The Orphanage Boys Chapter 33
by Chadlad

copyright 2010 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 33: Thirty-Third floor—Measuring Devices

Breathing more easily now that they weren't being forced to bend double, all three boys slowly, reluctantly turned around to display their bare genitals to the large group of girls. Even though these girls had already all seen the small packages, all three boys still were reluctant to display them so openly once again. But in moments, three boys once again faced forward standing on the platform, one dancing, one twitching, one still and pale, displaying three entirely different states of tumescence. Dinky, on the right, was dangling and soft, his immature penis swaying where it arched out over his balls, which were more full and visible than those of the other two boys. Next to him, Sam's dick was hard and straining, the skin of the shaft stretched tight and the foreskin retracted back to the head, the whole structure curved tightly toward his taut stomach. His balls were pulled up tight to his groin by the strain. And Jake was fully retracted, his organ a small pointed knob protruding barely over a half inch, his plump little balls totally visible hanging underneath and sagging more than Sam's tight sack. They almost looked like three different varieties, like boys were split into three sub-sexes with genitals for three very different purposes.

"We'll start," Mary said once all three boys were faced forward, "With the most important contest of all, something boys worry about more than anything. The first contest will be over the size of their boy parts. We're going to measure the length of their little worms. And every good contest should have a prize. The prize here the nicknames we're going to call you from now on. The winner of this one gets the least embarrassing nickname, and the loser gets the nastiest one. Margaret and I have already picked out three names for these three perverted little brats, and wrote them on these cards." She moved to stand in front of the boys, holding a card up. "Here's the name we're going to use for the one with the longest worm," she said, holding a card up against her chest. They boys couldn't see the card, of course, but as the girls read the card she was holding, many began giggling, and some began openly guffawing as loudly as any boy had ever laughed at a good fart joke. Mary let them laugh for a bit, and then moved her hands, showing them the second card. "Here's the card for one whose worm is in the middle," she said. The girls burst into louder and longer laughter this time. She waited, Sam danced his "little boy needs to pee" dance, and Dinky continued twitching nervously. After the laughter peaked and started dropping down in volume again, she unveiled her third sign. "This is for the one with the shortest worm," she said. This time there as almost pandemonium as girls shook with laughter all over the room. Mary waited it out, then lowered the cards and placed them face down on a chair. "I've got a special laundry pencil from the sisters," Mary said. "The one they use to mark our clothes. We'll write their names on their stomachs and their backs, so we know which is which. It's permanent, so they'll stay marked for a week, at least. That ought to be good and embarrassing for all them, especially when they have to share the showers with the other boys. But first, we have to find out which is which. Margaret, the ruler, please. Let's separate the men from the boys!"

"More like the small boys from the babies," Margaret added, handing her a sturdy wooden ruler bound in brass on both sides. Mary took it and turned to the boys. "This is a bit of a problem, though," she announced, glancing at the three crotches of the naked boys in turn. "Two of you don't have stiffies like Red. That wouldn't be fair. You two—you've got two minutes to get it up. Use your hands."

"What?" Jake asked, puzzled. He looked at Sam, but Sam was concentrating on not peeing and continued his dancing. Jake looked at Dinky. Dinky looked at Mary.

"We can't..." he began.

"You can, and you will," Mary said. "You will rub yourselves until you're as hard as him." She jerked a thumb at Sam. "Or I'll make the two of you rub each other."

Dinky frowned with distaste, then slowly let go of his grip behind his neck. He let his hands fall and then moved them toward his crotch, stopping with a hand hovering on each side of his protruding package. He looked up at her. "But it's a sin," he protested.

"Then make sure you confess next week," Mary said calmly. She turned to face the group of rapt girls. "Boys often touch their privates," she said. "'Cause they have to to pee," a girl in front piped up.

"Not only that," Mary corrected. "They also do it because they're perverted. They're just like dogs that way. Rubbing their little worms feels good, so they do it all the time. They even do it to each other. And they try to get us to do it, too. Like any of us want to touch those disgusting things of theirs."

She looked back at Dinky. "Make yourself hard," she said again. "Or I'll take this ruler to your ugly little bag and you won't be able to make it hard for a week." She waved the ruler threateningly. Even standing on the ground by the platform, she was looking down at Dinky. Hesitantly, he moved his right hand to his crotch, looked at her again, then brushed it over his penis, letting his fingers trail across the underside. She stared at his genitals as he did so, and most of the other girls in the group stared there, also. He dragged his hand back across his flopping penis, letting his fingers drag across the bottoms side again as he did. He paused and looked up at her.

