The Orphanage Boys Chapter 26
by Chadlad

copyright 2009 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
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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 26: Twenty-sixth floor: Rope and Twine

They didn't boil the boys, of course, although Jake and Sam didn't find that out for a time. After soaking in the cold water until they were turning blue, pairs of sweating girls brought two tubs off the stove and sat them on the ground by the tubs there were freezing in, and they were ordered to stand and move to the steaming tubs of water. The water was uncomfortably hot, but not scalding—the girls had tested it before making the boys move by immersing their tough, calloused hands in it. But what is tolerable for the hand of a girl used to scrubbing clothes in hot water is still almost unbearable on the tender parts of a naked boy, and both boys went from blue with cold to flushed and sweating in moments. The heat of the water awakened every sore spot on the boys butts and genitals immediately on contact. The transfer was embarrassing, too, because the boys had to stand to move, exposing their bare genitals and butts to the barn full of girls, all of whom paused in their labors to watch the transfer, whispering behind hands to each other and giggling over the sight of them. Jake, looking down, discovered the cold had shrunk his balls back to almost normal in size, and his penis had fully disappeared as it did in the cold, only the tip sticking out of his body like an inverted dimple above his tightly wrinkled sack. Then he was being forced to squat in the hot water and finally sit down. Heat flooded him almost immediately, at first welcome, and then uncomfortably hot. Sweat began dripping of his face and upper body as his color went from blue to red in moments. The shot track between his legs and the punctures in his butt came alive and began throbbing. Beside him in the next tub, Sam was flushing as red as his hair.

At the command of the tall girl, pairs of girls in their thin shifts knelt on either side of the tubs, each girl holding a bar of soap. The girls started at the boy's heads, rubbing the rough, strong laundry soap into their hair. Suds and rivulets of dirty, soapy water poured down both boy's faces, stinging their eyes and dripping off their chins. The boys tried to twist their heads to escape. But there were two girls working on each one, ordering them sternly to hold still, and it was impossible to evade their hands. Fingernails dug into their scalps and their hair was yanked this way and that as the girls cleaned the pig shit out of it. Then they moved down, and the soap was ground into their cheeks and their necks, and then scouring shoulders and thin chests, leaning the boys forward roughly to scrub backs until they were pink and clean, and then working down sides and over tummies, the tickling making both boys shriek and beg for mercy (and squirt their last drops of pee into the now dingy water).

Jake and Sam were almost relieved to be ordered to stand up again, the cool air feeling good on their scrubbed, overheated upper bodies. But that comfort was reduced by the fact that the pairs of girls immediately went to work on their butts, each scrubbing a cheek mercilessly with the grainy soap, which felt like sandpaper on their barely healing welts and blisters, and raised new pain in the sore, bruised areas where they'd gotten their inoculations. Twisting to escape the pain, first Sam and then Jake found themselves suddenly strong fingers gripping their stubs of penises, fingers used to pressing clothing into washboards to scrub off stains. Their penile roots complained as the fingers dug into their organs from all sides, and both boy reached to try to pry the hands from their phalluses to no avail.

But it got worse. The soap was pressed into their butt cracks, penetrating into their private places between their boyish, round buns. Jake felt the soap move like sandpaper against his tender butthole, where the older boy, Dinky, had so recently rutted with undersized cock, a cock that hadn't felt so dinky when inserted there with all the energy that a randy teen-aged boy could muster. "Bend over," the girl holding his own cock in an iron grip ordered him. "Bend over so I can get in there. And spread your legs."

She tugged on Jake's trapped cock for emphasis, and Jake had no choice but to bend over, even though his butt was facing the girls at their benches, all of whom had stopped scrubbing at the washboards for the moment and were watching the show. He leaned over the girl's gripping hand, and her other hand pushed him down farther. "Grab your ankles," she said. "And hold on." Jake reached into the water and gripped his bony ankles. His exposed flesh was starting to cool in the air, and the cooling felt good. The girl's hand maintained its grip and she held him steady with her hand on his back as well, while her companion applied the soap rigorously to his now exposed inner flanks, working a thick lather up between his splayed buns. Then she rested the soap on the small of his back, just above his buns, and began rubbing the lather in with her bare hands, her fingers massaging around his corrugated butt hole. "Got to get this clean," she muttered. "I'm sure Sister Magdalene will check. I'm not getting the cane just because you boys are disgusting."

"Wash inside, too," the girl holding Jake urged. Her fingers never seemed to tire as they squeezed on the root of his frightened, shrunken penis. Jake held still, because every movement caused a tweak of pain inside him, where the root of his penis lodged. The girl lathering his butt paused.

