rphanage Boys Chapter 27 by Chadlad
copyright 2009 by Chadlad, all rights reserved chadlad3@yahoo.com
* * * * * 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. * * * * *
Chapter 27: Twenty-seventh floor: Washing Supplies
They found them eventually, the diapers they'd been wearing during their
"cleansing." They were easy to tell--the diapers for the big boys were a
lot larger than the baby and toddler diapers. The nun had washed the loose
material off the cloth in the yard, but it still was stained an
embarrassing brown, and it reeked like their diarrhea had when they'd lost
control. Jake felt like throwing up as he tackled one diaper, and Sam the
other. He didn't know if he had his diaper or Sam's. It shouldn't
matter--poop was poop, yet he found himself hoping it was his pooped diaper
he was handling, and not Sam's. He worked and worked the cloth on the
washboard, the stains only reluctantly lightening ans he worked the cloth
between his now waterlogged and sore fingers. He wondered if his hands
would ever be rid of the smell, and he fought the urge to retch. It seemed
to take forever to get the cloth white again, and he gratefully set the big
diaper aside in the rinse pile and reached for the stick glad to be able to
return to some nice, small, barely stained little-boy diapers. To his
surprise, he fished out another big boy diaper, this one showing no signs
of stains at all.
"Bed wetter," the girl at the next table said, seeing his puzzlement.
"They're a breeze - nothing but pee to wash out. And boiling them does
most of that already."
Still, it made Jake feel kind of squeamish handing cloth that had been
on some other big kid's butt, worse yet was soaked with pee from some other
kid's wiener. Yet the underpants weren't any different, were they? Boys
dribbled into their underpants all the time at the end of a pee. What was
it about diapers that made it creepier?
An ice-cold hand gripped the back of his neck, and he almost wet himself
in sudden startlement, which would have been unfortunate given that his
penis was tied back and the pee would have squirted backward between his
legs, almost certainly wetting the garment of the person who had suddenly
gripped him. In fact, given the fact that he was starting to feel the need
to pee, anyway, he probably would have soaked that person's ankles. On the
other hand, the twine constricting the head of his penis helped, and he
controlled himself quickly, although he may have dribbled a drop or to onto
his inner thigh. Turning too quickly and thus making the base of his penis
twinge and the head of it complain as the harsh twine bit into it, he
beheld small, sharp-eyed Sister Magdalene regarding him and Sam.
"What is this rope?" she snapped at Jenny, who was hurrying over. She
plucked at the string running down first his and then Sam's back, making
their dicks twinge.
"It's for their own protection," Jenny said sweetly. "They were poking
out, and we didn't want them to burn themselves or catch themselves on
something. And, you know - they're not that young. The other girls..."
"I see," Sister Magdalene said, with a glint in her eye that suggested
she saw not just that but everything Jenny the Warden was thinking, all the
way to the girl's soul. "Well, perhaps you have a point. Their appendages
may be scrawny, but they aren't little boys anymore, at that. We couldn't
have them flopping around as they moved, I guess." She plucked both strings
again, one with each thumb, and smiled as both boys winced in stereo.
"So, have these two incorrigible delinquents worked steadily since they
came? I see most some of the girls are on mid-morning break." The
weathered but wiry nun looked at the young girl with penetrating eyes.
"Yes, ma'am," Jenny replied quickly. "I followed your orders to the
letter - they've worked quite steadily since we finished bathing them.
They were awfully dirty."
"I see," Sister Magdalene said. "And did they show signs of arousal
when you washed them? You know how boys show arousal, I presume? Did they
appear to enjoy the process excessively?"
Jake and Sam wondered what Jenny would say. Clearly getting a hard dick
was not something that they were supposed to do. Both boys' hearts started
racing and they looked at the ground guiltily, certain that their arousal
and the repeated wonderful feelings were about to be announced to the nun,
probably earning them more punishment.
"Well, you know how boys are," Jenny said. "Allergic to soap and water.
We about had to tie them down to clean them up."
"Very well," Sister Magdalene said. "IT is well for them that they
didn't become aroused. Perhaps they are learning." Jake and Sam started
breathing again, both wondering why Jenny hadn't reported their shame.
Sister Magdalene let her hand slip down both boys' backs until they rested
on the upper surface of Jake's and Sam's bare butts. The boys fought the
urge to flinch. "And have these two moved their bowels or emptied their
bladders since they've been here?" she added.
