The Orphanage Boys Chapter 18
by Chadlad

copyright 2009 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 18: Eighteenth Floor: Refrigerated Treats

Time passes very, very slowly when you're doing absolutely nothing, and when you're ordered to stay still in one position. Even if that position is a comfortable one, humans just aren't made to be in one position for long periods of time. And the position that Sam and Jake were in wasn't comfortable. Although it wasn't extremely uncomfortable, either. The girls had positioned the boys' knees too far apart for comfort, so that muscles on their inner thighs felt stretched and gradually began complaining as the minutes passed. Having their heads lower than their rumps made their backs start aching after awhile, too, and made the blood tend to rush to their heads. But mainly the discomfort was borne of embarrassment. With their rumps elevated and their legs spread, with no clothing on at all, they presented anyone who might be within eyeshot a veritable sex-education diagram of pubescent boy anatomy.

In fact, viewing the scene from a vantage point just outside the windows, you could just see the robed professor aiming his pointer for a rapt class and intoning, "Here you can see the boys' scrota, singular scrotum, hanging between the thighs and enclosing the testes or testicles, the very essence of boyhood. These ovoid structures contain many feet of thin tubing lined with cells that will shortly begin dividing by the millions to make spermatozoa in these two lads. Dangling in front of their scrota, with the tip just visible, you can see the boys' penises, sometimes called a 'member' or a 'phallus,' and also known by many other more vulgar names. Boys urinate from their penises, of course, and this is also the organ of intromission, the conduit by which the more mature lad will seek to deposit his semen into whatever female he can convince to accept it – in the case of these two, probably a $5.00 prostitute with gonorrhea, or a girl with fewer teeth that prospects for marriage. Even young boys like these two also handle this organ for pleasure almost every chance they get, a procedure known as 'masturbation,' or 'onanism.' This area above the scrotum," (here he would pause to drag his pointer up from each boy's scrotum to his anus) "is called the perineum. It may just look like a flat area of smooth skin, but it serves an important purpose – it cools the blood on its way down to the testes, and heats the blood back up again on its way back up. Sperm cells won't mature if the testes are much above 92 degrees. This is why males with undescended testes are sterile. This area remains open in females to form the vagina, but in males it closes while still in utero, creating this ridge which, as you can see, is more prominent in some males than others. Now further up, above the perineum, we have, of course, the anus, a powerful, pursed muscle that closes off the posterior end of the rectum. The rectum holds feces that accumulates from digestion until it is full, at which point the feces is expelled by forcing it out the anus, which can open up quite widely for that purpose. It is not uncommon for boys such as these to put things into their anuses, including the rounded ends of clothes pins, fingers, and, yes, even the penises of other boys, in a poor imitation of sexual intercourse with females, who are often unavailable to boys of this age. Because the prostate gland, found at the bottom of the bladder at the root of the penis, is pressed right next to the rectum, many boys find pleasure in having things in their rectums, pressing this highly sensitive gland, and some boys may even orgasm in this condition. Now as you can see, neither of these boys have pubic hair, so it's unlikely that either is capable of ejaculation at this point, but they can still have dry orgasms, which these two have undoubtedly experienced through their own manipulations. Now we shall give this boy an enema and then insert the speculum so that all of you can see the inside of the rectum for yourselves, and while we're waiting for his enema to serve its purpose, we'll have the other one stand and demonstrate how boys masturbate. Note as you watch his particular technique, as well as the muscular contractions and expressions that lead up to and accompany orgasm. It's a pity these boys are still unable to ejaculate and demonstrate that process to you, but on the brighter side, the results, although less informative, will also be, thankfully, less messy."

