An 'X'mas Carol Part Two, Chapter 16
By Jaech Reiter
[email protected]

Copyright 2011 by Jaech Reiter, all rights reserved

A Christmas and New Year's Eve Story Challenge Entry

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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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Part Two, Chapter 16

First of all, these tables had stirrups!!

At least, that's what nearly 14-year-old Ben later understood the contraptions to be called. These definitely were not the breakfast tables that his thoughts and stomach had in mind, at least after the earlier reference to breakfast and then the APA Monitor saying something about his bowels.

For the moment, he and 12 ½ year old Kyle were on their backs, side by side, on two of these tables. Their butts were pulled forward to the very edge, and just over, of the tables, feet up in the stirrups, and the stirrups pulled open wide and back, so that they were fully splayed and displayed down there and available to anybody's view, which at this point included Mr. Macdonald, the Monitor; his assistant; Kyle's Minder and little sister, 9 year old Jessica; Kyle's best friend, 13 year old Casey; Ben's best friend's little brother and the Minder for both of them, 11 ¾ year old Sam; and every single person that was walking by or congregating in the open area just inside the APA where the enema station was kept.

They were already on round two of this process, having just cleared their bowels on an outdoor potty, had their backsides power-washed by an outdoor bidet, been further cleaned under an outdoor cold shower, and then towel dried and pushed right back on the table, with the two clothed boys, Sam and Casey, assisting in the humiliating task of pulling their legs right back up into the stirrups.

The first round had been Macdonald demonstrating on Ben's ass, or rather in it, as he snaked in the half-inch rubber tubing about 6 inches up his rectum and let loose the hanging bag of special enema cleansing fluid, demonstrating for Jessica and the two boys how it should be done. As he pulled it out, he squeezed Ben's butt cheeks tight, telling him to hold it in, or receive his first spanking right then and there. Ben held it.

And it hurt and cramped him to do so. Even more embarrassing was that he eventually had to ask Sam to squeeze his buttcheeks together for him to help him out. Meanwhile, Jessica had gloved up and was pushing a lubricated finger up against her brother's butthole, and then sliding it in. Ben had little sympathy for the younger boy, even if it was the Kyle's first time to have something inserted up his butt, as Ben himself had to take Mr. Macdonald's much bigger finger.

That was sooo uncomfortable . . . . . . on sooo many levels.

But Kyle eventually got his first bag of fluid into his rectum, same as Ben, and both boys had to hold it for what felt forever and then had to evacuate and clean up in front of everyone. Everyone.

Now, though, they were back on their backs and waiting for the second, unwanted load of fluid, except this time it would be the boys inserting the enema tubes up their rears. Ben tensed in shame as he felt Sam's hand on his naked buttcheek, pushing it farther back, as if the boy needed more of a visual than Ben's obscene posture provided. Kyle had it even worse, as it was his own best friend touching his butt, looking down on him in all his glory, as he held that near thigh steady and slowly pressed into and past the anus, into that formerly completely and totally virgin ass, watching it expand open slowly around the tubing, and then watching the tubing slowly enter into and up Kyle's butthole, going deep into the boy's rectum.

Soon Casey and Sam had Kyle's and Ben's rectums prepped and then very quickly loaded as they turned the enema bags to full-open, watching them empty, knowing where all that fluid was going and so glad that they themselves didn't have to experience what it felt like. It was bad enough just being made to push that into another boy's butthole. It was sick. Disgusting. Perverted even. And it sent the smallest of thrills through vague parts of them that just disturbed each boy even more, though they equally were able to shut down any conscious recognition of that.

While the two boys were waiting the five tortuous minutes the assistant was requiring that they hold on to all that fluid, Cynthia and Becky, who had watched, and partly giggled at, both her brother's and Ben's humiliating positions and the disdain that the other two had in having to perform this task, drifted back over to where their parents were working on and filling out the boys' specific forms.

"No, Dad,"  Ben heard Cynthia's voice from all the way over to the tables.  "Don't make him do that."

"Ben has escalated his sentence twice in just two days, Cynthia,"  Sid Carton calmly explained to his daughter.  "He is meant to be punished. I think this is appropriate."

"He's not really a bad kid, Dad. And you should have been there. I don't believe he was doing it to get out of further trouble."

"Be that as it may, you saw what his own mother wrote on his back? Even she recognizes his need for this."

"And I'm sure he'll get worse than you think here; but I read the rules for our county, and I don't think that's in the spirit of it."

Ben was shocked. He knew Cynthia was in general a fairly nice girl, but to have her stick up for him like that? Wow. This was better than having Michael believe in him. And he didn't have to do anything sick and disturbed to prove it, either.

"Cynthia, I don't think you are in the best place to be arguing with your parents who know better."  Her dad, the barrister, warned her.

"Well,"  she answered back, crossing her arms and standing her ground.  "I guess you have to talk to my dad about that. He's the one that taught me to be fair, follow the rules, and be able to defend myself by them."

Angela and Alesha both smiled and turned away so the two wouldn't see them. Sid Carton tried to stare down his 13 year old daughter, but then just sighed and ripped up the purple-labeled Offender-specific permission form. 

"Mr. Macdonald, we need another form, please,"  he said, resigned to losing this battle with his daughter, then turned back to her and said,  "We'll be more strict to Hampton County expectations on this one, but there will be some compromise."

Something in his tone clearly let her know that it would not only be futile, but quite dangerous, to argue much more on this. Ben, meanwhile, felt not only happy to hear himself actually defended by someone, someone willing to stand up to an important adult, a court official, right here at the place of punishment, but he also felt relieved, like he had just dodged some major bullets. But then the pain and cramps of the enema fluid completely distracted him from being able to hear any more.

