The Orphanage Boys Chapter 24
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 24: 24th Floor: Snack Bar

Quivering, every muscle tense, lines of pain down both sides of his scrotum, Jake waited for the horrible internal pain as his balls were pulled out and their cords stretched until they broke, as had been done to all the pigs they'd watched being emasculated. But the nun had turned to Sam, so the boy holding him simply gripped him more tightly, ignoring his ineffectual straining. Moments later, Sam's voice went up into the stratosphere and then choked off in an agonized gurgle. The lines of pain on his scrotum burned, and Jake's horrified mind could just picture the open slits, just as they'd appeared on the pigs, his balls ivory and slimy with oozing blood and internal fluids, the oval lumps of them already pushing out, the knife slicing into Sam as well, both of them about to be stripped of body parts they still didn't comprehend the need for. The nun's hand suddenly gripped his thigh firmly, making him aware she had turned back to him, ready to finish the job. His whole body tensed and he moaned in fear, forcing even more watery, noisome liquid from his bowels and down his back as this happened, knowing he'd feel, in moments, the agony of his balls being pulled out by the roots and tossed aside, into a bucket, to be coated with flour, deep fried, and eaten by some unsuspecting 8-year-old girl or boy, possibly dipped in ketchup.

He gasped, quivering all over, waiting for the sharp pain as his balls were ripped out of the cuts, the feeling of the tubes that must be inside him just like they were in the pigs being pulled tight and torn apart, as his bowels dribbled down his back and his pee dribbled onto his front, splashing is fear contorted face.

The blow surprised him when it came. Instead of feeling his balls seized one last time, fingers prying them from his body and a line of fire awaken as the cords trailing from them were yanked from his body, powerful impact slammed into his crotch, flattening his balls, crushing them against his crotch, making an explosion of pain such as he'd never known. It wasn't the sharp, searing pain of being deprived of his balls, but the more familiar, awful feeling of his balls being struck, but harder than he'd ever been struck in the crotch before. It was the crushing, awful wrongness of having his balls smashed against his crotch, a blow that took away his ability to breathe, made his stomach heave, and made pain the only aspect of his being. He was barely aware of being dumped unceremoniously on his head and falling onto his back in muck and pig shit, and of curling around his throbbing balls, still bearing the lines of fire on the surface but throbbing with awful pain underneath the wrinkled patch of skin.

Still uncomprehending, Jake's fingers found no open slits on his scrotum, even though lines of fire still flared there, and his balls were obviously still intact, because they were throbbing as if they were swelling with each pulse of his heart, and he could dimly feel them under his protecting hands. His scrotum was mostly dry on its surface, not seeping blood under his hands, although the bottom of it, as well as his butt crack was wet, with slimy, thick ooze filling his butt crack and trailing off the back of his balls, some of it getting on his fingertips as he clutched himself. It gradually dawned on him that the pigs had been let back into the pen, too, because cold noses were snuffling his butt and cleaning the wetness off of there, and sniffing at his back and around his pee-splashed face. How could they be interested in sniffing him when their balls had just been cut out? Unless it was just the girl pigs sniffing him. He really couldn't tell, and he didn't care. Groaning, he hunched over his nuts on his side in the muck of the pig pen, trying to accept the miracle that his balls were still there and not in a bucket on the way to the kitchen for some unsuspecting kid's gustatory enjoyment that evening. Or maybe two kids, because they probably would have gotten separated in processing...

The picture of some kid forking up one of his balls, dripping oil and covered with batter, and slowly savoring it as he chewed, hovered over his consciousness. But he slowly pushed it aside, remembering something he'd heard the nuns say as they left the pen moments after dealing devastating blows to both their bare, vulnerable scrota. "Why not go ahead with it?" Sister Magdalene had said. "It gentles the delinquent ones considerably, and we can always explain it away as a complication of mumps—swelling caused testicular strangulation, we had to amputate to prevent gangrene..."