"No way," she said. "No way I'm sticking my fingers in there. That's disgusting! Do you know what comes out of there?"

"Hey, not my idea," the tall girl said. "Sister Magdalene's orders. She gives the orders, I give them to you. That's the advantage of being head girl."

"I don't care," the girl said defiantly. "I'm not sticking my fingers in there. Get someone else to do it."

"You clean their underpants," the tall girl snapped back. "You get their stuff on you then. That's where it comes from, you know. You do the diapers of the toddlers, too - it's the same stuff."

"That's different from putting your fingers inside one, and you know it," the girl replied. She glared at the tall girl, the two having seemed to have reached an impasse. Jake began to hope that they'd abandon the idea. But then, suddenly, the shorter brunet girl snapped her fingers. "I know!" she said loudly. "I've got the solution!" She turned and raced away. Jake and Sam, holding their ankles and breathing hard from their bent over positions, could only endure. After a tense moment, the girls working on them returned to soaping the surface of their butt holes. In moments, the brunet was back carrying something which she dispensed to each girl behind the boys' backs.

"Toothbrushes!" the girl behind Jake said. "Perfect! Whose are they?"

"Theirs, if they tick me off enough," the tall blond stated. "There you go, your royal highness - now you won't soil your delicate royal fingers. Now do what I told you to do. Be sure you clean them out good."

Jake looked over his shoulder, watching as the girl behind him ground the bristles of the wooden-handled brush into the soap bars. She moved to the side of his butt, blocking his view, and at the same time he felt the soapy end of the brush press against his sore, repeatedly violated, tightly-pursed anal slit. "Hold still, you little turd," she muttered as she began pressing the tip against his resisting hole. "This may hurt a bit."

The brush went in easily, but not painlessly, and soon Jake and Sam were moaning and yelping in dismay as the brushes were used to scour their rectums, each barely able to keep hold on their ankles. Both girls, the one invading Sam and the one working on Jake, seemed determined to scrub out every square inch of their anal orifices, withdrawing the brush, working more soap into it, ramming it into their tight but well-lubricated holes over and over again. Jake's sore rectum complained as the bristles invaded it and began spreading soap inside, sliding out to bring more in, then twisting to spread it around. The soap burned, and his hole protested the bristles scouring it. He tried to straighten up and clench his buns, but the girl holding him was strong, and his butt could do nothing but clench ineffectually, doing nothing to protect his vulnerable hole and the attack it was having to endure. The girls took their time, carefully reaming both boy's rectums. Their sphincters quickly surrendered to the onslaught, gaping open, allowing the girls full access to their targets. Jake, tearing up and biting his lip to keep from squealing, looked to the side at the freely squealing Sam and felt anger again at the way his best friend was being mistreated. He looked through his tears at the watching crowd of girls, smirking at their discomfort or giggling secret confidences to their friends. He wished he could tie the whole troop of them to their benches, bent over, and then work his way down the rows, flipping up dresses, pulling down whatever underpants they wore, and one by one attack their butt holes like this, as they begged and pleaded and cried. They'd see, then! They'd see how cruel they'd been, and they'd beg for his forgiveness...

That was stupid. He knew perfectly well that he'd never have the chance for revenge, and it was stupid to think about. He had to endur3e, that's all. He had to survive. And one day, soon, his mother and Sam's would come for him and Sam, and they'd go back to the security of their apartment, back to just him and Sam in a room, not a bunch of boys who laughed as he was spanked and given enemas, and pooped in pan in public, and had his mouth and butt washed out with soap and brushed with a toothbrush. But it was hard to keep from crying out when it hurt, and it hurt a lot. Finally, after an eternity the girl working on Jake's butt hole withdrew for a last time, and the one invading Sam also stopped, both girls splashing water on their bent over behinds and examining their holes closely.

"I think he's done. His hole is clean enough to eat out of," the girl who'd been invading Jake joked. "You can see all the way in, and it's all just pink."

"Yeah?" the tall girl in charge said from where she'd been watching every bit of the operation she'd ordered from her vantage point directly behind the boys. "So if I were to put, say, a hot dog in there to warm up for your lunch, you'd eat it?" she asked, arching one eyebrow.

The girl by Jake made a face. "I didn't mean it literally," she said. "Leave it to you to come up with something disgusting like that, Jenny."

"You're the one who said it was clean enough to eat out of," Jenny riposted. "Personally, I'd never eat a hot dog of any kind, 'specially not off of any boy."