Mr. Carton began filling out the new form and let Cynthia stay by him while he did so.

"Dad . . . . ."  She started back up.

"Cynthia . . . ."  He answered in a warning voice.

"Please . . . . . ?"  She answered back in her woeful only-daughter voice that she knew would work on him. It did. Sid Carton sighed again and crossed out what he had just authorized and initialed his correction. Cynthia smiled. The rest of the form got filled more conservatively, though they did change one thing at Mr. Macdonald's prompting and assurances that it would really be OK, that in the long run Ben would be better for it, and they turned the forms in for both boys, who by this time were on the outdoor toilets, letting all the remaining debris of their insides gush out of them.

Then Cynthia and Becky had another distraction: a nondescript mom and dad came up with a good-looking upper-12 year old, one that looked like he was just coasting in to puberty, with already a growth spurt he was comfortable with, but still retaining the boyish elusion of childhood. He was quiet and dressed in jeans and a tan polo, an unlikely color for his age but seeming to set off the soft, airy, light-brown hair that the wind lifted up slightly as it blew through in the random breeze that caught him just perfect as he stopped near to the girls, almost imperceptibly self-conscious of being there, but not showing any real interest other than the briefest of casual glances at Cynthia and Becky.

But he wasn't the distraction for the two girls.

The distraction was the older boy that walked up last. He had darker hair and two years on his little brother. He looked like he might be a slimmer brother in the future, and maybe not the tallest eventually, but for now he was clearly the older brother. And he was hot!

The boy was dressed in jeans and a tucked-in, button-up shirt; he had a comfortable presence, but you could tell something nervous was rattling around in the back of his head, though he hid it well, much as the younger boy had a bit of anxiety barely peeking out of his calm surround of detachment. The older boy had dark hair and a handsome face, with good early adolescent definition in his body, the clothes hinting at a trim musculature that either girl would have loved to see. As was, they were just panting internally at the thought of what he would have looked like if he had been the offender.

But he wasn't. He was fully dressed, and the girls (mainly because they didn't want to get caught staring when he glanced over in their direction) looked past the quiet family, searching for the third sibling that would be the offender. Could they dare to hope that it was a slightly older brother? Or even one in between? Given the two boys they could see, how hot would the third one be? Hopefully the Offender wasn't a sister. That would be disappointing. So they waited, and their moms, Angela and Alesha, exchanged knowing smiles behind them, obviously noting the girls' sudden quiet, intense interest in the new boy. Fortunately for them, though, Cynthia's dad had walked over to check on Ben and Kyle more closely.

Becky's 12 year old little brother Zachary just rolled his eyes. He was still wishing he could have stayed at home, even though a good part of him was curious to see what happened here at the APA.

"Hello, Mr. Macdonald,"  the woman with the new boys said to the APA Monitor.

"Hello, Evie; Hello, Jim. Wish I could say it was good to see you both today."

"I know,"  she sighed out, agreeing.  "I'm hoping this the last time we have to come here. It's absolutely ridiculous if this doesn't do the trick."

"Don't know what got into him . . . . ."  the man said, shaking his head,  "to act so . . . . . . stupid. Certainly not the way we're raising the boys."

The boys? The girls liked hearing that qualification. So the Offender was going to be the brother of these two. Hopefully he was as good looking, or even better . . . . . . though the older one was soooo hot!! Maybe the third one would be only a year older or a year younger than the hot one. They certainly waited in anticipation for the naked Offender yet to show himself, trying to both look and not look at the good-looking 14 year old in the meantime.

But as they unsuccessfully tried to hide their budding carnal interest, Mr. Macdonald addressed the same 14 year old boy, who had to snap out of his disaffected reverie to answer.

"Buckley, do you have anything to say about all of this?"

The boy looked up to Mr. Macdonald and then looked away, quickly looking back as he allowed his trained manners to kick in and forced himself to answer.  "I . . . . . it was stupid . . . . . I know. I don't know why I . . . . . . I was just being stupid. I didn't even think about what would happen . . ."

"You mean, what would happen because of what you did or what would happen if you got in trouble again so soon after the last time?"

Wait, both girls thought. The hot boy was the Offender?? But he was still dressed!

"I suppose both."  The good-looking boy named Buckley answered as his little brother looked on; the younger boy seeming somewhat uncomfortable with it all, himself.

"Perhaps you should have been more concerned with what your actions would do to others and your community than your own hide. Maybe a bit more worry about either would have kept you out of here today. As it is, I think what you go through today will give you very strong reasons to return to the good boy I had thought I was seeing mature at church every other Sunday the last few years."

"Yes, sir. I know."  Buckley answered, looking down again briefly, somewhat ashamed of his behavior, and at having it pointed out so readily by Mr. Macdonald, who his family had known for many, many years, ever since his own mom had been an older girl.

"Well, you know the drill, Buckley. Off with your clothes, then. And fold them nicely."

"Yes, sir,"  the boy answered meekly and quietly and bent down with only the mildest of hesitation and began untying his shoes, taking them off first and then his socks.

As the boy stood up and started undoing his belt, he gave only a cursory embarrassed glance in the vague direction of the girls before deliberately looking away to his left, concentrating on nothing in particular as he pulled his belt off and placed it on the table before him. He looked like a boy that knew he should be embarrassed, but had good control against showing it.