Even though he'd been flooded with pain and only dimly aware, Jake had noted, somewhere back in his brain, what Sister Mary Catherine had muttered in answer, and it gave him much food for thought later. "Were they not fully baptized Catholics," she said, "I would agree with you. But they are, and I firmly believe God will save them if we give him time, despite the whoring of their mothers. Do not forget what your namesake did for a living before becoming beloved of our Lord and Savior. And if they are saved by the grace of our Savior, they must retain their manhood if they are going to do their husbandly duties. However distasteful those duties may be to us, they're necessary for the perpetuation of the faith. I agree, it could easily have been explained away as a complication of mumps. We've done it before. But consider this—those organs can only be removed once, and then the threat to them is gone for good, and so is the leverage of that threat. Besides, we are not the wronged parties here, the girls in Dorm B are. I intend to leave the decision of their keeping their pathetic little organs up to those girls, in tomorrow's step on the escalator. If their prized little marbles survive that step, we can still always remove them at some later date—that's a hold we have on all the little brutes here."

"Yes, I see," Sister Magdalene had said as they strode purposely off. "A tool, once used, loses its power. Are you quite sure you want to leave such a decision up to the mercy of the modesty of a group of pubescent females? Remember how flighty we were then?"

"I was never flighty," Sister Mary Catherine replied with a gravity that Jake could still remember. "And cooler heads may prevail. Or may not. We shall see tomorrow. I'm leaving it in the hands of God - he will guide the girls, and in guiding them show us his plan."

They were words to puzzle over, and he had time to puzzle as his balls throbbed under his fingers and he felt like retching, and pigs snuffled his open butt and licked him clean, even licking off his finger tips as well and much of his body (he was still curled around his balls, so his butt crack was wide open, and even his anus had the central slit and every wrinkle licked clean). It might have been an hour later, or only half an hour, or an hour and a half. Jake wasn't really sure. But however long it had been, the sun was now shining directly on him and warming him uncomfortably, and he groaned loudly and uncurled from around his genitals enough to look, through bleary eyes, at his crotch. He had the "afraid to look" feeling he always got when he scraped a knee, or stabbed a finger, or cut himself on the arm - that, "I've got to see it but I don't want to see it," feeling, that "I hope it's not as bad as I think it is" feeling. He slowly uncapped his hands, hoping he would not see his balls hanging out of slits in his scrotum, at the same time knowing that fear was ridiculous because his hands had already told him that his balls were still tightly encased in an intact scrotum. He blinked at his crotch.

Two long, red, angry scrapes ran down across the bulge of each ball, one on either side of his scrotum, scrapes that were bright red lines and still burned like fire. Fingernails, he realized. To make him think he was being cut, she'd raked a sharp fingernail down each side of his scrotum, creating a searing pain similar to what would have been provided by a slicing knife blade. His balls were clearly still there, under a dark red, irritated scrotum surrounded by red skin on his bare groin and on the flat skin between his scrotum and his balls. The pig slapper, he realized. Rather than cutting his balls out, as a lesson to him Sister Magadalene or Sister Mary Catherine had struck both of them with the pig slapper, a thunderous blow that had smashed his balls into his groin and bruised them worse than the worst racking he'd ever received by misadventure or by deliberate attack from other boys. Even worse than the time the second grade bully had taken him down to the ground onto his back, straddled his chest, and driven a stout fist right into his crotch. As he blinked to see more clearly, he realized his balls were big, much bigger than normal, as big as the balls on the big boys who hung around Flip and who had hair on their crotch. They made his penis look tiny as they bulged below its barely projecting head, looking incongruous on such a small, hairless boy. The bulged enough that they would rub his thighs when he walked on all fours, he realized, and would hang down obscenely between his legs.

They also hurt. They throbbed and ached with each heartbeat, and he didn't think he could move, yet, let alone get up, even if they were allowed to get up off all fours, and they probably weren't. He relived, again, the moments of terror, when he'd been held, helpless, his balls presented to the nuns like victims were presented to Caesar in Roman days, to either be given a thumbs up or a thumbs down. He blushed with shame as he remembered pooping and peeing himself in helpless fright, and he realized his face and chest was probably covered with dried pee. He'd shamed himself in front of the bigger boys, acted like a big baby, and his face flushed as red as his crotch as he remembered, and pictured the boys laughing at his loss of control. Still, there was a bright side -- his butt and back were clean, or at least they felt clean after the pigs had finished their eager snuffling and drifted away.