"Not that I've seen," Jenny said quickly. "They may have peed while
they were in the tub at the start--I hear boys sometimes do that.
Disgusting little beasts."
Jake and Sam both flushed a bit, and Sister Magdalene nodded, catching
their involuntary admission of guilt. "No more than I would have suspected
with these two," she commented. "They are filled with sin through and
through, from one end to the other. Thus they seek to balk our holy work
in every way. If we are cleansing them, they try to make the water dirty.
If we are teaching them, they make every effort not to hear and not to
learn. They are filthy, hedonistic heathens, and like most heathens, they
need to learn humility. Cleaning up the filth of their peers is certainly
a good start." She let go of both boys simultaneously. Jake and Sam
quickly moved wrinkled, red hands up to massage their necks, swallowing
simultaneously. Jake imagined he could smell his fingers even from that
distance. "How long until they're done with the diapers?" Sister Magdalene
asked Jenny.
Jenny surveyed the tubs with an expert's eyes. "They have a second tub
on the stove to do after this one," she replied. "They're doing the
younger boys now, then they have to do the toddlers. We've got another
girl doing the baby diapers today. But they've probably got another hour
yet, or more, depending on what the toddlers ate yesterday. If it was
beets, they could be at it all morning."
Sister Magdalene considered. "It was fried potatoes," she finally said.
"But that'll still be too long - you'll have them wetting the floorboards
like animals if you don't allow them the call of nature before they're
done. Take them to the tree line now and have them relieve themselves. If
you have them spread their legs wide, you won't even have to untie them.
I'll be back after lunch break." She strode off without looking back.
So it was that Jake and Sam quickly found themselves standing by the
trees near the privies with their legs spread as far apart as they could,
trying to make their urinary sphincters unclench while girls who'd been
lingering around on break gathered in little groups to watch. The girls
had made them face the barn, on the grounds that both boys' penises were
aiming slightly backwards between their legs. Thus, when Jake finally did
manage to release his first little squirt, the liquid shot straight out
behind him, looking like it was coming from his butt. But his sphincter
slammed shut again. He managed, by concentrating, to force out a second,
smaller squirt, but then his sphincter locked up and would not let him
finish the last remnants of what he could feel inside him. He was all too
aware of all the girls watching him, most with eyes that sparkled with
excitement or glared with hatred. Sam, meanwhile, managed to get a gentle
little dribble going that went on and on, spattering straight down between
his legs to patter on the leaves on the ground between his widely spread
legs. The noise of Sam's efforts somehow triggered something in Jake, and
he managed another long squirt, then a feeble dribble that drained him.
When Sam's efforts finally dribbled to a stop, the surrounding girls broke
into applause. Sam, who'd been looking down between his legs where he
couldn't even see his penis (which was pulled back out of sight), looked up
and blushed quite prettily, the red of his face setting off his hair
nicely. Jake's face reddened, too, but his time not in
embarrassment--instead, he felt that surge of anger again that they were
doing this to Sam, to his buddy Sam, who never hurt anyone, who just wanted
to see.... Well, it was not good thinking about it. They were herded back
to the barn floor, the warm drops that always clung to a boy's penis until
he shook it trickling onto their thighs as they walked back, making them
glisten like dew in the mid morning sun. Then it was back to work at the
diaper table for both of them, the girls coming off their breaks and
getting to work busily at the tubs as well.
It did indeed take the rest of the morning before Jake and Sam finally
finished the last of the toddler diapers and hung them up to dry on the
line. Jake's and Sam's hands were red and raw from all the scrubbing and
the harsh soaps, and both boys had opened blisters on their fingers and the
palms of their hands. The girl at the table next to them had showed Jake
her calluses, her skin rough and toughened from months of work at the
laundry. "You get used to it," she said.
"Even the smell?" Jake asked tentatively.
"No, you never get used to the smell," the girl said. "That's why no
one likes to work the mud table. It gets under your fingernails and just
lingers there. Teaches you not to eat with your fingers."
Jake sniffed his fingers and felt briefly sick. His fingers smelled
like a privy, like poop and pee all mixed together, along with the smell of
the strong soap that he'd used. He let his hands fall just to get them
farther from his face. In the distance, a hand-held school bell began
clanging. "Dinner break!" the girl next to them said. "It usually soup
and sandwiches - supper's the biggest meal of the day for us. It's
different for the farm workers - dinner is their biggest meal, and supper
more like our dinner. See, here come the kitchen girls with the soup pail
and the box of sandwiches."