The two girls gripped each others' arms in mutual excited shock as they realized that this young demi-hunk was about to get naked right there not more than 10 or so feet away from them. They had abandoned any pretext of not looking and just stared in wild hope and amazed lust as he pulled out his shirt tails and began undoing his buttons.

As the boy pulled off his button-up shirt and began neatly folding it, Angela Carton leaned forward and whispered in both girls ears,  "Are you two girls sure you don't want to stay for the day?"

They couldn't see Mrs. Carton's smile, or Alesha's either, but they could certainly hear it in the tone she used. The problem was that she had definitely hit a nerve for the girls. All day with this boy in the same park?  Mmmmmm. They both deeply considered reconsidering, especially as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and then slid them down his legs, now in just his white T-shirt and white BVD's, both of which were filled in quite nicely, yet loose enough to offer that hopeful mystery.

They weren't disappointed as he continued with his undress, unhurried, but with grim determination, and pulled the T-shirt off his handsome upper torso and folded it to lie on top of the accumulating pile on the table. Now in just his white Y-front briefs, riding lower on the hip than a catalog model might show, but still gathered nicely into an enticing bulge at the front, he hesitated only slightly before showing the same bleak resolve of a boy who ultimately and usually obeyed his parents, and without further prompting slid his briefs over those strong creamy cheeks and across the fancied bulge of boyhood and down his lightly haired legs and off his body, folding them the same as his other clothes, which the underpants soon joined.

As he stood back up straight his arms almost reflexively went to the front of him, except they did so slowly enough and never made it all the way, a sign that he had been previously conditioned to what was expected of a Nudie. He moved his arms back to his side, trying to control his breathing and fighting the indecision to stare off into nothing or look back at Mr. Macdonald, and all the while not show this indecision. But his dick betrayed his embarrassment where his face was endeavouring not to, as it lazily stretched out to 4 ½ inches and counting, and as it slowly made its way upward to a 70 degree angle semi, hanging and swaying with its own indecision, fighting the increased blood flow of embarrassment versus the decreased blood flow of fear and humiliation.

In short, though there was nothing short of what the Adonis had to offer the gasping, appreciative girls, he was in the perfect state to be initiated into a day of punishment at the APA. The girls meanwhile guiltily, but excitedly, ran their eyes down the lean and mid-adolescent body, taking in the still growing penis, the dark, neat, small, yet thick, nest of curls, and the hanging, large, lightly haired nuts. Zachary, on the other hand, was embarrassed by this sudden stripping and revealing of the older boy, and he wandered off to go through some of the brochures at an information area just inside the grounds. It was one thing to see a naked boy out and about in the city (I mean, weird, but manageable, somewhat), but to watch one have to strip down in front of you as his penis very slowly drifted up into a semi or possible erection, well that was just asking too much of a 12 year old boy.

The older boy's brother clearly felt the same, from his own flushed cheeks and attempts to stare off into nowhere, without exactly appearing to do so; but that boy must have understood the transgression of his own walking away. He was there for a reason. He might not like it, but he wasn't ending up like his brother.

Meanwhile, the girls' mothers stepped closer to them and one asked them again,  "Are you sure you don't want to hang out here for the day?"

The girls looked at each other with half-smiles, half-questioning eyes. This just might be a whole lot more fun than a spa. They had never gotten to see a boy's private parts like this; well, not a boy this old, or one they were interested in. Kyle may have been decently developed for his age, but this was totally different.

"Buckley,"  Mr. Macdonald began in seriousness,  "This is the second time in less than six months you have been sent to the APA; in fact you were only here 11 weeks ago. You know what the automatic upgrade is for appearing here under a full sentencing twice in less than three months time?"

The boy blushed and nodded and fought to not look down.

"Yes, sir. I know."

"Tell me what the basic difference is."

"I . . . . . ."  If he had been a year younger, his voice would have cracked; as it was, the answer just came out more quietly and more dejected, and shocked the girls who barely, but very clearly heard it.  "I have to give . . . . . blowjobs . . . . to other guys at the APA."

Whaaatt?  The girls were floored. Eeewww, gross. What girl would want to lust after a boy that put his own mouth on another's boy's thing? Guh-ross.

"Not just at the APA, Buckley, but I spoke with the judge when he sent you here, and he agreed that we should do a Community Service banding on you. It will be for five days, enough time for you to reconsider how you want to behave and control your actions when you are done. This will of course involve boys at your school and any that you may encounter in the community --- and you will have some assigned Community responsibilities."

The boy looked like he was turning nauseous, or maybe just generally sick, but he still worked to hold himself free of reproach from his parents, who obviously were in agreement and approval of the arrangement.

"Now tell me happens with all the sperm and semen that those boys are likely to shoot out after you pleasure them down there?"

An involuntary shiver of disgust went through the boy, but he still answered:  "I swallow it. All of it."

He wasn't the only one who had a shiver of disgust go through him. The girls were thoroughly disgusted. Not only was this boy going to go down on other boys, but he would be SWALLOWING their actual cum!! Swallowing sperm!!  Ewwww. Gross. Gross. Gross. He may have looked hot, but they were turned off and were now so-over this show. There was no way they wanted to hang around and watch this. Poor Buckley was just another delinquent boy getting his due, as far as these girls were concerned. They were back to wanting to go to the spa, and they told their mothers so.

"And then after you swallow, then what are you going to want to do?"  Macdonald still continued.

Oh, that was the worst. Having to respond as if he wanted to, not had to.  "I have t---uh . . . . . I'll . . . . want . . . . . to thank them for f-f- . . . ."  he paused as another shiver of disgust uncontrollably screwed with his face. But it was brief, and he quickly got himself back under control.  ". . . . . for f-feeding me."