"Not even if it was Michael Connerly's?" one of the girls called from the rows of wash tubs. "Bet you'd gobble his in a short minute. We've seen the way you look at him."

"You're disgusting, too, Margery Johnson! And don't think I don't know it was you that said that! You want to go back to diaper duty, you just keep it up!" the tall girl, Jenny, responded. She turned to the still bent over boys, who were now having their butts rinsed by handfuls of water raised by the girls washing them. Jake could feel the water entering his butt and the sensation made him clench involuntarily and repeatedly, forcing his butt hole shut again. The girls watched in fascination as the boy's holes twitched shut. The tight slits, surrounded by wrinkles, gleamed from between tight, freshly scrubbed buns, buns that were a faint, mottled pink, barely healing from days of spankings. Their sphincters were red and slightly swollen, Jake's more than Sam's, the circles of wrinkles continuing to twitch involuntarily after they had closed, the tight slits down the centers wiggling with their discomfort.

"So, how's it feel when the shoe's on the other foot?" the girl washing Sam spoke up. "Having stuff rammed into you for a change? Did you like it? Did it feel good? That's what you ask the girls when you're doing it, isn't it? That's what the prick who raped me said! 'Did it feel good?' he said. 'Did you like it?' Ha! I wonder how he would have liked it?"

"It hurts," Sam protested, surprising Jake, who had decided stoic silence was the best route here. "No more, please!"

"It hurts, he said," the girl behind Sam said. "Remember that when you're thinking of sticking that pole of yours into some poor innocent girl. Just remember, it hurts!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Doris," Jenny snapped. "We all know your story, you've told it over and over and over. Jenny's cousin raped me. Waa, waa, waa. His thing was big, and he stuck it in me, and I begged him not to, but he did. It hurt, but he wouldn't stop. Waa, waa, waa! Give it a rest already. We all know the truth - you wanted it, and you lured him on, you begged him to slip it to you, and then when you got caught you cried rape, and now he's in prison getting raped for real by spics and wops and niggers, and you're here spreading your filth and lies about him! When everyone in the family knows you're the slut who begged him to do it! Oh, you moaned, all right, but it was the moans of a slut who wants more."

Doris, the girl who had been washing Sam, flushed with anger. Spinning, she flung the bar at soap at Jenny's head. Jenny ducked to one side and it sailed into the dirt ten feet behind her. Doris took two steps in the direction of the taller girl. Jenny crouched slightly, putting both hands out in front of her in a classic wrestler's pose. "Come on," she said. "Bring it on. Go ahead and jump me. I'll yank out every hair on your head, then I'll bust you back to diapers and put you on double shifts. Maybe even ask Sister Magdalene to stripe that big butt of yours at the flagpole. Those mile-wide bloomers of yours won't do much to stop a switch, you know, even if she won't strip you naked like you deserve."

The two girls glared at each other across the tubs for a minute, then Doris blinked and looked away. "Get the soap," she said to the other girl. "I'm sick of touching boys and their disgusting stuff." She crossed her arms and glared at Jenny, who, having made her point, turned back to Jake's tub. "Do their fronts," she said. "Make them even cleaner than their behinds. I don't want Sister Magdalene to have anything to complain about if she decides on a private inspection of these two."

"A privates inspection, you mean," a girl in the crowd snickered. The other girls laughed at the comment, glad for the relief after the confrontation between the girls. A lot of them believed Doris's story, not Jenny's, and secretly sympathized with her. Some of them had cousins, and brothers who had forced them to do things, too. But with Jenny in charge, they'd never have admitted it, not openly.

"You two, straighten up and put your hands behind your heads. And turn around. We're sick of looking at your disgusting butts with their disgusting holes and the disgusting stuff you do out of them," Jenny commanded. Both boys let go of their ankles and straightened up, shaking water off their hands. Jake gripped his neck with one dripping hand and then another, the water cooling fast as it trickled down his back. Sam followed suit. Jenny glared at them, then made a twirling motion with her finger. Blushing, Jake turned around so that the girls could all see his privates, and Sam followed suit moments later.