Four girls were indeed approaching, two carrying a huge pot between
them, the other two carrying a big cardboard box. They set their burdens
on a table at the far end of the barn, and girls began to line up, taking
soup bowls from a rack and filling them with a dipper, then picking up a
sandwich and going off in pairs and trios to sit on the grass. The day had
turned cloudy, the sun now nowhere to be seen. Jake and Sam joined the
back of the line, walking stiffly with their penises still pulled back
between their legs, self conscious about their nudity even though they'd
been bare around these girls for hours. When they got to the table, they
found their food already prepared for them by Jenny. "You two only get
bread," she said. "Sister Badass' orders. And just broth, no meat or
vegetables. No spoon, either - drink from the bowl." She handed them their
paltry meal. Jake and Sam carried their bowls and wax-paper wrapped pieces
of bread and walked away. Jake considered sitting down and immediately
discarded the idea - the twine tied to his dick and running up between his
buns to his neck clearly wouldn't allow it bending at the waist, not if he
didn't want his dick pulled painfully. He led Sam to the end of the bench
where the food was being served and sat his bowl and his wax-wrapped bread
on it, then contemplated how to eat them. Remembering the girl's remark,
he finally picked up his bowl in both hands and drank warm broth from it.
He knew it was supposed to be punishment food, but it tasted absolutely
heavenly after a day of pig slops. Sam followed suit, and quickly they'd
drained their bowls dry, sucking the remnants greedily with their bowls
tipped high. Jake unwrapped the wax paper from the top of the bread and
brought it to his lips, grimacing as he caught a whiff of his hands, which
he quickly lowered. The bread tasted heavenly, too, and was gone in what
seemed like two bites. Jake was still hungry, but there didn't seem to be
any more food in the offing so he imitated the girls who were already done
and carried his bowl to a pail of soapy water and dropped it in, and the
wax paper to a girl who was shaking off the crumbs of each piece and
smoothing them into a pile. She looked up as Jake and Sam approached with
theirs.
"You guys were working the mud bench, they tell me," she said to them.
"We won't want to reuse yours--toss yours in the garbage can." Feeling like
lepers, Jake and Sam tossed their wax paper in the can where the girls were
throwing remnants of sandwiches and other garbage. The girl who was
collecting waxed paper was eyeing their lower bodies. "They shouldn't tie
your weenies down like that," she said quietly. "It's mean. I mean,
you're just boys - you don't even have any hair yet." Jake nodded in
agreement. It was mean, and it was driving him crazy. The twine felt
incredibly rough where it encircled the head of his dick, and his buns felt
chafed where it passed between them, pressing uncomfortably against the
sensitive skin of his butt crack and butt hole. Around his neck, he felt
like he was being strangled. He wondered if that's how people felt when
they were being hanged, the rough rope tight against their necks just
before the horses were driven out from under them like they did on the
Saturday Morning Serials at the Bijou. He reached up and tried to adjust
the twine on his neck, but it didn't help. He wondered, briefly, how it
felt to be sitting on a horse, knowing that in moments you were going to
drop toward the ground and have the life choked out of you. He suspected
it must be something like it felt bent over the desk with his pants down,
waiting for his paddling to start 2 days ago.
The two of them moved back to their bench and waited to see what would
happen next. The girls sitting on the grass were chatting merrily to each
other, ignoring them. Jake wished he could sit down without fear he would
pull his own penis off. He eased one buttock onto the edge of the bench
and let it take some of his weight. After a moment, Sam copied him. They
sighed simultaneously at the partial rest it gave their tired feet.
"Now what?" Sam said, his voice almost a whisper.
"Now," a voice said loudly from behind them, "You two will come with me
for a demonstration of God's justice."
Sam squeaked and leapt off the bench. Jake jumped off the bench as
well, but managed not to cry out. Sister Magdalene has standing right
there, on the other side of the bench. She hadn't been in sight moments
before - how had she gotten there? Did she, like The Shadow, have the
power to cloud men's(and boys')minds?
The small nun frowned at their tied genitals. "Won't need these any
more," she said. A knife appeared in her hand - a castration knife, Jake
realized. In seconds the twine was cut from around their necks and their
penises freed. Pins and needles flooded Jake's penis, making him gasp.