"Very good. Now let's get these forms underway,"  Mr. Macdonald said as he handed the forms with a purple bar across the top to his parents, along with a blue ink pen and a clipboard.  "And Buckley, you do know that you will be required to give regular oral services to your brother, Grant, as well, don't you?"

Buckley looked over at his little brother, and both boys regarded each other briefly with something of a look of horror mixed with acute embarrassment, before he looked away, catching the girls eyes (and looks of disappointment and mild disgust) in the process, blushing in even further humiliation. 

"I do now,"  he croaked.

"What's 'orle services'?"  Zachary asked, as he had come back at the end of Macdonald's admonishment.

"It's 'oral services' and you don't know?"  Cynthia asked, but then quickly changed her tone with the slightly younger boy,  "Well, actually, I guess that's not a bad thing. You shouldn't know about that."

"But weren't you paying attention?"  His sister asked. She wasn't specifically being antagonistic to him. Zachary was in general a good kid, and Becky had always liked being his older sister. She was just disappointed with the hot-boy-turned-(soon-to-be)-cocksucker, Buckley.

"I was over there,"  Zachary said.  "I didn't really want to watch that guy take off his clothes."

"Did you say you didn't know what 'oral services' meant, young man?"  Macdonald asked Zachary.

"Uh . . . . no sir. He's gotta like . . . . . brush his brother's teeth?"

Everyone laughed quietly, which made Zachary feel both nervous and embarrassed.

"What's your name, son?" 

"Zachary. Zachary Sanderson."

"How old are you, Zachary?"

"12, sir."

"Well that's a good age to be. And are you a good kid? Do you obey and respect your parents and others in authority?"

"Yes, sir,"  Zachary nodded, but he still looked over at his mom with his eyebrows raised, just to be sure that was accurate. He was more than a bit scared to lie here. Alesha Sanderson smiled, almost laughed, and agreed that he was a good kid, so far. Becky just rolled her eyes. Like her brother had ever been in trouble. . . . . yet.

"All right, then,"  Macdonald said,  "Come over here with me and I'll tell you what 'oral services' means. You come along, too, Buckley. I don't want to have to go through this twice."

Zachary hesitated, but he was urged on with a smile from his mom. He wasn't very comforted by that smile, or the similar one on Mrs. Carton's face. They seemed to suggest something fun (that is fun for them, and not really for him). He hoped he wasn't about to be put into a dentist's chair or anything. He hated going to the dentist.

Buckley had a similar hesitation, but he knew better than to look to anyone else to prompt him either to obey or to follow Mr. Macdonald. With the same grim resolve, and constant self-reminders not to cover up, he followed the man with a reluctant Zachary in tow. They stopped about halfway between the front table and the enema tables, with Zachary's back to his mom and Mrs. Carton (and the girls). Buckley was miserable and feeling poorer by the second, and only made to feel even worse by his own treacherous penis that was continuing it's slow, inexorable rise, now at 90 degrees to the ground and stretched out to 5 ¼ inches. His heart was pounding too, knowing what was coming, knowing how incredibly degrading this was, how disgusting, how much he never, ever wanted to do this, and knowing as well that this would be forever, never to be forgotten, never to be undone, and yet he couldn't stop any of it from happening.

"OK, Buckley,"  Macdonald said, pulling the boy around to face the bewildered Zachary.  "Before you go on the enema table, drop to your knees and explain to young Zachary here what 'oral services' means. There's no need for words to explain it, but use your mouth best as you can, all the same."

Buckley dropped to his knees before the boy, wishing his now 5 ¾ inch semi would dip back down.

Zachary looked confused at Macdonald, still not understanding things;  all of a sudden he jumped when he felt the older boy unbuttoning his pants and opening his fly. He attempted to stop him, but Buckley just brushed the boy's hands away and continued with what he was doing, opening the front of those jeans all the way and pulling both jeans and underwear down to reveal a young, hardening cock reaching for its full 3 7/8 inches, a set of halfway-hanging balls the same off-white color of his smooth thighs, and a small and sparse, but definite, gathering of the softest, almond-brown pubic hairs a boy could have.

Zachary gasped as his pants and boxers were pulled down together right there in public, and he grasped a hold of them with his right hand to pull them back up, and put his left hand out to stop Buckley; but the alien and overwhelming feel of a sudden hotness and wetness as Buckley's unwilling but obeying mouth slid over the sensitive head of his circumcised dick and then down the cockshaft, pressing the nerve-packed underside with that tongue muscle ---- Zachary lost all thought as to what he had intended to do.

Zachary was learning fast just what 'oral services' meant, as 14 year old Buckley went down on his first cock ever. Buckley had gotten on the internet the night before to learn how to suck cock, desperately wanting to avoid further punishment --- mainly to avoid the Brown Tent at all costs --- and gave the younger boy the best work he could on this blowjob. And Zachary was loving every second of it, or at least the only thinking part of his body was, which at that moment was the base core of every pleasurable nerve in his body. It was a wonder that he could remain standing, so stunned and overwhelmed he was, but he did; and he managed to hold his pants and underwear up so they didn't fall completely to the ground and did manage to hide at least the lower part of his ass. Between the hem of his shirt and his pants/underwear, all that could be seen from behind was the smallest sliver of naked ass on the right, flowing across and opening wider to reveal a greater swath of boy butt until there was a 3 inch gap between the two hems at his left side.

