you?"

He rose slowly, thinking hard. Perhaps he could use a bit of trickery – he wouldn't have to explain himself if Wayne didn't know, would he? He might be able to pull this off without embarrassment, if he timed it right. And used a bit of misdirection. Like a magician – get him to look here, do something there. They made it look easy – but could he do it? Because the consequences of failure would be more than a busted trick.

The two boys trouped down the hall in silence to the nearby bathroom. Once inside, Wayne marched to the urinal and unzipped his own pants, commenting, "might as well go myself while we're here." He looked over his shoulder, puzzled, when Tommy didn't join him. "I thought you had to pee," he said.

"Um, not exactly," Tommy said. He took a deep breath. "I have this other problem."

"Nudge-nudge, wink, wink, say no more! I'll go stand by the door and give you space. I don't like having to take a dump in the open, either," Wayne said fervently. He zipped his pants and stepped away from the urinal. "Anyone comes by, I won't let them in unless they say 'swordfish.'"

"It's not that, either," Tommy said. "You see, I've got this sister…"

"Ah, that's how it is! Meester, you want to meet my seester? Just say the word, I'll slip her the old bratwurst," Wayne said good naturedly. "Or maybe you want that I should have her bumped off?" He leaned over and lowered his voice to a whisper, doing his best Brando imitation. "I'll make her an offer she can't refuse. But just remember, my son, one day I may ask a favor from you, and I'll expect you to reciprocate." He gave Tommy a wink. Belatedly, Tommy remembered that Wayne almost always spoke in an odd mixture of normal speech and quotes from old, obscure movies and Monty Python scrips.

Tommy was too nervous to smile, although the thought of having Beth bumped off did have its appeal. "I'm serious," he said. "I need your help. But you've got to promise me that you won't tell anyone."

"Go ahead, make my day," Wayne said pleasantly, drying his hands on a towel.

"I need to take your picture," Tommy said. "Actually, a picture of both of us."

"Casting shots? What's the flick?" Wayne said, throwing the towel in the trash can. "Two points!" he chanted. "And the crowd goes wild!" He made mock cheering motions, then froze suddenly. "Wait, hold on. You want pictures of me for your sister? Huh uh. No way. I don't do frontal nudity. I'll do a full moon if the price is right, but I'm saving the frontal for when I'm a star. She'll just have to get her jollies from some other young blood."

"Not that kind of a picture, stupid," Tommy said. "All you have to do is put your arm around me and smile. You see, she and I had this argument, where she said boys are all queer for each other and they're afraid to touch each other because of it. She said we'd have to admit how we felt if we did. She said girls hug all the time, but boys don't because we're all gay and we hide it by staying away from each other. So I told her that she was sick and we touch each other all the time, and she said I had to prove it by bringing home a picture of a boy hugging me, like friends. I win 10 bucks if I do, and I'll share half of it with you."

"Oh, a paying gig! Well, you picked a pretty face, and ol' Wayne never says no to a part, no matter how small! It's what makes me a star. Okay, I'm in." Wayne stepped closer toTommy and put an arm around his shoulders, posing elaborately. "Mr. Demille, I'm ready for my close up," he giggled. "This all she wants? Because I charge extra to kiss you." He dropped into a Bogart drawl. "You've got a mouth that ought to be kissed hard and often, sweetheart, and by someone who knows how."

"Just look straight ahead and don't move," Tommy said. He raised the camera in front of them, holding it at arm's length. At the same time he tried to smoothly and quietly slip the front of his pants and underpants under his genitals. "Now smile!" he said, keeping Wayne's attention on the camera.

The flash went off, blinding him temporarily. At the same time, he tried to slip his pants back over his genitals without attracting attention. His thumb slipped, and his pants snapped back under his balls, striking them sharply, painfully, and worse yet, loudly. He yanked his pants over his throbbing nuts quickly, trying to minimize the damage. He felt Wayne jerk away, and when he finished blinking back the spots in front of his eyes, Wayne was looking at him suspiciously.

"Hey, what did you just do?" he hissed, his face now shorn of all good-natured charm. "You pulled your pants down! I saw you pulling them back up! You had them down! What are you trying to do, make it look like I'm hungry for your sausage or something?" He reached for the camera, snatching it out of Tommy's hands, frantically pushing buttons randomly. "How do you make this thing erase?" he asked heatedly, fighting to keep from raising his voice and calling down teacher attention on them. "You show me, or I'm going to pound you!"