Yes, you could just picture such a sex education class, but not here – not in this place and at this time. No, here, instead of a robed, vaguely English-appearing public school professor, you'd have a tough, hatchet-faced nun, her face showing powerful disapproval and revulsion as she used her pointer to prod each disgusting part of a boy's nether anatomy, emphasizing how gross and unclean the boy's anus was, providing clear evidence of the sloth and perversion of boys, who can't even bother to wipe themselves properly, and how close to that disgusting orifice the small scrotum was, with its unsightly wrinkles that might be hiding who knows what, probably just festering with disease organisms. And she'd point out the dangling little hooded penises, noting that, like the heathen Philistines, these boys were uncircumcised, and thus had not made the holy covenant of Abraham with God, and undoubtedly the dirt from their besmirched rear orifices had contaminated their disgusting, dangling, unsightly little worms as well. She'd probably also point out that boys touch their penises, just as our imagined professor type had done, but she'd show her extreme disapproval of such behavior, pointing out that it was the sign of animalistic urges that a normal, Godly boy would never succumb to. She'd refer to the boys' spontaneous erections as tests from God, sent to distinguish the Godly from those bound for Hell. And she'd remind the girls in her audience that they should never think about these forbidden organs, never even consider picturing a boy's crotch at all, and if presented with one, avoid looking at it, except as necessary to perform the duties of motherhood in the process of cleaning and diapering. She'd not mention any purpose of the boys' members other than "making water," and if asked by a bolder girl about wifely duties involving this member (though she almost certainly wouldn't be), she'd tell the girl and all the girls that a good Catholic woman submits to her husband because she must, but she takes no joy in it, perhaps reciting Hail Marys or Our Fathers in her mind until he's finished his gross actions necessary for begetting the next generation, hopefully as quickly as possible. And once past her child bearing years, such activities would of course be terminated, and the woman could live as God truly intended woment to live, a life free of such perversions as needed to satisfy men – the life that the grateful nun, in her blessings, had chose for her life.

But, thankfully, as far as Jake and Sam were concerned, no one at all was viewing their naked posteriors at the moment, despite how invitingly they were being displayed. There was no one wondering what it would be like to run their hands over the welts and blisters on their bare flanks, welts that even were present in their butt cracks and speckling their red, irritated anuses, and spread down their perinea to dimple their scrota. There was no one to wonder what it had felt like to receive the punishments that had created those welts and blisters, either. No virgin, inexperienced girls to feast their eyes on male anatomy, openly displayed for their education, no proud, sturdy young lads to congratulate themselves on the fact that their genitals were bigger, their bottoms were unmarked, and they were safely enclosed in pants and underpants and not on display being mocked by others. No nuns to glare at their privates with obvious distaste, making it clear in their pinched faces that avoiding sights like this was exactly why they'd become nuns. Not even any wayward priests to gaze at their hindquarters with a different feeling in mind, anticipation of plans to come and of soft flesh to be teased, tortured, or savored at their whim (Father McKenzie was, at this moment, busy administering one of his "treatments" to a lad no bigger than Jake, using his natural applicator rather than the rubber rod he'd used on thsee boys, and thus wasn't giving them a moment's thought).

The girls continued their whispering conversation on the other side of the room, a conversation that consisted of Kath speaking extended periods of time interspersed with short interjections by Freck. Kath was smiling in a superior fashion, her eyes sparkling, and Freck looked at turns sickened and amazed. Jake found himself wondering what they were talking about over there. (Had he been able to hear, he would have been even more amazed and possibly sickened than Freck, because Kath was describing to Freck, in explicit detail, just why boys had those dangling little things sprouting from their groins, just where boys wanted to put them when they grew stiff and upright, and what they wanted to do with them once they were placed there. It all sounded incredibly improbable to Freck, who kept insisting that Kath couldn't possibly be right about that, that there was no way that such a messy, disgusting process was how babies were made, that there was no possibility her sainted mother would ever have let her father do such a thing to her, and that there was absolutely no possibility she'd ever let any boy do anything like that to herself.

The whispered discussion across the room went on and on, and Jake grew increasingly self-conscious kneeling with his butt in the air in plain sight of the windows, and his position became increasingly uncomfortable, too. Eventually, though, as girls often do, the two of them left together to cross to the girls' ward on the other side of the room to pee. (Although Jake didn't know that's why they'd left – indeed, he hadn't even considered the fact that girls did have to pee, just like boys did. He just knew that they left, disappearing down the hallway. As soon as they were gone from sight, he cautiously raised his head and front quarters, so that he was standing on the bed on all fours instead of with his head down as ordered.

"Ahhh," he sighed, reaching back with one hand to rub the small of his back while balancing on the other. Next to him, Sam rose all the way up on his knees, rubbing his own back. "Do you think we'll have to stay like this the whole day?" he whispered to Sam.

"Hope not," Sam whispered back. He looked over his shoulder, relieved to see no one was outside the windows. "Man, anyone can see us! Anyone!"