But the nun had no sympathy. "Step lively," she said. "We must get to the
flagpole. You're needed there." She hustled the boys down a path to the
left of the one they'd followed over the hill from the hog pens. This one
led around the hill and then to the left. Soon, a cluster of buildings
came in view around a second hill, with a central green courtyard where a
flagpole stood with a flag hanging limply in the still midday air. At
first glance, the area appeared empty and still as well, to Jake's relief.
He was all too conscious of his bareness from well above the navel
downward. His penis was still tied back uncomfortably, and the twine
running between his buns felt huge as it chafed his butt hole and butt
crack. He certainly didn't want to be seen as he currently was. But as
they approached, Jake noted a stirring at the base of the flagpole, a
stirring that he realized was a boy sitting there in what looked like a
very uncomfortable position, with his back against the pole but his spine
curved so that he was sitting on the back of his spine rather than his
bottom. As they got closer Jake was able to resolve the details, and see
that the boy's hands were tied behind the flagpole and secured tightly
there. His legs were drawn back and spread widely, more widely than a
boy's legs could go comfortably, and had been staked down on either side of
his buttocks, literally staked down, because ropes bound his ankles tightly
and were secured to stakes that had been driven into the ground on either
sides of his feet.
And then it dawned on Jake, like an ice-cold bucket of water striking
him. The boy's crotch was too complicated - hid bottom half was bare, much
like their own. Unlike Sam and him, though, this boy's cock wasn't tied
back - it was hard and pointing straight out, barely bigger than Jake's own
organ when hard, and mushroom-headed as all the boys at the orphanage
seemed to be. It pointed out above his bulging sack, a sack bigger than
Jake's own. Because he was sitting on his spine, the boy's butt was wide
open, his back curved so much that his entire butt faced them as they
approached, and his legs were spread so widely that his butt crack was wide
open, the pimply, rash covered skin around his butt hole displayed for any
passers-by to see. The boy's crotch was completely bald. His balls
themselves were red and sore-looking, like his and Sam's had been after the
assault with the pig slapper, but even more so. Looking closer, Jake
realized that a circle surrounding the boy's butt hole was glistening, too,
and so was a strip down the middle of his balls, and then right down his
butt crack to where it rested on the ground. The lower part of his butt,
the part next to the ground (what would be the highest part of his butt
were he standing up, near the top of his butt crack), was dark red and
showing purple blotches - bruises, Jake realized. Very deep, painful
bruises. The boy's head was down, his hair covering most of his face, and
he was trembling and wiggling against his bonds to the degree that he could
move, which didn't appear to be much. He appeared to be staring at his
genital region, and was making little noises of distress as he contemplated
his hard-on.
The boy finally must have heard the sound of their approach, or maybe he
saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, because he looked up, panic
on his face, his bound arms twitching. "Let me go!" he wailed as Sister
Magdalene approached. "Untie me! They're on me! You can't do this! I'll
run away, and I'll tell on all of you! They'll throw you in jail, see if
they don't!"
Recognition jolted Jake and Sam both, as they realized they knew this
boy, Jake, especially, quite intimately. A picture formed in his head, of
Sister Mary Catherine planting a sturdy work shoe into the cleft of the
butt of the boy who was now bound in front of them, a picture of her kick
lifting the boy off the ground briefly and then sending him sprawling on
his face, his pants wrapping and trapping his ankles as he tried to rush
along ahead of the angry nun. Jake remembered the boy piping in the same
whiny voice as Sister Mary Catherine herded him back to the orphanage
compound to meet with Mother Superior to talk about his conduct,
specifically, about sticking his hard, randy, undersized dick into Jake's
butt. From the look of Dinky's own butt, she'd kicked his behind all the
way there. Knowing how his own butt had felt after punishment, Jake could
imagine the throbbing pain Dinky was already feeling down there--it looked
like the bruising went all the way to the bone.
But it wasn't his bruises Dinky was complaining about. As they pulled
up in front of him, and Dinky continued to beg, Jake realized the cause of
his distress. Red insects were climbing his buttocks and swarming across
his butt hole -- ants, Jake realized. Big, red ants. There were only a
few of them so far, but more were visible on the ground, swarming around
the base of Dinky's butt preparing to make their own descent.
"Silence!" snapped Sister Magdalene. "You will speak in a civilized
fashion in a tone that acknowledges my position over you, or you will not
speak at all. If I must, I have a very large bar of soap with which I can
block your speech. I would not, if I were you, talk about reporting anyone
to the authorities, not if I were a young boy who had engaged in unnatural
relations with pigs, not to mention raping other young boys. Incorrigible
boys go to reform school, but young rapists go to prison, where they are
housed with other rapists who are bigger, stronger, and more determined.