Facing the mass of girls scattered along their work stations, both boys fully displayed their genitals to all of them. Their balls had shrunk almost back to normal size from the earlier cold bath, and their penises were droopy, pointed worms wobbling above their pink sacks. (Jake's was no longer brown - as promised, Sister Mary Catherine's bleaching compound had removed the pigment from both his anus and his scrotum, leaving it a vulnerable, almost cute darker pink than the rest of his body). The girls who'd held their backs while their butt holes were being reamed with soap now took the soap themselves and began lathering their stomachs just above their genitals. Then, almost as one, they began circling the soft, floppy boy parts, chasing soft penises in circles as they scrubbed them from all sides. They were reasonably gentle, so that they didn't cause pain to the boys' sensitive balls, and thus the soaping actually felt rather good to the blushing, embarrassed boys. In short order, as the soaping went on and on, both boys' overworked little cocks were rising and stiffening. Jake's ached inside, and he figured Sam's did as well, but nonetheless it thrilled to the touch of the girl who was ministering to him, the head pushing out of the foreskin and the shaft lengthening to its full extent. Beside him in his own tub, Sam's shaft had assumed its tight curve and was trying to press against his belly, snapping back each time the girl circled it with the soap. The soap began gently burning their pee slits, but that just made their erections harder.

Jake thought that their ordeal might soon be over now that they were hard, but the girls just kept soaping, their hands moving round and round on his dick and balls, sliding across the top of his shaft pressing it down, then down the side and across the bottom, pressing it to his stomach, then up the other side and across the top again. Jake found himself wishing the girl would just grip his dick with her hand. He wanted to be squeezed and enclosed, the way Father McKenzie had done it to him. This endless circling was almost unbearable, teasing and tickling his wiener but not fully satisfying it. Still, feeling built in him, feelings that were wonderful and were becoming more and more familiar with each day at the orphanage.

Those feelings must have been building in Sam, too. He'd been breathing funny, just like Jake, and wiggling just as Jake had, too, despite being cautioned to "hold still" continuously by the girl working on him. Suddenly he clenched his buns, stiffened, arched his back, and thrust at the hand stimulating his penis, grunting as his penis jumped like a live thing and his little sore buns clenched tightly and repeatedly. Jake, who'd been sucked to orgasm the day before, wasn't so hair-triggered. The stimulation of his little peter was slightly overwhelming—too much like tickling. He wanted to grab the girl's hand and make it grip his dick, squeeze it hard and enclose it—he ached to do so with all his being. But he knew he didn't dare, so he had to endure the uncomfortable tickles that the girl evoked, making him twitch and jerk and gasp with a mixture of longing and discomfort. It was another long minute of having his privates tickled and rubbed before he felt the pressure building in him and he moaned slightly as he came, his butt aching as it clenched, hi insides thrilling even as they complained of overuse. Sam, meanwhile, was shivering and twitching as his over stimulated cocklet continued to be tormented with the bar of soap. Jake looked down at himself, noticing that the head of his own cock had swollen out of the foreskin entirely during his orgasm. The sense of joy and well-being settled on him but the girl working his cock kept soaping, and he also found it hard to hold still as his penis protested the over-stimulation. He was soon acutely aware of the intensifying burning of his pee slit, and the aching of muscles inside him that had now cum too often in too short a period of time. The tickles of having his cock-head touched made him wiggle and twitch. The girl steadying him with her hold on his thin waist warned him to hold still, then slapped his butt first on the right and then the left side, the sting uncomfortable, but still Jake couldn't hold still.

The boys twitched and wiggled for another couple of mintues as their oversensitive, slightly drooping organs continued to be stimulated. But almost simultaneously, the ticklish feeling stopped in both boys, and their penises began hardening again, until Sam's was bumping his belly and Jake's was pointing slightly above horizontal. Despite the fact that his penis root was aching and things inside him felt raw and overworked, the wonderful feelings built inside him once again. It wasn't as pleasant as the first time, because of the aches and stiffness inside him, but still within another minute he was clenching his sore butt again, bucking against the girl's hand and making embarrassing grunting noises through clenched teeth.

He flushed with humiliation as he settled back to his heels again, his dick sagging more this time than last, becoming a floppy, limp, fat little worm in moments. Girls were staring at them, smirking at them, giggling under hands or smiling knowingly at them. As he started the uncomfortably shivering again that the girl's overstimulation of his now soft dick was causing him, their eyes shifted to Sam, who had flushed full red down to his shoulders and was starting to rise on his own toes, making little grunting noises and squeezing his buns so violently that the girl soaping him had to steady him with a firm grip on the small of his back as she massaged his jerking, curved little penis, pulsing against his belly. He, too, went slack this time and flushed even redder as he took in the girls all watching him, little shudders running through him now that his penis was too ticklish for the rubbing it was still taking. Two more minutes passed and the boys remained soft.