Mary frowned and crossed her arms, her face disapproving. "We know that's not how you usually do it," she said. "We're not idiots. Some of us have brothers—we've seen little boys like you playing with their worms. Do it the normal way, so these girls can see how ludicrous you look playing with yourself." She patted her hand with the ruler and looked pointedly at Dinky's balls. Dinky looked like he was going to say something in objection for a moment, then he seemed to deflate just a bit. His right hand shifted, making a little fist around his dick, and he began pumping the fist so that it slid up and down his dick, the mushroom head appearing with each down stroke, disappearing with each upstroke. Jake, watching with a sort of amazed fascination, observed that Dinky wasn't gripping himself that tightly—he was letting his fingers slide up and down his small shaft. He did that for a moment or two, then stopped and tilted his penis toward his face, rubbing his fingers rapidly up and down the underside of his organ. He did that for a few seconds, then went back to stroking himself with his fingers curled around his dick again. Jake stared, mesmerized at the sight of the boy stroking his privates, amazed by how fast his hand moved. Dinky's other hand hung loosely at his side, his fingers slightly curled and flexing with his movements of his other hand.

"You, too, short-stuff," Mary barked at him in an icy voice. "If you're not hard in two minutes, you get this on your ugly little bag, too." She waved the large, formidable looking ruler in his face. Jake let go of his neck, reached down, and tried to circle his penis with his fingers as Dinky was doing. Mary turned to the raptly watching girls, some of whom had eyes as big as saucers as they watched Dinky rapidly stroking his penis. "The little beans boys have in their bags are very, very sensitive," she said. "Notice how afraid they are when I threaten to hit them there. Remember that if you need to control a boy now or in the future—you can always knee them there, or better yet, kick them with the toe of your shoe right in their bags. Most of them will curl into a ball gripping themselves right on the spot. That is, if you hit the spot." She smiled at herself.

Jake was looking across at Dinky and trying to imitate his grip and his movements on his own penis. It was harder than it looked. For one thing, his dick currently stuck out no more than the length of an acorn, and was even shaped like one at the moment. Dinky, on the other hand, had gained in length and hardness as he'd handled himself, so that his private now stood up on its own and he could stroke it more easily. Jake was somewhat cowed—the other boy's dick was clearly bigger than his, although not a lot bigger. He'd known that from seeing it in the hog pen, but it looked bigger here in the well-lit room. Still, it had felt bigger yet being rammed up his butt, even for the few strokes that it had taken Dinky to satisfy himself.

Jake, frustrated and frightened simultaneously, finally took his left hand and squeezed the pointed foreskin of his dick, pulling it out so that he could get his right fist around it. Even then it was hard to rub it—he couldn't use his whole fist, but only a circle of his thumb and forefinger. And he couldn't move those far without running into his other hand gripping his penis tip. He tried to compensate by moving his hand more rapidly than Dinky was, kind of vibrating it. Girls were pointing and laughing at his efforts, but he couldn't take his eyes off the bronze-bound ruler and the threat of it landing on his tightly pursed balls. He tried to rub even faster, and finally was rewarded with an increased feeling of pressure inside him and in his penis, a feeling kind of like the need to pee, and yet not. His dick started to lengthen, and he found moving his hand on it much easier as it did. Stopped stretching his foreskin and let go of it, and his penis tip pushed out from that hood, stretching out to full length in front of him. Down the line, Mary reached out and yanked Dinky's hands from his crotch.

"That's enough," she said. "You're hard. You're not supposed to have fun doing it. It's when it's fun that it's a sin." Dinky, clearly frustrated at the sudden cessation of his stimulation, stood with his hands at his sides, his fingers twitching. His dick was bobbing in the air in front of him, like it had been when he'd made Jake get into position in the pig house, the mushroom head swollen and pulsing, the shaft slightly up curved and hard. Mary looked at Jake. "Give it two more pulls, short stuff, and then stop," she ordered. "You're hard enough, too."