All I have to do is make a phone call, and you'll be experiencing what you
dished out multiple times a day until you're big enough to fight back,
which may be never in your case. In fact,I've a good mind to go ahead and
turn you over to the authorities just as you're requesting. The very fact
that you are still in that state of arousal demonstrates that you have not
reformed."
Jake wasn't exactly sure before what raping was, although he'd know it
was bad thing. He'd heard his mother and Sam's talking quietly about
friends of theirs being raped just last year, when they thought he and Sam
were asleep. From their remarks he'd gathered they did awful stuff to
women, and they were thus feared and reviled. Now, though, he put two and
two together, concluding that rape involved sticking your wiener into
someon's butt. He immediately understood why his mother and Sam's had
shown such fear and hatred of such people. Dinky, meanwhile, considered
her threat and changed tactics.
"Please?" he whined. "Please let me go. I won't do it no more, I
swear. Swear to God, and Jesus Christ, too. I'll do 100 Hail Marys and 100
Our Fathers!"
Sister Magdalene simply looked at him, a serene expression on her face.
"Please!" Dinky said more urgently. "They're on me! They'll crawl
in... they'll crawl in... they'll crawl inside me! Please, let me go!
I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"
Sister Magdalene still didn't answer him, simply regarding him calmly.
"Hey, come on!" Dinky whined, as more ants began the long crawl up his
ass crack, and the ones on him already began negotiating the bumps of the
pimples surrounding his red, disturbing-looking butt hole. He tried
wiggling again, his butthole twitching as he tried to clamp down on it and
bar the questing ant from probing the ridged slit of his anus. The red,
irritated muscle twitched like the gulping mouth of a carp, but the ants in
the vicinity (there were now three of them) hung on tenaciously and
continued exploring in what looked like an almost excited fashion, antenna
twitching as they darted over one ridge and down the other. Dinky was
hunched over, but Jake realized he could not see the ants because his
genitals were blocking his view, he could only feel them. Jake wondered
what that would be like. A fourth ant bypassed Dinky's anus and continued
up, circling the shaft of his hard penis as it reached that obstacle,
appearing again on top of the shaft of the boy's projecting organ. Dinky's
eyes widened as he saw the large, red insect appear and begin crawling
across the top of his penis. He began pulling frantically on his bonds,
which did nothing but make his penis sway a bit. The ant appeared
unperturbed, and so did the ones that were perched on the boy's butthole,
moving ever nearer his tightly pursed anal slit.
"Noooooo! Get it off, get it off!" Dinky squealed, panting at his
ineffective efforts to try to escape or dislodge the ants. He leaned over
and blew on his penis, which didn't bother the ant one bit. Several more
began crawling up his buttocks, following the glistening trail. Jake
noted, for the first time, that the tip of the boy's penis was so hard and
swollen that his pee slit was open. He suddenly realized that the ant that
was nearing the tip of the boy's penis would easily fit in that open slit.
Dinky stopped squealing and tried to hunch even farther over his penis. A
second later he spit down on himself, trying to knock the ant off the tip
of his organ. The spit missed and hit the side of his scrotum instead.
One of the ants near his butthole approached the spit excitedly, appeared
to grab some, and turned and hurried down Dinky's butt crack to the ground.
Meanwhile, several more ants appeared at the base of his butt, climbing
upward, antenna wriggling.
Sister Magdalene ignored Dinky's protests and attempts to dislodge the
ant. "This boy confessed to having violated your anal orifice, young man,"
she said, looking at Jake. "At first he tried to argue that the violation
had been your idea and you'd begged him to do it, but after some persuasion
by Sister Mary Catherine, he confessed that he in fact threatened you and
forced himself upon you. He also admitted, after a bit more persuasion,
that he has also forced himself on several female pigs since he arrived
here. Jake, his eyes glued to Dinky's lewdly exposed genitals, immediately
grasped the form that "persuasion" had taken. Dinky's swollen balls were
immediately explained, as was his lack of pubic hair. Jake could imagine
easily Mary Catherine yanking those hairs out one by one, and then taking
her paddle to the boy's exposed balls until he confessed. He shivered
involuntarily.