"Not baldies like these two," a taller girl in front said frankly. "I didn't know they could even do it when their cocks were small like that."

"Well, now you know. Boys are always randy, even when they're babies. All they want to go is get their little things into you! Remember that! Now you girls get back to work -- show's over. Rinse the little dorks and their dorks off and dry them, then put them to work at the mud table. Let 'em work on their own kind's mess."

Cold water was dumped over Sam's and Jake's heads repeatedly, as they screwed their eyes shut and shivered. They were led out of the tubs onto a piece of grass nearby and toweled down with rough efficiency, the towels thin and stiff. Their still sore buns were forced apart and the towels scrubbed their sensitive cracks and butt holes, and their genitals were manipulated. They didn't harden from the vigorous toweling, but they dangled, heads swollen, foreskins partially retracted, slightly reddened from all the attention they'd been receiving. Both boys started to shiver as the girls finished their toweling and stepped back, brazenly eying their genitals. Sam moaned, shivering and clutching his arms against his thin chest, his little wiener flapping as he shook. "Cold, cold," he moaned. Jake, who was cold, too, shook but bit his lip to keep from moaning so embarrassingly as well. "That can't work if they're shaking like that," the apparently head girl snapped. "Put some shirts on them,"

"What, you want me to go all the way over to their dorm to get them clothes?"

"Naw," the head girl said. "Just take something off the line. Doesn't matter who it is - one disgusting boy is pretty much the same as another."

"Pants and underpants, too?" one of the girls said as she moved to one of the many clothes lines hanging across one side of the yard in rows, clothes already flapping in the light breeze that was so chilling the boys.

"Naw, they don't need 'em. Besides, they'd probably just piss in them, and then we'd have to wash them again. Just throw a shirt on them and put them at the mud table."

She turned her back, dismissing the boys, and began walking between the benches of girls, examining their work. Sam and Jake stood shivering, little swollen-headed dicks dancing, until the other two girls returned from the clothesline with shirts. "Arms up," the brunet ordered. Jake and Sam reluctantly stopped hugging themselves and raised their arms so the girls could loop the shirts over them. Their heads barely fit through the holes in the tops of the shirts, and as the girls pulled them down it became clear the shirts were too small, sized perhaps for an 8 to 10-year-old, not pubescent boys like them. Pulled down, the shirts clung tightly to their chests and didn't even come down to their navels, let along cover their genitals and butts like Jake had been hoping for.

"They're too small!" Sam protested.

"Shut up," the blond girl snapped. "Our little sisters were wearing less than this when you were gogglng at their tits, I bet. If it was up to me you wouldn't wear anything at all. Now get over there and get to work!" She shoved Sam toward a bench at the end that was currently empty, and the brunet shoved Jake that way as well. Both boys staggered but didn't fall, and they hastened to stand at the bench. They moved up close to it, thankful for the partial concealment this finally gave their genitals from the open stares they were still getting from the girls working at their washboards. A pair of sweating girls, staggering under the weight, carried an oblong washtub over and dropped it with a clunk on the bench. Steam rose from within. A wooden stick protruded from the top of the tub. A second pair of girls, on the heels of the first pair, plunked another tub next to the first, this one with a pair of washboards protruding from it.

"Get to work, you little shits," the one of the first pair said. "We got rules here--no pee breaks until you finish a tub, no lunch until you finish 3, no dinner until all the clothes are in, folded and bagged for delivery." Jake noticed the girl's breasts were clearly outlined in the white tunic, where she'd splashed herself carrying tubs. A dark nipple stood out in sharp contrast on each side of her chest. His overworked penis twitched and he looked away guiltily. "What do we do?" he asked, looking at the unfamiliar equipment. His mother had always sent the wash downstairs to a Chinese woman.

"You fish the clothes out of the boiling pot one at a time and drop them into your washtub. Not with your hand, idiot!" she added as Jake reached toward the tub. "The water's still almost boiling--it just came off the stove. Just use the stick to drop something into your wash tub. It'll get cool enough to handle when it hits your wash water. Pick it up and spread it on the washboard, like this, and look for stains. Rub your soap bar on the stains until you've got a good lather. Then scrub the stain against the washboard until it's gone. Here, I'll show you." Digging into the hot tub with the stick, she effortlessly drew out a mass of hot, steaming, sodden white cloth, which she held in the air a moment, letting the water stream off it. Then she plunked it into the tub with the two washboards. Reaching in, she separated a piece from the rest of the mass, holding it up so the boys could see it was a pair of boys' briefs. She flipped them expertly inside-out, pointing to the lower center of the back and the crotch. "See the stain?" she asked. "You little boys are so careless about wiping."