He looked around, tilting his head. Piglets were nursing at their mothers again. The males were nursing just as eagerly, despite their trauma or maybe because of it—he could see the still open slits under their butt holes, small cuts side by side, blood now clotted along the edges, tissue underneath glistening wetly. They'd cut their balls right out of them, and they were just going on with life. He wondered how much it hurt. Did they still throb with pain back there? Did the pain somehow stop after awhile? The girl pigs, with their furrowed slits under their butt holes, now seemed much more pleasant to look at by comparison to the mutilated boy pigs.

Sister Magdalene and Sister Mary Catherine had wanted him and Sam to have the impression they were about to suffer the same terrifying fate, yet they hadn't gone through with it. So what was the charade that the nuns had perpetrated? A warning? A message that they could, indeed, have their private boy parts mutilated on the whims of the nuns? A message that their bodies were not theirs, but belonged to the orphanage now? Could penises be cut off boys, too? He shuddered, gently cupping his balls again for the security it gave him. He liked his penis, and the horror of having it cut off was even worse than the prospect of losing his balls. It felt good, just holding it, it felt good when you peed through it, and it was fun to aim it around, making your pee go where you wanted it to. He and Sam had once peed their names in the snow, when they were third graders, on a hilltop sledding with other boys. Onne boy had said he'd had to go, then they all had to go, as boys are wont to do. There were no girls around, except for a pair at the bottom of the hill. Several of them had trotted to the edge of the bushes to pee, and one boy had artfully and proudly spelled his name, then they'd all tried it. He remembered his pride that day, that he'd finished his name before he'd run dry, unlike Eugene, who ran out before the final E and had to ask for assistance from Sam, who had the shortest name of all, and who, wonder of wonders, was able to stop his stream, move, and restart it to create an oblong but serviceable "e." Penises had all been tucked away before the girls climbed the hill again, but the boys had proudly showed off their yellow-edged names to the fairer sex, giggling with glee at their naughtiness.

He thought about all the naked boys he'd seen in the shower over the last week. They'd all had penises, hadn't they? And balls, too? Jake was pretty sure the all had been as fully equipped as he and Sam were. There was the kid whose genitals were locked in the black box, but he apparently still had a penis, because they were keeping him from touching it. There was the kid whose penis was red and sore on the end, the one who seemed uncomfortable down there, but his whole organ was complete, or at least as complete as those of the other boys. None of the other boys had the hood he and Sam had that made their penises come to a point, but their organs were intact, it seemed. And they all had balls, too, Jake thought. At least, he thought they did. With the fat boys, it was hard to be sure, because their balls were apparently hidden in the thick pad of fat they all had on their crotches, fat that made their penises look like belly buttons, or like little stubs. But they were intact, because they stretched and pointed out when they were hard, and it seemed all the boys got hard when they had to pee.

He wondered if he and Sam would be in trouble if the nuns were to see them touching themselves now. But the sisters had seen them both clutch themselves before walking away, and hadn't said anything. Apparently, the nuns were allowing the comforting of genitals in case of injury even when they couldn't be touched otherwise except to pee, or, in his and Sam's case, apparently not even to pee.

He didn't want to lose his penis, or the mysterious balls that hung under it, even if he didn't know what they were good for. They were boy parts, and that was important. And he'd only just discovered the sublime pleasure his penis could give him, pleasure that was there for the touching. He yearned, even with his balls aching, to touch his penis now, but he refrained, knowing he was in the open, knowing the nuns would punish him and Sam even more if he did, even if the touching of balls that had just been smashed was allowed. He thought, for a moment about that wonderful feeling, that sublime, surprising, elevating feeling that touching his small, hairless little shaft gave him. He wanted to wallow in it, feel it over and over again, ride the pulsing, overwhelming pleasure than came with contracting of the muscles of his butt, and muscles in him, muscles that made his penis jump and swell in his hand. It felt almost like peeing when you crested, but no pee came out, even though he used the muscles he used when he wanted to squirt pee hard, to impress Sam or another boy with how far he could pee. Was such a wonderful, glorious feeling really a temptation of Satan, as the nuns seemed to think? A glittering, glowing, attractive present to lure him and Sam and the other boys into perdition, whatever perdition was? Or was it a gift of God himself? It certainly felt like God ought to feel - like God living in the tip of his penis, sending out waves of wondrousness. How could such a wondrous feeling be bad?