"Now that he has confessed, he is being punished by having the smallest
creatures of God's creation return the favor and invade his most private
areas. This lesson will last until sundown today." She reached behind
Dinky's back, at the base of the flagpole, and drew out a glass mason jar
of water, much like the one that had been used to bring Jake and Sam water
the day before. "I have more pressing things to do than to supervise the
punishment of a sick, perverted little boy. I still have many piglets to
castrate today, as soon as lunch break is over. You two, on the other
hand, have nothing important to do until after sundown. At that point, you
will have your most severe trial yet as you ascend to the next step of the
escalator. You can contemplate that and your sins as you supervise this
miscreant, a boy of particular depravity. Witness his suffering and learn
the folly of such perverted behavior."
"Get 'em off me! They're going to go into my - my thing! Brush 'em
off!" Dinky begged. Jake took a step toward the tortured boy.
"Don't you dare touch him," Sister Magdalene commanded. Jake froze.
"That goes for you, too," she said to Sam. "You can, if you wish, wash the
ants off of him periodically, if they get too thick - you are both equipped
with spigots that would serve that purpose, and I have no objection to him
suffering that humiliation if he'd prefer it to having God's creatures
punish him."
Sam goggled. "You mean," he said, speaking for the first time. "You
mean...use our wieners to pee on him?"
"If you must put it so vulgarly, yes," Sister Magdalene said. "I would
prefer that you call those appendages your spigots, and express that action
as making water, but either way that's what you're free to do if he
requests it. And he probably will. In fact, he'll probably beg you to in
a bit. You see, these ants don't just crawl into things, looking for food
and moisture. About one out of ten of them..."
"Owwww! Hey!" Dinky squealed suddenly, shock on his face.
"...bites." Sister Magdalene finished. "Quite viciously." Jake looked
at Dinky's privates. A small, red dot had appeared on the mushroom head of
the boy's penis, where the ant had been moments before. Dinky began
yanking more urgently at his bonds, making his penis sway but not
dislodging the ant, who was questing over the head of his penis again as if
contemplating the pee hole. "In fact, their bites sting a bit," Sister
Magdalene added. "The ants excrete an acid that they deposit in the wound
when they bite. It stings, then it itches quite extensively." She studied
the struggling, panting boy's efforts to dislodge the ant on his penis,
which was now moving toward the open hole at the end of his penis. "You
might want to use your own fluid to keep them out of the urinary orifice of
your scrawny little worm of a spigot," she said helpfully. "Now that we
know this is one of their 'soldiers,' it could be rather painful were it to
crawl inside your urethra."
The ant curled around the end of Dinky's penis and probed the open hole
at the tip. Squealing, Dinky jetted pee straight out, onto the ground in
front of him. Jake leaped back to get out of target range. The ant
withdrew for a moment back onto the head of the boy's penis, then leaned
over the open hole again and resumed its probing. Dinky squealed and began
wiggling frantically.
"If I were you, I'd reserve what fluid I had for ants that were actually
entering me," Sister Magdalene said primly. "And as for your other
orifice, you might also be able to expel invaders from your rectum using
muscle contractions and the natural product of that area, if the number of
invaders becomes large. Of course, if you were to expel anything in the
process, you will be sitting in it for quite some time. Still, it might
distract the ants somewhat from entering that area. On the other hand, it
would probably attract more ants to the vicinity. I'll leave that decision
up to you."
The ant on Dinky's penis backed away from his pee hole and moved back
his shaft. Dinky shrieked again as it apparently took another small nip
out of his penis, leaving a small, irritated red dot behind, so tiny as to
be almost invisible. As Jake watched with interest, another ant reached
the other boy's butt hole and began probing the tight anal slit next to the
ant that was already probing it. Sister Magdalene went on with her
instructions. "You may give him water any time he wants it," she said.
"We don't want him getting dehydrated. Even with the sun under clods, it's
likely he will get sunburned in those delicate areas even so. Quite badly,
I imagine, if the clouds break up. His little worm is going to be quite
sore for days, I imagine. But there's really nothing we can do about that,
and a good sunburn of his puny spigot should deter him from self-abuse for
some time, so that's a plus. You boys will want to sit down over here,
behind that retaining wall, so that the sun does not strike your own bare
skin too extensively. If he wants you to wash him down with your bodily
fluids you can do so if you wish, but you don't have to - that's going to
be up to you two. You may not touch him anywhere, nor use tree branches or
any other material to brush the ants off of him. If other children
approach, they can converse with him, or wash ants off him with their own
fluids if they are so inclined, but warn them that they are not to touch
him, either, by my orders. His bonds should not loosen, but if they do go
to the main farmhouse behind you and tell any girl you see in there, and
they'll send for me. The mason jar can be refilled at the pump over there
when it gets low, and you two may drink from it as well, but let me be
clear on this, it is to be used only for drinking, and not to wash ants off
of him. And if he tries to hold water in his mouth and then spray the ants
off that way, he is to be denied any water at all for the next hour. By
that point he'll be thirsty enough that I'm sure he'll be more than willing
to obey my orders. There is a clock right there, on that front wall of the
farmhouse, you can use to determine when an hour has passed. You two can
tell time, I presume?"