Tommy reached impotently for the camera, but Wayne fended him off by turning his back and crouching over it, pushing buttons randomly. "You'd better show me how to erase it, or I'm going to smash it on the floor!" Wayne said. Tommy tried to snatch the camera again from first one side and then the other. Wayne raised it threatening and made like he was going to hurl it down.

"Okay, stop! STOP!" Tommy begged. "I'll explain everything if you just stop!"

Wayne shook him off and stepped a few feet back, still holding the camera aloft. "Go ahead," he said. "Make my day."

Tommy stepped a few feet back to give Wayne more room and reduce the threat to him. If he broke the camera, who knew what Beth would do. "I'll tell you the whole story," he said soothingly. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"No promises," Wayne said. "Lucy, you've got some 'splainin' to do." He smiled at his rather bad Cuban accent.

"Okay," Tommy said. He frantically thought, trying to concoct a story, but his mind was blank. In desperation, he decided to try a variant of the truth. "Look, I did something bad this weekend," he began. "Something real bad. I can't tell you what it was. But my sister found out, and she's making me do stuff so she won't tell mom, because it was really bad."

"She caught you slipping someone the old bratwurst?" Wayne giggled. "You lucky dog!" Tommy's heart jumped in terror. How did he know Tommy had butt fucked his cousin? Had Dakota blabbed? But she couldn't have – she hadn't talked to anyone before class started. Then how? Heck, if Wayne already knew, the whole school would know before noon. He might as well just move to Seattle. He looked fearfully at Wayne. But no, that wasn't it – Wayne wouldn't grin and call him a lucky dog if he'd known Tommy had forced himself on a little boy, he'd be ridiculing Tommy, the way all boys his age ridiculed homosexual activities.

Wayne regarded his silence, then gestured with the camera. "Naw, that can't be it. You'd be proud of that! Unless it was a toddler or something! You go for the young stuff? Or was it the family dog you were slipping the sausage to? No offense, guy, but that's kind of over the line."

"Huh?" Tommy said stupidly. "We don't have a dog." The remark about going for the young stuff had jolted him again. It took him a few moments to realize that Wayne didn't actually know anything – he was just spouting nonsense. Tommy hastened to cover up his reaction, hoping Wayne wouldn't notice how close to home his original remark had come. "Look, it didn't involve sausages at all, okay? It was something else, and I don't want to talk about it. But she said I have to take a picture of myself with a boy and a girl with my pants pulled down in front, or she'll take a paddle to my boy stuff."

Wayne cringed sympathetically and lowered the camera. "Ooooh, that's harsh," he commented. "The paddling the boy stuff, I mean. "Remember your brother's nuts after the soccer ball thing? I'd swear they got big as oranges! Kinda impressive, though, compared to how they'd looked before." He paused a moment, then looked at Tommy slyly. "You peeped on her, didn't you? A little 'sister in the bath' action? Looked at the old kitty cat?"

"Kitty cat?" Tommy said, having trouble following Wayne as usual.

"You know, the old kitty cat! The vertical grin! The old puss-puss!" Wayne said, giggling.

"No," Tommy said shortly, reaching but unable to grab said camera from Wayne.

"Oh, made you erase them, huh?" Wayne said. He stopped poking buttons and looked disappointed.

"So can I have the camera back?" Tommy pleaded.

"Not yet," Wayne said, lifting it out of Tommy's reach again. "Why'd she want you to lower your pants? What'd she do, put a diaper on you or something?" Wayne said. "Make you wear girl's panties?"

"Not exactly – it's kind of worse than that," Tommy said.

"She did something to the old man-baubles themselves? Drew a smiley face on your bratwurst, maybe?" He looked up at the camera and pressed another button. "Got it!" he said in triumph. "Let's just see what she did!" He lowered the camera to a comfortable distance from his eyes and studied the picture on the playback screen. He looked up at Tommy in surprise. "Hey, your sausage is red!" he exclaimed. "What'd she do, beat it to a pulp or something? No, that couldn't be it – its bright red! It's, like, dyed! Like those natives on that Discover Channel show who dye the old sausage red to scare their women!"

"She covered it with Mexican medicine," Tommy said grudgingly. "Mercuri- something or the other. It won't wash off."