Jake reluctantly stopped rubbing himself. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so they twitched by his sides as well. He couldn't resist looking down, at his dick standing out horizontally in front of him, pointing at the girls right in front of him, rather than slightly elevated as it was in Dinky's case, or curved against his belly like Sam's was. Sam was still hard, and was dancing the pee-pee dance even more uncomfortably. "Measure them," Mary told Margaret. "From the top—push the ruler until it hits the bone in their crotch, and then read where the end of the tip is." Margaret stepped forward and pressed her ruler end tightly against Dinky's bald groin, by the base of his jutting organ. Dinky shifted uncomfortably as the rule bit into the base of his organ, but he didn't say anything. She leaned over it. "Looks like....3 and a half," she said. "Or 3 and 5/8."

"We'll be generous and say 3 and 5/8," Mary said. "Do the one on the other end next—save Red for last."

Jake wondered why he was next, but stood stoically as he could while Margaret pushed the cold, bronze-bound ruler into his groin, pinching the soft pubic pad above his penis into his pubic bone. He found himself grimacing, too—the ruler edge was cold, and it pinched where it pressed on his groin just above his dick. The girl steadied his penis against the ruler and looked at the numbers.

"This one's a lot smaller," she announced, making Jake blush. "I'd say.... maybe 3 inches."

"That is tiny," Mary opined. She turned to the group of excited, chattering girls. "The worms on big boys are a lot bigger than these," she announced. "These are just little boys. Big boys have ones that are twice as long, and twice as thick, too. Imagine how much it hurts when they try to stick them into you!"

"But why?" one of the smaller girls asked. "Why do they stick them in us?"

"So they can make a baby, stupid," an older girl said. "That's how they make babies. They stick their thing in you and it spits some snot in there, and the snot grows into a baby. That's how your parents made you!"

The other girl, and most of the other smaller girls, looked sick. "But my mother would never...would never..." the girl began, trailing off.

"Oh, she probably didn't want to, but she did," Margaret opined. "It's your Catholic Duty—you have to do it every time you want a baby. Sometimes you have to do it a bunch of times to get the baby started." She nodded to Margaret. "Get his measurements," she said.

Margaret moved to the dancing Sam. "Hold still," she said softly to him as she leaned over his crotch. "I gotta measure you."

"I gotta pee!" Sam wailed, louder than all the noise in the room and Jake, who knew him well, could hear the abject desperation in his voice. His mom, or Sam's, would have been rushing him to the nearest bush by now, knowing from his tone that he wasn't crying wolf.

"Shut up and hold it," Mary said. Margaret frowned at Sam's curved, upward pointing dick.

"What do I do with this one?" she asked. "He's pointing up—if I slide it between it and his tummy I can't see the numbers."

"Just pull his thing down until it's straight out," Mary said.

"It's awfully hard," Margaret said, gripping the tip of Sam's organ gingerly and pushing against his hardness. "What if I break it?"

"It won't break, Nervous Nelly!" Mary said. "It might hurt a little bit, but he can just put up with it." Margaret grasped Sam's penis more firmly and pushed harder. She forced his rock-hard organ down until it was pointing out at the girls, the curve in it so pronounced that the tip pointed upward still. She pressed the end of the ruler into Sam's groin and leaned over it. "It looks shorter than the other two," she finally announced. "Maybe 2 and 7/8. But it might be longer if I made it go straight. Although I don't know if I could do that--"

"No, that wouldn't be fair—if it's curved, and that makes it shorter, that's tough. If you've got a baby worm, you've got a baby worm."

"These two are so close," Margaret was still fussing with Sam's penis, holding the ruler against it and trying to see if it measured differently if she did something else. "Maybe if you'd come squeeze the middle against the ruler," Margaret suggested to Myrtle. Myrtle walked over the other side of Sam, so the two girls were now framing him, and daintily pressed her thumb to the bottom of Sam's hard penis, and her finger to the top of the ruler, trying to flatten the bend out on Sam's penis. Two things happened simultaneously.

"I'm gonna pee nooooowwwwww!" Sam wailed. At the same time, a powerful stream surged out of the tip of his hard organ between the two girls holding him and arched up and then down through the air toward the girls seated closest. There was loud shrieking and squealing as girls dived every direction out of the way. The stream jumped higher but landed closer as Myrtle and Margaret dropped the suddenly spouting protuberance in surprise, then tapered off sharply as Sam's penis slapped his belly, the final result of his efforts splashing his stomach and then trailing down the underside of his curved organ and off his balls, making his organs glisten in the light. There was pandemonium on the floor in front of him as girls disentangled themselves from fallen chairs and each other, and examined themselves for wet spots.