That was because his left hand had become unintentionally involved first in the top of Buckley's head and then through the rich, dark hair to the back, pulling the boy farther on to him, as Zachary rocked unaware into the mouth, moaning out terribly, such that everyone nearby heard, all except Zachary. His sister and Cynthia giggled profusely, and even Grant (Buckley's younger brother) smile with some slight disgusted wonderment, as they saw Zachary's head tilt back slightly and his butt start rocking to the pace that Buckley was setting for him.

It was only toward the end (though this came to be fairly quickly), when Zachary started approaching his imminent climb to an orgasm, that he seemed to wake up out of his unexpected shock (and boon) and realized just what another boy was doing to him, right there in front of his own mom!! But it was too late. By that point he was ready to cum, and he didn't think he could stop it. He tried to warn the boy sucking his dick, desperately trying, and failing, to keep such warning quiet; but when he tried to pull back, Buckley just grabbed his buttcheeks and pulled him in, allowing the 12 year old to fire his meager load right into the back of his mouth, where it was promptly swallowed down.

Buckley swallowed each spurt as it came, even the ones that were probably dry after the first three, until Zachary pushed him away again, signaling that his dick was now too sensitive to handle any more sucking, or that his conscious brain, the one that was to be greatly embarrassed as the boy slowly realized just who all witnessed him getting a blow job, was taking over and finally putting a stop to this. In Zachary's case, it was both. He pulled out of Buckley's mouth, wishing that he could wash that wet sausage which he promptly tucked away, as he pulled everything back together.  He wasn't sure how to respond or look at the boy, or Macdonald who had witnessed the event as well.

"Thanks, . . . . um, . . . . Zachary, for feeding me,"  Buckley said, barely hiding the hard shiver that went through him as he did his due diligence.

Zachary just nodded nervously, still unsure of the proper way to act after this.

"Well, there you go, Zachary,"  Macdonald said.  "That's what it means by 'oral service'; and it will be required of Buckley here quite regularly today, and some time beyond. You can go back to your family, Zachary."

The boy again nodded and turned to walk back to where his mom, sister, and the Carton women were waiting.

"Oh, and don't forget your zipper, Zachary,"  Macdonald threw out. Zachary looked down and blushed severely. He was, in fact, still undone. He just reached down and zipped up, aware that the two girls and their moms were all watching and smiling/giggling. He couldn't look at any of them, but turned the deepest red and walked over to join them, never taking his eyes off the ground at his feet.

"Did you enjoy that, Zachy?"  His mom asked sweetly, but the poor boy didn't answer; he just turned an even deeper red and looked even farther off to his left, still focusing on the ground.

It was just as bad, well actually worse, for Buckley, as his whole family had also witnessed Zachary's butt rocking in rhythm into their son's/brother's mouth, and they had seen the younger boy's buns clench as he shot his sperm into Buckley's mouth, a mouth that had never been destined or even imagined for such use. What made it even all the worse was that Buckley's best friend from school, Taggart, along with another friend of theirs, Brian, had shown up in time to catch the protein supplement being given, and they were both half-disgusted and half-enjoying giving Buckley a hard time.

"Of course, I can't wait til I get to give you a real 'hard' time later,"  Taggart leaned in and said with a smile, squeezing his crotch through his pants as he did so. Taggart and Brian both laughed. They were only joking --- except the underlying awareness of all three boys knew that he wasn't.

Buckley wanted to do something between curse, throw-up, and die, but instead let himself be led to the enema tables by Macdonald's assistant.

Kyle and Ben, meanwhile were just coming back from their cleaning out, walking slightly bow-legged back to the group, each boy feeling the ghost of the tubing still opening his asshole and penetrating within, and aching from the dying cramps of their freshly cleaned-out bowels.

"Mr. Macdonald,"  Jessica was asking the man,  "What keeps a Minder from just not taking the Offender to any of the tents he has to go to, and just keeping him here forever?"

The way she said 'forever', with such awe, just put pins and needles into Ben and Kyle's fears.

"Well, it is possible that a Minder might try to influence things that way, and moderate and reasonable attempts at sabotage are allowed, sometimes encouraged, but in general there are four ways you can take your Charge through the APA. And you have to decide on which way you want to do it before entering the fairground. Of course, small departures are allowed, and you may ask a staff member to change your plan at any point, but we do hold the Minders somewhat responsible at how things proceed. Basically, we take attitudes and intentions of the Minders into consideration, and we always give advice, suggestions . . . . . or warnings. But here are some pamphlets that describes the four methods open to the Minders. Just let me know which ones you and Sam want."

Sam let Ben read it at the same time, neither boy noticing that Angela Carton got a quick photo of the Naked Ben side-by-side the Clothed Sam, both nearly the same height, heads angled down, bodies nearly pressed together reading the pamphlet and seemingly forgetting the nudity divide. It was one of the things that Charlotte Scruggs had asked of Angela on this trip. She wanted a 'cute' or 'sweet' picture of the two boys, but one that emphasized in some subtle way the nature of their relationship. But primarily 'cute' or 'sweet'. Angela Carton reviewed the high-resolution photo on her digital camera.

It was perfect.

And so the boys read:

There are four methods by which you, the Minder, may navigate the APA so that the Offender has a reasonable, or slightly less than reasonable, opportunity to either complete or attempt to complete his required visitations within the allotted time of the visit  (in all methods, required inductions at the Black Tent are to be done first):

1.     The Minder may choose to concentrate solely on the required visits first. Once these are done and out of the way, and after the card is turned in, the remaining time may be spent at the Minder's discretion. In this mode the Minder may also opt to forgo added visits caused by staff or events at tents along the way, if he or she is given that option.