"Cool!" Wayne said, beginning to dance around the bathroom. He looked at the picture. "Better yet, you can't really see who I am in the picture – my head's kind of in shadow! But your old sausage sure stands out!" He admired the picture some more, then looked at Tommy appraisingly. "I might let you keep the picture," he said. "You can't see it's me in it, anyway. So I might let you keep it to show your sister. I might even help you find a girl to be in the other picture."

"Yeah, right," Tommy said, discouraged at the failure of his original plan. "You're just going to race out of here and tell everyone I've got a red dick! I'll have people trying to pull my pants off all day!"

"I see nothing, I hear nothing, and I know nothing!" Wayne said. Tommy stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Sorry," Wayne added. "Too many Hogan's Heroes reruns. But I swear I won't tell a soul. Well, maybe only one or two. I mean, you've got a red dick! It's too good not to share. Look, you let me show you to one or two other kids, and I'll talk to Aiesha at lunch and get her to meet us in that empty equipment room under the bleachers to pose for the other picture. She's cool about stuff like that – if you're really nice to her."

Tommy looked dubious. Wayne looped an arm around his shoulders. "Hey, don't worry, she's cool, she really is. And she's seen lots of boys' sausages. If a guy's really nice to her and begs a little, sometimes she'll give him a hand job, you know," he said confidentially. "She's really good at it! But you have to show her the old sausage first, and she'll only do it if she likes your bratwurst. I hear it helps if you're standing up down there, so to speak. You got to be clean, too – I heard she turned a guy down once because his had a piece of lint caught in the old waterworks, if you know where I mean. But if you can get her to do it, it beats old Whitey Palm and his finger buddies any day."

Tommy's curiosity was piqued despite the gravity of the situation. "You mean you... She…"

"Hey, let's not get into details, okay," Wayne said, backing up. "Just trust that I know what I'm talking about. And she knows I know, so she won't blab even if she turns us down for the picture. And if she likes your old Vienna sausage, you're home free, and might even get some hand action along the way."

"Okay," Tommy said. "I guess that would be okay." He reached for the camera. Wayne pulled it back out of reach.

"Just a minute," he said. "I haven't given you the rest of the pitch yet. I'm doing you a favor. Now I'm going to need you to do me a favor in return."

Tommy's heart sank. Of course. Everybody wanted something. He couldn't imagine what this kid could want, though – after all, anyone who had girls already rubbing his dick for him – "What kind of favor?" he said cautiously.

Wayne now looked a little embarrassed. "I think you know what I want – I can't seem to keep it inside and be cool, you know? You know how it is when you want something so bad you can't stand it? Like it's eating you up inside? But you're too shy to tell anyone, 'cause you're afraid they'll make fun of you for what you want? That's how it is. I want it so bad it's eating me up! It's all I've thought of all morning! And now, you can give it to me."

Great, Tommy thought with a sinking feeling. Another pervert who wants me to suck his dick. Do I have "cocksucker" on my shirt or something? "No," he said. "I won't do it! I'd rather take my chances with my sister tonight," he added, staring Wayne in the face.

Wayne looked shyly away, then tried again. "Come on, man, it's no big deal. Just this one time. I'm not asking much of you! I'm sure other guys have asked you too, or if they haven't, they will! And I'm a lot better fellow than most of them! And I'll help you get your other picture – you'll never do it without me!"

Timmy spoke bitterly. "Sure, just this one time. That's what they all say. But it won't be just this one time – you'll want me to do it again and again."

"No I won't!" Wayne insisted. "It'll just be this one time. But you'll have to ask me over to your house. Because that'll look more natural – It'll be better there. And it's no big deal, really! We'll just say I came to work on the English project. We do have an English project, you know, so we won't actually be lying."

Tommy considered. He actually found the idea of viewing Wayne's genitals a bit exciting. Would a boy who called his penis "the old bratwurst" actually have a dick that big? Was he as far into puberty as Tommy? But the rational part of him was screaming bloody murder – he didn't need another kid in on his secret! "I can't," he finally said. "There's just some stuff I can't do, even to save myself from Beth. And you shouldn't be asking me to do it. That's mean, taking advantage of a guy when he's down like I am! How would you feel if you needed help and I asked you – asked you--?"

"Asked me to invite you over so you could have a chance to study with my cute cousin? Sorry, I don't have any cute cousins – most of them look like pig butts, except the ones that look like donkey butts. And that Dakota is hot! All I'm asking is that you let me come over to study with you guys so I can work my magic on her!" Wayne pleaded.