"They said we get worse tomorrow," Jake whispered back, making explicit what had been on his mind the whole time. "Way worse."

"I don't want worse!" Sam almost wailed, but managed to keep his complaint to a whisper. "I want to go home!"

"There's no going home," Jake said firmly. He'd always been the sensible one of the two, the first to face facts, the first to bite the bullet. "We just gotta get through it."

Jake looked over at Sam's flaccid penis. The tip was an angry red, yet, from the soap that had been used on them. Glancing under him, he saw that the tip of his own penis was the same red color, and the fiery burn from the piss slit was rivaling the burn from his butt hole. "Me, too," he said. "But we can't. Never again. Only to pee."

"Our moms aren't here," Jake said.

"It burns," Sam said. "I bet it'll burn if we have to pee, too."

Jake, who hadn't been thinking about peeing at all for the half hour they'd crouched on the beds, now thought about his own bladder. He'd just emptied his bladder not half an hour ago, emptied it on that boy whose name he'd already forgotten, forced to do so by the wiry Mother Superior and her threatening cane. But thinking about it made him kind of have to go, like it always did when he thought about it. He tried to think about something else. And as he did, he felt a rumbling in his intestines for the first time in more than a day, for the first time since he and Sam had been cleaned out with multiple enemas in front of all the boys. The rumbling abated, but he felt a brief cramping that made him tense, but that quickly let up.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked, noting his sudden tension and the expression on his face.

"I think I got gas," Jake said, as another cramp seized and then released him.

"Me too," Sam hissed back. He and Jake regarded each other across the space between the beds, Jake still on all fours, Sam up on his knees. After a moment, Sam tensed and clenched his bare butt, making his limp but dangling penis jut briefly. "Man, that was a bad one," he said a moment later, letting his butt relax again.

"You should just let it out," Jake said. "While the girls are still in the other room."

"I can't," Sam said. "I tried to let it out as soon as they left. But it hurts too much – I'm all sore back there. The BB's..." he trailed off. But Jake knew what he meant. The BB's, the enemas, the treatment he and Sam had gotten – all of them had taken a toll on his rectum and anus.

He reached back and gently massaged his butt, and Jake, after a moment, lifted one arm, balanced on three, and tentatively probed his own butt as well. His butt felt hot and bumpy, and oh, so sore! Sam winced as he rubbed his well-paddled nates. "I'm so embarrassed," he whispered to Jake. "Like, we're all bare, and the nuns and those girls, and Mother Superior, and those other girls – they all just get to look at us, all bare. At all our stuff. And anyone who comes by the windows will..." He stopped dead, his face suddenly shifting to open fear. "Oh, God, it's her! Down! Down!" He dropped to the bed, burying his head in the pillow with his ass in the air. In moments, Jake followed suit.

"Who?" he hissed.

"That big nun. Sister Mary Whatsis! The one who paddles us! She's headed this way!" Sam hissed in real panic.

Jake gripped his pillow against his head, his eyes turned to the side so he could monitor the room out of the corner of his eye, hopefully without being seen, and shoving his butt more rigidly upright to be in the prescribed position. In moments, the outside door creaked, and Sister Mary Catherine glided silently into the room, carrying a bucket in one hand which she sat on the floor. She glared at the two boys, then moved between the beds to regard them from behind. Jake held his breath, and Sam began shivering slightly. Suddenly a big, rough hand gripped his butt, squeezing it as if examining a squash for purchase. Her hand shifted and squeezed the other side of Jake's butt. Jake winced, tensing, and she ran her fingertips over the surface of his marred skin, then let her hand drift down his butt and between his legs. She lifted his scrotum where it hung between his legs, hefting his small balls as if weighing them. She squeezed his small penis hard, appreciating its softness. "Hrrumph!" she said, releasing him. In moments, Sam's gasp told Jake that he was being similarly examined. "Hrrumph!" she said again.

Toilets flushed in the room on the other side of the wall. In moments, a door banged, and the girls' voices could be heard approaching down the hall.

"...just stop worrying! There's no way that Sister Mary Catbutt is going to find out that we skipped out on laundry duty to watch him get his whipping. As long as you don't say anything in confession, that is! And there's no reason to confess – we didn't actually see anything – just his butt and his hole. And his sack, of course – it's so big you can't help but see that. But we didn't see it, if you know what I mean, and that's all that matters. I wish we had, though. I bet it puts the little shits in her to shame..."