Jake and Sam nodded. "Very well," she said. She looked down at the
struggling, panting, red-faced Dinky, who was staring in horror at his
penis, where a second ant has ventured out the hard shaft and was brushing
antennas with the first one. More ants were circling the boy's twitching
anus. As Jake watched, one of the ants on the corrugations of his asshole
must have nipped Dinky, because he let out a little squeal and began
frantically contracting that orifice again.
Without another word, Sister Magdalene turned and walked away with a
short, rapid stride, not at all like the gliding movements of Sister Mary
Catherine. Dinky looked up at Sam and Jake. "Are they going inside?" he
asked frantically. "It feels like they're going inside my--my butt hole."
Jake leaned over and studied the other boy's asshole. It felt strange
to be asked to look at such a private place, a place he'd never seen prior
to this on anyone but Sam, and himself in the mirror. "They're two at the
edge," he said. "You know, where your...where the...where it closes up.
Your - your - you know." He stumbled to a halt, not knowing what to call
Dinky's anus. All the words he could think of were forbidden--he could
picture God frowning when he even thought them.
"Shit," Dinky muttered. "Maybe I can fart them off." He began
contracting abdominal and stomach muscles frantically. Jake and Sam
stepped back a couple of steps. A minute passed with nothing happening
except Dinky's frantic tensing motions. "Shit," Dinky finally said again.
"I can't fart. The one time I need to, I can't fart!"
More ants were climbing the boy's butt now, wandering frantically over
the exposed, bare skin, circling pimples, climbing the ridges of this butt
hole, and swarming over the corrugations of his ball sack. Jake and Sam
waited, Jake contemplating the situation. Would the other boy want him
to--to wet on him? This had to be the screwiest place ever. A lifetime of
being told not to pee on things, let along people, and now for the second
time in as many days he was being told that he was to deliberately pee on
someone. This place he and Sam had fetched up had to be the strangest
place in the world.
He was distracted as Dinky jetted more pee out of his penis onto the
ground in front of him, trying to dislodge the biting ant, which was
probing the open hole in his penis again. Once again, the ant wasn't
deterred, simply drawing back and hanging onto the boy's bobbing member.
Dinky eyed it, hunched over his penis and looking at the tip of it
cross-eyed. "Shit!" he exclaimed, louder this time. "Shit! Fuck!
Shitfuck!" The ant moved forward again, exploring the open hole at the end
of the boy's member. Jake shivered involuntarily--the slit in the tip of
his own penis didn't open like that, even when he was all the way hard.
The look of him haunted him with its wrongness.
Dinky concentrated, and another jet of pee shot out his penis. This
time the ant was caught unawares, and disappeared, apparently blasted off
by Dinky's efforts.
"Got 'em!" Dinky said, almost triumphantly. But his triumph was
short-lived. Another ant made it over the corrugations of his sore balls
and into his sight, where it began crawling out his penis following the
path of the previous ant. A second ant swarmed after it, dodging from side
to side on his narrow shaft while the first probed the ridge of his dick's
mushroom head. More ants were swarming up the kid's butt now, crawling
onto his butt cheeks and thighs and swarming around his butt hole. "OW!"
Dinky complained, as a soldier ant apparently took a nip out of the area
around his butt hole. His butt hole spasmed, winking at the watching boys.
Dinky tried to wiggle frantically, but the ants just kept climbing, dozens
of them on the boy now. Jake noticed they tended to stay in the area
around the boy's butt crack and butt hole and around his penis, where the
skin glistened unnaturally. He realized that the nuns must have smeared
something there to attract the ants, something like honey or perhaps some
light-colored jelly.