2.     The Minder may do half the required events initially, and then have complete freedom on how he or she plans or runs the day. In this mode the Minder must still follow added visits generated as a course of events at any other given tent, (for example, a consequence of the Green Tent may be that the loser of a game must go to the Red Tent and then return); but in this mode, the Minder also may opt to forgo added visits where given the option. Keep in mind, the minder will face greater scrutiny on his or her intentions in this method and will bear greater responsibility for poor scheduling. Also the last 90 minutes of the day must be spent first on any remaining required visits.

3.     The Minder may alternate between required visitations and those wished by the Minder. This may be done with impunity regardless of how many required visitations the Offender has. If the Offender has ten or more required visitations, this method almost invariably results in an added APA Half Day.

4.     The Minder may spin the Visitation Fortune Wheel at the center of the APA after every visitation is completed (a completed visitation includes all referred visitations required by actions or events at the initial tent, though these may individually count for other required visitations). The wheel has a digital display set with a number of panels equal to the initial required visits plus an equal number of Minder-chosen visitation spots. The required-visitation spots on the wheel are tent-specific and the Minder-spots are open for choosing. As the Spots are completed, those spaces will be blacked-out on the wheel. Every time the wheel lands on a blacked-out spot, five minutes of APA time will be added to the Offender. For Offenders with greater than 8 required stops, this method has variable results ending in the Offender serving between 1 and 3 APA days.

While Minders are required to choose one of these four methods, or another method with prior mandate from the Court, they are not required to inform the Offender of the method chosen, or of the rules or existence of the methods at all. It is, in fact, encouraged to keep the Offenders in the dark as much as possible and thus heighten their anxiety and frustration. They must, after all, learn how to control themselves in adverse situations.

After reading the last part, Jessica smiled. She was glad now that she had told Kyle he wasn't allowed to read it. She now told him that he wasn't allowed to even ask about it, and if he overheard anyone talking about it, or even if someone told him, then he would be in big trouble. Mr. Macdonald then verified that this was an agreeable proclamation, and Kyle just moaned internally.

This was sooo fucking unfair!! This was his little sister!!! She should never have the right to do this!! The thoughts of injustice wer e racing through Kyle's mind.

"Calm down, dude,"  Casey said as he saw the steam building under pressure under Kyle's façade. Then he leaned in quietly and added,  "I'm your best friend, and I will be when you're out of this, but if I have to make you hate me today, I will. There's NO way you are bringing me into this kind of trouble. So calm down, or I'll really make some shit for you."

Kyle let his release valves open and slowly let the steam out, and Casey kept him preoccupied for a bit of time until he was in control of himself. Kyle might could intimidate Jessica . . . . maybe . . . . . but not Casey; Casey could handle himself. And he knew what Casey saw; no boy wanted to be caught up in this. Casey would do anything to Kyle to keep him under control; and that would be bad for Kyle.

Hell, didn't they both see an older kid being made to give Zachary Sanderson a blow job?? Holy shit . . . . . this place was fucked up.

As for Ben and Sam, as soon as they read the last paragraph, Ben was already worried and apologizing to Sam, saying he didn't know he wasn't supposed to read it.

"Relax, Ben. I told you that you could read it. And I already knew about that rule. You're here because you really deserve to be punished. I believe that. So I'm going to do my part and see you really get it, too. But I'm not going to be mean about it."

"Thanks, Sam. Can I ask wh-which m-method I'm going to have to do?"

Sam nodded and told him,  "The first one. I'm going to give you a chance. More than you ever gave anyone else."

Ben nodded and looked down; he knew part of that was true. A very large part.  "I know. Thank you, Sam."

"If I have to tell you to look at me directly when you talk, I'll take you to the Black Tent twice. Judge Breese gave me that right. He said he didn't trust anybody else with it."

Ben shivered and quickly looked up.  "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Just say 'yes, sir' and get it straight and do what you are supposed to be doing. Quit having to apologize."

"Yes, sir. Sor--- . . . . . . . I mean . . . . . . yes, sir. I'll do better."  The chastised nearly 14 year old meekly submitted to the 11 year old Minder.  (Sam would add, Hey, I'll be 12 in just three months. He was getting touchy about that lately. Indeed, the boy already looked 12.)

"Good, then let's go."

Sam led Ben to the Black Tent, with the words from that morning on the older boy's back still glaringly visible to everyone:  "This OFFENDER needs help with some serious behavioral adjustment!"

It was, unfortunately, like a challenge to the professional spankers. They were already a bit miffed that the Hampton County judge had limited their time with the two delinquents, but also that they were not allowed to use any of the nifty Fisher Industries products they had recently been given and received training upon, save for the X-40 paddle. And on that, they were only allowed a very narrow range of the lower settings. In fact, it was also the only paddle that they were allowed to use.

But there was something else they had that the court order didn't touch. They were going to use a gel that increased both the sting and burn of the spankings. They soon had Kyle bent over and strapped into a spanking bench with his legs spread wide, putting his recently cleaned crack and hole on a cheery display for everyone.

The Spanking Official appealed to the crowd:  "I'm restricted in the number of hits these two delinquents get . . . . . . ."

BOOOOOO went the audience, making both boys quite uncomfortable.

" . . . . . . . and I have to keep the X-40 just below the second setting . . . . ."

BOOOOO . . . . .

". . . . . but there's no restrictions or indications on the use of this:" 

and the professional spanker held up the jar of standard Fire Gel that they used in that county, and several others, to wipe on the Offender's ass before spanking. It would heat up a boy's backside like moderate pepper juice had been rubbed on it and really make the spanking seem like fire came alive on the boy's butt. A cheer of support and laughter went up.