"You want me to have you over this afternoon so you can talk to Dakota?" Tommy said, surprise obvious in his face.

"Well, yeah," Wayne said. "That's what we're talking about, isn't it? Frankly, I can't see why you're being such a dick about it. It's not like I asked you to blow me or something."

Tommy had to catch his breath a minute and let his heart calm down. "Of course that's what we're talking about," he said quickly. "It's just that, well, my mom is out of town and, and my sister is mad at me, and, and…"

"Oh, I get it," Wayne said. "I bet she's still punishing you – probably going to whip your butt tonight or something, and you don't want me to see you getting punished. Say no more! Say no more! A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat! But she doesn't get home right away after school, does she? I'll walk home with you guys and I can start talking to your cousin on the way. I'll trot out the old charm and make my pitch before the battleaxe gets home. I can be very charming, you now," he said, imitating some movie star beyond Tommy's experience.

"Good – lie for me," Wayne said, winking. "And I'll tell Aiesha you are a perv. She likes us pervs better than the sissy boys. Tell her you need her to touch you for the picture and she'll be all over the old bratwurst." He turned the camera around, so Tommy could see the picture it was displaying – Wayne in shadow, indistinct, Tommy in the sunlight from the window, the brightest shaft falling on his bright red genitals, clearly visible in the shot. He handed the camera over to Tommy and turned away, then turned back again. "Meet me under the bleachers after lunch. Make sure no one sees you go in. And tell your hot cousin that I'm a great guy when you tell her I'm coming over." He turned toward the door, then turned back. "Better pee before you go, perv. You won't want to whip that thing out when the other boys are here – you'll scare the piss out of them."

Back in the 7th grade, Chad had taken his shirt off and was wiping himself with a towel Mrs. Rose had given him, his thin, bare chest looking underdeveloped and white in the classroom, his small, pale nipples a striking contrast to Emily's bigger, darker, conical projections. "You'll just have to do without that for now until it dries," Mrs. Rose was saying. "The school is adequately warm, anyway. Now let us focus back on our work." She turned back Emily, cowering in her bent-double position on the diaper table, and handed Chad the filled enema apparatus. "Just line this up to her anal orifice and rotate the nozzle clockwise, she instructed Chad. "It should screw itself right in. Keep rotating it until the anal muscle seats against this collar," she added, pointing to a rim at the wide end of the nozzle. "Mr. Gitt may scream or respond with some other childish histrionics, or even claim the nozzle is splitting her in two, but don't let that discourage you."

Chad stepped manfully forward in his toddler attire of just a diaper and prodded the center of Emily's anus with the nozzle, pressing the thin end against her brown, wrinkled orifice. "Nooooooo!" Emily squealed, as he began pressing inward. Her squeal turned to a low moan as the greased nozzle slipped in to the initial spiral thread grooves. He began rotating it slowly, watching with fascination as it sank smoothly into her hole, the dark brown ring expanding as it did and the wrinkles stretching and disappearing. Emily moaned more loudly, tossing her head from side to side. "STOP!" she shrieked. "I can't take it! It's too tight! Get it out!" Remembering Mrs. Rose's admonition, Chad continued slowly rotating the nozzle, watching the muscle stretch as it approached the top flange. Emily quivered impotently, bound tightly to the table with her upturned butt unable to escape its torture. Her anal orifice looked like it was being stretched beyond all endurance, and her vaginal cleft convulsed as he rotated the nozzle, her pelvic muscles trying, impotently, to squeeze out the intruder. Her moan became a shrill shriek.

"Mr. Gitt," Mrs. Rose admonished. "If you do not tone it down I'll be forced to gag you."

"But it hurts! I can't stand it!" Emily protested.

"You most certainly can stand it, and you will," Mrs. Rose said. "These are just the preliminaries, you know. It will certainly become more painful when we empty the contents of the bag into you. And the severe spanking that will follow will make you forget all about both."