The blond-headed Freck appeared into the room from the hall and stopped dead. "Kath..." she said urgently, waving a shushing arm in the air.

"Don't give me that, 'I don't want to see a big one,' attitude," Kath went on. "You know you do. You want to see one as bad as me, and touch it, too..."

"Kath!" Freck said more urgently.

"Obviously," Sister Mary Catherine retorted. "You left these two alone. They could have been doing anything. They could have run away. One of you should be watching these two perverted little animals at all times."

Naked? Jake thought to himself. Yeah, that would happen. Without clothes, he and Sam weren't going anywhere.

"Sorry, Sister. We had to go to the bathroom," Kath said.

"Not only were they out of the position that they were told to be in, but they were touching themselves below the waist as I approached," Sister Mary Catherine went on. "Even though they were ordered not to do so quite explicitly by me." She glared at Sam and Jake, who were each watching her warily with one exposed eye, the other buried in their pillows. "You two will have to be punished for your continued disobedience to righteous authority. Girls, fetch two new bars of soap from that shelf over there, and take them to the sink and soften the outside surface."

The girls complied wordlessly, soon each returning with a foamy bar of soap in one hand. "Up on all fours, boys," Sister Mary Catherine snapped. "Open wide."

Heart pounding, Jake complied, and Sam followed moments later. In moments, the familiar taste of soap was soaking into his tongue and oozing down his throat. Half the bar stuck out of his mouth, his lips stretched around it. Sam made a guttural sound in his throat, a tear drifting down one cheek. "For disobeying my direct order to keep your hands off yourselves, you boys will keep those bars of soap in your mouths for the next hour," Sister Mary Catherine said. "If you obey the girls completely, at the end of an hour the soap will be removed and you will be allowed one brief rinse and then a glass of water to drink. If you disobey, the girls have the authority to replace the soap for another hour."

Sam whimpered, and a soap bubble emerged from his nose and popped in front of him. Sister Mary Catherine turned to the girls. "I have a special treatment I have to administer on this one," she said, glaring at Jake. Then I have some intricate instructions for you two."

She pulled a rubber glove out of the bucket and put it on, then opened a small jar and took out a glob of white paste with a fingertip. "This little animal shows unsightly pigmentation of his private parts, probably the result of years of indifferent hygiene." She pointed at the brown ring of Jake's anus with her gloved finger, then at the brown skin of his scrotum. "The coloration will make it more difficult for dear Sister Grace to tell at a glance whether he has cleaned himself properly when he exits the showers. So it will be necessary to use this bleaching agent to return those areas to a more seemly pink color, a color less similar to that of a boy's natural wastes. I'll apply some now, so it can start the bleaching action immediately. Sister Grace will apply more this evening. By tomorrow morning, his parts should be a nice healthy pink color rather than this unsightly brown." Finishing her explanation, she began rubbing the paste into the ring of Jake's asshole. She rubbed it on his brown, wrinkled, swollen anal area until the paste had been rubbed in, then she obtained more and began rubbing it into his corrugated scrotum, shoving his balls roughly to one side and then the other as she covered all of the pigmented skin right up to the base of his penis and back to the whiter skin between butt hole and balls. Then she stood back, looking down with satisfaction.

Jake began feeling a mild burning sensation on his butt hole, a sensation the quickly spread to his balls, creating an intense heat there. It was almost painful, but not quite. Sister Mary Catherine watched the boy's anal ring gradually become redder as blood was drawn to the surface, reacting to the bleaching agent, followed by a reddening of his scrotum. "Yes, it's beginning to work already," she said, a satisfied smile on her face. "Cleaning the corruption of his body as well as his soul. By tomorrow morning, all his parts will be a healthy pink rather than their disgusting current color." She stripped off the glove.