His mind returned to Sister Mary Catherine's words as she'd been walking away. She'd suggested that his balls, and Sam's, still might not be safe, that they were to suffer some threat tomorrow, some threat whose determination of outcome would be up to the girls they'd tried to spy on. That sounded bad, very, very bad. Those girls were mad - they'd taken great glee in shooting the boys with BB guns, aiming quite maliciously for their butt holes and balls. To have the fate of his now throbbing organs in their hands was currently to frightening to consider. He looked down at his hands and at the scrotum they were framing. His scrotum was pink, without a trace of the browness that it had always possessed, that had made him different from the pink-scrotumed Sam. He remembered the paste that Sister Mary Catherine had rubbed into his scrotum, a paste that was supposed to bleach his asshole and ball sack white. Apparently it had worked, or at least it had worked on his scrotum, which now blushed pink. He couldn't see his butt hole. He'd have to ask Sam about it.

Sam, a few feet away in the muck, hunched over his own genitals, groaned loudly and tried to sit up, then dropped back on the ground facing Jake's way. He'd been crying, Jake could see, his eyes all puffy and red, his face snot covered and wet. He looked at Jake blearily. He had both hand cupped over his genitals, hanging on for dear life.

"Jake...they...they didn't...they didn't...did they? I don't think..they didn't..." Sam said hoarsely. "I can feel them. I think..." He stopped talking as his throat filled, and he snuffled and started coughing, the coughing clearly giving him great pain in his crotch. Jake waited for him to stop.

"She didn't cut us," Jake said. "She just wanted us to think they cut us.

"I..I didn't think.. I could still feel..." Sam said, stopping to sniffle again.

"They're still there," Jake said. "At least mine are. I suppose yours are too - I can't see because your hands are in the way. But I don't see any blood, like you do on the pigs. I think she used a fingernail to make us think we were getting cut. See? You can see the marks." He moved his hands, letting Sam see his scrotum with its irritated red lines running down the wrinkles. Sam looked, then slowly, cautiously, as if he was afraid of what he'd see or wouldn't see, moved his own hands and bent his back to study his own scrotum. Angry red lines ran in parallel down his scrotum as well, the latter bulging much more than normal with his swollen balls. Like Jake's, they looked big enough to rub his upper thighs if he were to walk.

"Feels like they crushed my balls," Sam muttered.

"Yeah," Jake said. "Me too. Like they smashed 'em flat. Look, they're all big and puffy."

"Think we can still pee?" Sam asked.

Jake considered that. "I don't think they have anything to do with peeing," he said. "I used to, though. I used to think that's where the pee came from. But it isn't. They don't get bigger when you have to go, and they don't get smaller when you go. Besides, the pee comes from inside, you can feel it in there when you have to go bad."

"What do they do, then?" Sam said, focusing on a question that had been bothering him. "Besides give big boys and nuns a place to smack us?"

"I don't know," Jake said honestly. "But I do know one thing. Girls don't have them. Girls don't have weenies, either. Because all the girls, that's what they want to see. They want to see our balls and our weenies. 'Cause they don't have them. And they don't know anything about them. Remember? All those girls, they wanted to see us pee. And they want to see us get hard. So they don't pee like we pee, and they don't know anything about weenies, or they wouldn't want to see. So they must not have them."

Sam considered this amazing state of affairs for a bit, gently nursing his aching balls. "Girls pee sitting down," he said. "Remember what my mom always said about lifting the toilet seat? She said that she didn't want to see our pee on it when she sat down to pee. Girls sit down."

"Yeah," Jake said. "I think they have a hole down there somewhere to pee out of. Down near where they poop. But they don't have weenies, so they have to sit down because they can't aim like we can."

"Yeah," Sam said. "But they have boobies. At least the big ones do. And we don't have boobies."

"Good thing," Jake said. "Who'd want things like that on your chest? They'd just get in the way, when you tried to carry stuff or climb a tree or something."

"Yeah, but I like to look at them," Sam said, almost smiling. "I don't know why, but I do. I wish we could see 'em without their shirts on. Wouldn't that be the cat's pajamas! If girls went around without shirts on just like boys do in the summer, and when we go swimming?"

"Wanting to see them is what got us into trouble to start with," Jake pointed out.

"Let's move to the shade by the building," Jake said. Groaning, he rolled to his hands and knees. Keeping his legs apart so they didn't brush his now swollen and pendulous scrotum, he edged to the shade, making little steps to avoid stretching his injured organs. "Maybe they won't bother us for awhile. Maybe they're done with us." Jake said, although he knew from the nuns' words that it wasn't true. Well, no need to burden Sam with that. "Besides, they're still doing it, down in the middle pens somewhere. I bet they'll do them all before we see anyone again."