Showing no signs of blushing as the boys had in this embarrassing position, Emily had now instead broken into a cold sweat. Get away, get away, get away! Her mind screamed. But she couldn't get away. Her hands were bound behind her and she was lying on them uncomfortably, their position under her back raising her butt to an even more embarrassing angle than Chad and Alan had experienced tied to the same table. Her legs were bound by her head, pulled wide so that her privates, all of her privates, were spread wide open to the class. She could see, merely by looking down her chest between her conical nipples, her pussy gaping wide. She could see much of the enema bag protruding up behind her pussy. Her butt hole burned as it was stretched. It felt like it would tear at any moment. And right there, in her line of vision, was the source of all of her troubles – Chad Henson! Stupid, dickless, baby-balled Chad Henson! His hands were busy, and her butt hole just kept stretching more widely! And he was looking right at her pussy as he turned the stupid nozzle – right at her gaping vagina and at the shamefully big nubbin that protruded like a little penis at the top of her cleft, his piggy eyes fixated on it, probably getting his rocks off right in his diaper right now from looking at her. She wanted to tear free from the table, rise up, and reach in that diaper and rip his little penis right off, and his baby balls with it! But all she could do was quiver with rage as Chad just kept working the nozzle more deeply into her.

She remembered laughing at Chad in this position, thinking how funny he looked with his one eye winking at everyone, his ridiculous penis standing at attention over his bulging little scrotum, the helmeted head wiggling as he twitched in shame. But now it was him looking at her, his filthy eyes all over her like slime. Probably thinking how much he'd like to stick his filthy dick into her and rut like a pig, the way all boys wanted to do. His ridiculous inch long dick was probably standing up in that diaper right now, throbbing for her, maybe even oozing slime.

She bit her lip – she wasn't going to beg any more. She wouldn't give them the pleasure! She'd endure this and her butt beatings stoically and show them all she was better than them. But then Mrs. Rose nodded to Chad. "That's far enough," she said. "Now grip the bag with both hands and press slowly and steadily until it's empty."

Emily watched, trying not to tremble, as Chad's hands moved to the bag and took hold, and then she lost all interest in what she was seeing as cold liquid surged into her rectum and began flowing upward, backward into her colon. The burning began immediately, the kind of burning you get when you accidentally laugh while drinking soda and snort some of it into your nose. An intense, fizzing burning that just kept building and building in intensity. Suddenly it seemed like Emily's entire rectum was on fire inside of her, the intensity easily trumping the burn of her stretched anal ring. She forgot all about being stoic. "Noooooo! Noooooo!" She squealed. "Take it out, take it out, TAKE IT OUT!" She tried to thrash, but only could tense her muscles impotently against her bonds, making her bottom twitch but hardly moving at all. She squeezed her rectal muscles with all her might, trying to expel the intruder, but succeeding only in making her anus shriek with pain. Chad kept squeezing the bag, and the burning sensation lit up more of her colon, filling Emily's insides with fire. "It burns! It burns!" Emily wailed. Had she not just peed all over Chad, she certainly would have at that moment. She was aware of nothing but the fizzing, fiery sensation inside her and the burn of her stretched anal ring. She didn't even notice when Chad finished squeezing the bag and stepped back, and Mrs. Rose disconnected the bag from the nozzle, leaving it in her anus as a butt plug, the check valve in the tip closing it effectively. She moaned and thrashed and pleaded for several minutes as the class watched, many of the girls laughing at her antics, most of the boys smirking and exchanging comments from behind sheltering hands.

Randy Martinez was watching Emily's plugged butt with glittering eyes, a smile of pleasure lightening his usually guarded expression. Served the bitch right, he thought. She'd certainly enjoyed his enema! He remembered his unbearable shame when he'd been standing naked in front of the class, his tiny, fat shrouded privates on display for the kids to jeer at, and duct tape across his butt holding it shut while the enema burned in him. He'd quailed under the superior gazes of boys and girls who had sized up his small, hairless genitals and then dismissed them with disdain. Now the bitch could see what it felt like! He hoped they'd leave it that black plug in her butt a long, long time! And he hoped they'd start spanking her soon, too, because he wanted that to last a long, long time as well! He'd told everyone that he'd done his report and had brought it with him. But of course they didn't listen – no one ever listened to boys in this school. But Emily the bitch would be listening now, wouldn't she? Listening to her own wailing as she got her butt beaten but good!