"I need these boys to heal for the rest of the day as much as possible so that their punishments may continue. We need to bring down the rectal swelling of both of them, so I've brought some cones of ice along with me. You will each take one of them, holding the wide end with a washcloth, like this," she said, demonstrating. "Apply the narrow end to their anuses and rectums, pressing inward firmly. Place folded towels between their legs to protect the sheets from drips as the ice melts. You will hold the ice cones in position for exactly 5 minutes, then you will remove them for 10, repeating that cycle all afternoon. Press them in as far as possible each time you apply them – the tips should penetrate the rectum to treat it as well. I've brought a good supply of cones, which I will place in the ice box in the corner to keep them frozen until you need them." She crossed the room and put the remaining cones of ice away, returning swiftly and retrieving a jar from her bucket. "During their rest times, you will apply this lotion to their bollocks and anywhere else they're injured, rubbing it in continuously the whole time. Disregard any complaints they may have while treating them – pain is part of the healing process. At the end of each hour, they get a 10 minute exercise break where they must walk around and do exercise to stretch their injured bottoms—I suggest toe touches, and positioning them on their backs and lifting their legs over their heads repeatedly. They may have their water breaks then, as well. At the end of 10 minutes, apply the ice again, 5 minutes on, 10 minutes of healing lotion. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the girls chorused.

"Good," Sister Mary Catherine said. "Sister Grace will return sometime in the afternoon, when she has finished her other duties. At that point she'll evaluate their conditions and give you new instructions. Oh, and one more thing – these two have lost their toilet privileges until further notice. If they have to do their animal duties, they will do them as they are on the beds, using the bedpans. They can empty and clean the pans themselves on their next break." Freck looked mildly perturbed, but Kath smiled.

"Yes, Ma'am," she said. "You can count on us."

"Excellent," Sister Mary Catherine said. She turned to the hall leading to the door. As she reached it, she turned back. "One more thing," she said. "When Sister Grace arrives, she will be bringing one of the other girls with her. You, Katherine, will report to my study and wait for me there. I will not be there when you arrive, so you will prepare for me by removing your skirt and undergarments and kneeling in the corner. While there you may pray for your salvation until I arrive. We will be discussing the folly of succumbing to animal curiosity, as well as the proper respect to show to those who are your betters. My paddle will be talking first and it will be making quite a statement on your bottom. You can use the time between now and then to consider what you will be saying when it is your turn to talk. If you do not confess everything, you can be sure my paddle will be making an even longer statement. Do I make myself clear?"

She glared at a now flushed Kath, then turned and glided silently out of the room, passing by the windows moments later like a battleship headed to sea. Freck and Kath, each holding cones of ice, looked at each other. For the first time, Kath looked like her confidence had deserted her. "Damn," she said. "Damn, damn, damn!" She reached over suddenly and slapped Freck on the back of the head with her free hand. "Why didn't you tell me she was there! I'll be walking like a duck for a week! And sitting? Forget it!" She popped Freck on the back of the head a second time. Freck, belatedly, reached up to protect her head.

"I tried to tell you..."she began.

"Shut up!" Kath said. She swung a third time, but this time missed as Freck ducked and backed away. Seething, she turned to a nearer target and, seeing Sam's rump in the air, pressed the cone of ice into Sam's exposed asshole, grinding it with little twists into his swollen hole, forcing the tired muscle to open and admit the cold cone into the boy's tender rectum. After a moment, Freck approached Jake's bed from the other side, out of reach of Kath in case her temper reappeared, and more gently applied the ice to Jake's swollen hole as well, pushing more gently. Still, his tired anus gave way, and the tip penetrated a bit into his rectum. Both boys shivered and tried to clench buns, but were helpless bend over and had to accept the pressure of the ice which immediately began freezing their insides.

"God, I hate getting paddled," Kath said after a moment. "Don't you?"

"I don't know," Freck said. "I suppose I'd hate it. Nobody ever spanked me."

"You're kidding!" Kath said, sounding exasperated. "Never felt your mother's pedicure digging into your lily white behind? Never had Dad feel you up before blistering your heinie? My Dad liked looking at me beforehand – he made me face him and he took my panties down himself. He always ran his hands over my hairless little slit when I was a little girl, and felt my butt up before he'd start. And he'd rub me all over afterward, pretending he was comforting me – even let his fingers slip inside, and I mean inside both places, front and back! And I think my mom got off on it, because she always watched, just watched with her arms crossed. Sometimes she'd say, "Harder, Neil! She can barely feel it! Even though I was bawling my eyes out and my ass was covered with blisters! You never got any of that? Ever?"

"No one ever spanked me," Freck said. "What's it feel like? I mean, I know it hurts, but..." She frowned. "I mean, is it like a burn, or more of like a scrape, or a sting? Is it hurt really bad? I know kids cry when they get it – but... I mean, what's it feel like?"