A chocolate brown streak ran up the lower part of the garment and down into the double-layered center of the crotch. Sam and Jake nodded solemnly, both flushing with reflected guilt even though it wasn't their underpants. "Most of them are stained like that, some more, some less," the girl said matter-of-factly. "I think these are from your dorm, in fact, or the one that shares the bathroom with you. You and your friends must save the nuns a fortune in toilet paper. By not using it, that is. None of you can wipe your butts to save your lives."

"Except for that Service kid," the girl at the next bench said. Her bench mate nodded. "Yeah, you could eat off his shorts," the girl by Jake and Sam agreed. "But the rest of you..." she paused, then flipped the waistband of the underwear up. "Let's see whose these are. Ah, here it is. Frederick Bannister. You know a Frederick Bannister?"

Jake nodded. A mental image of a boy about his size popped into his mind, a boy several beds over, brown hair, brown eyes, and unobtrusive demeanor. Freddy, the other boys had called him. Unbidden, a second image came to Jake's mind of the boy hunched over the toilet just two mornings ago, naked after leaving his pajamas in the hamper by the bathroom door, being taunted by Flip's cronies for stinking up the bathroom as he suffered from what appeared to be a mild case of diarrhea. This was that boy's underpants, with the boy's most intimate secrets of hygiene, or lack of it, on display for all these girls to see.

"These aren't too bad," the girl said, rubbing the soap bar against the streak, then turning it toward the outside and scrubbing it hard against the washboard. She dipped the mass of cloth into the water, wrung it out, and applied more soap to the now faded stain, scrubbing it some more. Twice more she did that, then unfurled the boy's underpants again, showing them that the cloth was now uniformly white. "See, nothing to it," she said. "Except your fingers stink like boyshit afterward."

"Yeah, but they aren't all that easy," the girl at the next bench said. Jake actually looked at her this time. She was a thin, medium-height girl with light brown, straight hair and a plain face with a nose that was too big and had a distinct bump in the middle of it. When she opened her mouth to talk she displayed distinctly crooked teeth, one of which was chipped. "Wait until you get to Lemont's!"

"You mean The Shadow," the girl at their bench chortled. "Who knows what evil lurks in his underpants? The Shadow knows!"

"Possessed with the mysterious ability to cloud men's air!" the girl next to them giggled back.

Jake looked at Sam, and Sam at Jake. Everyone kid knew The Shadow. He was one of the most popular characters on radio. But what was this girl talking about?

"I don't get it," Jake said softly.

"Oh, you will when you find his panties in there," the girl who'd been doing the demonstration replied. "I got work to do. You guys are on your own. When you finish these, the little boys' tub is already boiling as well. You should be happy we boil them first - they're really dirty before we do!" She left, walking down to a bench in the next row where she began attacking her own tub of laundry. Jake looked on with interest as the girl fished a bra out of her tub, a lacy thing with decent sized cups..

"So what are your names?" the girl on the next bench said, making him flush with guilt again and snap his gaze back to her. "I probably know them - I worked the mud bench up to last week."

"Mud bench?" Sam asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse from lack of use.

"Poop patrol," the girl said, waving at the tub of boys' underwear in front of them. "It's not so bad - you could be doing diapers. The babies aren't so bad - it's just stinky brown mustard. But the toddler—nothing like diapers full of toddler pee and poop to spoil your appetite for lunch." She smiled at them, showing her crooked teeth. "No one likes to work poop patrol. They use it for punishment detail here. So who are you?"

"I'm Jake," Jake said. "And this is Sam."

The girl thought a minute. "Nope," she said. "Doesn't ring a bell. I thought I knew all the boys your age, at least from the names on the panties."

"We're new," Jake said. "We've only been here a few days."

"And you got in this much trouble already?" the girls said, scrubbing as she did. "Better get to work," she added. "You have to do three tubs before you can have break. That's all the boys' underwear - there's usually three tubs." She leaned closer to the boys and lowered her voice. "You can't go pee until you finish three tubs—it's the rule. Sally couldn't hold it last week and peed right down her legs. The Warden saw it and busted her down to poop patrol."

"The Warden?" Jake asked.

"The blond girl. We call her The Warden behind her back, but don't say it where she can hear you. She stripped Sally's dress right off her and made her work naked the rest of the day, with her tits hanging out. Nice sized, too. I wish I had tits like that - my brother always said I was a carpenter's dream—you know, flat as a board."