And then he remembered that he had a part to play in all of this, too! Mrs. Rose had said so! He was going to get to paddle her! On her bare bottom! With her tied to the horse, so he could raise his arm high, rear back, and get a good swing with each stroke! He could feel the rock-like hardness of his stubby erection in his boxers as he thought of it. Hatred and a burning desire for revenge gripped him. He'd been so humiliated! Everyone seeking his inadequate, barely visible genitals, his drooping fat gut hanging over them, his big butt bare and exposed, with every pimple visible, everyone looking at his butt hole! His butt hole! He still cringed inwardly thinking about bending over in front of the class, everyone looking into his butt and snickering at his discomfiture. Emily had smirked at him in such a superior way later in the bathroom as she'd made him spread his legs so she could watch him void his enema, like he was a little turd himself and she was the Queen of Sheba! Well, he'd Sheba her! He'd Sheba her right on her own boyish ass! He'd paddle her as long as he could, and hard as he could, too, and he wouldn't stop until they made him! His insides had burned with the enema long after it had been evacuated, and he'd burned with shame ever since that everyone had seen him get it, and that everyone had seen his stubby penis barely projecting from his pubic fat even when it had gotten hard due to the internal stimulation of the enema. At least they hadn't made him play with it in front of everyone, like Chad had been forced to do. Poor Chad. He'd looked so pathetic up there, whacking away at his little dick with his hand turned backwards because it didn't stay on the other way. But who was he to make fun of Chad? He probably couldn't keep his hand on his dick the other way, either. He wondered what he'd have done if they had made him beat off in class like that. His usual method of masturbation would really have made them laugh, he thought ruefully. If they only knew.

Randy Martinez at least still had one secret the class knew nothing about, and that was his preferred masturbation technique. Back when he was little, and not quite so chubby, he discovered that rocking against the bed with his little penis trapped between his stomach and a rather hard Power Rangers pillow he'd been given felt fantastic. Ever since than, that had been his preferred masturbation technique. He hadn't taken his penis in hand except to pee since he was 8 or 9, and he wasn't even sure he'd be able to make himself cum if he did. But he hadn't had to, and for that he ought to be glad.

For that matter, he ought to be glad that Emily was where she belonged, her legs over her head and spread so that all of her business showed. Let people laugh at her privates for a change! Of course, she didn't have a penis to get erect and humiliate her with its inadequacy, but still…

Randy blinked. Actually, it did kind of look like she had a penis. The oversized nub at the top of her open cleft, what Mrs. Rose had called a clitoris, was projecting upward now like a little penis. It wasn't as long as even his own short organ, and the underside split into a vee rather than being closed around a pee slit, but it did look remarkable like an erect baby penis. Chad, standing to one side clad in just his diaper, was looking at it, too. Mrs. Rose waiting patiently to allow Emily ample time to writhe in discomfort from the enema, caught Randy's gaze. She pointed to the erect, projecting clitoris with her pointer.

"You might have noticed, class," she began, "that Mr. Gitt's anterior organ has erected itself, much as any other boy's penis would become erect with this sort of anal situation. In some ways a girl's clitoris is a lot like a penis. It's the source of sexual stimulation and pleasure just as the tip of the penis is, and it erects when stimulated in much the same way, although it's much smaller than any penis." She looked around and fixed her gaze meaningfully on first Randy and then Chad before adding, "well, smaller than most boy's penises, anyway."

Mrs. Gitt spoke up. "Actually, children, all of you boys need to learn that proper clitoral stimulation is essential to female sexual satisfaction. Pretty much all young boys are focused only on their own pleasure in sexual situations and aren't concerned about their partners. In fact, the focus should be the opposite. Since almost any kind of touch can satisfy you boys…" here she flashed the nearest boys, including Chad, a big smile, "…the focus in any sexual situation should be the satisfaction of the female involved. And clitoral stimulation requires a delicate touch. You can't just maul it about like you boys do with your own equipment. It's a delicate organ, and takes a delicate touch."

"Ahem. Yes," Mrs. Rose said. Emily continued to twist her head from side to side and moan as the soda fizzed inside her and the plug stretched her anus beyond endurance. She barely heard what was being said around her. Mrs. Rose let her gaze travel up again to the girl's oversized clitoris. She'd have been popular in a girls' boarding school, she suddenly thought to herself. That hard little nub would be very effective nestled between another girl's legs, very effective indeed. She let her eyes travel up Emily's body, suddenly noticing once again the girl's light dusting of pubic hair. Well, she certainly couldn't allow that, could she? Not in a boy who was slated for genital punishment! She sprang instantly into action, moving to her drawer and coming out with a towel, the razor, and the shaving cream. "As Mr. Gitt is looking forward to several days in diapers after his punishment for wetting in class," she said, placing the towel across Emily's stomach, "as well a receiving genital punishment this afternoon, it is imperative that we clear any obstruction from that region. I realize there isn't that much hair there, but anything less that perfectly smooth will not do in this case."