"Ask them," Kath said. She pushed her ice cone harder, making Sam's now cold paralyzed butt hole open to its full extent. She yanked Sam's shoulder until he rose to a position on all fours, then reached down and pulled the soap bar out of Sam's mouth with her free hand. Sam spit soapy droll on his pillow, moaning and then coughing. "Tell her," she said. "Tell her what it feels like to get your heinie blistered."

Sam coughed, almost choked, and coughed up more soapy drool, soaking his pillow. He moaned more loudly, then suffered another fit of coughing. "Tell her!" Kath said, pressing harder on the ice. When Sam continued making little throat clearing noises, she reached under his belly and tugging his dangling penis with her free hand.

"It...it hurts," Sam wheezed, then broke into a fit of coughing. "It hurts a lot!" He stopped, swallowing and looking green, then coughed again.

"You can do better than that," Kath said, giving his penis a yank hard enough to make it hurt where it entered his body.

"Like a bee sting," Sam sputtered. "A lot of bee stings. All at once. All over your—your bottom. And it hurts more as you get more – you get more and more sore. Until you can't stand it, but that doesn't matter, because it still hurts even more than that. All you can think about is that it hurts." He suffered through another coughing fit, spitting more soapy drool on the pillow. "It hurts worse than anything," he said. "And then it hurts worse than that."

"There you go," Kath said. "Open," she commanded Sam, and he reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed her to shove the soap back in. She pressed the back of his head, forcing his cheek into the drooly, soapy mess on his pillow. Sam moaned as the soap began oozing down his throat again. He shivered, and a loud, long fart slipped around the ice cone in his asshole.

"Did he just..." Freck said, eyes wide.

"'Course he did," Kath said. "He's a boy. All boys do is fart. They fart, they belch, and they piss on things. And when they get older, at least older than these two little pricks, they cum on everything they can, too. Yours will probably fart on you in a minute, too."

In fact, that's just was Jake was doing at that moment – trying hard not to fart, hoping the gas would shift back higher in his intestines again. But as if on cue, his own butthole betrayed him, and he released his own, even louder fart, his butt hole, stiff with cold, vibrating obscenely with a loud, "brrrrrpt."

"Gross," Freck said, looking disgusted. "I could feel it on my hand, like a hot wind."

"At least they're not smelling," Kath said. "They got one of Sister Mary Catbutt's enema marathons. Washes the stink right out of them." She looked at the big clock on the wall. "Five minutes," she said. "Time for the lotion." She pulled the ice out of Sam's butt, and in a moment Freck followed through with Jake. She sat the ice between Jake's legs, resting on the washcloth, and did a double take. "Hey, mine's like a little tunnel," she said. "It's all open!"

"Duh," Kath said. "You paralyzed it with cold. A boy's ass hole is just a muscle – if it gets cold enough, it doesn't move, just like any other muscle."

Jake flushed around the bar of soap that was torturing his mouth and throat. They were looking right into his and Sam's butt holes, right inside of them. He felt violated. People shouldn't be looking into such a private place. He felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Then Freck's hand, so unlike Sister Mary Catherine's, gently touched his butt, and he quivered with surprising, confusing feelings. "She said to put lotion on his bollocks and all the other places they're hurt," she said. "What's bollocks?"

"It means balls," Kath said authoritatively. "They little marbles in that bag between their legs. But I suppose we're supposed to do their bottoms, too – they've got more blisters there than anywhere else."

"But we aren't supposed to touch their things, are we?" Freck said.

"'Course we are," Kath said. "She said to do everything by their bollocks, and everywhere they're injured. Their boy things are by their bollocks."

Neither girl was aware of Mary Catherine's misunderstanding in her use of the word "bollocks," for a boy's buns rather than his balls, and thus couldn't know that it was their bottoms that she wanted them to target. So, tentatively on the part of Freck, and boldly on the part of Kath, both boys were in moments getting their genitals massaged by the delicate hands of two very attractive older girls. Both hardened instantly, and feelings began pulsing through them again, those new feelings that they hadn't even felt until the day before, but that now seemed an important part of their lives. That building feeling began in both groins, and although all their boy parts were sore, neither wanted the girls to stop. But in moments, Kath spoke up and spoiled it all.

"That's enough for their privates," she said, although there was nothing private about either boy's genitals. "If we keep going they'll cum, and they shouldn't cum. Move to his backside."