"In fact,"  the spanker continued,  "There's nothing in their judge's rules that says I can't upgrade to this:"

This time the man held up a jar of what was clearly labeled Scorching Flame Gel. A loud cacophony of cheers went up as the label was read across the big screen above. They would be broadcasting their spankings across the APA, as well as across Seibert County on the public access channel. In fact, as he turned it, the crowds could see that this product had a minimum of twice the pain of basic Fire Gel. Kyle couldn't see it, but Ben did, and felt his insides go to jelly.

"There's also no rules as to how I have to use it,"  the spanker said to more cheers,  "and this product has a special property that Fire Gel does not, but we'll get to that in a moment."

Ben wasn't sure he wanted to know what this special property was. No . . . . . no, he definitely didn't want to know. The size of the audience was similar to that of the Carnival crowd last night at his Well-Wisher spanking, probably because everyone knew that this was the first event of the day for most of the Offenders; but just the appearance of the crowd brought back scary memories.

"But first, how about a demonstration of the effects of Fire versus Flame?"  The audience cheered and Kyle was let up from the bench. Ben and Kyle were made to stand off to the side, still visible to everyone, Ben with his hairless 2 ¾ inch erection and Kyle with his 4 inches pointing upward, arising out of small tufts of incipient pubic hair at the base. The younger yet more reproving Kyle even had a few hairs under his arm, which only made Ben a little angrier when he thought about it.

Two other boys were called up to the stage. They looked exactly alike, and they looked to be 11 or 12. They were still hairless, but had dropped sacs with balls easily twice Ben's size, though that wasn't saying much, and penises that stretched out straight about 3 ¼  inches. The whole package of both boys was the same tone as their surrounding skin.

"We are fortunate to have with us today identical twins, Jeff and Josh, who will be perfect for a side-by-side comparison of the two gel applications. One of these two boys was seen on camera and by a witness spray-painting the side of the school. Since neither will admit to which one did it, they are both being punished. Jeff, why don't you bend over the spanking bench get yourself situated; show everyone that nice boy ass that the teachers tell me one of you was bragging about last week."

Jeff did as he was told, though he was already crying as he did so. However, it was a nice ass, and the official on the stage put a glove on his hand and dipped it into the fire gel and spread it liberally across the whole of the boy's full moon, through the mostly-spread crack, and even twirling a bit on the boy's anus, which really caused him to start jerking spasmodically.

"The reset of his bottom will take a few moments to register the burn of the gel, and when it does---- . . . oh, there it is,"  The man added just as Jeff started releasing agonizing moans of burning pain and deliberately trying to move around and free himself.  "The formula will only burn at its strongest for five or so minutes, longer on the anal tissue, though leaving no permanent damage. Even the redness from the gel alone goes away after an hour or so. But what it does when combined with the paddle . . . . . ."

WWWHHHAAAACCCKKKKKKK!!!

"AAAAAAAAAAGAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

". . . . . . is most spectacular!!"  The man had to shout over Jeff's screams. And he let into him just as quickly again:

WWWHHHAAAACCCKKKKKKK!!!

"AAAAAAAAAAGAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Ben thought he might pass out again. Kyle just thought he would throw up. And they both very nearly did on the third one, and on the fourth one, which was the worst one, because as the screams were still blood-curdling, they heard the official say:

"Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you, Jeff, that you're getting 25 of these."

WWWHHHAAAACCCKKKKKKK!!!

"AAAAAAAAAAGAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNOOOOOOAAAGAGGUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Oh, I also forgot to tell you . . . . . ."

WWWHHHAAAACCCKKKKKKK!!!

"AAAAAAAAAAGAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhfhhhgghghghghghHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

" . . . . . . . that they don't count unless you are counting them off."

WWWHHHAAAACCCKKKKKKK!!!

Came the seventh one before the kid could even respond. By the time he could get it straight to count correctly, and with the ones where he was screaming too much or too weak to count fast enough, Jeff ended up getting 42 spanks. By this point, it seemed that sheer friction must have taken off most of the burn gel, not that his poor, bright red ass would know the difference. His legs had gone to jelly by the time he could force himself off the spanking table, and his twin was white as a clean snowman from fear and sympathetic pain. But Jeff was still held up by the Official and faced toward the audience until he could force out an apology to the audience and the community for vandalism and/or covering for a vandal.

It was Josh's turn next; he tried to be a man and walk his 11 or 12 year old naked self over to the spanking table, but he collapsed midway and just began moaning "nooooo,noooooo" and "I'm sahhh-ahhh-aaahhrreeee" over and over as he was manhandled and put down and stretched over the bench until he was in perfect position to showcase the 'before' picture of the twins' ideal Tween ass; just as much as Jeff was now parading the 'after' picture, as he endeavoured to stand wobbly on his own.

"Now this formula,  Scorching Flame Gel, is even more potent and will last a bit longer, as well as hurt a whole lot more."  The official said as he dipped a newly gloved hand into the gel and spread it liberally on Josh's small asscheeks and crack. The effect on Josh took less than 30 seconds to set in, and he didn't just moan out agonized to the max, but was already giving short bursts of screams, barely able to keep himself from cursing. But it wasn't over then; the official had waited to this point to smear a dab across his anal tissue and the boy's scream went up two pitches. Barely had this new sensation set in before the Official set to spanking the boy in earnest, and was going at it in a strong, fast pace.