"They said the kids are going to eat them," Jake said. The thought made him a bit woozy.

"I don't think I'd want to, now that I've seen where they come from," Sam said.

"Me neither," Jake agreed. They were quiet for awhile, lying on their sides in the shade of the building. The fact they were lying on pig shit no longer seemed so important.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal if we see the girls naked. You know, we could just, like, share showers then, and we could go swimming and not need swimsuits, and stuff," Jake said after awhile. "Then we'd see all of them, all the time. No one would get into trouble for wanting to look, because everyone would be able to see any time he wanted to. What's the big deal? Boys see each other all the time, girls see each other all the time, too. We share bathrooms and showers. What's the big deal if we see the girls? Because they're different?"

"I don't care," Jake said. "Not if we got to see them all the time. I wouldn't care if they see us if we could see them. Not just their boobies, what they've got down there, too."

"But what about when we get hard?" Sam said. "It's kind of embarrassing."

"I bet it wouldn't matter after a few days," Jake said. "After they'd seen you get hard a few times, I bet they wouldn't even look anymore."

"What they've got down there is cunts," a voice from above them said. "Cunts for us guys to fuck them in." Jake and Sam's head swiveled around. The smallish boy, the one they called Dinky and who was apparently named Dennis, stood there looking at them from over the fence. "Girls have cunts so guys can fuck them. That's what they're all for, to fuck. God made Eve so Adam would have someone to fuck besides the animals. He fucked the animals before then, so God made Eve so he wouldn't have to."

"What's fuck?" Sam asked innocently.

"What's a cunt?" Jake asked at the same time.

"Jesus Christ on the half shell. Don't you little shits know anything?" Dennis asked contemptuously. "A cunt is the girl's front hole, the one that's where we have our dicks and balls. They got a big slit down there you put your dick in. And fucking is what you call it when you stick your dick into a girl's cunt."

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, mystified. The older boy rolled his eyes.

"Why do you think?" he said. "'Cause it feels even better than jerking off!"

"Jerking off?" Jake echoed.

Realization dawned for Jake. "Oh," he said. He knew what the kid meant, now. Playing with your weenie until you got that good feeling, that wonderful feeling. The thing that was forbidden, and that, having been introduced to it, he wanted to do, now, more than anything. "Oh," he said again.

"Yeah, oh!" Dennis said. "That's why girls have cunts. So you can stick your dick in them and then hump their cunts until you squirt your stuff, the stuff that makes a baby. That's what you're supposed to do with girls. That's why they have cunts, for us to squirt our stuff into."

"Huh?" Sam said, his face knitted in puzzlement.

"Jesus Christ!" Dinky/Dennis said. "Look, you dorks! It's like with the pigs." He pointed to the hind end of a huge sow standing with her bottom facing them. "Girls have a slit like that between their legs. That's their cunt. You get a stiffy and you stick it in the slit. There's a hole in there that goes inside them where you stick it. It's all hot and wet in there. Then you pump your dick in and out, and pretty quick you cum, and squirt all your stuff, just like you do when you jerk off, only inside her."

"Inside a girl?" Sam said, his voice high and feminine.

"Yeah," the older boy said. "If she'll let you. You have to talk them into letting you do it. The girls around here are all brainwashed by the nuns, who act like they don't even have cunts, even though they do. But if you can get one they haven't fucked up with their stupid religious shit, she'll let you stick your dick in her cunt and won't tell on you. Some of them even like it."

"You mean you've done that?" Jake asked, intrigued but also a bit sickened.

"The other boys said he did it to a pig!" Sam suddenly remembered. "That's what they said, Jake. Remember? They said they could tell on him any time, remember? Because he did that. With a pig."