Dinky jerked and struggled, hardly able to move with his hands and feet
so tightly bound. "Ow! He complained again. "They're biting! Ow!" He
looked up at Jake pleadingly. "Get them off! Get them off! Ow! They're
biting! Get them offffff! Owww! Owwww!" Dozens of ants were swarming on
the boy's balls and up onto the shaft of his penis now. Jake wondered what
it was like to have ants all over your privates like that, and shuddered to
himself.
"Come on! Get them off!" Dinky wailed.
"We aren't allowed to touch you," Sam said seriously. "She said all we
could do was pee on you."
"No shit, dumbass!" Dinky sqealed. "Piss on me already. You, Red! I
didn't fuck your butt! "Wash them off! They're BITING!"
Jake saw that more tiny spots had appeared around the boy's butt hole,
and another one on his penis near the base, apparently left by the second
questing ant. Ants were swarming wildly over the boy's privates now. Sam
shrugged and edged up to Dinky from the side, being careful not to get in
the path of the now swarming ants. His penis was angled outward from his
body, so that, when liquid suddenly and without warning erupted from it, at
first it splashed the hair above the slumping boy's forehead before Sam
could adjust his body and aim the arcing stream at the boy's crotch
instead. Pee washed over Dinky's genitals and down his open butt, and the
ants flooded away. Sam, with effort, brought his peeing to a stop, the tip
of his organ dripping softly onto Dinky's thigh for a few seconds.
"HEY!" Dinky said, looking up in outrage. Sam's pee dripped off his wet
hair at the front of his head and down Dinky's forehead. Dinky shook his
head like a dog shaking off water, glaring. "I didn't tell you to pee on
my head, you dumb little fucker!" he squealed.
Sam stepped back, even though Dinky was bound and couldn't harm him at
the moment.
"Sorry," he said. "I couldn't control it. We're not allowed to touch
ourselves, so I couldn't aim."
"Great," Dinky said. "Just mother-fucking great! You wait 'til I'm
loose again. I'll piss in your mouth, you dumb little mother-fucker! Then
I'll fuck you up your butt like I did your queer buddy."
"He washed the ants off you," Jake said, coming to Sam's defense. "You
ought to be happy he did that."
Dinky looked down. The ants were gone for the moment, wandering the
damp sand in front of the boy in disarray. His penis glistened from Sam's
pee. Drops were still trickling down either side of his crotch and off his
butt onto the ground. But the ants were gone. "You ought to aim better,"
Dinky finally muttered.
"Fine, we won't help you next time," Jake said. "Come on, Sam. Let's
move over against the wall, so we don't get our bottoms sunburned like the
nun said. Or our other stuff." He and Sam moved about 5 feet away to a
retaining wall straight across from the boy's spread legs and sat down on
the shaded sand. The sand felt funny on his bare butt as he sat down. He
wondered if he'd made a butt print in the sand. Sam sat beside him, their
legs now out of the sun because they were facing north, and the sun no
longer was high in the sky like it was in summer, but lower on the horizon,
befitting the autumn day. Indian Summer was in full force, but Jake
wondered what it would be like when winter came in the low mountains where
they now lived. Dinky stared down at his crotch, still angry about Sam
peeing briefly on the front part of his head. The ants seemed bothered or
distracted by the wet sand in front of the boy. His dick remained hard,
sticking out like a little thick sword in front of him, bobbing slightly as
Dinky fidgeted. Jake and Sam sat quietly, Jake contemplating the dull
throb of his still sore balls and the fainter throb of his slowly healing
butt. The needle track between his legs was much less sore today, and it
no longer felt like his butt hole was swollen and bulging like it had been.
"Hey!" Dinky called across to them. "Hey! What if they come back?"
"Tough," Jake muttered. Dinky launched into a tirade of profanity.
Sam's and Jake's ears reddened at his words, as he cursed God, the
Archangels, Jesus, the 12 apostles, and all the nuns, describing in
explicit detail what sexual acts he'd like to perform on them singly and
jointly. Eventually he wound down into silence. The ants were still
trying to regroup.
Sam was looking at Jake, something clearly on his mind. "How long 'til
sunset?" he asked Jake quietly.
"Why?" Jake asked. But even as he asked, he knew. Sunset was when the
small nun had promised the next step of the escalator, the one worse than
being spanked, or paddled, or publically diapered, or shot with BB's, or
given pepper enemas, or even cleaning hog pens naked and then being treated
like pigs themselves. He didn't want to think about sunset. Because what
could be worse than what they'd already experienced?