The towel being placed on her stomach and the sight of the razor suddenly got Emily's attention. She stopped thrashing impotently and gaped at the razor. "Noooooooo!" she wailed. "You can shave me!"

"Very well," Mrs. Rose said. "If you prefer that I don't shave you, I won't." She turned toward the class. "Let's see ----Ah, Mr. Chen! You seem to feel left out of this activity and you're clearly done writing your sentences. Would you mind coming up here and removing this unhygienic hair from Mr. Gitt's private areas?"

Jimmy almost fell over his feet in his haste to dash to the front of the classroom, managing to stay on his feet only because an alert Mrs. Gitt grasped his arm and kept him from pitching onto the floor beside her. She helped him gain his balance again and patted his butt approvingly, impelling him toward her daughter. He almost skipped toward the lewdly displayed Emily, grinning at her with all the malice he could muster. He took the shaving cream can from Mrs. Rose and leered at Emily. "Gotta look close to make sure I don't slip and cut something vital," he said with a smirk. "I'll leave it to Chad to put the hurt on you." Emily visible shrank under his gaze – he was looking at her privates! Staring right at them! And Mrs. Rose was standing there patiently, letting him! As if she was reading Emily's mind, Mrs. Rose spoke up. "Normally, I would object to a boy in this class staring rudely at any girl, especially a girl who might be exposed, and I'd paddle one who stared rudely at a girl's private parts. But as Mr. Gitt is officially a boy, I can't really object to your behavior, Mr. Chen. Just remember what I told you before – there's a fine line. Now let's move it along. I want Mr. Gitt ample time to enjoy Mr. Henson's attentions to his fundament."

Emily groaned. Her bottom was already a mass of pain. Her butt hole was stretched beyond all endurance, and her rectum burned and churned with the enema, straining to empty itself but frustrated by the huge plug. The last thing she needed was Chad "attentions!" She knew exactly what reaction her own attentions to the fundaments of Chad and the other boys she'd spanked had produced. She'd never dreamed of being the receiving end of such attentions, though, let alone getting it from by the little turd dick himself! She tried to imagine what it was going to feel like to lie over his lap, face down, her unprotected butt open under his hand, feeling the first burning slap of his palm and then the next and the next, spank after spank overlapping each other, building the pain, blistering her skin and making her beg for mercy.

She'd heard boys talk about how unbearable it was, how the pain felt like fire and the fire built with each spank until you just wanted to run, but you couldn't run because running would get you even more spanking, how you cried even though it was humiliating, and how the burn went on and on while you suffered the indignity of being a public spectacle, a naked thing to be disciplined rather than a person. That's how she'd viewed Chad, and Jimmy, and S. F., too. She had no doubt that that was how they would view her.

Her thoughts turned to her groin, because Jimmy Chen was touching her, rubbing the shaving cream evenly around her pubic triangle, even letting his hand slip over her enlarged clitoris as many times as he dared with Mrs. Rose watching. Finally he wiped his hand on the towel, ben over, lined his razor up, and stroked it across the top of her triangle, removing the shaving cream and leaving pink, bare skin behind. Stroke by stroke he moved downward, removing the hair she'd finally, finally started growing and leaving her bare as a little girl again. Just above her cleft he stopped. "Mrs. Rose," he said. "I don't want to cut Mr. Gitt's little penis. Might I have your permission to hold it out of the way to protect it?"

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Emily screamed. "Don't let him touch me!"

Mrs. Rose looked at her hard. "Do I have to get the gag out, Mr. Gitt?" she asked menacingly. "I have one that dispenses soap to the tongue each time you cry out that might be ideal for use on you." She nodded at Jimmy. "Go ahead, Mr. Chen. I'll leave it up to you. He is a boy officially, after all, and restraint by the genitals of boys is allowed by the board. That goes for you, too, Mr. Henson – you may restrain Mr. Gitt by his genitals in much the same way you yourself were restrained during your punishments."