"Ick, it's all over me!" the girl who'd been most directly in front of Sam wailed, holding her arms out from her sides. Her blouse was soaked on her right side and splashed in several other places. Other than a few stray splashes on skirts, she seemed to be the only casualty of Sam's loss of control. Around her girls were giggling and laughing openly about Sam's loss of control.

"He peed!" one little girl kept saying. "He peed right out of his boy thing!"

"It's like a water fountain!" a second girl marveled. The girl Sam had sprayed ran out the back of the room wailing, headed, apparently, for the showers and cleaner clothing, holding her hands out away from her as if he'd been fountaining battery acid at her. Mary looked at Sam with clear disdain.

"Couldn't hold it for even a minute, could you?" she said with derision. "You boys are nothing but big babies. Girls can hold it for hours, sometimes—we can't just pee behind the nearest tree like you do." She looked at the trail of wetness on the floor, following the splashes out to their farthest extent. "Hey, Margaret," she called. "Put a brick or something here, to mark how far he went. " She looked at Sam. "You've got the smallest, most pathetic worm," she said. Sam's penis was rapidly shrinking now that he'd peed, already sagging and living up to the epithet she'd attached to it. "So your name is 'Mouse Dick'" she added. She looked around, spotted a dish towel, and threw it to Sam. "Wipe your disgusting boy parts," she said. "Then get on your hands and knees and wipe the stage and the floor. Get every drop, or you'll lick up the puddles you miss."

Sam, his penis sagging and waggling as rubbed the towel against them, dried himself quickly and then dropped to the floor, crawling on all fours, wiping frantically. Girls followed him in his progress, giggling as his butt opened and closed as he moved. Mary looked at Jake. "You're second smallest," she said. "So your name is "Hamster Dick." Jake flushed. He couldn't see how that was any better than being called "Mouse Dick." Both were tiny animals, and must have equally tiny boy parts. If they did have boy parts. He couldn't remember ever seeing things like he and Sam and Dinky had on mice. Or dogs, either, for that matter. He hadn't seen anything like his and Sam's penises on the pigs in the pen, either. Meanwhile, Mary turned to Dinky. "You, she said, pausing.

"I know, 'Horse dick," Dinky said insolently. "Because I'm hung like a horse."

"You're hung like a mosquito," Mary said archly. "But your name is 'Pig Humper,'" she added.

"But you are a Pig Humper," Mary said. "Sister Mary Catherine said you were. Besides, this is the name the three of us picked out for you to start with. We knew you'd be bigger than the other two—they're just little boys. What we were surprised at is how close in size you are to them. Don't the other boys at the farm make fun of you?"

Jake knew the answer to that one just by his encounters with Dinky and the other boys over the last day. They made fun of the poorly hung, smaller boy constantly. Once again he felt a pang of sympathy for Dinky.

"We'll give you a second choice," Mary said slyly. "You want a second choice? There's something else we could call you that's just as apt."

"What?" Dinky asked suspiciously.

"How about Boy Humper? You could be Boy Humper instead. Or how about Cocksucker? Because I've talked to some of the older boys—that's what you're going to be doing when you go back to the barns—sucking the worms of your bunkmates. You want to be Cocksucker?"

Dinky flushed and he bit his lip.

"Well?" Mary asked. The room had become quiet again.

"No," Dinky said.

"Then what's your name?" Mary asked.

"Pig Humper," Dinky muttered.

"Louder," Mary ordered.

"Pig Humper," Dinky said more loudly. Several girls giggled, but many of the younger ones frowned. Mary stooped and wrote "Pig Humper" across his flat stomach in big, neat letters. Walking behind him, she wrote it across the small of his back, just above he start of his butt crack.

"What's that mean?" one of the 10-year-olds said. "What's Pig Humper mean?"

"It means that he makes his worm thingy hard and then sticks it into the rear ends of pigs," Mary said. "It means he's a bigger pervert than these other two. They just touch themselves down there. And probably each other." Several of the girls voiced loud disgust. Mary, meanwhile, approached Jake with her laundry pen at the ready. Putting an arm around the small of his back to steady him, she neatly lettered, under his navel and over his genitals, "Hamster Dick." Then she made him turn around and she wrote the same in the small of his back, just above the curve of his butt. By this time Sam was done wiping up his pee, and he stood uncomfortably, holding the damp towel, while she lettered "Mouse Dick" above his genitals and bottom. She then lined all three boys up again. She looked down from the platform.