Jake's eyes involuntarily went to her chest. She didn't look flat to him—her dress curved out nicely. He almost said so, but he saw the blond frowning at him and Sam across the way and realized he'd better get to work. Nudged Sam, and fished around in his tub, pulling out a pair of boxers somewhat larger than his size. The waistband said "Trevor Johnson." He wasn't sure he knew Trevor - maybe he was one of the bigger kids on the other side of the room, one of Flip's cronies. He plopped the sodden mass on Sam's washboard and fished again, coming up with another pair, this one huge in comparison to what he normally wore. One of the fat boys, he realized - maybe the one who'd tried to help him and Sam out. He frowned with dismay as he saw that he had his work cut out for him with this one. Taking up the soap, he and Sam got work.

An hour later, the wash tub was empty and he and Sam were rinsing the underpants they'd washed over and over again in a tub of cold water, then wringing them out by hand and piling them in a third tub. Jake finished the last pair, wringing them with sore, waterlogged hands. Why did his fellow boys have to be so dirty? He'd have sworn some of them never even used toilet paper, judging by the stains he'd had to wash out. Were all the boys he'd been walking around with all this time have dirty butts? Well, not right after they showered - Sister Grace made sure that butts were soaped in the shower, all the way into their butt cracks - he'd seen her admonish boys to "clean all the crevices." He shuddered as he thought about how he'd had to touch all of them, clean their disgusting messes out of their underpants. Sure, maybe half the boys had underwear that was unstained, but the half that didn't—and he'd had to touch it all, hold it in his hands and scrub—he looked at his hands, wondering if he'd ever feel clean again. Raising a hand to his nose, he gave a tentative sniff.

"Smells good, doesn't it," the girl next to him said, startling him. "Wait 'til you work on toddler diapers. The smell just kind of stays with you - it gets in your pores. Well, don't just stand there, go hang those up - you've still got two tubs to do."

She pointed to the lines behind her. "The clothespins are in the basket next to the lines." Jake took the handle on one end of the tub, and Sam took the other handle, and they struggled across the yard with the tub full of clean underpants to a line that was still clear. On other lines, girls were pinning up clothes, and Jake stopped a moment and stared as he realized they were hanging girls' bras up, pinning a strap to each line, the cups flapping in the light breeze. The bras varied tremendously in size, from small bands of cloth that barely looked like bras at all to huge things with cups big enough for them to wear as hats. One of the girls pinning up a huge bra saw him looking. "Sister Mary Catherine's," she said, grinning. "That old gal has udders like a cow's!"

The bra she had just pinned up was indeed huge, and the sight of it Jake suddenly found vaguely frightening. He looked away, he and Sam set the tub down, and he scanned the area and found the basket of clothes pins. "Here, you hand them to me, and I'll pin them," Jake said. He bent down and picked out a pair of underwear. Behind him, a girl wolf-whistled. Reddening, Jake straightened up again.

"They can see inside your butt when you bend over," Sam said needlessly.

"Yeah," Jake said. He took a clothespin, looked over at what the girls were doing, and then imitated them, catching the top corner of the boxers he was holding under the pin and fastening it down to the clothesline rope. He fastened a pin to the other side and walked around the tub until his butt was facing outward, away from the open-sided barn, where no girls could see before bending over and grabbing another pair. Sam handed him a clothespin and he started pinning the next pair.

"No, not like that," the girl pinning bras said. She'd apparently been watching him. She walked the two steps to the boys. "You're wasting clothespins. Put one side under the pin you just used along with the other pair - that way you hold two with each pin and we don't run out of pins." She demonstrated, her arms behind Jake, pressing her body against him as she guided his hands and showed him how to put a clothespin over the corners of two pairs of briefs at once. He could feel soft breasts against his back through the thin cloth of her shift, and could smell her hair, a pleasant smell that reminded him of his mother. "Get your next pair and pin its first corner down at the same time you finish this one - it's like a chain." She let her hand rest on his shoulder as he followed her instructions, then let it casually trail down his back and over the flank of his bare butt, where it lingered briefly, stroking the curve of his buttock. After a moment, it moved away and she stepped back. His penis, quiescent all during the washing process, immediately began stiffening. He bent over quickly and grabbed another pair of briefs from the tub, willing his penis to go down, but it continued to stiffen, so by the time he'd finished pinning the next pair up, it was poking straight out. The inadequate shirt he was wearing didn't come close to hiding his erection. Glancing down guiltily, he could see the tip of his pointed penis aiming straight out, the foreskin partially retracted from the head. He bent quickly to retrieve another pair of underpants, willing it to go down, stalling as he fished around in the tub. He couldn't stay bent over forever, though, and he had to straighten up and begin pinning the next pair. Sam glanced at him, then looked right as his crotch.