His stiff, pulsing penis yearning for touch, Jake had to experience the frustration of the girl's soft hand rubbing between his legs and then all over his butt. And although the blisters on his butt still were sore and sensitive, the lotion was very soothing indeed.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Kath said. "They're just little shits. I bet Michael squirts buckets when he cums."

"Cums?" Freck said, looking puzzled.

"Squirts his baby snot," Kath said. "The stuff that comes out of their pricks and makes babies."

"Do you have to talk about it?" Freck said, shivering.

Jake, his manhood wounded, wanted to protest that he had, indeed, had hair, but it was stolen by the nuns. But his mouth was full of nasty, disgusting soap, and he said nothing. His penis was all tingly now, ultrasensitive and frustrated and yearning their touch. But Freck didn't touch his again, and Kath didn't touch Sam's, either, which was characteristically so erect that it curved until the tip touched his tight belly. The rest of the ten minutes the girls rubbed lotion all over the boy's bare butts, with Kath even insisting lotion be rubbed right around their anal rings and into their rectums, still hanging wide open. The girl's finger in Jake's rectum felt super weird, but also kind of good. (It would have felt better if his rectum wasn't so sore.) Thus, when the 10 minutes was up and the ice was reinserted into bare rectums, it slid in even farther in both boys, making them shudder with cold.

And so the time went – ice, a brief genital massage that left the boys pulsating and frustrated, and then the intimate butt massage, over and over until the hour was up and both boys were ordered to rise from the beds and walk around the room. Jake felt stiff and sore and odd from the waist down. His butt hole felt like an ice block, and his weenie tingled and stuck straight out, the head swollen and extended out of the foreskin, begging to be touched long enough to reach orgasm. The burning sensation underneath caused by the bleach solution made his balls feel hot and his anal ring tingle.

On the other hand, it was a supreme relief to be allowed to take out the soap, although rinsing didn't do much to clear the soap taste from his mouth. They were made to march around and around the room, Jake's penis bouncing unsated in front of him, Sam's brushing its tip against his belly, looking like a curved suitcase handle. The girls then made them stand in the middle of the room and do deeper and deeper toe-touches, their butts complaining at being stretched. But worse was yet to come. Kath ordered them both on their backs on the beds and she and Freck each took one of Jake's legs, lifting them up and over until his heels were by his ears, his butt jackknifed in front of the girls with his genitals and asshole wide open and visible from the windows. He could just picture kids outside there, filling their eyes with his anatomy, pointing and laughing, but when he was released and it was Sam's turn, he discovered no one was out there.

"Time's up," Kath finally said, releasing Sam's legs from over his head. Jake had been unable to take his eyes off his friend's butt, which was glistening with lotion, flecked with blisters, and, most disturbingly, sported an open tunnel between the buns instead of a tightly pursed slit, a tunnel that was bright pink and glistened as it led inside him. I look like that, too, he said to himself. All open and exposed. It was gross, it was disgusting, and it was something he couldn't stop looking at.

"Time for the ice again," Kath said cheerily, her face a malicious smirk. She held up the dripping, shrinking ice cone for Sam. "And I think we'll use the soap, too, to remind you to obey."

"We have to," Kath said. "It's what we were told to do. Come on , now. Up on all fours. Bottoms in the air, legs nice and far apart."

"But...I....I gotta..." Sam stammered.

"Get your little butt up on that bed right now, young man, or I'll squeeze that sack between your legs so hard that blood will come out of your little pee-pee," Kath said evenly.

Sam gulped, looking distressed, then scrambled up onto the bed, spreading his knees and thrusting his butt into the air. Jake also climbed onto the bed, if more slowly, and lowered his own head, his face turned sideways toward Sam's.

"But I gotta...I gotta..." Sam said in a small voice. He shifted his weight from one knee to the other, his thighs flexing.

"You gotta what?" Kath challenged.

"I gotta POO!" Sam squalled.

"Oh, ick!" Freck squealed. She was standing between the bunks behind them and had a bird's eye view of both butts with their wide-open, dilated butt holes. "Ick, ick, ick! You can see it coming out!" She pointed with a horrified expression at Sam's butt hole.