"Move the rest of those chairs," she said of the chairs that had been knocked over as girls had fled Sam's eruption. "Make a space in front of the boys. We're going to have an old-fashioned peeing contest." She looked at girls. "My brothers and their friends were always having peeing contests—it's just one of the many disgusting things boys do. They line up and see who can pee the farthest." She looked at the boys. "Mouse Dick has already competed, so he can stay down here with the girls for a moment. You other two, you have 3 minutes to pee as far as you can. Length of pee determines the winners and losers."

"What's the prize?" a girl asked from the audience.

"Ooooh, gross," several girls expressed as one.

"Exactly," Mary said. "Just the kind of thing boys do, because they're gross, too." She looked back at the two boys on the stage. "You have 3 minutes. Not peeing automatically makes you ultimate loser and you kiss two heinies. That ought to be enough to scare the piss out of you."

Dinky opened his mouth, looked about to say something, then clamped it shut and looked down at his still erect penis pointing out in front of him. Small red blemishes from being bitten by ants dotted the surface. Mary nodded approval at his submission. "You can use your hands to aim," she said to both boys. "And you have to clean your mess up when you're done, just like he did," she added. "The clock starts now."

Jake gulped and squared himself, feeling self-conscious as he took his usual grip on his penis. At least he thought it was his usual grip. He didn't really pay attention most of the time, just fished his penis out, pointed it down, and peed. Was this how he usually held it? The girls were pointing and giggling—was that because he was holding himself wrong, or just because they weren't used to seeing boys pee, especially not naked boys? Next to Jake, Dinky straightened his back and gripped his penis, holding the tip angled upward, obviously hoping to get the best distance. He frowned and concentrated, his butt muscles tensing and twitching, his legs tightening as well. Nothing happened for awhile. Jake focused on trying to relax and make himself pee, but the eager, watching girls made his sphincter tighten to where he couldn't imagine he'd be able to go.

"They look funny," one of the younger girls said loudly.

"Shhhh," the girl said to her next. "That's how boys pee."

A minute passed. Suddenly, liquid arched out of Dinky's penis tip, off the platform, and out onto the cement floor, splattering noisily. He squeezed his butt and the stream mounted higher, clearly surpassing Sam's, then it quickly tapered down. The stream cut off, then a second spurt arched out, and finally a smaller third spurt. Dinky shook his penis arrogantly onto the platform in front of him. "Beat that," he said insolently to Jake, taking his towel and starting the wiping up process.

Jake's thoughts were going in circles. He could feel his muscles finally relaxing—something about seeing Dinky pee had done that. In moments his bladder contents would surge out of him. But Dinky had beaten Sam. If he tried to beat Dinky, Sam would be the loser. Even if he didn't beat Dinky, Sam would be the loser. Sam would have to kiss his butt as well as Dinky's. He looked down at Sam, who was looking very, very worried now that Dinky had easily passed him up for distance. Jake was pretty sure he could pee farther than Sam—for one thing, he wasn't peeing through a penis that curved upward, so that a lot of his force was lost in the vertical direction. But then he pictured watching Sam having to lean over and kiss not just Dinky's pimpled butt, but his own as well. Jake could probably out pee both Sam and Dinky—he thought. He could pee pretty far, after all, and Dinky's distance didn't look that insurmountable. But if he did, then Sam would have to kiss two butts, his and Dinky's Dinky would have to kiss his. And he'd have to kiss nobody. He couldn't do that to Sam. Sam would be no better off if he just beat Sam and not Dinky—and he himself would be worse off. He pictured Sam being humiliated by having to kiss two boys down there, while he did nothing but allow himself to be kissed. He wondered where on the butt Mary would want them to kiss. The outside of the cheek, he hoped. Surely not the most obvious, most disgusting place. He knew both boys were spotless—they'd just been washed. He could spare Sam doing double duty, take on some of Sam's burden. He could control the outcome. As pee surged out of him, out of control at the last moment, he made a decision. He deliberately pointed his dick far below horizontal, making sure his stream barely cleared the platform, falling far short of Sam's. Making himself the ultimate loser, who would have to pay the ultimate price. Finishing quickly, he shook himself off, to the laughter of the girls, took the offered towel, got on his hands and knees, and started the cleanup process.