"You're all pointy," he said softly to Jake. "I don't think the Warden likes that."

"Uh, yeah," Jake said. "Could you move over a little, so you're kind of blocking me? Maybe they won't notice."

Sam shifted so he was straight across from Jake, partially blocking view of Jake's front, and they moved down the line together. But eventually the tub was empty, and they couldn't stall any more. Jake was still rock hard, his penis head swelling with each heartbeat even as it ached from overuse. "Walk in front of me," he whispered to Sam. "I'll stay close, and maybe they won't notice."

But they did, of course.
A girl finishing pinning a tub of clothes to the line just across from them turned, saw his privates, her face quickly showing disgust. "Gross," she said. "What, you have to go to the bathroom or something?"

"Uh, no," Jake said. "I mean, yes, sort of..."

"Well forget it," the girl said. "Jenny already said so. You're not using our bathroom with those disgusting things of yours! We all know how you boys squirt all over. Besides, there's no bathroom trips until mid-morning break. You'll just have to hold it."

The Warden, Jenny, had heard this exchange and was rapidly stalking over. She stopped in front of Jake, looking down at his hard penis. Reaching out, she gripped the tip and squeezed hard, and Jake's butt clenched involuntarily.

"We can't have this thing bobbing in front of you while you're working!" she said. "You'll burn in on the stove, or catch it on something. We'll have to tie it out of the way." She looked across the yard. "Hey, Marjorie - we got any of that baling twine?"

Moments later, the brunet came over, carrying a ball of rough, thick twine and some scissors. Jenny unreeled a long piece and chopped it off. Kneeling in front of Jake, she tightly tied one end around the tip of Jake's penis, right behind the bulge of the head under the foreskin. She dropped the string on the ground and walked behind him, retrieving it from between his legs and pulling it tight, so that his penis was drawn down, against his erection, until it was pulled tightly against his balls. For Jake it was extremely uncomfortable, as his hard on was pulled down and back, the rough twine cutting into his penis head. The girl drew the string up between his bare buns, where the rough texture of it began irritating his sore butt hole and butt crack immediately, and felt like a huge rope between his tight buns. She ran the string all the way up his back to his neck, where she tied it around his neck and stood back. Jake swallowed, afraid to move. "Tie him the same way," she said, pointing at Sam. In moments, Sam's still soft penis was also pulled straight down between his legs, the twine threaded over his sore butthole and tied around his neck. Jake's penis was rapidly losing its hardness, but the string kept it stretched full length down between his legs, anyway. Jenny turned back to them. "Now get back to work," she said.

"What if we have to bend over?" Jake asked.

"What happens when we have to pee?" Sam asked at the same time.

"Let's see," Jenny said, answering Jake's question. She grabbed him by the neck and shoved his head and shoulders toward the ground. The string yanked his penis, making the root of it twinge with pain. Jake yelped. She let him go and he straightened up, panting, biting his lip and blinking back sudden tears.

Jake moved his eyes to Sam, and found Sam looking back at him, both boys showing their dismay. Diapers? They knew what babies and toddler did in diapers. Moving slowly, stiffly, so as not to pull on their tied up cocks, the boys bent their legs just enough to pick up the tub handles and moved to the bench that Jenny was indicating by standing beside it. A pair of girls brought over a heavy tub, steaming, absolutely reeking like the worst outhouse that ever existed. They settled it on the table in front of the boys. Murky, reeking water steamed, masses of dirty, stained white cloth filling the tub. Jenny took the wooden stick from their bench and fished out a diaper, dropping it on the surface of Jake's washboard, then did the same for Sam's. The cloth was a stained a dark brown, soaked and reeking. "Get to work," she said. "You get the toddler diapers and the diapers from big babies like you guys who wet the bed at nights and have to be diapered, or shit their pants in class. They're the worst, so you get them. This afternoon you can work on the yellow mustard diapers of the babies. And I hear there's a special treat in here somewhere - a couple of boys your size got the castor oil treatment yesterday and filled their didies with big-kid shit. You'll love that - it makes the yellow mustard shit of the babies seem like pudding."

Big kids who got castor oil? Jake carefully turned his head to look at Sam, and Sam at Jake. They were the big kids who'd gone in their diapers yesterday. They were going to have to clean up their own poop!