Emily opened her mouth again, thought of the gag, and closed it, staring at Jimmy in horror as he slowly, deliberately made his fingers into a claw and allowed them to descend, like the claw in an amusement game, until the circled her oversized clitoris. He slowly closed his fingers until the hard nub was trapped, then pulled upward to put pressure on her, much the way she had pulled his and Chad's penises. She felt the tug all the way inside her, a painful tug, and wondered if that was how it had felt to them. Yet at the same time, she felt a thrill of sexual longing at his touch. His firm fingers working on her hard nub made her butt contract, a fact noted by Mrs. Rose and filed away for future use. Jimmy winked at her and swiped the razor around the base of the organ, gave it another tug, and swiped around it a second time. He released it and pushed down on it like he was pressing a button. "Sorry," he said. "It won't go back in. Besides, if you pull it more than three times, you're playing with it," he added impulsively.

Mrs. Rose frowned. "What was that, Mr. Chen?" she asked menacingly.

"Just something a boy told me once," Jimmy replied. "Not important. Do you want me to shave down the sides of – um – down here?" he said, indicating the lips of her vulva with his fingers.

Mrs. Rose looked down her nose at him. "Of course," she said. "But be careful of the protruding portions as you do – press your fingertips on the central part as you go to keep the protrusions out of the way."

Grinning evilly at Emily, Jimmy placed the first two fingers of his left hand on the protruding lips of Emily's exposed pussy directly under her clitoris and force the pink tissue that was sticking out slightly like the petals of a flower into her slit. With his right hand, he smoothed shaving cream down the right side of her vulva and then drew the razor across it, moving his fingers down her cleft as he went. He then switched sides and repeated the process, drawing his fingers and the razor up the other side of her vulva, letting his fingers drag along her slit and slip in slightly as he went. He could feel the entrance to her vagina as he passed it each time and gave it a little push while grinning at her, but didn't dare do more with Mrs. Rose watching him critically. He let his fingers trail across her erect clitoris again, smirking at the involuntary contraction her butt made when he did. "There," he said. "Smooth as a baby's behind!"

"Wipe Mr. Gitt off with the towel," Mrs. Rose instructed. Jimmy picked up the towel and began stroking Emily's exposed genitals with it, making her squirm slightly. It wasn't the embarrassment that was making her squirm this time, though, but rather the stimulation of the towel on her erected clitoris and her pussy lips. Because despite the total humiliation of her position, despite the painful burning in her rectum, and despite the fact that her anus felt stretched to the point of tearing, Jimmy's light touch on her genitals had overwhelmed Emily with passionate yearnings. Suddenly she wanted Jimmy to drop the towel and go on stroking her with his hands, stroke her, slid his fingers deeper and deeper into her cunt, then lower his pants and climb on her and slide that twisted dick of his into her open slit, bury it home and take her right there in front of everyone, his white, muscular hips pumping, his butt hole winking at the class, his bag swaying between his legs as he thrust into her, while she moaned, helpless...

She snapped back to reality. Jimmy Chen? She didn't want Jimmy Chen to do those things to her! She didn't want that dirty, disgusting looking perverted dick of his anywhere near her, let alone inside her! She almost shuddered with revulsion at herself and her thoughts. Besides, there was the spanking she was going to get – the humiliating spanking administered by turdfaced and micro-dicked Chad! She didn't know if she could stand that, with her rectum and anus already burning. And then, lunch, where she'd been promised she would stand naked while other kids explored her body, and then after lunch, the paddling, on the horse! On a butt that would probably already be blistered and unbearably sore. But that wasn't all, she remembered with dread. Mrs. Rose had promised that Sam Farlow, the flour-white kid with the humongous dick and balls, Sam Farlow would be asked to whip her genitals! She moaned aloud, both because of these thoughts and because her rectum had contracted painfully, trying without success to force the irritating 7-up out past the butt plug and triggering a screech of protest from her butt hole as the contraction was immediately foiled by the hard plastic intruder. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! Crude punishments like this were for boys, not for girls like her!

And then she heard the words she'd been dreading every since she'd first realized that the slow, long, hard spanking she'd suggested was going to be given to her by Chad rather than the other way around. Mrs. Rose yanked the straps holding her legs free and lifted her body up roughly so she was sitting on the diaper cart. "Get up, Mr. Gitt. You've been lying there in comfort far too long. Mr. Henson, get the punishment towel and sit yourself down in front of the class. Mr. Gitt, it's time for your spanking."