"There, now you've all seen. You've seen how boys pee," Mary said loudly as he and Dinky cleaned up their messes. "You can see how disgusting it is! They don't even wipe! And that thing they were peeing with—that's the same dirty thing they want to stick in you! Like we want a peeing thing in us!" The girls hooted laughter, a group following Jake as he cleaned, another following Dinky, both group making derisive comments about the inferior anatomy of boys.

"Hah, I won!" Dinky gloated, jumping to his feet as he finishing his own wiping up. "You guys are losers." He looked across at Jake, finishing his wiping job. "You're both gonna get to kiss my butt," he said tauntingly. "And I'm going to make you do it right on my shit hole. And you get to kiss your little fuck buddy, too! You can tell us who tastes the best." Jake, fully aware of the implications when he'd made his decision, merely looked down so as not to have to look at the gloating older boy.

Mary, though, was smiling. "Excuse me," she said, "But you seem to be under some sort of misapprehension, Pig Humper," she said. "You're the loser. You don't think we care who can pee the farthest, do you? We're not disgusting like boys. The contest was for who could make the smallest mess peeing, and you lose by peeing the farthest. Hamster Dick here is the ultimate winner, and Mouse Dick is second. So Mouse Dick kisses Hamster Dick's heinie, and then you kiss both of them."

"And we had been going to have you do it on the cheek," Margaret added. "But I like Pig Humper's idea better—you losers can do it right on the dirty place."

"Everything's fair when you're doing it to boys," Mary said. "Because you deserve whatever you get. You're all disgusting.

"But...but..." Dinky sputtered.

"You heard him, girls," Mary said. "He wants a pair of them to kiss—he said it twice. You, Hamster Dick," she added to Jake. "Get up here in the middle of the platform and bend over and spread your cheeks. We'll have Mouse Dick do the first kiss and get his over with. Then Pig Humper can kiss both of them." She guided Jake into position at the very edge of the platform, moving his hands to his butt cheeks and making him spread himself wide to the audience, his tight hole winking back at them. He could see the girls staring at his spread butt by looking back between his legs. He could also see Sam, standing on the floor, his face right across from his tight anal slit. Sam was eyeing Jake's hind end with finicky distaste. .

"Your mouth has to be on it for a count of 5," Mary said. "Or you'll have to do it again."

Sam gulped, clearly apprehensive. But he stepped forward gamely, and in moments Jake felt his friend's hot breath against his anus. This isn't how I wanted it, he wanted to tell Sam. But he said nothing, just kept his cheeks spread as he felt Sam's cool lips press against his sphincter. Girls giggled, laughed, or made disgusted sounds. The count of five seemed long, but finally Mary spoke up. "That's enough," she said. "You can stop now." The hot, moist breaths that had been bathing Jake's asshole ceased as Sam straightened up and stood, hunched. Without thinking he reached for his face and rubbed his lips, trying to brush away the touch of them to his best friend's orifice of elimination. The girls watching burst into raucous laughter at his clear distress. Mary regarded him with a superior smirk. "Guess he doesn't like the taste that much," she commented. She pushed on Sam's shoulder. "Come on, Red. Or I should say, Mouse Dick," she corrected herself. "Over here beside your little buddy. Bend and spread 'em so Pig Humper can have a good taste of both of you."

Sam obediently moved beside Jake and bent over, reaching back to spread his buns as ordered. Mary nudged his feet and he spread them more widely, looking backward between his legs at the upside down girls giggling at him. His face flushed a red so bright it looked dangerous.

"Your turn, Dennis," Mary said gaily to Dinky.

"I ain't doin' it," Dinky stated. "I ain't kissing no boy's butt, let alone both of them. Not anywhere, 'specially not where they shit."

"Really?" Mary said, moving toward him. She gestured with the heavy, brass-bound ruler. "Then I guess I'll have the girls hold you while I hit your sack with this instead. Bet that'll make an impression on you."

Dinky backed away, his hands reaching instinctively to clutch his bare genitals. "No!" he shouted. "You're not hittin' my balls!"

"Third option," Mary said. "I call Sister Mary Catherine right now, and we watch all three of you get a birching." Jake's heart lurched from the bent over position he'd adopted beside Sam. Dinky wouldn't—wouldn't dare.—would he? Were they all three about to be tied to that awful bench, with the strap for tightly cinching down a boy's balls while his butt was beaten until it bled? What would Dennis choose?