"Get the bed pan, idiot!" Kath screamed. She dived for the table across the room and threw the bedpan toward Freck. It bounced off the other girl entirely and landed by Sam's leg. Sam grabbed it himself and rammed it under his butt, squatting backwards over the open hole in the pan. Loose shit poured out of his butt like a brown snake, coiling into the pan between his legs as Freck watched with a horror-striken expression. It broke off and fell, but more followed, and then more still as his bowels emptied, unrestricted by the boy's frozen anus. Sam felt the urge to clench his abdominal muscles and did so, forcing the last of it out. Only then, belatedly, did his anus finally, slowly pinch itself mostly shut, with just the smallest little hole remaining open, dark pink tissue of his rectum now showing once again after squeezing out the last of his urgent movement.

He settled forward again, raising his butt higher off the bed pan now that he was done, so that he could breath more easily. Panting, red faced in embarrassment, he fought down the diarrhea-like burning sensation that had overwhelmed him and caused him to do right in front of the girls what he had previously done in private ever since he'd gotten old enough to wipe himself.

"Yuck," Freck exclaimed, breaking the silence. "It's all over his—you know—the wrinkled part."

"You mean his butt hole or his balls?" Kath challenged.

"Both," Freck said. "It's on everything back there."

"So do what you do when your shit is on you," Kath said. "Wipe him."

"Can't he wipe himself?" Freck said, looking a bit green.

"Nope," Kath said. "Remember? They can't touch themselves down there. So you have to wipe him."

"Why do I have to wipe him? He's yours. The other one is mine," Freck protested.

"God, do I have to do everything around here?" Kath asked no one in particular. Stalking to the toilet across the room, she unreeled toilet paper into her hand and then stalked back. She dropped the loose mass of toilet paper on the bed by Sam's feet, circled his thin waist with her strong arm, and lifted his ass until his butt was fully jackknifed under her gaze. Tearing off a handful of toilet paper sheets with the other hand, she began scrubbing his ass hole as roughly as she could. Sam began protesting into the pillow.

"Owww! It hurts! Stop that! It hurts!" he moaned, kicking feebly. Freck, worried about the bed pan, slid it from between the boy's kicking feet while keeping her body an arm's distance from its contents. Kath tossed the soiled toilet paper artfully into the moving pan and one-handedly ripped off another set of sheets and went to work on Sam's balls. Sam began protesting more loudly.

"Shut up, you big baby," Kath scolded. "I can't possibly be hurting you, your balls aren't any bigger than a hamster's!"

"it does! It hurts!" Sam protested. Kath scrubbed more viciously, pressing the boy's small ovoid lumps into his groin. She tossed the toilet paper aside.

"Okay," she snapped. "If it hurts, we'll have to numb it. Give me that ice," she said to Freck. The other girl handed her one of the cones, a new one she'd just removed from the refrigerator. Kath turned the cone around and pressed the wide, flat side to the balls of the little boy she was holding by the waist. Belatedly, Sam tried to close his legs, but the ice was already pressing hard on his balls, the frigid cold soaking into his groin. His penis, already shrunken from pain, tried to crawl into his body, and the girl shifted the flat of the ice until it pressed against the tip of it as well. Sam let out an anguished moan as his privates began freezing.

"Shut up," Kath said again. "The longer you make noise, the longer I keep this on your baby boy parts. You might get frostbite of the wiener."

Sam, starting to shake from the cold, stilled his protests and buried his face in the hot, wet pillow, biting his lip to keep from crying out. His whole crotch felt frozen, his butt hole and rectum burned, and his butt still ached from being spanked, paddled, and shot with BBs. This was without a doubt the most miserable day of his life. And yet, it was not over. He and Jake were at the mercy of these two girls. Across from him, Jake buried his own head in the pillow as Freck, every obedient to the nuns, applied her cone of ice to his still open butt hole, the cold penetrating into his rectum as his hole surrendered and opened all the way to the invader. He could feel stirrings in his intestines – would he, too, have to poop in that horrible position, and shame himself like Sam had done? And what about tomorrow? Sister Grace had suggested that the next step of the escalator would start then. And the next step was a higher step, which meant a worse punishment. But what could be worse than enemas, and public bare-butt spankings, and slipperings, and whippings, and paddlings, and being shot in the butt? What could be worse than having a solid cone of ice pressed into your open rectum by girls barely older than yourself? What could be worse than having your dick and balls shot at with a BB gun?