"Shut up!" the older boy said. His pig slapper was out of his belt in an instant, waving in the air above Sam. Sam cringed against the ground, trying to protect his genitals and his butt at the same time. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" the boy raged. He paused, then looked around guiltily, as if afraid he'd attracted attention. He sighed and relaxed a moment later. "They're clear at the other end," he said to himself. He looked at Sam and then Jake. "They told me to go clear across to the storehouse and get a new knife. The other one's not holding an edge any more. But I don't have to, because I swiped one yesterday, so I've already got it. Which means I have time. They won't expect me back for 20 minutes or more. And everyone's busy, which means they won't be poking around." He looked at them, and Jake felt his blood go cold at the glint in the boy's eyes. The boy waved the pig slapper. "It's a long time until the weekend. I don't want to wait. So you two, get into the pig house. And be quiet. Or I'll beat the living shit out of you with this." Jake and Sam looked up at him, two pitiful little souls groveling in the pig muck.

"Why do you want us to go in there?" Jake asked in a strangled voice.

"Because I'll beat your butts and your cocks black and blue if you don't, you little shits," the boy replied. Jake and Sam forced themselves up on all fours and hustled into the gloom of the shed-like house as fast as they could pad along on legs splayed apart to avoid touching their sensitive, swollen sacks, now dangling pendulously between their skinny legs.

Once inside, the boy pushed the door shut and crossed his arms in the comparative gloom. "Now," he said. "I've only got time to do one of you. You get to decide which one of you it will be." His left hand moved to his belt, where he began undoing the buckle. Jake, fearing they were going to be beaten with the worn strip of leather, scrambled to the far wall, and Sam followed him a moment later, not wanting to be any closer to the other boy than Jake was. The boy finished undoing his buckle but didn't remove the belt. Instead, he snapped the button of his pants open. Looking at them stonily, he slowly pulled down the zipper, his other hand still waving the pig slapper meaningfully in the air. The front of his pants parted, revealing boxer shorts gray with age. He reached behind him and pushed his pants and underpants down in back, dragging the front down as well. A rock-hard, circumcised penis sprang out from his loins to point at a place on the wall slightly above the cowering boys. A thin scattering of straight hairs covered his pubic triangle, similar to the hairs Jake had had before having them plucked from him. The boy's penis was surprising small in Jake's eyes, barely longer than his own organ when erect, but definitely wider. The boy's balls were bigger than his own normally were and the skin of his scrotum was red, but his sack looked smaller than both Jake's and Sam's swollen counterparts, perhaps as small as theirs normally were. The boy looked down at his exposed organ, than out at the two boys.

"Like it?" he said. "I'm a lot bigger than you little shits! Get harder than you, too, I'll bet! Now who is it going to be? How about you, Ted? You want it, or do you want me to do it to your little fuck buddy over there? Bet you guys do each other all the time, just like bunnies, humping every time you're alone. I just want my share. Now who's it going to be?" His penis was bouncing in the air with his heartbeat, the head swelling redly. The underside of the tip was wrinkled and twisted where it joined his pee slit, which was obscenely open like a little mouth, stretched that way by a tight circumcision.

Jake found his voice. "What do you want?" he asked, although he thought he knew.

"What do you think I want?" the boy sneered. "I want your tight little ass, that's what I want. I'm going to fuck one of you up your tight little ass. Use you like I'd do a girl, if they weren't all stuck up, cock-teasing cunts! Now who's it gonna be? I'm going to let you guys decide. Whichever one is gonna do it, you get your ass over here, stand up, and bend over and touch your toes. I'll do the rest. It won't take long, I'm horny as hell."

Jake looked at Sam, and Sam looked at Jake, both of their expressions aghast. They turned as one to look at the boy.

"I'm waiting," the boy said. "Pick, or I'll do you both. I came four times in a row once. I don't have a lot of time, but I'll risk it, I swear."

Jake and Sam looked back at each other again, both picturing the boy ramming his dick up their sore, swollen anuses, forcing himself into their snug, abused rectums. The boy waved the pig slapper at them menacingly. "I'm counting," he said. "If I get to 5, I'm doing you both. One. Two. Three..."

Jake thought of Sam on his knees, sucking Jake's erection, making him have that wonderful feeling. He thought of Sam saying shyly, later, that he hadn't minded because it was Jake he was being forced to do that demeaning act to. He thought of Sam crying minutes ago, forlorn and lost. He stood up slowly, his balls still aching as he moved.

"I'll do it," he said. He tried not to look at the boy's erection, standing straight out from his body, throbbing and hard. His own penis was a shrunken little peg by comparison.

"Jake..." Sam said tentatively.

Jake waved him to silence. "I'll do it," he said again. "It's my turn."