Josh realized that he, too, better be counting (and only because Jeff was yelling it and crying and pleading from the side), but the official was going so fast that he was up to eight before Josh got started. Josh maintained better concentration through his screams than Jeff, though with a hoarser throat at the end and more snot dripping down his face, and ended up getting 36 spanks of the paddle. But they had hurt much more, and he was going to be on fire two to three times as long as his twin brother.

The audience clapped in appreciation of the demonstration, and Ben wondered just what sick people these were. Almost as though the official could read his mind, he told Ben,  "The reason the audience is clapping for these punishments is that they are sick of little punks like you ruining their decent neighborhoods and society, bullying their kids, stealing from their stores, and on and on and on. So don't think for a second that you don't deserve this, because you do."

With that, he grabbed Kyle, pulled him back to center stage and soon had him bent back over the same bench, ass on display again, nuts swinging free beneath the spread legs.

"This one's got a little bit extra of a target,"  the official amused the crowd with a few laughs.  "Now I'm only allowed to give you 15 spanks at the upper end of Level One on the X-40; so here's how we're going to make the most of it with you two: For starter's little boy . . . . . . ."

He was referring to Ben with the last sentence, and Ben cringed automatically at again being ridiculed as little in front of a whole new group of people.

". . . . . . you will be the one to get your bigger friend here all ready for his spanking."

Ben suppressed a grimace. Once again he would have to touch the younger, but better developed, Kyle's body. At least this time he would have a glove. He went to get one.

"No, no, little boy. Just use your bare hand."

"My . . . . .b- . . . b- . . . . ."

"Did you have a problem understanding? Because I do have allowance to increase the number and severity of your spankings if you fail to understand or follow basic commands."

"N-n-no . . . . no, sir."  Ben stepped forward and swallowed, though his throat felt too dry to swallow anything, and gingerly put one hand into the Fire Gel, but only getting the barest tips into it.

"No, no, no,"  the man said and shoved the boy's hand in deeper,  "Get more of it in there. There you go. . . . . Now, I suggest you start wiping it on quick, before you really get to burning."

Ben quickly smeared it over the whole of Kyle's white, nice ass quickly, his fear of running out of time overriding his disgust at smoothing his gelled hand all over a boy's ass, especially Kyle Carton's ass. He even dipped back into the jar quick for a refill to get it on all the faster. At the last he swiped his finger across the anal tissue, barely getting any on, but there was just too much disgust at touching a boy there to let fear of anything else make him linger. But even though it was a small amount, Kyle almost instantly began screaming at the searing pain right at the tips of his anal folds.

"No, that won't do, little Ben. You're going to have to get your finger all the way up in there and rub it around good. All the way inside his butthole."

"WHHATT??"  Kyle suddenly yelled.  "NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"

"Is that an Offender telling me what I can and cannot do? Well, then, Ben, I want you to coat your finger extra good. You better hurry up, if you want to wash; that stuff is about to burn your hand off any second."

Ben didn't want to do this. This was just downright WRONG. It was nasty; it was disgusting; it was unclean; it was filthy; it was . . . . . . it was WRONG!!

But he also didn't his hand burning off. So he quickly stuck his forefinger into the gel and placed it at the closed muscular gate, forcing it in against the clenching pressure all the way to the second knuckle. Knowing that this was where the poop came out made him nauseous, but the pain that he knew he was causing made him all the more nauseous.

"Now pull out and collect what got scraped off your finger and push in even deeper."

Ben was surprised that he almost wanted to cry; causing this pain and hearing the shrieks from the younger boy were about to empty his stomach. But still he did as he was told and pushed even deeper into the strong cavity. The muscles clenched down even tighter and with the wild bucking that was only barely restrained by the restraints of the spanking bench, Ben was worried that his finger might be snapped off. He had buried it in to the last knuckle and twisted it back and forth real good, just as he had been told.

But now his hands were starting to register the burn, especially along the back, and he pulled his finger out of Kyle's butthole and asked nicely if he could wash his hand.

"You can wash your hand, but since your friend will be using the same bowl of deactivating solution, you'll have to clean your finger off yourself."

"What??"

"Lick it off, and really suck it clean. It's been up someone's anus. You can't just stick it in a cleansing bowl that someone else will use,"  the man told a confused and teary Ben. His hand was really starting to hurt now.

"I can't . . . . . I can't . . . . . ."  he started, but was cut off by the man.

"Oh, that's the other thing about this gel that's different. It's completely non-toxic; although, it will burn your mouth as bad as your anus, but it won't cause any permanent damage."

"But it's . . . . it's been up a boy's butt!!"

"Didn't you both have enemas?"

"Yes, sir . . . . . but . . . . but . . . . . . . a butt!"

"Well, suit yourself, but you're holding things up. We can't spank your friend until you clean up. You can wait until the fire dies down, but then we'll have to start all over again."

"NNNOOOOOO!!"  Kyle screamed out with tears running down his face.  "PPLLLLEEEAASSSEEEE, SPANK ME NOW, PPPLLLEEEAASSSEEEE!!!!!!!!!"

The boy was getting hysterical from the burning pain, though it would only get worse with the spanking; still, he needed an end to it. The spasms that ran through his butt and all the lower limbs off his body as he tried to jerk away from a paint that was internal to him now - - - - those spasms could be seen even at the back of the audience. Ben was feeling guilty for prolonging that, but all the same, he didn't want the same to happen to his mouth. Plus the thought of having something in his mouth that came out of Kyle Carton's poop chute made him nearly gag. But in the end, he just closed his eyes and went with it.

Ben stuck his dirtied finger in his mouth and gave it a good suck.